Page 39 of Catch the Sun

Problem is, I don’t see Ella.

Voices sneak their way into my sleep-glazed mind as I sit up fully and scrub both hands over my face. I passed out after my swim while staring up at thesky and counting the clouds. Sometimes I take catnaps by the lake since sleep is often compromised by my father’s night terrors.

But I slept too long today. Dad is going to be worried, assuming he’s sober and coherent. McKay will come looking for me soon.

And Ella’s bike is still on the bridge.

The voices carry over to me again when a breeze rolls through, bringing me back to reality. I glance around, left to right. The water’s edge is lined with mature trees, but there’s a short dock a few yards away where kids from school occasionally gather to drink and smoke joints.

Reaching for my discarded T-shirt, I throw it over my head and wince when the fabric makes contact with a flush of sunburn. I’m an idiot for drifting off in direct sunlight.

But the sunburn becomes the least of my worries when I hear a scream.

I jump to my feet, glancing back up at the bridge, then at the abandoned bicycle.

My heart fumbles, the beats erratic.

“Let go of me!”

I fucking fly.

Dirt and weeds kick up as I race through the brush, forcing branches and leaves out of my way. It’s not a far run to the dock. The final trace of sunset highlights four figures wrestling at the ledge of the age-old pier. Andy and a few of his football buddies.

And Ella.

Ella.

They’re tormenting her. Tossing her orange backpack back and forth to one another, over her head, just out of reach.

“Give it back!” she shouts, jumping up on her tiptoes to no avail.

I cup both hands around my mouth. “Hey!”

Heads twist in my direction. Andy sees me and laughs, sending me a hearty salute as I pick up my pace. Two more classmates are hovering at the entrance to the dock, looking gleefully entertained. Fucking animals. I dart forward, slipping a few times as I make my way down the sharp incline, and the back of my calf scrapes along a patch of thorny undergrowth. I don’t care.

Andy hollers over to me as he watches me approach. “Come to enjoy the show, Manning?”

“Leave her the hell alone,” I growl back.

Ella looks horrified. Tears stream down her sun-kissed cheeks, her hair in disarray. She spares me a glance before charging at Andy and clobbering him with both fists.

“Youasshole.” She pummels his back until he whirls around and picks her up, right underneath her rear.

I make it to the bottom of the ravine when the two football douches stop me, blocking my rescue attempt. Heath grabs me by the arm and his friend, Lisbon, snatches my other. Holding me back. Keeping me restrained.

Andy hauls Ella over his shoulder, her fists still pounding his lower back, her nails scratching, protests echoing through the stillness of dusk. Another guy chucks her book bag into the lake with a resounding splash. Ella shrieks. Andy stomps toward the edge of the pier, Ella squirming and flailing atop his bulky shoulder.

I try to fight my way out of the two-man hold, but they grip me tighter, their fingernails gouging my biceps. Motherfuckers. I’ll kill them for this.

“Watch me take out the trash, Manning,” Andy says, whistling as he stalks closer to the water. “This bitch doesn’t belong here. You see her media interview, defending that sick fuck? She’s no better than that scum. Good riddance.”

Then he tosses her into the lake like she’s a rag doll. A sack of rice.

A bag of trash.

Her scream pierces the woodlands.

Strangles my heart.

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