“She deaf?” Kevin drawls.

“Leave her alone,” Abby snaps and for a second, warmth kindles in my chest. Is someone actually standing up for me? Abby? Of all people?

But then she continues speaking. “She’s got special needs.”

The heat in my chest fizzles and dies. “I don’t have . . .” The words are a broken ignition on my lips, not quite catching. No time to speak, anyway.

The door opens. The dean of students is here in his flannel pajamas, his hair rumpled and his eyes angry.

“I can explain everything,” Abby says, her lashes wet with unshed tears.

The dean’s expression doesn’t lighten at her pleading tone. If anything, it darkens as he stomps into the room.

2

No person is your friend who demands your silence, or denies your right to grow.

—Alice Walker

Fitz

“You boys have somewhere else to be or you want to stay and get citations?” The dean glares at both Kevin and I hard enough to jolt us out of our chairs, scrambling for the exit.

He’s letting us go.

We’re lucky. I doubt Abby and . . . whoever the other person is will be as fortunate.

Once outside the office, the door slams behind us and I stall out, unresolved emotions lingering in my gut.

I want to run as far away from Abby as possible, and yet I’m also not done venting my frustration on someone.

Anyone.

The cops are gone, the lower floor of the dorms empty and dim. I pull out my phone. It’s four o’clock in the morning.

“Do you need a ride home?” Kevin asks.

We live in the same house. I’m going to have to stare at his stupid smug face for the rest of the semester. There’s gotta be a way to avoid him.

The booming voice of the dean echoes from inside the office.

Something about “orders of removal” and “appeal rights.”

I don’t bother answering Kevin, instead walking away.

He runs to catch up, following me through the front doors and out into the dark parking lot. “Why did you and Abby break up?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was over?”

I shake my head and keep walking.

“You know, she’s still telling everyone you’re together.”

I shouldn’t engage, but I’m still too worked up to remain silent. “And that’s why you thought it was a good idea to hook up with her? Because you thought you were getting one over on me?” I stop long enough to laugh in his face. “You’re pathetic.”

Almost to my truck now.

“No more pathetic than you fighting over a girl who isn’t even yours.”

I don’t argue with that, but Kevin doesn’t understand. She might not be mine in the sense he means, but Abby and I have been friends since we were barely out of diapers. Sticking up for her is like second nature. No matter our past history, I could never stand idly by while someone hurt her. Even though doing so may have made things worse, for her and definitely for me.