Learning Curve

Finn

Scottie sobs quietly in front of me as we cross Broadway and walk along the side of Delaney to the 116th Street Entrance. My jaw grinds in restraint as I give her space, looking both directions for any potential threats.

There aren’t any, thankfully, because I know for a fact that she carries enough terror deep in her chest.

She doesn’t even have to tell me the traumatic details about her mother for me to know what she’s feeling. Because for as much as I’ve said we weren’t—as much as I wish we weren’t—Scottie and I are the same. We’ve dealt with the same vile behavior from our alcoholic parents, and we both carry trauma on our shoulders every fucking day.

I want to apologize for the things I’ve said and for the assumptions I’ve made about her life that were so clearly wrong. I want to tell her that, as much as I’ve denied it, I’ve loved her nearly every day we’ve known each other. I want to tell her that I love her now and intend to love her forever.

But I know the way she’s feeling right now—the self-loathing that comes with a family you can’t control—and how invalidating that is of your worth.

I know it because I’ve lived it. I know it because I am it.

I keep watch as she unlocks the door to Delaney and steps inside, waiting for it to fall closed behind her with a click.

And as the tension of her safety releases, red-hot fury comes flooding back. I turn back in the direction we came and pick up my pace to a run, sprinting across Broadway, past Wheaton, behind McKinley, and around Nash until I can see the Delta Omega house in the distance. I slow to a walk and steady my breathing, allowing anger to fuel my progress forward.

By the time I walk through the door, my back and neck muscles are flexing hard with each deep inhale of my nostrils, and my fists are clenched tight at my sides.

Ace, Julia, and Kayla are just inside the door, wrestling with people for their phones as they step up to leave the house. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Julia bitches at a girl who evidently has some kind of footage in her camera roll.

Ace is the first to spot me and drops what he’s doing, stepping in front of me and taking his life in his hands. “Finn, hey, hold up,” he tries, but I shove him out of the way with a hand to his chest and keep walking. Blake tries to step in front of me then, but I move him easily enough too, the kind of pissed-off-adrenaline I have flowing through my veins a tough match for even the strongest of football players physically.

They’re both trying to help because I’m already on thin ice with the dean, but I don’t care about the consequences anymore. I refuse to leave this house until I make that son of a bitch pay for what he did.

Dane is standing at a table playing beer pong with Nadine and two people I don’t recognize at all. They’re laughing and having a good old fucking time, like they didn’t just do what they did to Scottie.

I have no idea where Scottie’s mom is now, but I don’t care. The dirty-blond-headed motherfucker with the ping-pong ball in his hand and a cocky smile on his lips is the only one I’m here for.

I shove all the red Solo cups off the top of their table with one aggressive hand, and they hit the floor, alcohol sloshing all over the place. Nadine shouts, “What the hell!” and jumps back to avoid the spill, but Dane doesn’t do shit because he’s already locked eyes with me. Fear seeps from his every pore as I move toward him, and he skitters back like the coward that he is.

This fight is entirely different from the one we had before, my patience for his bullshit more than already spent. I don’t give him any time to prepare and land a hard punch to the center of his smug fucking face that makes his head jerk back violently.

Nadine screams.

“Shit,” I hear Ace say before his and Blake’s yells rend the air to say, “Get back!” to the approaching crowd.

As I hit Dane a second time, right on the cheekbone, the shouts of “Fight!” from several students around us reverberate through the house, and the DJ’s music stops once again.

Dane stumbles on his feet as I land blow after blow to his face, his hands and arms as he uses them to block absolutely no match for my sheer determination.

“You feel like a big man for preying on a girl who’s half your size?” I yell so hard that spit flies from my lips. I land another blow, and blood pours from his busted lip. “You couldn’t stand that she broke up with you, huh? You and your pathetic ego couldn’t let it go. So, what did you do, Dane? What did you fucking do?”

I punch him in the stomach before he can respond, a loud “Ugh!” flying out of his lungs.

“Only weak men prey on women. And that’s what you are, motherfucker. You are a weak fucking, pathetic piece of shit.”

Blood drips down his face from all directions, several open cuts gaping from my fist. He throws a punch at me, which I easily dodge since his equilibrium is all off. Nadine screeches again as I push him against a wall with my forearm to his throat, and Ace calls out behind me again. But I don’t see anything but his cocksucking evil eyes.

As he starts to gurgle blood, my arm on his throat effectively choking the life out of him, Ace yells once more, and I drop him to the floor. He climbs up slowly, holding himself around his abdomen and fighting to open his swollen eye through the blood dripping into it.

“You’re fucking done,” he threatens, his voice gravelly and strained. “Say goodbye to college.”

He might be right, but what he fails to understand is that I don’t give a single fuck.

When he opens his mouth to speak again, I take it upon myself to shut him up. I punch him with all of my strength, landing a perfect uppercut that drops him to the floor like a rock.

He’s out cold. Maybe, for all I know, dead.

I walk out the fucking door, and I don’t look back. Either outcome is okay with me.