Page 129 of Still Bruised
Anton marched up to their booth. He glared at Foster. “Outside. Now.”
Foster searched Anton’s face, trying to gauge why the guy was pissed. “What am I in trouble for?”
“I’m trying to determine that.”
Foster glanced at Cary and back to Anton. “I’ve left him alone. Just like he asked.”
“I’m aware.”
“Why are we going outside, Anton?” Cary asked, throwing one arm over the back of the booth and glaring up at the giant guy.
“You’re not invited,” Anton warned Cary. “This has nothing to do with you.”
Cary glared up at Anton. “If you’re about to lay hands, I’m not letting him walk outside without backup.”
Anton placed both set of knuckles on the end of the table and leaned in, closer to Cary. “If I wanted to beat his ass, I wouldn’t have asked. I would’ve dragged him out there already.”
Anton turned his focus back on Foster. “I heard something today, and I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt instead of assuming the worst. If I don’t like the answer, I can’t say for certain that I won’t want to put my fist in the middle of your face, though.”
What had Anton heard? The curiosity got to Foster, even with the thread of violence lingering near the answer. “With an invitation like that, how could I refuse?”
Foster rose from the booth and went toe-to-toe with Anton.
A few heads turned, watching the animosity and assuming the worst. They backed up a bit, giving the two of them room, in case things turned ugly. Hopefully they weren’t right to be worried. Anton only had about an inch on him in height, but he had a good thirty pounds more muscle. Foster swept towards the door, ushering Anton outside.
Once in the parking lot, the chill November air was stronger than the adrenalin coursing through his body. Foster crossed his arms over his chest to warm up, all while scanning the lot for nosy onlookers. No one had followed them outside, which was shocking, but then, it was cold and dark.
Foster hated it when it got dark earlier and earlier. It wasn’t even five and the sun was almost fully set, leaving only a dark gray, cloudy sky above. The only light they had was from the one illuminating the McMurphy’s sign and the nearby parking lot lamp.
Anton turned to face him. “You told Judeto get over it?”
Foster frowned, trying to remember ever saying that. “No, but I told him that it was no way to live stuck in the past—which is about as close as I got, if memory serves.”
“You have no idea what he went through.Youdon’t get to judge him.”
“I wasn’t judging him,” Foster said. “It was clear he hasn’t dealt with everything that happened. It’s been nearly fifteen years, well past time for him to move on.”
“Again, you don’t know what he went through.”
“Look, I was only trying to help.”
“A little late, don’t you think?”
Foster shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do to fix the past but try to be there for him now.”
Anton took a step closer. “You want to help? Okay, but you need to knoweverythingbefore you’re allowed to open your fucking mouth again.”
Foster steeled himself, not sure he wanted to know everything.
“How much of the bullying do you remember?”
Foster sighed. “I know people yelled shit at him in the halls. I heard about nickels being thrown once. The spraypainted slur on his car.”
“That’s it?”
Foster shrugged. “That’s all that comes to mind.”
“Yeah, people yelled at him in the halls. They also tripped him. Punched him. Pantsed him. Knocked him to the ground. Violently kicked him when he was down. They threw raw eggs and rotten food at him. Flung pennies and nickels so hard they left little round bruises all over his body. They filled his locker with trash on three different occasions—might’ve been more, but there was so much going on, I kind of lost track here and there.” Anton paused a few seconds. “Let’s see… Yes, they spraypainted slurs on his car—but it was also his house and the windows of his father’s business.”
