ll buzzed over the football field, a sound that usually meant victory. Tonight, it just felt like noise. I needed to get to my

heard

ked cars. I stopped. My dad, Sean, always told me, "You see somethin

heerleader, pinned against a car. Bryce Vanderbilt, the sta

ce," I said. My

k of annoyance. "Mind you

bigger than me, stronger. But I saw the fe

, let h

was a quarterback. He knocked me down. But Jessica was free. She scrambled away, sobbing. I pulled out my

d down, but then I saw them. Two police officers walking dow

ted righ

at's the one wh

ed. The officers walked toward me. They put my hands beh

every

ere in the letter. My name was dragged through the mud. The loca

was innocent. The stress was too much. One night, while he was on the phone, begging a char

t evidence." But it didn't matter. My future was

ar pull up. Bryce was driving. Jessica was in the passenger seat, laughing,

inside m

r car. I didn't shou

I asked

. Bryce got out of the

, loser.

aid, my voice cracki

He was a weak old man

rd, off the curb, into the street. I

, no