Page 96 of More Than Chemical
The prosecutor shot to her feet and moved around her table. “Mr. Reynolds, is the money that Achilles Incorporated discussed with you the same money that Coach Bianchini was referring to?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Coach Bianchini set up the conference call with Achilles. He was also there during the conversation.”
“That’s all I have, Your Honor.” The prosecutor sat right back down and started scribbling away.
I had to get out of here. I had to get out now.
“Mom,” I whispered, “I need a break.”
She nodded.
“Can I have your keys?”
She dug in her purse and handed them over.
I got up and walked as normally as I could down the center aisle. But after the door to the courtroom closed behind me, I ran.
I pushed the call button for the elevator over and over. It dinged. Inside, I pressed the button for the main floor then hit the door-close button. Just before the elevator shut, I saw Dallas, jogging straight at me.
“Ade,” he shouted. “Wait.”
Thirty-Five
The Panic Attack
Iwas panting, hyperventilating. If only I had a small brown paper bag.
The elevator kept stopping—on every floor. People entered, and then at the next stop, they’d exit. I should have taken the stairs.
My nose started running, and I wiped it with the back of my trembling hand. My stomach ached. Dallas had known. He’d known weeks ago who I was. But he hadn’t said a thing. Not a thing.
The night we went to Sporty’s and played pool, I’d told him about my dad. And he’d saidnothing.
My lungs were caving in.
Finally, the elevator made it to the second-floor atrium, and I ran. I dodged past people as they read or typed away on their phones. I didn’t look back. I just kept going. Heading straight for the elevator that would send me down into the attached parking garage.
But I wasn’t fast enough. A hand pulled me to a stop.
“Ade.” Dallas’s face was splotchy, his eyes feverish, hot. “I need to talk to you.”
The pressure he had on my arm was like a vise. “Let me go.”
“I can’t.” He breathed hard. “I’m afraid you’ll run again.”
I stood motionless. My eyes were tearing up. “You’re hurting me.”
“Oh God!” He released me. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
I hugged my arm. There was a war going on inside of me. I didn’t want to talk to him, because I was so confused, so hurt. But I also did. I wanted to tell him exactly what I thought of how careless he’d been with me, with my heart.
A person bumped into me, and Dallas pointed me to the center of the atrium, to the circular water fountain. “This way.”
He looked miserable. Iwasmiserable.
