Free Crushed by Dawn Rae Miller Page B

Probably looking for pot.
    I retch, but manage to keep it down. 
    “Puking will help, too, you know,” Alex says.
    I clench the edge of a desk and contemplate lying down on Brady’s bed. I shuffle in that direction, but every cell in my body aches, and I groan. Suddenly, my stomach doesn’t want to hold its contents anymore. Alex thrusts the garbage can under my face just in time.
    I grab onto it and puke. 
    “You okay?”
    “I’m fine.”
    Alex shakes his head. “Yeah, looks that way.” 
    I retch again. 
    “You done puking?” Alex motions to the garbage can and makes a face. It smells awful.
    “Yeah.”
    Another long pause. I can tell he wants to say something by the way he lingers and his eyes refuse to land on me.
    That makes two of us. I want to tell him he’s a dick and deserved whatever it was I did to him. He probably wants to gloat about his apparent “win.”
    Stop it, Fletch. You need to move beyond this. I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and help myself to Brady’s bottled water. “So, you skating today?”
    “Yeah, I’m headed to the parking lot now. I had a busy morning.” 
    I don’t want to hear about his morning. In fact, I really don’t want to talk to him.
    Alex rocks back and forth on his feet. “I have to ask, even though I don’t want to know — not really anyway — what happened between you and Calista?”
    The weight that’s been hanging around my shoulders crushes me just a little bit more. 
    “What do you mean?” It’s awesome the way they all think I did something to her. Not one of them thinks, maybe, just maybe, Cal’s the party at fault.
    He eyes me suspiciously. “You know what I mean. Why are you guys fighting? Why is she so pissed at you? What did you do?”
    The pounding of my pulses rivals only the pounding of my massive headache. I rub my temples and fight back the bile building in my throat. 
    Alex is a broad guy, not anywhere near as tall as me, but strong. Still, if I wanted to, I could take him. I did pin him after all.
    But I don’t plan on trying. 
    I want him to hit me. I need the physical pain because this other thing I’ve felt since coming back to school, is destroying me. 
    “Other than the usual summer stuff?” I ask, taunting him a little.
    He stiffens, understanding what I imply, but stays across the room facing me. “You shouldn’t fuck with her like that. She doesn’t deserve it.”
    I nod and then, for no reason whatsoever, I blurt, “She shot you down. That’s why you’re pissed at me.”
    Alex eyes narrow. “She told you?”
    The words, having left the prison of my mind, take on a life of their own. “Yeah. She came over last night and told me everything. She sat on my lap and whispered in my ear. Has she ever done that to you, Alex?” 
    My stomach flops. Whether it’s a hangover or nerves, is debatable. I glare at Alex, silently begging him to punch me. Scream at me. Something.
    Instead, he stares at the ground before lifting his eyes to mine. “As a matter of fact, she has.” His Russian accent comes on thick. All of Brady’s jokes about Alex having Russian Mafia ties, don’t seem like such a reach when he uses this voice. 
    He’s lying. I’m fairly sure of it. I would have heard about it. 
    Wouldn’t I?
    Alex gives a curt jerk of his head toward the door, like he expects me to follow him. A heavy silence hangs over the room as I process what just happened.
    I gave him every reason to hit me, and he walked away. 
    Anger boils in me. He should have hit me, and the fact that he didn’t, pisses me off. 
    “What the fuck?” I yell and throw the water bottle to the ground. “Why aren’t you pissed?”
    “You’re too hung over to fight.” He sneers. “Besides, I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.” 
     
    *** 
     
    A strange humidity clings to me as I stumble along the dirt path, through the hazy fog, toward the empty faculty lot. Everything has a weird ghost-like vibe to it.
    The sound of wheels on