Chapter 14

Ryan tipped the glass in his hand back and forth, watching the Coke swirl around the sides. He wanted a shot of whiskey more than just about anything, and not the good stuff the Cohens usually kept locked in their liquor cabinet, the hundred-dollar Scotch that guests sipped from glass tumblers. He wanted Jack and Coke, something that would make his eyes water and his stomach burn, and go straight to his head. He'd never had much of a tolerance for whiskey. Trey had often made fun of him about that.

But there was no chance he'd get his hands on whiskey, cheap or not, tonight. Even a stolen glass of wine was out of the question. Under the terms of his offender contract, the Cohens weren't allowed to keep any liquor in the house, which meant this particular gala-of-the-week was a dry party. Ryan was single-handedly responsible for making Newport's social elite sober up for a night. He should have taken a wry pleasure in that, but he really couldn't take pleasure in anything right now.

He sat in a wicker chair in front of the pool house, where the hum of the Harbor School fundraising party seemed distant and insignificant. Ryan recognized the usual players of the Newport social scene, spilling out of the house and surrounding the pool. The tight-faced women wore too much makeup and anxious smiles, and their husbands sized each other up with stiff handshakes and forced laughter. White lights sparkled in the trees; the Cohens liked to string them up for their parties, and they always reminded Ryan of Christmas, and the fake tree his mom would put up when he was very young. They'd had the colored lights, though, the kind that blinked on and off and made him think of police cars and carnivals.

He finished off his soda and considered going for a refill, but that would mean seeing people and talking to them. Ryan had agreed to attend the party—he hadn't agreed to mingle. He'd spent the past hour sitting in front of the dark pool house, and so far no one had bothered him. Even Seth was keeping his distance. Ryan wondered if Kirsten had said anything to her family about giving him space.

Ryan had pretty much instantly regretted his outburst with Kirsten that afternoon. He'd meant everything he'd said, but he'd never intended to say any of it out loud, and certainly not to Kirsten.

It wasn't just that he regretted having lost control. The worst part had been Kirsten's inability to defend herself. There was a good reason Ryan rarely demanded much from anyone, or begged them to make promises or raise his expectations. He was just asking for disappointment. And this afternoon, Kirsten had disappointed him. Against all of his instincts, all of his best judgment, he'd lost control and he'd articulated the anger and fear that had been sitting with him for nearly two weeks—that Kirsten really had abandoned him. And she hadn't been able to deny it.

He should've known better. He should never have said anything in the first place. Because now he knew the truth, and even if she hadn't said out loud what he feared the most, she hadn't denied it, and that was the same thing.

Ryan's stomach growled and he knew that self-imposed isolation or not, he wouldn't be able to resist the appetizers floating on trays around the party much longer. They smelled delicious, and he hadn't eaten a thing all day. Besides, maybe he could find Luke, and maybe Luke had a flask on him. It wasn't out of the question.

Ryan stood up and tried to find the path of least resistance into the house. There were at least 100 people buzzing around the Cohens' backyard. If he skirted around the edge of the pool and entered the house through the kitchen, he could probably avoid most of the party. He was halfway to the back doors when he saw Kirsten.

She was near the doors that led to her bedroom, so she wasn't anywhere near him, and in fact her back was to him, so he wasn't in any danger of being spotted. But he stopped anyway. She stood facing Seth and Sandy, both of whom were smiling broadly at her, and as Ryan watched Seth laughed loudly enough that he could hear it from across the patio. Sandy draped an arm around Seth's shoulders, and Kirsten leaned forward and slapped Seth playfully on the arm before tousling his hair.

Ryan looked away then and turned back to the pool house. He didn't bother with the lights, but went straight to the closet where he found a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his old leather jacket, the one he hadn't worn since August. They'd be stale and tasteless, but it didn't matter. He grabbed his lighter from his nightstand on the way out and ducked around the side of the house, loosening the tie around his neck as he walked. Even smoking could get him hauled back to juvie now, but he didn't really care.

He didn't fit with the Cohens. He'd never have what they had—the family, the intimacy, the closeness that seemed to come so damn easily to them. It wasn't his to ask for. He'd learned to accept that over the past 16 years. He could learn to accept it again.

Ryan tapped a cigarette into his palm as he walked carefully down the driveway. He figured he could make it to the curb without setting off the bracelet. He didn't think the driveway could be more than 75 feet long, so he was still within his range. When he'd reached the end of the driveway he lit his cigarette, trying not to remember the first time he'd seen Marissa and the last time he'd smoked.

He coughed hard on the first inhale and felt his cheeks flush automatically in embarrassment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd coughed on a cigarette. Trey would probably tell him he was going soft, but Trey was always saying that anyway.

Ryan leaned against the pillar at the end of the Cohens' driveway and watched the smoke curl from the end of his cigarette and disappear into the dark. As a kid the smoke had fascinated him, and at night he had sometimes sat with his mom in front of their house in Chino, transfixed by the wisps of smoke. Even now he still sort of thought it was beautiful.

He wondered where his mom was now. Drunk, probably, maybe high too. Lonely. She was always lonely. He pushed her out of his mind and inhaled again.

A shriek of laughter came from the house and Ryan glanced back over his shoulder. The lights over the main doors were on, but otherwise the front of the house was dark, making it look faintly imposing. Ryan didn't think he'd ever quite get used to the idea that this place was his home. He knew Kirsten had been right—they'd given him so much. Too much, maybe. More than he had any right to.

But it wasn't as though he'd forced them into it. He'd never asked for a thing from them. He was always very careful about that. If they wanted to hand him new clothes and new shoes and a ticket to any college in the country, that was their choice. He didn't owe them a thing.

Except he didn't believe that for a second.

The unmistakable sound of glass breaking snapped Ryan out of his thoughts, and he immediately stood up straight and looked to his left, down the street. Under the dim glare from a streetlight he could make out three figures walking toward him. The one on the far right shoved the one in the middle, who tripped and nearly fell down, sending his companions into a fit of laughter. Ryan recognized them as they got closer. They were kids from Harbor. Kids he knew. Two of them had beer bottles in their hands. Ryan guessed a third bottle had probably shattered in the street somewhere behind them.

They would see him soon, and he had just a few seconds to make a decision, whether he would stand his ground or retreat to the house. He glanced back at the house again, at the dark windows and the expensive cars that were lined up in the driveway, and he leaned back against the pillar and drew the cigarette to his mouth.

"Hey, Atwood. Aren't you a little far from home?"

They laughed, and Ryan blew out a quick puff of smoke and clenched his jaw.

"What, they got a muzzle on you along with that leash?"

The three of them stopped in the street a few yards from Ryan, and Chip, a kid Ryan had never had a friendly encounter with, pointed with his bottle.

"My dad sent us out on a beer run," Chip said. "How pathetic is that? Because of you the Cohens have to host a fucking bring-your-own-beer party. I don't know why they put up with your shit."

Ryan dropped his cigarette and pushed off the pillar, stepping toward Chip until they were face to face and he could smell the alcohol on Chip's breath. Ryan's head was pounding and it felt good. He thrust out his chin and took another half-step forward.

"You wanna fight?" Chip said. "Or are you even allowed to fight?"

"I can do whatever the hell I want," Ryan said.

"Yeah? 'Cause I heard you need permission to-"

Ryan shoved Chip hard before he could finish, and he stumbled backwards, nearly falling. Ryan didn't give him a chance to recover his balance before he followed him and got in his face again.

"You're an idiot, Atwood," Chip said, breathing hard.

"Maybe I am, but who's the one starting a fight with a convicted felon?"

"A felon? You're a fucking juvenile delinquent. You're nothing."

Ryan punched Chip in the face this time, catching him on the jaw and making his head snap back. Ryan was squaring his shoulders to hit him again when he felt a sharp tug on his left arm, and he was pulled backwards.

"Hey! Ryan, man, stop it."

Seth kept his hand firmly on Ryan's arm as he moved to stand in front of him, blocking his path toward Chip. Ryan tried to take a step forward anyway, and Chip did the same, ready to meet him halfway, but Seth stayed between them. He planted both hands on Ryan's chest, trying to push him back.

"Get out of my way, Seth."

"No way, no, you can't do this. Calm down, man. You've got to just back off."

Ryan's head was still pounding and he couldn't catch his breath, but he tried again to step around Seth, and again Seth managed to move quickly and stay in front of him. He kept his hands on Ryan's chest, his arms locked.

Seth leaned toward him and said quietly, "Seriously, Ryan, you've got to stop. Don't do this. It's not worth it."

Ryan could hear the urgency, the panic in Seth's voice, and it snapped him back to his senses. So he let himself be pushed backwards. With one last glare at Chip, Ryan turned around, surprised to see that he was in the middle of the street. He let Seth guide him back to the curb, where he sat and fished for another cigarette.

Seth didn't know if he had ever seen Ryan so pissed. Chip and his cronies drifted away, toward the house. Ryan sat on the curb, rolling a cigarette through his fingers, breathing hard. He wouldn't look at Seth, only glared down the street at the other guys' backs. Seth sat next to him.

"You're smoking again?" he said, trying to keep him voice non-committal.

"So?" Ryan said.

"So I don't think you're supposed to be smoking," Seth said. "It's illegal, for one thing."

"Because you're always so worried about being a law-abiding citizen."

"And my parents will freak if they see you," Seth said.

"Yeah, and then what?" Ryan said. "I'm grounded?"

"Ryan," Seth said. But he didn't have an answer for that, because what were his parents going to do to Ryan, anyway? It wasn't like Ryan watched TV or used the PlayStation these days. All he did was sit in the pool house.

Ryan lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"Maybe it'll finally give your mom an excuse to kick me out," he said.

Seth could only stare at him. He'd had no idea that things were this bad, that Ryan was still so angry.

"She wouldn't do that," Seth said. "You know that, right?"

Ryan exhaled, blowing smoke at the ground.

"She's trying," Seth said. "She wants you here, you know she does."

Seth watched Ryan's face for some reaction, but Ryan wasn't giving him anything. His jaw jutted out the way it always did when he was really furious, but he obviously wasn't going to answer.

"And you can't get in fights," Seth said, "because you might get taken away again. And don't say you don't care, because I care, and I want you to care that I care, okay?"

Ryan just stared at Seth.

"All right, maybe I'm not making sense," Seth said. "But you get my drift, right? Which is that I want you to stay, and my parents do, too."

Ryan tapped his cigarette on the curb, looking unconvinced but also a little less furious, which was good. Seth heard a not-too-distant shout and he looked up to see Chip and the other two guys coming back down the driveway.

"Come on," Seth said, nervous now. "Put that thing out. Let's go inside. Summer's here, and Luke. We can go hang out with them in my room so you don't have to see anybody."

He tugged the sleeve of Ryan's jacket, and Ryan sighed and looked like he might be considering it. He crushed the cigarette out on the cement.

"Look, they're holding hands."

Ryan's head shot up, and Seth quickly let go of his sleeve. It was Holly's old boyfriend, Nordlund, with Chip and the other guy.

"When did you figure out you were into dudes, Atwood?" Chip said. "Did you find a boyfriend in jail?"

Ryan stood up slowly, his hands closing into fists at his sides.

"Maybe it was when Marissa broke up with him," Nordlund said.

"Marissa didn't break up with him," Seth protested. Ryan shot a hard glare in his direction. Seth wanted to grab him, to drag him back in the house and away from these guys, but Ryan stood quivering like a bowstring pulled taut, and Seth was afraid he would snap if anyone touched him. Chip looked Seth up and down with a smirk.

"Or maybe," Chip said, "the Cohens let him stay here because he's fucking their son. He has to pay the rent somehow, right?"

Seth had hardly digested the words when Ryan lunged forward, drilling Chip with a punch to the jaw. Nordlund grabbed Ryan's arm and Chip hit Ryan in the stomach. Ryan doubled over and Chip hit him in the face. When Seth saw the blood on Ryan's mouth he finally jumped in and tried to pull Nordlund away.

"Get off me, Cohen," Nordlund said, and shoved Seth backward.

"Leave him alone," Seth said, and went for Nordlund again, but the third guy, the one Seth didn't know, got in front of him and pushed him. Seth stumbled backward and tripped over the curb, landing hard. He sat up and tried to catch his breath. The third guy was still standing back, just watching, but now Nordlund was pinning both Ryan's arms behind him and Chip was taking full advantage. Ryan spat blood and Seth was just about to run for help when Ryan broke free and knocked Nordlund aside with a well-placed elbow to the face. He tackled Chip, landing on top of him and straddling him in the middle of the street.

Ryan brought his fist down once, twice, and again, hitting Chip on the face, the chest, the arms. Seth stood frozen, the hair on the back of his neck prickling up. He had seen Ryan fight before, but it was never like this. The other times he had delivered deliberate, carefully-timed punches. You could almost see him thinking, measuring his opponent, anticipating his moves. Ryan had none of that control or deliberation now. His arms were flailing, and he only hit his intended target about half the time, though Seth was willing to bet that the blows that landed were doing a fair amount of damage. He thought maybe Ryan wasn't even hitting Chip anymore, that he was hitting the cops and the guys in juvie and maybe even Seth's mom. And Seth wanted to go and help Nordlund, who was trying to pull Ryan off Chip, and he wanted to grab Ryan and tell him that destroying Chip wasn't going to give Ryan his life back. But it was too late, because a car pulled up, the headlights sweeping over the tangle of boys on the street, and Seth saw right away that it was a cop car. There were no flashing lights or sirens, but he could see the insignia of the Newport Police Department on the side of the car.

The car pulled up right next to the pillar and two officers jumped out, and Seth's stomach flipped over. One of the cops grabbed Ryan by the arm and yanked him up, while the other one helped Chip to his feet. Both guys were breathing hard and Ryan's nose and mouth were bleeding. Chip was pretty messed up too, but somehow Ryan looked worse.

Seth started backing up the driveway to go find his dad, but one of the cops said, "Hold on, we're going to have some questions for you guys."

Seth exchanged looks with the other guy, and they both stayed where they were, the other guy cramming his hands in his pockets and scuffing his foot against the concrete.

"Have a seat on the curb," one of the officers said, and Nordlund, Chip and Ryan obeyed, sitting side-by-side and not looking at each other. Seth wished desperately that the party wasn't happening on the other side of the house, so one of his parents might see and come help Ryan. Because Ryan didn't look at all capable of helping himself at this point. He was slumped forward, resting his forehead on the heel of his hand.

"We got a call from one of the neighbors. Said something about a disturbance out here," the officer said. "Somebody want to tell me what's going on?"

"Can I just get my parents?" Seth said. "This is my house, and–"

"What's your name?"

"Seth Cohen," Seth said. "My parents are Ryan's guardians, can I just–"

"Ryan," the officer said. "Ryan Atwood?"

At the sound of his name, Ryan looked up.

"The monitoring center just radioed about you," the cop said. "You were next on our list. You have an ankle bracelet?"

Ryan nodded almost imperceptibly. He looked exhausted.

"You've been out of range for quite a while, do you know that?" the cop said. "The EM staff reported no answer when they called to check on you. Where have you been?"

"Here," Ryan said. He stared at the ground.

"There's a party," Seth said. "A fundraiser."

"And you left the party to come after this guy? You attacked him?"

"That's not how it happened," Seth protested, but no one else said anything. Ryan just shrugged, and Seth thought later that it might have been the shrug that made up their minds, because the officers looked at each other and one of them nodded.

"Get up," the officer said to Ryan, and Ryan nodded and got to his feet. One of the cops put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. Ryan didn't resist. He put his hands behind his back before the cops even said anything else. He looked like he didn't care anymore what happened to him, and Seth was overwhelmed suddenly with fear and anger. He spun around, ignoring the shout behind him, and for the second time in two weeks Seth ran away from the cops. He sprinted up the driveway and burst through the front door.

His dad was the one he wanted to find, but the first person he saw was his mother. She stood in the dining room, talking to Julie Cooper and smiling. Seth pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the annoyed glances.

"Mom," he said. "Ryan's in trouble."

His mom looked up sharply, and he was struck by the sheer panic in her eyes. She set her drink on the dining room.

"The police are here," he said. He was panting. "The driveway."

"Oh my God," Kirsten said. She shoved her way through the crowd and ran to the front door.