Page 35 of The Wrong Brother

“That’s what Dad would say. And then he’d probably point out that Mina would never let a dumb guy make her cry.”Why do chicks always compare themselves to each other? It doesn’t even make sense.

“That’s true. But that’s not because Mina is better than you. Mina knows who she is and she’s strong enough to be ok with it. I think you could be too.”

“I’m not. She’s much stronger than I am.”

“Whether or not that is true isn’t the point, Catherine. It’s not about how strong Mina is.Youare strong enough to be proud of who you are. You can’t let an asshole like Makani make you feel ashamed of the things that make you special. Don’t apologize for being you and don’t dumb yourself down to fit in. You’re better than that.”

I wish she could see herself the way I see her. I wish I could tell her how I see her. She wouldn’t want to hear it though. I’m only some dumb 16-year-old. She turns, pressing her face into my chest, crying harder. I wrap my arm around her, stroking her hair and pleading with my dick to play dead. This is a form of sweet torture. I meant what I said and I want Catherine to feel better. I hate that she’s upset and doubting herself. But also, I’m a teenage guy. Her hair is silky and she smells amazing and her leg is sliding against mine and this is basically the closest I’ve ever been to a girl that’s not Teeny Meens. Tor-ture.

Catherine sits up, her face a bit red and puffy. “Thanks, Rafferty. I’m going to go be a loser by myself now.” She shrugs like it was a joke but I can hear the hurt behind the words. She stands up and I stand too. I smooth my hands over her cheeks, wiping away the tears. For a brief moment, I let myself believe there’s something between us, that she came to me for comfort. Then she flashes me a watery smile and drops her eyes. She shuffles down the stairs, shoulders bowed and head down. She looks so sad and broken.

The anger that had been simmering blazes hotter. I’m all impulse and feeling. Except I was dropped off from practice not even fifteen minutes ago. I don’t have a way to get where I need to go. I can’t drive. But Griffin can and he’s rolling down the street right now. I thunder down the stairs, yelling at my brother. He stops before parking, hanging his head out his window.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve gotta get back up to Kahuku. Can you take me?”

“Man, I just came back from there!” I glare at him and Griffin has the sense to see I’m not screwing around. “Is it important?”

“Very.”

He jerks his head inside. “Get in.”

He doesn’t ask me any questions or try to chat on the drive. It’s good. I don’t have anything to say. Everything in me is fueling my burning anger. My leg is bouncing with nervous energy and I keep clenching and unclenching my fists. I’m not thinking or worrying. All I can see is Catherine’s natural beauty marred by tears, her normally graceful posture bowed under the weight of criticism. We’re approaching Kahuku and Griffin slows, glancing over at me.

“The Superette. Don’t park, just wait.”

My guess was right. Makani is standing around outside with some of the second-string football players. His crowd is all the hangers-on. They’re not the real deal but they’re close enough to be cocky. Fucking wannabes. The other guys are leaning against the side of The Superette convenience store, trying to look cool. Makani is standing in front of them, telling what is probably a dumbass story full of half-truths. He loves to embellish and build himself up with bullshit. He’s gesturing with his hands, oblivious to my approach. The other guys aren’t paying attention either. Why would they? I’m not even worth their notice. Until I shove Makani from behind and he trips over the curb.

“What the fuck brah? Who do you think you are? What’s your problem, haole?”

“You’re the problem, asshat!” I yell. “Leave Catherine Brookner alone!”

He makes the mistake of grinning at me and laughing. “You got a thing for that stuck-up bitch, ya?”

He’s still laughing when I punch him in the mouth. He’s not laughing as much when I catch him with my other fist in the eye. I’m not super strong but he wasn’t prepared and I’m fucking furious. He hits the ground, shock on his face. His friends step forward and he waves them back, posturing as if a nobody underclassman didn’t knock him on his ass.

“I got this.”

He staggers back up and I punch him again, catching him in the jaw. He swings back at me and I block him, his fist connecting with my wrist bone. Fuck that hurts! It radiates up my arm, dulling my response time. He connects with my temple and I lash out, shoving him backward hard. The other guys are egging him on and I can hear Griffin yelling something at me but it’s all coming from far away. My blood is pounding in my ears and my vision is narrowed to this asshole’s face. This guy made Catherine cry. I duck as his fist comes at me and pop back up with a right hook, catching the side of his jaw. And that’s when hands grab me from behind and pull me away. I’m yelling as I’m being hauled back.

“You leave her alone! You hear me? Don’t look at her, don’t talk to her, don’t touch her! And if you call her a bitch again, I’m coming back for you!”

I’m pushed roughly against the side of Griffin’s truck.

“Enough, Simms!”Oh shit.Coach is glaring at me, his expression downright scary. “What the hell was that? Tell me I didn’t catch you fighting.”

I scowl. “Just taking care of a problem, Coach.”

“Was he messing with you?” It’s obvious he’s trying to give me an out, but I’m no liar.

“No, Sir. I came looking for him. He hurt a friend. Made her cry. Called her names. I couldn’t ignore it.”

Coach closes his eyes, exhaling loudly. He rubs his hand down his face in frustration. “Dammit, Simms. I’m going to have to suspend you from the team. You know the policy on fighting.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I get back in the truck, grinding my teeth together to distract myself from the feeling of everything crashing around me. Griffin drives us home in silence. There’s no way my rule-obsessed older brother is okay with what I did, but he’s not a jerk about it. It’s worse when we get home. He ducks out with his surfboard to avoid what’s coming. I have to explain to my parents why I won’t be paddling. They both look so disappointed. No one says anything about my split knuckles or blooming black eye. Dad looks me over, his eyes serious.

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