Rev Girl (21 page)

… might not finish?

The heat of rage boiled up within her.
How dare he say these things to me? She took a step forward. And after what just happened, with Sera off dying in some corner, all alone?

‘Funny coming from someone who also plays a dangerous sport,' she said, only just keeping the anger contained. ‘I am going to finish, and I might even become the first Women's Enduro World Champion. If you weren't so jealous, you might even be excited for me.'

‘Don't you think I have reason to be concerned? With all those guys always hanging around you.'

‘You're not serious?' Clover was yelling now. ‘None of those guys hold a flame to you! You talk like I'm the only girl at these things. Do you not remember all the other girls? I'm with you and I've never given you any reason not to trust me!'

Dallas fell silent, staring at the floor.

Clover bit her tongue, and her fists started to tremble.
Might
not finish …
Of all the things Dallas had said, this was the one that got under her skin the most. She took a deep breath, rocked back on her heels, and tried to convince herself that yelling wasn't going to get her anywhere. She registered the hurt in his eyes, and couldn't help but feel a little softer because of it.
Time for a different
tactic.
‘Dallas,' she said. ‘I love you, okay? But I am concerned about what you said. I thought you liked how I race?'

Dallas looked up briefly, but before Clover could smile into his eyes, they shot back to the floor. ‘I do,' he said. ‘But the Czech Republic is so far away and you'll be racing for so many days, out in the woods. You could get really hurt. It was hard for me when you were in Florida. When you broke your ankle, it killed me I wasn't there. And now I've been to your races, seen how dangerous it can be, the way the guys look at you.'

Clover folded her arms across her chest. ‘Don't you trust me?'

‘It's them I don't trust. I know how a guy's mind works.'

‘That's a load of bullshit, and you know it!' Clover said, but quickly forced herself to smile, relax her demeanour, as two teachers sauntered past in the little used hallway. The teachers waved and said ‘Hello,' their unconcerned expressions making it clear they hadn't heard about the fight in the canteen yet.

Clover leant her head to his. ‘I'm safe at the races,' she said, speaking softly at first, but her voice quickly beginning to rise. ‘Dirt biking is a family sport. What happened with that guy, it was partly my fault. I shouldn't have gone off into the woods with him. I'd never do that again obviously, as I have a boyfriend now! You need to deal with it. As for all this crap about getting hurt, what about you, huh? You could get seriously injured in hockey, or, in one of your fights! Do you ever worry about that?'

‘That's different.'

‘How?'

‘You're a girl.'

‘Oh! So that's it!' Clover threw her head back with indignation. ‘I guess I should buy myself some micro skirts and ‘Come Screw Me' boots and resign myself to being a puck bunny, then, huh? I thought it was because I was different that you were attracted to me in the first place!'

Dallas looked up, his eyes were dark and glassy. ‘Can you try not to be so dramatic, please?' He held her tightly. ‘You know I love how you are. I liked going to your races, and that's just it why do you have to go across the world? Why isn't what you have here enough?'

‘Why do you have the poster of the Olympic men's hockey team on your wall? Why do you want to make the NCAA?'

He opened his mouth, but shut it again. Shoved his hands back into his pockets.

‘Not so different, huh? You need to stop worrying, Dallas. I'm going to be fine at the World's. Dad's gonna be there, and all the other people from Canada. Kerry is going, too, with the American team. She'll look out for me.'

‘And all the American guys, will they look out for you, too?'

Clover clenched her teeth, feeling herself losing control. Her eyes dropped from his face, and she noticed the blood on Dallas's hands, starting to dry in spots, but mostly still shiny and wet, coating his knuckles, all the way up the backs of his hands . . .
the hands he used to break Travis's face.

A cord within her snapped. ‘Stop talking crap!' she yelled. ‘I love you! Why can't you stop talking all this bullshit!' She lifted his hands in front of his face, then flung them down at his sides. ‘Why don't you just punch me, eh? Beat me into line, like you did to Travis smash my face in. Isn't that how you solve all your problems?'

As soon as she'd said the words, she wished she could take them back. Sobs were shaking her now, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Mascara clouded her vision, stung her eyes.

Dallas had recoiled, back against the wall, his shoulders hunched and turned from her. His face hidden. ‘He deserved it,' he said forcefully. ‘For what he said.'

She shook her head, but her body moved forward, without instruction from her head or heart. Too many words had been spoken, there were too many images Travis's face, the pain in Dallas's eyes, a nearly dead Sera all swirling around inside her head. She just wanted it all to go away, so she could work everything out. Or better yet, for this horrible day to start afresh. She pulled him from the wall, burying her face in his chest.

He grabbed her by the chin, and ran a rough, bloodied finger over her cheek.

‘We'll be okay, Dallas,' she heard herself say. ‘We can work it out.'

‘I'm sorry.' He kept his body perfectly straight, his arms folded across his chest, bodyguards for his heart. ‘I can't handle it if you're going to World's.' He shook his head. ‘It'll be too hard.'

Clover's forehead strained from the stress of his words. ‘What will it be next, huh? You telling me to quit racing altogether?!'

‘I can't let you go.'

‘You're making me choose?'

‘When are you leaving?'

‘Why?'

‘It would be good if you could let me know, as soon as possible.'

‘This is insane!' Her eyes narrowed like daggers. ‘You're just being controlling. Trying to control what I do and I haven't done anything wrong!'

‘Maybe if Dad had tried something, Mom wouldn't have taken off.'

‘Oh, that's right!' Clover said. ‘Your dad, who hates me!'

‘He doesn't hate you, he just doesn't like me having any distractions.'

‘But it was fine for you to run around with all those different chicks? Instead of having a supportive girlfriend!'

‘I'm sorry. But you have a choice. Let me know.'

‘I have a freaking ultimatum, that's what I have!' She shook her head violently. ‘So, just to get this straight I need to let you know which of the loves in my life I decide to kill! How dare you make me choose, Dallas! You said I was the one.'

Dallas placed a hand on her heaving shoulder. ‘I'm sorry it had to come to this. Just let me know, okay? I love you.' He wrapped his arms around her.

She fought his embrace, lashing out, but holding on for dear life. They slid to the floor together.

He stroked her hair, and pushed his cheek against hers. ‘I want us to be together,' he whispered.

She listened to the hands of his watch, ticking against her ear.

And then he was gone.

Clover smacked her head back against the wall. The pain was good, real. Her mind was black. Her body cold; shaking cold.

All alone.

Clover couldn't imagine not having Dallas. After feeling his heat, his love, going without was incomprehensible. But giving up the World Championships, her racing in general, which she knew, deep down, would be his next wish, seemed even worse. After all the work, the blood, sweat, and the dreams she had over and over of how it would feel, what it would mean to her life, to stand up there on the world podium. Being asked to give it up, seemed the most selfish act imaginable. When she thought of his ultimatum, a vivid image of herself came to mind. Barefoot in a kitchen, sweeping a floor, the bars of a prison tattooed across her eyes. It was just too hard. Going around and around. The impossible choice, and all because of him.
The man I love, or, the man I hate?

Clover was about to hit her head on the wall again, when a hand on her arm caused her to gasp. She let one eye slide open, unsure if it was real, a part of her hoping it was him.

The face looking down at her came as a total shock. Dee Harding. ‘Nice to see you returned to the Clover I once knew, back before Dallas Cash,' she said.

‘Dee?' Clover reached up, grasping for the door handle to the gym, to pull herself to her feet. ‘What are you doing here?' It took all her strength to pull herself up onto shaking legs. Her ankle, the one she'd broken, ached from the cold.

‘Oh, when you're as loved as I am, Clover ' Dee squared her narrow shoulders ‘The teachers just won't let you get away.' Her lips curled into a taunting grin.

Clover tightened her grip on the handle, as her hands slipped from the weight of her limp body. She forced herself to stand up straight. ‘Leave me alone.'

‘Oh, dear, Clover I can't do that! Too bad my cell phone's in my car. Do you mind staying here for a minute, so I can grab a quick pic to pass on to your yearbook committee?'

‘Get lost.'

‘No need to be rude. I won't take it to heart, though. You're clearly not in your right mind, you haven't even heard the announcement.' Her smile turned from a taunt to malicious grin, like a sharp-eyed snake about to finish off its prey.

‘What announcement?'

‘They've been calling you to the principal's office for, like, ten minutes now.'

Clover wished she could come up with a witty response. But nothing came.
The principal's office
, she thought.
Of course!
Because this day just isn't bad enough
.

‘I heard rumours of a fight,' Dee said. ‘You didn't go and bash some poor newcomer, did you
Loser Canuck
?'

‘Fuck you, Darleen!'

Dee's face fell from shock. ‘It's Darleen-Agnes.' Everyone in the school knew that no-one called Dee by her real name. ‘Too bad I couldn't get a pic,' Dee said hurriedly.

Clover's eyes narrowed.
I'm doing it!
Clover thought.
I'm
actually standing up to Darleen-Agnes Harding!

Dee lifted onto her toes, spun and pranced off down the hallway, without looking back.

Clover took a deep breath, and stared down the hall. Then she remembered Dallas, and what Dee had said about the Principal's office, and any happiness she'd derived from sticking it to Dee was replaced by nerves.

She headed straight to the girls' locker room.
Déjà vu
, she thought, taking in the strained, puffy red mess that was her face. She might have silenced her worst bully, but she still found herself alone in the place she used to hide, back before she had any friends at Silvertown High.

There was dried blood on her cheek, as well as the stain of tears. Black streaks. She rubbed off the marks, patted her face with a wet paper towel, pulled her hair up into a ponytail, and set off to Mr. Archibald's office.

The curtains were drawn on both of the principal's windows, on either side of his door, which caused a chill to trickle down Clover's spine. She'd never seen the windows covered before. Mr. Archibald was always on about the importance of an ‘open door policy'.

She narrowed her eyes to see through the slim cracks in the blinds, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dallas, maybe even Travis, to see if he was still alive.

Then she glanced up quickly, as she heard the principal's assistant say, ‘He'll just be another minute, Clover.' She had no idea what she was going to say when faced with Dallas in a few moments' time. Giving him an answer to his stupid, impossible question would have to wait, but she was going to have to defend him, right? Say he wasn't involved in the fight.
But what if someone's
dobbed?
Clover had been sent to the principal's office a few times before, for disrupting class. But this time, it was way scarier than she remembered.

Frustration burned in her chest. She wished the principal would just call her in, so she could ignore Dallas, say what had to be said about the fight, get it over with.
But what if he follows me, demands an answer to his question? I won't know what to say.
There was no way she could decide, not with no heart his demand had already torn it in two.

She squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

‘Clover?' A soft voice said from above her. ‘Are you okay, dear?'

Clover looked up and she couldn't believe her bad luck. Yet another person she didn't want to see, the elderly guidance counsellor, who, last time they'd met, had given her hell for wanting to be a professional ‘dirt cycle' racer, which the counsellor didn't understand or consider appropriate for a young lady.