Ripped - 10. Chapter 10

Strangely, Bailey was grateful for Justin's presence today. The guy's idle chatter kept him from thinking too much. Bailey had intentionally led them to a table in the corner after they'd gone through the line. He hated the dining hall lines because the other guys always jostled and nudged as they reached for items. He sighed after they'd taken seats and he had a little breathing room around him.

"Do you have Richards's test today?" Justin asked, chomping on a piece of bacon.

"Yeah."

"Aaannnd?" Justin prodded for more than one word answers. "How do you think you'll do?"

"Fine. I hope."

Justin huffed. "I know his tests can be tough, so good luck."

"Thanks."

"Do you think—"

"Hey! Justin! You're here early this morning!" a voice called, and Bailey looked up to see two guys coming towards their table. He stiffened when he realized they intended to join them.

"Pat, what's up?" Justin fist bumped the closest guy when he sat down.

"Not much. Hey, Bailey, how's it going?"

Bailey's eyes shot up. How did they know him?

"I'm in your chemistry class, idiot, so's Jason here," Pat laughed good-naturedly at his surprise. "Seriously, you've been here for over nearly two months, man."

"Sorry, I-I don't—"

Pat waved him off. "Forget it. Oh, hey, I heard you guys decimated the football team yesterday. So awesome."

"No, we didn't—" Bailey started.

"Yeah, lots of excitement yesterday, you know with Ian and all too," Jason added.

"Oh, yeah, how is he? It was broken, right?" Justin asked while Bailey's eyes just bounced from one guy to the next.

"Yeah, fuckin' sucks man. He's one of our best attackmen. At least it's off-season."

"I've had my fair share of breaks, so I know how it is," Justin mumbled.

"Oh, yeah, I bet," Pat chuffed. "Hell, I can't even imagine doing half of the shit you guys do."

"We could teach ya a few things," Justin teased.

"Yeah, no. I'll stick with LaX, thank you very much."

"At least you get it. Chris, man..." Justin stopped, shaking his head. "Sometimes I think the whole damn football team has their heads up their asses."

Bailey nearly spit out his orange juice, as the table burst into laughter.

"Chris thinks any sport not football is unworthy."

"I don't see him givin' you guys a hard time."

Pat grimaced. "True. Hey, not everyone on the football team is like that either. Ben, he's pretty cool. And Jaime..."

Jason nodded his agreement. Bailey didn't really know any of them anyway so he couldn't agree or disagree.

"Noah is too," Jason added. "And Declan, he's always been—"

"No, Declan is not," Justin snapped, cutting off Jason.

Both Pat and Jason looked at Justin in surprise.

"Since when?" Pat asked. "I've never heard him say anything against other sports. Hell, he has a track guy as a roommate."

"Well, he may never have said it before, but he sure as hell thinks it. Told me this morning he thinks gymnasts just 'dance around', and we should have given up the weight room when Chris tried to bully us out because—get this—we, gymnasts didn't need it."

Pat's mouth dropped open. "Aw, shit man. I can't believe he said that."

"You don't think Mr. Reed condones that, do you?" Jason asked.

"Nah. I think I heard he called Chris into his office about what happened. If it happens again, I'll take it to the dean myself." Pat snagged one of Justin's bacon slices.

"Yeah, Chris was pretty pissed off last night. Of course, that could be because half the guys on his hall were taunting the heck out of him, especially with the way you stood up to him." Jason grinned.

"He deserves it, talkin' shit like that," Justin muttered.

"Again, Coach Reed will definitely have had something to say about that. Hell, that's what they drill into our heads—everyone is good at something..."

Pat nudged Bailey's arm, and Bailey instinctively recoiled. "And Bailey here just showed everyone he's as good at pushups as a football player!"

"Speaking of..." Jason trailed off, his eyes on someone coming through the door. They all glanced over to see Declan and three of his friends sauntering in.

"You don't think he's mad, do you?" Bailey finally spoke up, suddenly wondering if that was why Declan had been so dismissive on the track.

"Mad? Hell, he's probably pissed!" Pat burst out.

"Not as pissed as Chris, but yeah, he's had his little bitty ego bruised," Jason said, his voice pitching higher.

Bailey's heart sank. He'd never intended that to happen. Hell, he should have realized it yesterday. Maybe given up, so Declan could save face. He knew first hand just how important image was for most guys, especially in a tough sport like football.

And he hated that he'd probably be the cause of Declan being taunted or teased now. Maybe it wouldn't be as hateful as Bailey had gotten when he'd been outed, but the harassing and joking would hurt Declan no matter what.

Maybe he could talk to the guy, smooth things over...

He looked up at Declan seated several tables away. The seething glare the guy shot at him told him enough. There was no way Bailey was going anywhere near that.

"Look," Justin said, jerking his chin in Declan's direction, "he doesn't even look sorry for it."

Pat looked up, and Justin twisted in his seat to see Declan's irritation. Bailey bent over his tray, choking down a few more forkfuls of eggs and bacon. He just wanted to get out of here now. He barely heard much else of what they rambled on about. He felt his heart rate spiking and knew he'd need it, if he didn't get out of here soon. He needed a distraction, to go study, or work on his paper...

"—did you see it too?" Justin was saying. "I didn't know you were there..."

But Bailey had no clue what they were talking about as he gathered up his backpack.

"Yeah, it was so fucking funny..." Pat started laughing.

"I never knew Bill Murray was so hilarious," Jason added, apparently talking about a movie they'd seen.

Bailey rose and stepped behind Justin toward the door.

"Hey, are you leaving?"

"Yeah, I want to study a little before class," Bailey said.

"Good luck!" Justin called, and as Bailey headed out he heard Justin, Pat, and Jason continue talking about the movie that had apparently been playing at the student union last night. "What was your favorite part?"

"I loved when he just grabbed the damn groundhog and—"

Laughter from the table echoed behind him.

Bailey nearly ran out the door across the quad to Bedford Hall, the academic building, desperate to get away from everyone. He had to focus on his studies. Forget about Declan and Chris and the football players. Forget getting kicked off the Pitbulls football team. Forget that he was alone... that his dad was gone. Damn nightmares always left him feeling so upended the next day.

There were a few students already milling about in the building, especially in the science wing as some worked on labs, but Bailey headed for the stairs to the third floor where his history class would be. Instead of making his way to the classroom to study though, he darted into the bathroom, locking himself in a stall.

Hanging his pack on the back of the door, he opened the front zipper pocket and pulled out a small oval-shaped mini box cutter he'd found in a hobby shop. It was almost cute, in its light blue casing with the white slide button on the side. He pushed at the button with his thumb, and the tiny little blade peeked out.

He heaved a deep sigh, closing his eyes momentarily.

No. He didn't need it. He didn't need it. He didn't need it.

He dropped his head against the side of the stall, forcing his mind to focus. He hated using it unless he'd reached a point he couldn't pull himself back from the edge—the point of losing control, the point of drowning in his grief...

Study. Study. Gym. Run. Study.

Images of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights floated in his head. The preamble to the constitution. The amendments...

His thumb slid back, the blade slipping back into its safe harbor. He shoved it back into its pocket.

"We the people of the United States," he started mumbling to himself as he slipped into his classroom and pulled out his notebook, "in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, ensure domestic Tranquility..."

****

The test wasn't as hard as he'd imagined. At least, he thought he did well. Making his way to trigonometry, he thought about the paper he needed to write. Emily Dickinson. He had to pick three poems and analyze them. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't somehow see his father in every single one of them right now.

'Because I could not stop for death'... Yeah, so not helping.

He settled in his seat in the back of the room. Someone nudged his arm as he pulled out his homework.

"Great job yesterday, Bailey," the guy—Bailey thought his name was Scott—whispered conspiratorially as he jerked his chin toward Declan, who'd just walked in.

Bailey stayed bent over his backpack to keep out of Declan's line of sight. A couple guys were playfully teasing Declan, and Bailey even had the thought that they sounded a bit impressed by Declan's show of strength.

"Hey, man, Chris made your whole team look bad when he called those gym guys out like that. And then Chris picked the guy he thought was the weakest only to have him match you..."

Bailey cringed. Yeah, that probably didn't make things better.

"... but then you're like the only one on that team who could have done so many."

Bailey noticed a slight smile on Declan's face before he slipped into his chair in the second row. Well, maybe it wasn't bothering Declan as much as he thought.

Mr. Prosser strolled in dropping a stack of papers on the desk. Their tests from last class. "Good news, everyone did well on the test."

There was a collective sigh throughout the class.

"Your top scores are..."

Bailey hated this part. Mr. Prosser had a habit of announcing the three highest scores in the class. He said it let everyone know who they could go to to maybe ask for extra help studying in the future. Inevitably, it was always Xiang, Declan, and either Connor or Ronan. Bailey managed to do reasonably well on previous tests, but not what his mother would expect to 'honor his father's memory'.

"Xiang..." Mr. Prosser walked down the aisle to hand the young Asian teen his perfect paper. Bailey swore the guy had to be a walking calculator.

"Of course, as always," a couple guys groaned jokingly.

"Connor..."

"Yeah, man! Good job," his friend next to him praised.

Most of the class was already turned toward Declan, who had looked up at Mr. Prosser expectantly.

"And Bailey."

What? He blinked as he realized Mr. Prosser was actually coming his way.

"Woohoo!" Scott crowed from next to him, practically beating on his arm in congratulations.

Mr. Prosser smiled down at him gently. "Good job, Bailey."

"Thank you," he whispered, still shocked he'd done so well.

Maybe today was looking up after all.