Kele Moon - Crossing the line

She threw some sticks into the fire that was dancing up past the metal rim as the smoke curled toward the sky. She had more notebooks than she realized, and all her hard work burned impressively well. She wanted to watch them for a few more minutes; then she’d go look for Clay and say sorry for being a bad friend. He was tough. She’d seen him fight many times before, and she knew he’d be okay, but she still needed to find him. Maybe she’d try her hand at stealing and grab him something to eat from Maple’s.

“If Mama catches you playing with fire, she’ll tan your ass.”

Tabitha jumped when Brett came down the steps in the backyard. Then she quickly looked around the yard, making sure she hadn’t forgotten to throw one of the notebooks in the fire. She’d been hiding them for years. It’d be terrible for him to get ahold of one now and make fun of her on the day she knew they weren’t true. All those stories about one unique boy saving lost orphans, feeding the homeless cookies, or rescuing puppies out of abandoned mines, and it’d been a lie. He’d grown up mean just like the rest of them.

She was still distracted with looking for the notebooks when Brett walked past her.

“Don’t burn the house down, runt.” He shoved her, forcing her to throw out her hands to stop herself from falling into the fire. She screeched when both her open palms connected with the metal bin. He paused when Tabitha jumped back, holding out her hands from the shock of pain. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You start wailing, and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

He walked off quickly, which was a small blessing. He must have wanted to put distance between them in case the burns were serious enough for him to get in trouble. Tabitha fell to the ground, looking at her hands that were already scorched red. As she watched, blisters formed, and the pain radiating out from the burns was so intense she tasted blood as she bit her lip to keep from screaming again.

It wasn’t until Brett was riding his bike down the driveway that the first sob was torn out of her. The burns gave her the excuse to cry, and she used it to her full advantage. Tabitha curled up in the dirt and sobbed over make-believe heroes and real-life villains until the sun went down and all her dreams turned to ash.

“I’m telling, Wyatt! If you don’t stop hitting him, I’m telling right now!”

It was Jules’s voice ringing over the shouting crowd that caused the first thread of clarity to filter in past the red haze of fury. Wyatt hated Clay for his constant piglet jabs and scowling bad attitude. He was the meanest kid in their class. No one liked him. Which was why it really galled Wyatt that Tabitha was always hanging on him. She’d never hugged Wyatt like that, and he was nicer than Clay Powers.

He was better-looking too.

Tabitha didn’t pay half as much attention to him as she did to Clay. It wasn’t fair, and he hit Clay again out of the burning frustration that had been building for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t even sure why it made him so angry, but it did.

“Coach Jasper!”

Dang, but Jules was loud. Her voice echoed all the way down the hallway as she took off running toward the boxing ring. Several of the girls followed after her, and other students turned away rather than get caught gawking at the fight.

Wyatt had the good sense to try to get off Clay before the coach showed up, but that didn’t stop Clay from punching him one more time in the side. The punch lacked the strength his other jabs had, but on instinct Wyatt pulled his fist back in retaliation to get another good hit in. He paused when he looked at Clay’s face.

Clay was covered in blood, so much so Wyatt couldn’t tell where it was all coming from. The icy rush of fear and horror was so overwhelming Wyatt got sick to his stomach between one heartbeat and the next.

He couldn’t have possibly done that. Clay’s lip was split. His eye left eye was already swollen shut, and his mouth was bleeding so much he had to spit blood rather than choke.

Wyatt had been fighting all his life. On the mat. In the ring. He never appreciated all those annoying rules until right then. It was horrifying what a little fit of fury could cause, and it was his fault.

“Are you okay?” Wyatt managed to whisper past the nausea rising in the back of his throat.

“Get off me, piglet.” Clay’s voice was slurred, but there was a snarl to it as he shoved at Wyatt for good measure, forcing him to the ground.

Wyatt stayed where he was, staring at Clay, who wiped at his mouth. Clay’s one good eye was still narrowed menacingly at Wyatt. The hatred was so blatant the few students left watching backed up when Clay got to his feet.

He wavered where he stood, and on instinct, Wyatt reached out to him. Clay flinched, and Wyatt had never felt so low in his entire life. It was as if he were looking at a person outside himself. He couldn’t put it together that he had been the one to do this, that he had somehow turned into everything he had been raised to fight against. Someone who hurt rather than helped. A person who let his anger overrule his common sense, and all because he’d seen Tabitha hug Clay. It had caused such raw fury to surge through his bloodstream he actually saw red.

He was in so much trouble.

As he stood there considering how many different ways his father was going to bury him for this, Clay took off, and Wyatt couldn’t even think to stop him before Jules’s shrill voice carried down the hallway again.

“I think they’re both hurt! Hurry!”

“Conner!” Coach Jasper was running full-out but stopped to glare down the hallway before he turned to Wyatt and studied him with wide, horrified eyes. “Did that Powers boy do that to you? I got half a mind to call the sheriff on him. I would if I didn’t know he was gonna lose his marbles over you.”

“What?” Wyatt frowned and wiped at his mouth and then looked at his hand, finding it covered with blood.

“Are you okay, Wy?” Jules asked in concern as she came up behind Coach Jasper. “Your eye is swollen near closed. Coach Jasper, I think we do need to call my daddy.”

Coach Jasper huffed in defeat before he leaned down to look at Wyatt’s face. It was obvious he wasn’t thrilled about the idea of calling up the sheriff to tell him his son got into a fight when he was supposed to be in boxing. “Why the heck didn’t ya send someone after me before you let that big redneck beat ya near to death?”

Wyatt blinked in shock. “You think it was his fault?”

“Wasn’t it?”

Wyatt looked to Jules, who was glancing between the coach and Wyatt. Her lips were pinched in disapproval, but amazingly his sister stayed silent. She wasn’t going to rat him out. Too bad Wyatt’s conscience wouldn’t let him run with it.

“I did it.” Wyatt shook his head in defeat. “The fight was my fault, and he’s hurt worse than me. A lot worse. Someone ought to go find him.”

Wyatt turned to leave, because he was fairly certain he should be the one to go make sure Clay was okay. Even if he didn’t like him, he sure didn’t want him dropping dead for hugging Tabitha.

“Whoa, there, boy.” Coach Jasper grabbed his arm. “You ain’t looking too peachy either. We got to put in a call to the sheriff’s office right now.”

“Are you gonna tell him it’s my fault?” Wyatt couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, I surely ain’t gonna lie to him.” The coach laughed bitterly. “If I’m going under the bus, you’re going down with me. Why the heck couldn’t you wait until after boxing to start the dang fight?”

* * *

Wyatt’s father studied Wyatt’s face under the flickering florescent lights in Coach Jasper’s office. “If he hit you first, why do you think it was your fault?”

Wyatt shrugged. He wasn’t real sure why everyone was set and determined to make this fight Clay’s fault instead of his. “I just think it is.”

“What aren’t you telling me? ’Cause I know we ain’t hearing the whole story.” His father turned to glare at Coach Jasper. “And what the heck was Wyatt doing out of class? Is the Powers boy taking classes here? Why’s he just walking in off the street? It ain’t even a community day. What the heck kinda operation are you running, Jasper?”

Coach Jasper noticeably paled; he opened his mouth, and the words seemed stuck in his throat. “I, um—”

Jules kicked Wyatt’s leg from her seat next to him, and Wyatt grunted, hearing her silent communication loud and clear.

“I sorta said some things ’bout his mama,” Wyatt mumbled under his breath.

His father’s head snapped around, and he narrowed dark eyes at him. “What did you say?”

“Something ’bout her being trash.”

Coach Jasper winced. “Well, it can’t be the first time he heard that.”

“I might’ve mentioned something ’bout seeing her being dragged into the sheriff’s office.”

His father groaned. “Christ, Wyatt.”

Wyatt felt his face flame. It sounded so much worse when he repeated it to his father.

“Well, I’d surely have decked you for that.” His father shook his head. “That mouth of yours. It’s always way ahead of your brain. What made ya say something so half-cocked?”

Wyatt shrugged and looked to Jules uncertainly because he was almost positive she knew the real reason.

“Clay wasn’t looking too good, Daddy. He was bleeding more than Wyatt is,” Jules whispered as if choosing that to be the better confession than Wyatt’s crush on Tabitha. “I think he needs a doctor.”

“How bad was he?” his father asked in concern.

“Bad,” Jules and Wyatt said in unison in the way they were apt to do in stressful situations like this.

“Wyatt does have a black belt,” Jasper said with a sidelong glance at the sheriff. “And he’s fighting way above his age group in boxing.”

Wyatt couldn’t help but sit up at that. “Really?”

His father turned to arch an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to say more. Wyatt shrank back and lowered his gaze rather than ask how far above his age group Coach Jasper thought he was fighting, but it was on the tip of his tongue.

“Okay, come on.” His father stood up and picked his sheriff’s hat up off Coach Jasper’s desk. “We got to go find the Powers boy.”

It wasn’t until they got into his sheriff’s jeep and away from prying eyes that his father let loose.

“I swear, Wyatt, you’re gonna be the death of me. What gives you the right to go run your mouth ’bout things you see at my place of work? That sorta thing’s supposed to be kept private. The way you’re heading, Jules is gonna be the next sheriff ’cause I ain’t even sure I can trust you anymore.”

Wyatt turned to narrow his eyes at Jules, expecting her to add insult to injury. Instead she was looking out the window, flinching when their father started in again as if it were her under the gun.

“What’d you got to say ’bout all that?”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Well, sorry surely ain’t gonna cut it this time. I hope you’re thinking of a mighty fine apology for Powers, ’cause I ain’t doubting for a moment that it was your fault. That mouth of yours could make a saint violent.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“I ain’t never been so ashamed of my kin. I got half a mind to lock you up. You know what aggravated assault means, don’t ya?”

Wyatt nodded. “Yes, sir. I know what it means.”

“That’s a mighty serious offense. You feel like explaining to Judge Carter why you decided to run your mouth just ’cause you like the sound of your voice and then beat a boy that ain’t got half as many privileges as you to make yourself feel bigger and meaner?”

Wyatt shook his head as he avoided looking at his father, who was driving faster than usual, which was saying something. “No, sir.”

“Then what’re you gonna do to make up for it? ’Cause I’m truly considering it. Since it’s fun to run your mouth ’bout being hauled into the sheriff’s office, maybe it’s time you find out what it feels like.”

Wyatt shrugged again. He had no earthly idea what he could do to make up for this. On instinct he looked at Jules. His sister had an answer for everything.

“I wouldn’t say Wyatt was bigger than Clay,” Jules put in without missing a beat, as if she couldn’t resist his silent cry for help. “I think Clay’s taller.”

“Well, taller don’t mean—”

“And bigger.” Jules held out her hand as if imitating a giant. “And I heard from Susie that he got into a fight at the trailer park and beat both Vaughn Davis and Brett McMillen, and they’re two years older.”