Matt worried they would unearth other abused teens in Quince’s wake. Worried also that he was the only one. Wasn’t sure which would be worse.
He worried he would cry when he finally confronted Jeremiah. What would Adam think of him then? What would he think of himself?
What if he just asked Jeremiah to forgive him?
Because, really, what haunted him was the baseball bat—the swinging and screaming and the savage brutality of it—none of which he had wanted.
What if he found the courage to forgive himself? Was that even possible? Part of him hated that sniveling, thirteen-year-old boy who had craved the attentions of an older man, who had offered himself for the taking, who had run home crying and bleeding. Part of him hated that same kid for being such a coward—not just for taking the bat and swinging, but for crawling into the closet and hiding in it for the last six years!
Maybe that kid didn’t deserve forgiveness. Maybe that kid wasn’t worthy of Adam’s love.
7:46 a.m. Seven minutes had ticked by without a single banging door. Either the Rapture had occurred, leaving Matt behind (which had been an ever-constant concern in his formative years)—or something suspicious was afoot.
Matt climbed down from his upper bunk, pressed his ear to the door, listening.
His eyes wandered to the poster of the hot rock climber. It occurred to him, then, that his year here had begun by hanging one poster in this room—the Dallas Cheerleaders—and would end by taking down its replacement.
It wasn’t just the posters that had changed. Matt was a different person entirely—he was Mustang now—and he could not have done it without William. Big-headed William with his popsicle stick body, Tallulah Bankhead’s wit, and Gandhi’s wisdom. (Or was it Gotti’s?)
Foolish William, who couldn’t get over Colton Langley, who might as well still be wearing the guy’s promise ring.
Colton Langley. There was a name that kept resurfacing like a greasy zit.
Colton’s A-list lawyers had reached a plea agreement with the district attorney, whose rape case against their client hinged on Bella’s testimony—and she wasn’t talking. In the end, absent a victim, the D.A.’s case was just a titillating story of a naked drunk guy and a drag queen.
So, Colton had pled guilty to public intoxication and indecency. Got slapped with a $10,000 fine and a one-year suspended sentence. Two hundred hours of community service. Assuming he kept his nose clean for the next twelve months, he’d never see the inside of a jail.
But he’d never return to MCU. He was persona non-grata there, having committed the unforgiveable sin of endangering the administration’s cash flow.
He’d never hold public office either. (That photo of him and Bella would follow him for the rest of his life.) He couldn’t get elected dog catcher in Catville, which was poetic justice—his dreams crushed with the same cruelty he had meted out to others.
Colton was in exile in Weatherford, which, Matt guessed, was where William would be spending his summer.
Matt would spend his—or a good part of it at least—tracking Jeremiah Quince by day, cuddling and huddling in a tent with Adam by night. That last part was the “with benefits” part of their adventure.
Adam had inked his deal with MCU’s lawyers, accepted their money, and promptly signed $60,000 of it over to his father—just to buy the man’s silence that his own son was ass-boy—and roommate—to the incoming SGA president.
Matt heard the whispered voices again—on the other side of his door. Froze.
Person #1: “Is Mustang even awake?”
Person #2: “Do you think I’d be standing here if he were?”
Person #1: “Wake him up, dude! The guys won’t wait around all morning.”
Person #2: “Fine. Tell everyone to get ready.”
Person #1: “They’ve been ready for the last half hour!”
There was a soft tapping at Matt’s door.
He counted to twenty, then opened it.
There stood Seth, tall and gangly in all his red-headed glory. He was naked, but for the towel slung over his shoulder—the official going-to-the-shower attire for their floor of the dorm. Grinning like a cheshire cat. He was Person #2.
Matt scanned the hall behind Seth. Person #1 was nowhere in sight. Neither was anyone else. From what he had just heard, the rest of the guys were waiting for him. Where were they waiting? The showers? What did they want?
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Seth asked. “Choking the chicken one last time before heading home for the summer?”
