Ripped - 18. Chapter 18

--Declan—

This morning he waited for Bailey under the bleachers in Bailey's favorite spot. He was nervous, debating whether he should tell Bailey about going to the dean and headmaster yesterday. He didn't want Bailey to be blindsided, but he also didn't want Bailey to be pissed at him either. Maybe the dean wouldn't tell Bailey who'd told.

Even so, Declan would know, and he couldn't keep that from Bailey.

He looked up as he heard footsteps. Bailey's face lit up when he saw Declan.

Yeah, I caused that, Declan puffed up proudly before guilt swamped him again. But how's he going to feel when I tell him I told the dean about what happened with Chris—after he'd told me not to?

"Hey." Declan's voice sounded rough, even to himself.

"Hi." Bailey walked right up to him, dropping his bags to the ground. "You ready?"

"Uh, yeah..."

He was surprised when Bailey actually grabbed his arm to give him a tug. Since when did Bailey reach out to others? He rarely let anyone else touch him. But Bailey seemed to make an exception for him—and now Bailey had him by the arm.

Declan grinned as he let Bailey lead him to the track, still holding onto him.

"You got your iPod?" Bailey asked.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Declan fumbled with the small clip-on device he used for running instead of his phone, then held it out to Bailey. "Did you want to pick the music this time? I've got all kinds."

Bailey looked at the device, dwarfed in Declan's big hands, but just smiled and shook his head. "No, you decide," Bailey said—but then he used his fingers to fold Declan's back over the phone, softly gripping Declan's fisted hand before patting it.

Declan would swear his skin was tingling from where Bailey's calloused fingers brushed over his skin.

"Come on," Bailey said, bouncing on his feet before taking off.

Declan raced to catch up. As he ran, he flipped through several playlists before deciding on one, allowing the heavy beat to play aloud. Maybe he could tell Bailey after their run, since trying to talk over the music would be futile. He refused to concede that he could just turn off the iPod. Okay, maybe that was being a little bit of a coward, putting it off even longer, but he couldn't bear to break that beautiful smile on Bailey's face right now.

He quickly matched Bailey's pace, both of them falling into an easy rhythm. Declan found the mix of their combined footfalls hypnotic, relaxing in the soothing huff of their breaths and the occasional brush of Bailey's arm against his.

Bailey's phone chimed, bringing Declan out of his zone. He nearly stumbled into Bailey, who laughed and shoved him as he dug in his pocket. Declan watched as Bailey checked his phone, a frown marring his face. Bailey's pace dropped as he quickly thumbed the phone off, shoving it away.

"Everything okay?"

"I gotta go," Bailey said evasively, turning toward the bleachers, obviously planning on grabbing his bags.

Declan followed him. Something had upset Bailey; his whole body tense, closed off.

"Are you sure—"

"It's fine. I—I just gotta go to a meeting. I'll talk to you later," Bailey snapped before taking off at a full run.

"Bailey!" Declan called desperately to Bailey's fleeing back. "Wait! I need to tell you—"

"Later!" Bailey's voice called back without stopping.

Declan started to chase after him, but it was obvious Bailey wasn't going to stop. A meeting. Hell, had the dean already contacted Bailey about wanting to talk to him? Declan guessed it made sense that Zamora would want to talk to Bailey as soon as possible, but he'd thought they'd at least wait until after breakfast.

Declan slowed and stopped, watching Bailey duck under the bleachers before taking off for the gym, presumably to shower. Declan hung his head, silently berating himself for not taking the opportunity to explain when he'd had it. Fuck, he might as well head in to shower before taking his phone with the video over to the headmaster.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath. "I'm sorry, Bailey."

—Bailey—

Bailey had been thoroughly enjoying his peaceful run with Declan before his phone reminded him of his standing Thursday morning meeting with the school counselor. What a way to spoil his mood and his morning. Why had he snapped at Declan? It wasn't the big goof's fault...

Bailey could barely even look at Declan's concerned face, taking off immediately to retrieve his bags. If he allowed himself to linger, Declan would probably finagle out of him what the meeting was about. Bailey had no intention of Declan finding out just how messed up he was that he was forced to talk to a shrink every week to keep everyone else happy.

After completing his morning ritual in the locker room, he grabbed his book bag and headed toward Grainger Hall, the ivy-covered brick structure which served as Heritage Academy's main administrative building. He was almost to the bottom of the stairs, ready to head up to Mrs. Tardin's office on the second floor, when he heard her call out to him from his left.

"Bailey, good morning!" The counselor smiled brightly, little too chipper for this early Bailey thought. "Please, come with me." She waved him over, and he obediently followed.

"What's going on? Are we meeting somewhere else today?" he asked.

"Well, um, no. Actually, Dr. Lansing has requested to speak to you." She reached a room labeled 'Conference Room A', but Bailey had stopped in his tracks.

"D-Dr. Lansing?" His voice cracked as his panic shot through the roof, thoughts flooding his brain: Oh, hell, what have I done? Am I failing something? Will he be putting me on academic probation?

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, and he jerked back to see Mrs. Tardin offering him a soft smile. He cursed under his breath at his reaction. He knew she stood behind him, but still... she should know better. They had talked about it. Her eyes flashed with sorrow, probably remembering when she'd managed to unearth the reason he disliked being touched.

"It's okay, Bailey. Nothing to worry about. Not really. It's more that we are concerned about you, sweetheart."

Bailey frowned as she opened the door. "Oh, shit," slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. He stared wide-eyed. This wasn't a meeting, it was a gathering. He saw the Headmaster, the Dean, as well as Mr. Reed and Coach Richards among a few others at the table.

Before he had a chance to lapse into a full-blown panic attack, Dr. Lansing turned and smiled broadly at him, his hand out welcoming Bailey into the room.

"Good morning, Mr. McIntyre. Please come in. Sit. Have some juice and something to eat." Bailey eyed the side table where some breakfast pastries and muffins along with beverages were set up. He wasn't sure he could eat right now; his stomach was suddenly in knots wondering what the hell was going on.

"Maybe just some orange juice," he mumbled, not wanting to be impolite.

Mrs. Tardin actually stepped forward to pour the juice as the headmaster guided him to a seat at the oblong conference table. He was still eyeing the others in the room warily when the counselor placed a glass of OJ and a blueberry muffin in front of him.

"In case you decide you're hungry." She smiled warmly before she took her own seat.

Dr. Lansing sat nearly across from him next to Mr. Zamora. Bailey watched him flip open a file folder and pick up a pen.

"Mr. McIntyre. Bailey. I'm sure you're wondering what's going on," the Headmaster started. At Bailey's nod, he continued. "Last night, we learned of a disturbing incident that happened Friday night at the Square concerning your safety."

Bailey sucked in a breath. His eyes darted to his coach, who seemed visibly upset. Sympathy radiated from the others around the table, and Mrs. Tardin reached over instinctively to pat his arm, but he edged away from her.

"Would you like to tell us what happened Friday night?" the headmaster asked gently. His tone and manner were inviting and compassionate.

Someone had told. Bailey was willing to bet it was Justin. But Justin didn't know exactly what happened; he had only guessed—guessed right, but nonetheless, it was still just speculation on his teammate's part. Maybe he could still—

Bailey shrugged. "Nothing happened."

Dr. Lansing frowned deeply, glancing at Mr. Zamora next to him who looked equally concerned. On the other hand, Coach Richards looked like he was ready to come out of his seat, he was vibrating with so much fury. Somehow, the man clamped his jaw and clenched his hands together. Mr. Reed didn't look much better. Other looks of surprise and concern ran around the table between the rest of the administrators as well.

"Bailey, we can understand your desire to protect your fellow classmates, but you know we don't tolerate any type of bullying, violence, or intimidation on this campus," Mr. Zamora spoke up, apparently hoping to motivate Bailey into speaking up.

Bailey cocked his head. He didn't fully trust that all of these people were looking out for him. He especially eyed Mr. Reed, the football coach. Certainly, he wouldn't be happy if Bailey confirmed Justin's suspicions. "I'm not saying anything happened, but whatever you've been told happened off campus. So what does it matter?"

Lips thinned and brows furrowed at his continued reticence. It was obvious they had expected him to be more forthcoming.

"Bailey," Coach Richards huffed out sharply, "it doesn't matter where it happened! You don't have to put up with it. It's not something anyone here will tolerate, ever."

Bailey cut his eyes instinctively to Mr. Reed. The man straightened, a sudden understanding causing his eyes to widen. "Bailey, son," he started earnestly, "I am in total agreement with everyone else here. In fact, I am probably even more upset because it was one of my team members, specifically one who should be leading by example. I don't know what happened at your other schools before coming here, but I want you to know we don't brush things under the rug around here. Chris and Eric, and anyone else involved if there are any, have no place on my team or at this school. Period."

Bailey opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Maybe things were handled differently here. He wasn't used to trusting in others. He'd only ever been able to rely on his parents—and one of them had been ripped away from him, while the other had retreated into herself, leaving him to face life on his own lately.

"Look, Bailey, we know you've had a rough time these last couple months," Mrs. Tardin said from next to him. "But this isn't something that you should have to accept, no one should. We just want to know in your own words what happened. We will be talking with Chris and Eric, and others as well, to determine just how far this has gone."

He lifted his chin. "But what if I just want to let it go? I really don't want to cause trouble, I—"

"You are not causing trouble," Dr. Lansing cut him off. "Chris and Eric caused it."

"Justin just believes they've been buggin' me," Bailey said

Mr. Zamora and Dr. Lansing exchanged a slightly amused, knowing look, before Dr. Lansing leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table and clasping his fingers together. "Bailey, you seem to be under the impression that we don't already know what occurred. However, we were informed, in explicit detail, what happened behind Carewell Pharmacy. We are aware Chris Vasser and Eric Olander recorded at least two videos during the incident. What we are asking of you is for your side of the story. We know it happened; we'd just like you to confirm details from your point of view."

Bailey's jaw hung open. How did they—? Who could have—? Bailey's eyes dropped closed as realization dawned on him. Declan. Declan was the only one who could have given them so many details, especially the fact that there had been two videos. Others might know about the confession video because Bailey was sure Chris had shown it to a few of his close friends at least, but only Declan knew about Eric accidentally recording Chris threatening and beating up Bailey. Eric hadn't meant to forward that video to Declan, which had brought Declan to his 'rescue', and pissed off Chris.

Bailey rubbed his hands over his face. Declan. Damn it. He'd told. After Bailey had told him not to. Why the hell would Declan do that? To his team? To Bailey?

"It wasn't Justin that came to you. It was Declan, wasn't it?" Bailey asked softly, still not believing Declan would have done such a thing. Why the hell would he? He'd destroy his team. Declan had known Bailey wasn't going to say anything, so why the hell would Declan speak up? And why didn't he say anything last night when he'd texted? Fuck! They'd been running this morning and he hadn't said anything! Hadn't warned him—

Bailey gritted his teeth. The fucker could have at least given him a heads up, let him know that he'd told so Bailey wouldn't have been blindsided this morning.

"Yes, Declan Foster came to me yesterday afternoon," Mr. Zamora confirmed. "Both Coach Reed and Coach Richards were already in my office at the time, voicing similar concerns about conflict among some of the teams, especially the football and gymnastics team after the incident in the weight room last week."

"At first, we believed it might just be normal teenage posturing," Mr. Reed elaborated. "Every team likes to think they are the best. But something felt different these past few days within the team—hell, within the school—and Declan just confirmed it yesterday afternoon. I admit I didn't want to believe Chris had crossed that line."

Bailey opened and closed his mouth a couple times before he managed to speak. "I-I thought it'd be better to keep quiet. It's not like I haven't—" Bailey abruptly cut himself off, clamping his mouth shut.

Dr. Lansing nodded thoughtfully, apparently guessing at what Bailey hadn't voiced. "Which is exactly why your father sought out our school. Because we have a strict code of conduct here at Heritage, and as a student here, you have every right to expect to feel safe, respected, and valued."

Bailey flinched violently at the mention of his father. His eyes blurred slightly, but he set his jaw, determined not to break apart here. His father had worked so hard to find a school that was not only up to his standards academically, but would also be accepting of his son, a place where Bailey could feel secure to be his own person.

"Bailey," the headmaster continued, his voice dropping to a soft timbre, "Your father loved you very much. I know you miss him. But your father wouldn't want this for you..."

Bailey stared down at his hands clenched on the table. If the man said he'd be dishonoring his father's memory by not speaking up, Bailey swore he'd walk right out of this office.

"He'd want you to be safe," Dr. Lansing finished. "If he were here, I'm sure he would be storming into my office himself, demanding I do something to protect his son. Your classmate has done that by speaking up for you. We're just here to get your side of it, that's all."

Bailey closed his eyes and felt a lone tear slip down his cheek. It wasn't fair of them to bring his father into this. They were right, of course. His father would hate that he'd let Chris get away with it. But Bailey had never been the one to rock the boat, when he could sit quietly in the back, simply manning one of the oars. His father, however, wasn't like that. He'd always been a take charge kind of guy.

Bailey quickly swiped the dampness from his cheek before looking back up at the headmaster, nodding. "What do you want to know?"

A tiny smile tipped the man's lips. "Why don't you start with the weight room incident, since that seems to have started the whole thing?"

"Okay." Bailey nodded again, sitting back slightly and rubbing his sweaty hands on his dark pants. He couldn't risk scratching at the slice on his chest as he could bleed through his light blue polo. His fingers itched for his tiny blade, just a little prick to help...

Instead, he found himself pinching his thigh under the table. It wasn't exactly the same, but the momentary pain brought him something to focus on besides his spiraling thoughts and emotions. He was sure this wasn't going to be as simple as just relating his side, and it would all be over. There would be some kind of backlash, there always was—and everyone would know Bailey had been the cause of it.

"Well, our team was in the weight room, when the football team showed up and..."

***

—Declan—

Evan walked with Declan to Grainger Hall, even kept him company as he made his way to the dean's office. He was anxious to hand over the video. Evan had helped him copy it to a thumb drive last night so he didn't have to hand over his actual phone. At least, that's what he hoped.

Mrs. Lewis was already at her desk, sipping on a cup of coffee smelling strongly of cinnamon. She looked up as they walked in.

"Good morning, boys," she greeted. "What can I do for you today?"

When Declan hesitated, Evan nudged him with his elbow. Declan fumbled with his phone. "I, uh, I have something important to show Mr. Zamora."

"Oh, well, he's in a meeting right now. Would you like me to give it to him when he's done?" she offered.

Declan clutched at his phone. "No. But can I ask... is the meeting about what I told him yesterday? Because this is really important to add to that. I, uh, have a video."

Mrs. Lewis straightened, obviously sensing the gravity of what he was saying. Her eyes strayed to the phone clutched in his hand. "I see. Just a moment, let me see if he's willing to take a break."

Declan glanced at Evan for support, who nodded encouragingly at him. Mrs. Lewis was clicking on her computer, and Declan guessed she was sending the dean a message through IM or something similar. Several agonizing moments later, her computer dinged, and she smiled up at him.

"He'll be here in a moment."

Declan released the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you."

Evan patted him on the back, knowing how badly Declan had wanted to get this over with. The sooner Declan handed over the video, the sooner he could get the horrible thing off his phone.

The click of dress shoes in the hall announced the arrival of Mr. Zamora. He wasn't alone, however. Dr. Lansing followed the Dean into the anteroom of Mr. Zamora's office.

"Good morning, Mr. Foster," Dr. Lansing greeted. "And Mr. Ramacci," he added, nodding at Evan. "Mrs. Lewis says you have something urgent for us."

"Uh, yes, sir." Declan shoved his hand into the pocket of his khaki slacks and pulled out the thumb drive. "I, uh, found—" he started quickly, rushing to get it all out, "well, really, Evan found a video on my phone last night. I didn't realize it was there, I swear. I must have accidently downloaded it instead—"

"Woah, slow down, Mr. Foster." Mr. Zamora held up his hand to stop Declan's rambling. "What video are we talking about?"

Declan took a breath. "The one I told you Eric sent me accidently."

Both men straightened visibly. "You mean the one where Chris Vasser was assaulting Bailey McIntyre?"

Declan nodded quickly. "Yes. I didn't realize I still had it on my phone until Evan was playing around with the gallery and he found it saved there. See..." He held out his phone, quickly thumbing through to play the video for the dean and headmaster.

The furrow between both men's eyes deepened and their faces reflected both anger and worry as they watched the video. When it finished, Declan held up the thumb drive.

"I have it copied on this for you," he said quickly, hoping they wouldn't take his phone. "So you can have a copy of it."

Dr. Lansing took the thumb drive. "Thank you."

Declan noticed the headmaster staring at the tight grip he had on his phone and suspected the man was about to demand he hand it over. However, Dr. Lansing and Mr. Zamora just exchanged looks.

"I assume you made this copy for us so you wouldn't have to hand over your phone?"

When Declan nodded, the dean added, "Well, this is good actually. We were contacting the IT department this morning to have them check the servers. If Eric or Chris used the school's wifi to send it, we thought we might be able to retrieve it that way. But, of course, this guarantees we have a copy. Thank you. However, do not delete from your phone in case we need access to it."

Declan deflated slightly but nodded his assent. He could just pretend it wasn't there. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Thank you for bringing this to us. This will be extremely helpful."

"Uh, sir, can I... can I ask what's going to happen now?"

Dr. Lansing frowned at him. "You know we can't discuss that with you, Mr. Foster."

"Oh, yeah, well..." He shrugged. "I was just wondering about Bailey and everything."

The headmaster's expression softened. "Mr. McIntyre was reluctant at first to divulge information, but the fact that you had already told us what happened helped tremendously."

Declan gulped, nodding to himself. He'd suspected as much when Bailey took off suddenly during their run this morning.

"Yes, he's with us now. We were just finishing up."

"Oh, okay." Declan hesitated before asking his next question. "Is... is he okay? Is he... really mad at me... for telling and all?"

Mr. Zamora stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Declan's shoulder. The man almost had to look up to meet Declan's eyes. "I believe he's fine. He was nervous, of course... anxious... but he told us what happened. And your video just confirms it. Don't worry, Declan, it'll be all right."

Dr. Lansing turned to Mrs. Lewis. "Contact the Resident Advisors for Chris Vasser and Eric Olander to escort the boys down. I emailed them last night informing them of the situation so they know to keep the boys separated. We'll be speaking to them next."

Declan and Evan's eyes were wide as they listened to the Headmaster giving his orders before watching the Dean and Headmaster leave the office. Declan didn't believe for one second that this was over. Not by a long shot. He knew they'd be calling Chris and Eric into the office soon, but to be escorted? That was bound to cause a few whispers. And once word got out, the football team was going to be in chaos.

But his bigger fear was that Bailey was going to hate him now. Evan must have sensed his distress because Declan felt his roommate's hand squeeze his shoulder.

"You did the right thing, Dec. Bailey will understand that. Just give him a chance to cool down."

"I hope you're right."