This time, when they pushed him under, he didn’t scream. He tried to hold his breath, squeezing his eyes shut, but his body still needed to cough. He fought it as best he could, but then the urge was too strong, and he gave in. Water forced its way into his lungs like greedy fingers, choking him.
They brought him back up, but he couldn’t even find the air to plead. He coughed and hacked, straining for oxygen, his gut churning with a bellyful of water.
He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Was this it? Was Robbie actually going to kill him this time?
Suddenly, his right arm was free. Beside him, Kevin took a few stumbling steps down the bank, clutching at his arm. “Hey!” Kevin yelled toward the bridge.
This time, Karl saw the rock strike Steve in the shoulder, and Karl’s other arm was released. He scrambled through the shallow water on all fours, until he was back on the bank. His stomach heaved, and he vomited up a sour stream of river water onto the rocks.
Robbie’s gang was distracted now, scooping up rocks of their own. “Get him!” Robbie yelled as the trio hurled rocks toward the base of the bridge.
Karl blinked his water-reddened eyes, trying to focus on his rescuer. “Gonna have to do better than that, you pathetic little freaks,” the guy yelled, ducking one of Robbie’s rocks and then flinging back one of his own, which caught Robbie in the calf.
It was Justin, the same guy who had saved him on Wednesday. He scooped up rocks from the bank and hurled them at Karl’s attackers, sending them dodging and scrambling back, away from where Karl knelt by the water. Most of the rocks they sent flying his way missed, but Justin stumbled and fell as one smacked into his leg, sending him to his knees on the rocky ground.
“Shit!” he growled, trying to stand and then falling again as his leg seemed to buckle beneath him. For a second, he stayed there, braced on all fours, panting as his eyes met Karl’s. His face was pale, his blue eyes wide, and suddenly Karl realized—he was scared, too.
Karl’s stomach dropped. Was this it? Had Robbie and his goons won? Already, they were moving toward Justin; any second, they’d be on him. Karl’s eyes darted around, searching for a way out.
But then Justin rose up on his knees and chucked another stone with all his might, gritting his teeth.
This one whizzed right by Robbie’s ear, causing him to stumble to a stop midstride. “You’re dead!” he yelled at Justin, who already had another rock in his hand, ready to go.
Karl held his breath, wondering whether he meant that literally. And after they finished with Justin, of course Karl would be next. Sweat clung to the thin hair around Justin’s face, and his fingertips were white against the stone in his hand.
But instead of charging, Robbie led his crew away down the bank, limping slightly from where Justin had hit him in the leg. Karl could hardly believe his good luck.
Once they were gone, Justin let out a breath, allowing the rock to slip from his fingers. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling slightly under his weight. He limped over to Karl and squatted down gingerly, blood seeping through a rip in the knee of his jeans where he’d hit the rocks. “You again, huh?”
“Thank you,” Karl managed to gasp, shivering, his voice coming out raw.
Justin sighed, taking in Karl’s soaked clothing and bleeding chin. He reached out a hand, helping him up. “Okay, buddy. Let’s get you home.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
JUSTIN
I don’t know what it is about this kid that makes me keep abandoning all sense to try to rescue him. He’s not exactly the endearing type, and he grows up to sire Dave, of all people. Maybe Rose is rubbing off on me; I feel like I wouldn’t keep showing up in the same places where those little asswipes are trying to murder him if there weren’t a reason for it.
Or maybe this is just the universe’s idea of a sick joke, to make me the one responsible for saving Dave’s dad over and over.
Plus, I just missed an opportune chance to bean Prime Arson Suspect Robbie Reynolds in the head with a rock. Sending the kid to the hospital would definitely make my life a lot easier tomorrow.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Robbie may be fine with casually brutalizing a twelve-year-old to the point of death, but I’m not. Even if I do feel like the kid is probably going to grow up to be a serial killer.
Yes, there is definitely ample evidence to suggest the universe enjoys screwing with me.
My knee throbs as I walk Karl home, my ripped jeans growing increasingly wet with blood. I doubt I’m going to need stitches or anything, but I don’t relish the thought of looking at my mangled knee. The stone that hit me didn’t hurt all that much, but it made my leg go dead for a second so it suddenly couldn’t support my weight. The rocks that broke my fall were large and jagged and cut right through my jeans, ripping into my skin like claws. I haven’t examined it yet, but from the blood I can feel trickling down my leg, I imagine it looks pretty gnarly.
Fortunately, Karl’s house isn’t far from the bridge. I don’t think I can walk much farther than that.
“So what’s up with those kids?” I ask as we limp along, side by side. “Did you do something to piss them off?”
Karl shrugs, his teeth chattering slightly. “They just hate me. I don’t know why.”
“Kids suck,” I say. I have nothing else helpful to offer.
“The biggest one, that’s Robbie,” Karl says. “He’s the leader.”
I don’t let on that I’m already well acquainted with Robbie. “He seems like a real treat.”
That gets a little laugh out of Karl, but the smile quickly falls from his face. “He hates me the most,” he says softly.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Since the beginning of middle school.”
“Do your parents know? Or any other adults?” I don’t have a lot of faith in most adults to have any idea how to deal with bullying this severe—in my experience, they tend to just make things worse—but I’m not sure what else to suggest.
Karl shakes his head. “Mr. Warren, he’s the guidance counselor at my school . . .”
My stomach tightens at the mention of my grandfather. Who will probably die tomorrow, if I can’t stop it.
“He asked me about it a couple times. But I told him that nothing bad was happening. I think it would just make Robbie madder, if he thought I told.”
“Yeah, I get that.” His instincts about Robbie are definitely right, but I don’t tell Karl what I know about Mrs. Hanley’s cat. It would only make the kid more terrified.
Man, my knee is killing me. When we get to Karl’s house, I think I’m going to need to call Rose and ask her to come pick me up. I can’t imagine walking the few miles back to Mrs. Hanley’s house. “Have you ever tried to get them back? Learn some self-defense?”
“I can’t fight them.” He’s probably right. All the self-defense classes in the world likely wouldn’t make up for the fact that he’s half their size and there’s three of them.
He goes quiet for a few minutes, and I’m kind of grateful for the silence. It’s taking everything in me not to just sit down on the ground and scream in pain. I think it’s more than just the scraped-up skin. It feels like there is something seriously wrong. Like that rock knocked my kneecap out of place or something. My teeth are clenched, and I can feel sweat beading along my forehead.