The Other Game Page 9

  Blink. Pain.

  Blink. Pain.

  Blink. Pain.

  Dazed, I had the feeling of being dragged along, my feet scraping against the concrete like they no longer worked. It almost felt like I was floating, but the pain that followed felt nothing like floating. It felt like hell.

  When I opened my eyes, I realized that I was in someone’s arms. I glanced to my left, my head feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, to find Brett practically carrying me across campus, his arm looped underneath mine.

  I recognized where we were. “Hey,” I croaked out, and he slowed down.

  “Thank God. Are you okay?” He glanced at me, his eyes wide and worried.

  “My head hurts like hell.” I reached up and pulled my hand away, surprised to see blood wetting my fingertips.

  “It was worse before. It’s actually almost stopped,” he said, and I assumed he was referring to the blood.

  It was then when I noticed his shirt was stained red down the front. I pointed at it.

  “Mine?”

  “Yours.” He nodded, pulling the fabric away from his body before letting it go.

  “What the hell did he hit me with, anyway?”

  “A forty-ounce bottle of beer,” he answered, shaking his head at the memory.

  No wonder my head hurts so damn bad.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the campus police station,” he said, and it all came back to me in a rush of pain and fury.

  “Where’s Cassie? Is she okay? What the fuck, Brett? Where is she? Where’s Cassie?”

  I tried to pull out of his grip, desperate to find Jack’s girl, but I was too unsteady. My vision was still a little blurry, and my head pounded with each beat of my heart.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug.

  That answer couldn’t have been more wrong. I shoved at him, trying to push him off me.

  “You don’t know? We have to go back!” I shouted. “We have to fucking go back and get her!”

  “Dean?”

  I thought I heard Jack’s voice coming from somewhere so I called his name out, although not very loudly in case I was hearing things.

  “Dean!”

  A figure in the distance sprinted toward us. When he got closer, I could see Jack’s face looked horrified and confused.

  “What happened?” he demanded. “Why are you so bloody? Are you okay?”

  Jack reached for me, patting me over to see where I’d gotten hurt as he looked around, frantic. Then he froze and said, “Wait. Where’s Cassie?”

  I looked into his eyes, terrified that I’d let him down and he’d never forgive me.

  “Where’s Cassie, Dean?

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But you’ve gotta go find her, Jack.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know where she is?” he growled, but more at Brett than at me.

  “Dean was unconscious, man. What was I supposed to do?” Brett said, trying to explain.

  “Where are you two going?” Jack looked at the two of us as if suddenly realizing that we were walking into campus instead of out of it.

  “To the police station,” Brett said before I could.

  I grabbed my brother’s arm. “Jack, please go find Cassie. I’ll be fine. Some guy hit her.”

  His face turned cold with rage. “What do you mean, some guy hit her?”

  “Just go. Ask questions later,” I begged him.

  Jack sucked in a sharp breath to calm himself and looked me in the eye, his expression filled with pain. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” But I’ll never forgive myself if Cassie isn’t. “Go find her. I’ll be fine,” I said, and he didn’t hesitate for a second before he took off running.

  Brett propped me up as we headed toward the campus police office in the distance, its blue light illuminating the small building. We walked in silence, neither of us knowing what to say.

  When we reached the door, Brett pulled it open and shouted, “We need some help out here.”

  An older guy came around from behind a door and almost dropped his mug of coffee when he saw us. “Shit. Are you okay? What happened?” He placed the mug on top of the counter and moved around the desk that separated us.

  “I think it looks worse than it is,” I said with a smile before wincing from the pain. Even the light in the room hurt; it was too bright, too glaring.

  “Sergio, get out here,” the first cop yelled, and another guy appeared, his mouth half-filled with food.

  “What the—”

  “You boys want to tell us what happened to you tonight? I’m Officer Candalle, by the way, and this is my partner, Officer Santos.”

  “I’m Dean, and this is Brett.”

  “And you’re both students here at Fullton State?”

  “Yes. Mind if I sit?” I motioned toward the uncomfortable-looking metal chair in the corner.

  “No, of course. Do you need some ice?” Officer Candalle asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I honestly had no idea what I needed. All I knew was that my head hurt like a bitch and probably needed stitches. “Maybe some ibuprofen or something for the pain?”

  Officer Santos frowned. “We’re not allowed to give you medication. Sorry. Maybe we should get you to the hospital. We can ask you questions from there,” he suggested, but I shook my head.

  “Yeah, man, maybe we should get you looked at,” Brett said. I’d almost forgotten he was still there.

  “Not yet. I need you guys to catch the piece of shit who hurt my sister,” I blurted without thinking.

  Calling Cassie my sister had seemed like the smart thing to do. I knew from watching TV shows that if you weren’t related, people didn’t give you information. She was important to Jack, which meant she was important to me, so I needed to know everything there was to know about her situation.

  Santos sat down across from me before giving his partner an order. “Lance, go grab the camera, please.”

  “You’re going to record this?” I asked, assuming he was going to film my statement.

  “Photograph. It’s standard procedure. We need evidence of all your injuries.” He glanced at Brett. “Do you have any injuries, or is that blood all his?”

  Brett shook his head. “It’s all his.”

  “We’ll still photograph your shirt,” he said as Officer Candalle came back carrying a digital camera similar to Cassie’s.

  “Can you point out your injuries?” he asked, and when I pointed to the top of my head, he snapped a few photos.

  He studied me, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Does your face hurt at all anywhere?”

  “No, why?” I looked at Brett, wondering why he was asking.

  Candalle shook his head. “Nothing major. Just a few superficial cuts. Can you tell us what happened while we take the rest of the pictures?”

  He snapped away, taking pictures of my head, my face, and Brett’s shirt, while Santos typed quickly on his laptop.

  “We were walking toward campus,” I said, “on our way to the softball fields, when some guy came out of nowhere and attacked my sister. She was behind us, so no one noticed at first.”

  I felt light-headed, so I put my head between my legs for a moment. The room was quiet, and the officers waited patiently until I could continue.

  “When I turned around, I saw her head fly to the side. He’d hit her. We all started running back for her at that point, but he hit her again. Then the next thing I remember was the guy telling me he had a gun, asking me if I wanted to die, and then I woke up with Brett carrying me across campus. But I’m sure more happened after I passed out. You have to ask my sister.”

  “Can you describe the assailant?” Santos asked, still typing.

  “He was about five foot eleven, but skinny. Looked like he weighed maybe a buck fifty, not muscular in build, but quick. He was damn fast on his feet,” I said, searching my mind for other details. “Oh, he had dark blond hair that went to his shoulders.
It was stringy, and looked dirty. That’s all I remember.”

  Candalle nodded and set aside the camera. “That’s great, really helpful. Anything else you can think of? Did he have any distinguishing marks that you can remember? Any tattoos? Scars?”

  “Not that I recall,” I said, feeling like a failure.

  “What about you, Brett. Did you get a good look at him?”

  Brett shifted on his feet. “I didn’t, actually. I just saw Dean fall to the ground, and I knew I needed to get him out of the situation.”

  Santos rose to his feet and came over to where I sat. “I’m not a doctor, but I did have some medical training. Do you want me to look at your head?”

  “Please,” I said, and relaxed a little with relief.

  He dug around in his desk and found a pair of latex gloves. Once he’d snapped them on, he leaned forward and gently moved sections of my hair aside to check my scalp. As he did, small shards of brown glass fell to the floor.

  “It looks nasty, but it’s already stopped bleeding for the most part. I don’t think you need stitches, but keep an eye on it. I’m not a doctor, so I’d advise you to stop by the ER or urgent care and get it checked out.”

  “Understood. Thank you, though,” I said.

  As he pulled off his gloves and tossed them into the trash can, I closed my eyes for a second, wishing I had something for the pain. My head hurt like a bitch.

  “You mentioned your sister. Where is she now?” Candalle asked, and I shifted in my seat.

  “I don’t know. I hope she’s home by now, but I don’t know.”

  “Can you find out? And what’s your full name and hers?”

  I nodded, reaching for the cell phone in my pocket. “Dean Carter and Cassie Andrews,” I said as I called my brother’s number and held the phone away from my ear as it rang.

  “Dean,” Jack said, sounding relieved when he answered the phone.

  “Hey. Do you have her? Is she okay?” I asked, trying not to sound as frantic as I felt.

  Candalle leaned closer to listen.

  “We’re at her apartment. I was going to help her clean up her face,” Jack started to say, and Candalle overheard and lifted a hand in the air.

  “Don’t let him clean off her injuries,” he said in a hushed tone. “We need to photograph them too and get a statement.”

  I nodded and told Jack what the office had said.

  “Okay. Are they coming now?”

  I looked up at the officers and they both nodded. “Yeah, they’re on their way.”

  Ending the call, I closed my eyes, willing the pain to subside, but knowing it never would on its own.

  Brett stood up and said to the officers, “Do you think you could give us a ride to my car and then I’ll take Dean home?”

  Santos nodded. “Of course, no problem. Dean, can you give us your phone number so we can get in touch with you if we have any more questions?”

  I rattled off my number before pushing up from the chair. Much to my annoyance, I was still a bit wobbly on my feet.

  “I got you.” Brett came over and reached out to brace me once more.

  “Can you give us the address where your sister is?”

  “Shit,” I said before pulling out my phone again and texting Jack. He responded within seconds, and I gave the cops the information as we made our way to the back of the small station house.

  Buckled into the backseat of the police car, I remembered that Melissa was out of town and would have no idea what had happened. I didn’t know why she popped into my head when she did, but I fired off a text message to give her the CliffsNotes version of what happened tonight, and suggested that she check on her best friend.

  My phone immediately rang and Melissa’s name flashed on the screen.

  “Dean? Are you okay? What happened exactly? Where’s Cassie? And Jack?”

  Her voice was shrill, the pitch so high I couldn’t handle it at the moment. “I can’t talk right now, I’m sorry. My head hurts.”

  “Okay, okay, I understand. I wish I was there.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t,” I admitted, thankful that she hadn’t been around tonight because she might have gotten hurt as well. The very thought made me sick.

  “I’m going to check on Cassie. I’ll see you soon. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  I promised her that I would, and put my phone in my pocket. My head continued to pound. The officers dropped us off in front of Matt’s apartment, and Brett and I climbed out of the car.

  After we thanked the officers for the ride, they assured me that they’d be in touch.

  Brett motioned toward the stairs. “Do you want to come up first? I’m sure Matt has some aspirin or something for your head.”

  “Yeah. Do you think they’re even here?” I hadn’t thought about anyone other than Cassie for what felt like hours, but was more like a handful of minutes.

  “They’re here,” he said with a grimace. “They’ve been blowing up my phone.”

  We walked slowly, Brett still helping me keep my balance as we navigated the stairs. When he raised his hand to knock on Matt’s door, I reached for my head.

  “Please don’t.”

  “Shit. Sorry,” he said before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

  Matt and Jamie jumped to their feet and rushed toward us. “Fuck, man,” Matt said, “we’ve been so worried.”

  I tried to wave them off, but they took me out of Brett’s care, each holding one of my arms.

  “Seeing you collapse like that was some scary shit, man,” Matt said, which made me think about what it must have looked like from their perspective. “Are you okay?” he asked as they helped me toward their couch.

  “My head is killing me. It feels like it’s murdering me with every breath I take. Please tell me you have some ibuprofen or something for this pain.”

  Jamie headed for the kitchen and called over her shoulder, “I’ll go get you some. Anything else?”

  “Just the ibuprofen. And water. Please.”

  I leaned my head back against the couch and closed my eyes, begging for a reprieve from the pain, but all I saw was a different kind of pain. Cassie getting hit, and me running toward her. My eyes shot open to stop seeing the image of her like that, and Jamie was there, holding an Advil bottle and a water.

  “Your hair.” She studied me and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

  “That bad?” I had no idea what I looked like, and wasn’t looking forward to getting in front of a mirror.

  “It’s pretty matted,” she said, frowning. “Is Cassie okay? Have you talked to her?”

  “I talked to Jack. He’s with her now.”

  “Oh, good. I bet he’s pissed, though,” she said before looking at Matt and Brett.

  Matt winced. “I’m sure we’ll get an earful the next time we see him.”

  “Speaking of, I need to call him before we leave.”

  I pulled out my phone and glanced at Brett, who stood next to the couch, refusing to sit down in case the blood transferred from his shirt and stained the furniture. I hadn’t been as thoughtful.

  “Where are you?” Jack said instead of saying hello.

  “At Matt’s. Are you staying at Cassie’s tonight?” I asked, already assuming the answer.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I stay there too?”

  “Hold on.” He covered the phone, muting his voice for a moment. “She says it’s fine.”

  “Okay, cool. Do you guys need anything?”

  “I don’t think so. Hold on, I’ll double-check.” He covered the phone once more before saying, “She says no.”

  “Do you think Cassie will care if I stay there all weekend?”

  The last thing I wanted was to give Gran and Gramps something extra to worry about. If I looked as bad as Jamie seemed to think I did, I could only imagine how Gran would react when she saw me.

  No, it was best to lay low for a couple of days until I could pass muster.


  “She won’t care,” Jack said. “But make sure Gran knows we’re both staying here before you leave.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Okay. See you soon.”

  I put away my phone and moved to stand up. “I’m ready,” I said to Brett, and then looked at Jamie. “Thanks so much for the aspirin and water.”

  “Of course. Feel better, and tell Cassie to call me, okay?” she said before giving me a cautious hug.

  “I will. See you later, Matt. Sorry about the couch.” I glanced at it and grimaced at the small dots of blood I’d left behind.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving me off. “Drive safe.”

  Playing House

  After some disagreement because he was worried about my driving, Brett finally agreed to follow me as I slowly drove Gran’s car home. It was late and I was tired and felt like shit, but I couldn’t leave her and Gramps without a car for the weekend. Thank goodness she had an extra set of keys, so I just left the car in the driveway and didn’t have to go inside and risk her seeing me like this.

  Afterward Brett dropped me off in front of Cassie’s apartment, and I told him it would be better if he didn’t help me inside. I had no idea what seeing him would do to Jack, and didn’t want to risk some sort of showdown just as my head had started to ease up its incessant throbbing. I thanked him for the ride, assured him I could get upstairs on my own, and sent him on his way.

  Only once I was standing outside Cassie’s apartment in the dark did I realize that I hadn’t called Gran. It was late enough that I knew she’d already be in bed, but I had to get this over with. Otherwise she’d send out an APB tomorrow morning when she realized that neither of us were in our beds.

  The phone rang, still too loud for my liking, and Gran answered, her voice thin and sleepy.

  “Hi, Gran. I’m sorry to wake you.”

  “It’s okay, dear.” There was a rustle in the background, and her voice sharpened. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  I sucked in a quick breath, preparing myself for the lie I was about to tell, and hating it. I never lied to Gran. But if I told her the truth, she’d worry herself sick and make me come home so she could take care of me herself.

  “Everything’s fine. I just wanted you to know that Jack and I are going to stay at Cassie’s this weekend, if that’s okay with you. Melissa went home, and Cassie’s all alone and doesn’t like staying by herself. It makes her nervous, I guess.”