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His request shattered the flimsy control I had over my own emotions. My eyes burned as I broke alongside him. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him away from the wall so I could hug him. He folded into me, his body trembling.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, even to me. My forehead dropped to the back of his head as I squeezed him tighter. “I promise.”
CHAPTER 32
Theo
WYATT: Why’d you make me the brontosaurus??
BABY KENNEDY: Because you’re taller than Theo.
Hey!
You’re the tallest, fucker.
BABY KENNEDY: I’m a goddamn T-rex.
WYATT: Bad things always happen to the brontosaurus!
BABY KENNEDY: That’s an exaggeration. It’s just a nugget.
WYATT: I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.
You didn’t have to say yes.
WYATT: Shh, that’s not helping my argument.
Jude’s mood was horrendous, and he wouldn’t tell us why, which was exactly how the three of us ended up getting the dino nugget tattoos. It improved his mood marginally, and that made it worth it. Though I still wished he’d tell me what was wrong, getting him to talk was impossible.
Rhodes wasn’t saying anything either, but I noticed the shift in his mood too. He’d always been good at hiding behind that calm, controlled exterior, but I knew him well enough to know he was struggling. He wasn’t angry. This was something else. Something heavy that had all his walls up. Every smile and laugh felt fake and practiced, not genuine. Where he was, I couldn’t reach him, and it killed me.
I had a feeling it had something to do with Mrs. Kennedy, but until one of them said something, I was stuck in the dark—a place I hated, especially when the two people I cared about most were hurting. I wasn’t used to being helpless when it came to both of them.
Jude could usually be bribed with food, sarcasm, or convincing us to do something spectacularly stupid together. Rhodes was harder, but bossing me around usually did the trick. But this time it was different. It felt… bigger somehow. It filled me with dread and other feelings I couldn’t put into words. There wasn’t anything I could do to make whatever it was better for them.
So, Wyatt and I did the only thing we could. We kept Jude distracted. It started with the tattoo, then we went on food adventures, making sure we hit all his favorite places. Even when I didn’t know how I could eat anymore, I kept going because it was working. After that, we decided to make a day of it at the university’s Homecoming festival. Student organizations competed for attention beneath rows of pop-up tents, each booth trying to outdo the next with giveaways and enough free t-shirts to clothe half the student body. The school also sponsored carnival games and rides. Everything the crowd spent went back into the school for this thing or that thing. Music drifted through the air from a temporary stage where a local band played through classic rock covers while, somewhere in the distance, our marching band’s brass section burst into the school’s fight song for what had to be the tenth time since we arrived. The smell of kettle corn, barbecue, and funnel cakes hung in the warm autumn air, mixing with the laughter of families, alums, and students. Hammerhead shirts were everywhere, and we were in our jerseys.
“Wasn’t the football team supposed to have a booth or something around here?” Wyatt asked as we wandered around with more snacks.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. With the coaching staff change, I had no idea what was going on. Coach Mason always had us partner up with the cheerleaders for some boring fundraiser, which honestly made a lot more sense in hindsight. “I’m guessing they’re not doing anything this year. At least, not that I’ve heard of.”
Rhodes would’ve told us if we had to do something for this. He was far too organized to do that to us.
“They’re doing dunk-the-coach,” someone nearby told us, joining our conversation without invitation.
“I’m sorry… what?” Jude turned fast on his heels to face her. “Dunk-the-who?”
“Dunk-the-coach,” she repeated.
“What coach?” he asked. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he pieced it together, a slow grin taking over his face. It was the first real one I’d seen in days.
“The… football one,” she faltered.
“Long hair,” Jude said, “kind of grumpy-looking?”
“Maybe.” Her expression said it all. She didn’t have a clue, but that didn’t matter. Jude was already making a plan—one that probably involved terrorizing his brother. And honestly, that would explain why Rhodes hadn’t said a word. “They’re over that way. You have to go past the teacups into the heart of the rides and stuff.”
“We’re going,” he announced, facing us. I opened my mouth to protest because Rhodes didn’t need that, but Jude shook his head. “It is our obligation as team players—as his players— to go support my brother in his dunk-the-coach endeavors.”
