Page 18 of Spiral
I look to Georgia, whose tears have begun to stain her rosy cheeks. Her mouth, normally set in a graceful pout, is turned downwards as she holds back her tears.
“Anderson. Henry Anderson.” I respond impatiently, my tone brusque. I feel my jaw clench as I notice Georgia’s slim shoulders jerk slightly between silent cries.
“Well, Henry Anderson, how does my whore girlfriend’s pussy taste?”
“What?!” I look at him, bewildered, and hear Georgia’s once-silent tears turn audible. She sniffles, hastily wiping at her dripping eyes before the tears can make it to her cheeks.
“Don’t play dumbass jock with me,” he sneers. “If I see you come near my girlfriend again, you’ll be lucky to pull up to the next game in a wheelchair.”
I laugh – I don’t mean to, but I do. Patrick is a good six inches shorter than me and probably 50 pounds lighter. At six-foot-three, there’s hardly anyone at Texas University who could actually challenge me physically – and Patrick isn’t one of them.
“Okay, big guy,” I say, taking a step closer. “I think you ought to let me take Georgia to class. Doesn’t seem like you’re in the best mood, and she’s clearly upset. Nothing happened between us. God as my witness.”
He scowls at me, his eyes darkening. “She’s coming with me.”
He grabs her wrist, his grip much too strong against her delicate arm, and begins to pull her across the parking lot towards a running car.
“Georgia, wait. Are you– Georgia!” She looks back at me for a brief second, her eyes welled with tears, but says nothing.
Meet me in the Liberal Arts building at 4 o’clock.
It had been 3 days of silence since the fiasco with Georgia’s boyfriend, until her text popped up on my screen early Monday morning.
“God damnit,” I grumble, haphazardly rubbing my tired eyes.
“Still no answer?” Danny says, his gaze focused on the anime playing on our living room TV.
I rub my hands down my face, stretching my eyelids and cheeks in frustration.
“No, nothing. You should’ve seen the way that dude talked to her. It was like an episode of Jerry Springer.”
“Did you do anything? Say anything?” Danny asks, breaking eye contact with the TV for a brief moment.
“There was nothing I could do! I asked if she was okay and she wouldn’t answer me. Not then, and not now.”
“That’s tough, dude. I never hear them fighting next door or anything. Maybe it was a one time thing?”
I look at him, my eyelids heavy from exhaustion. I’d gotten little sleep since that incident in the Mason Field parking lot, which was days ago.
“Yeah, I hope so.”
“You should’ve called me, Cap. I was helping Mom at the garden again, but I would’ve gotten there as quick as I could.”
“Thanks, dude,” I reply, attempting to smile at him. “I appreciate it.”
I check my phone screen again, hoping to see GEORGIA CAMPBELL flash across my screen.
Two new voicemails from MOM.
“Jesus,” I murmur to myself, my cheeks flushing in irritation.
I head upstairs to my bedroom for privacy, leaving Danny to the newest episode of his favorite show, Jujitsu Kaisha.
“Hi, pookie, it’s Mom. I haven’t been able to reach you, and Donald and I have been worried…”
“Ugh,” I grunt, rolling my eyes in disgust.
“I know you’ve been playing your games, and I’ve heard you’re on your way to the championship! Sarah told me. Give me a call back when you can… love you, pookie.”