Chapter 112: Chapter 112 - Team Work
Roxie spent Saturday night with the TV on.
Claire left after the fight, and the house went quiet in a way Roxie hated.
She sat on the couch with the blanket pulled around her, staring at the screen without watching it. Some old sitcom played in the living room. People laughed at the wrong times. The house filled with fake voices, fake jokes, fake family noise.
It was still better than silence.
The deed was under her mattress.
Grandma’s picture book was under her pillow.
Roxie checked both before she tried to sleep.
Then she checked them again.
Every small sound made her lift her head.
A car outside.
The refrigerator clicking on.
The pipes knocking behind the bathroom wall.
The floor creaking near the hall.
Each time, her chest tightened.
Each time, she thought Claire had come back.
Each time, nobody was there.
Sunday was worse.
During the day, the house looked normal. That made Roxie angry. Claire’s mug was still by the sink. The ashtray was still on the table. Her purse was gone, but her sweater was still hanging on the chair like she planned to walk back in and start yelling again.
Roxie cleaned the kitchen because the mess made her sick.
Then she cried because cleaning it felt like waiting for Claire.
By afternoon, she turned the TV on again.
By evening, she turned the volume higher.
The house was hers now.
That should have meant something.
Instead, every room felt too big.
Sunday night, Roxie lay in bed with the lamp on. She kept looking at the door. She kept listening for keys, footsteps, Claire’s voice, anything.
Nothing came.
She slept in pieces.
Ten minutes.
Maybe twenty.
Then her eyes opened, and she checked the hallway again.
By Monday morning, Roxie’s head felt heavy. Her eyes burned. Her throat still hurt from screaming. Her chest felt bruised from crying too hard and trying to breathe through it.
She looked at herself in the mirror and almost laughed.
She looked awful.
Good.
Maybe people would stay away.
Before leaving for school, she slid the deed into the back pocket of her backpack. The picture book stayed under her mattress. She stood beside the bed for a few seconds, hand pressed over the place where she had hidden it.
Then she turned on the TV before she left.
The house needed noise.
She could deal with everything else later.
At school, she acted bored.
That was easier.
By the time the last bell rang, Roxie had survived six classes, two people asking about Senior Night, and one teacher saying the word home during an assignment.
Roxie was almost at the exit when Mr. Callahan’s voice cut through the hallway.
"Roxie. Zac. My room. Now."
Roxie stopped.
Zac was a few feet behind her, backpack slung over one shoulder. He looked like he had been trying to leave fast too.
Their eyes met.
His expression changed when he saw her face.
Roxie looked away first.
Mr. Callahan stood at his doorway with a folder in one hand and the tired face of a man who had already warned them twice.
Roxie walked into the room without speaking.
Zac followed.
The chemistry lab was mostly empty now. Afternoon light came through the high windows and hit the black tables in dull strips. At the back counter, the other groups’ rust experiments were already lined up in neat rows.
Plastic cups.
Labels.
Iron nails.
Cloudy water.
Orange rust starting to stain the bottoms.
Roxie looked at them.
Every group had started last week.
Mr. Callahan put their empty project folder on the lab table.
"You two are officially behind."
Roxie dropped her bag into the chair. "We know."
"No, I want to make sure you understand how behind." Mr. Callahan opened the folder and tapped the blank planning sheet. "Everyone else started their experiment last week. They already have weekend observations. You two have a packet with your names on it and nothing else."
Zac’s jaw tightened. "We can start today."
"You will start today," Mr. Callahan said. "That is why you’re here."
Roxie stared at the blank sheet.
Blank felt personal.
Mr. Callahan continued, "Written paper is due Friday. Your experiment must be finished by Wednesday because Thursday is pep rally setup, Friday is the game, and both of you have practice schedules you keep trying to use like legal documents."
Roxie glanced at Zac.
He looked back at her.
Mr. Callahan pointed between them. "No excuses. Cheer captain. Football captain. I truly do not care. Captains can read a data table."
Roxie said, "We never said we couldn’t."
"You also never started." Mr. Callahan placed five plastic cups on the table. "Tap water. Salt water. Vinegar. Soda. Dry control. Same nail type. Same amount of liquid. Same observation schedule. You will set it up now. You will write your hypothesis now. You will prepare your data table now. You will complete observations Tuesday and Wednesday. Then you will write the explanation and conclusion for Friday."
Zac shifted. "Coach Hayes expects me by four."
"I already told Coach Hayes you’ll be late."
Zac’s face hardened.
Roxie almost laughed.
Then she remembered parents, coaches, rules, and being controlled by people who could still show up.
Her laugh died before it came out.
Mr. Callahan looked at Roxie. "Coach Miller knows too."
Roxie sat straighter. "You told Coach Miller?"
"Yes. He said if you complain, he’ll add conditioning."
Roxie’s mouth closed.
Mr. Callahan nodded. "Excellent. Fear is educational."
He pushed the tray of materials toward them. "One hour. Set up the experiment and finish the planning section. I’ll be in the prep room grading. I expect actual work, complete sentences, and no blood on the lab table."
He walked into the prep room and left the door half open.
Silence stayed behind.
Zac looked at the empty cups.
Roxie looked at the blank packet.
Then Zac looked at her again.
She felt it against the side of her face.
"Stop breathing in my face."
"What happened?" Zac asked.
Roxie looked at him. "Nothing."
"You’re lying."
"Put that in the hypothesis."
Zac’s jaw tightened. "You’re really going to stand there looking like that and act like I’m stupid for noticing?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you are stupid."
He laughed once, sharp and angry.
Roxie grabbed the salt container and poured too much into the cup. White grains hit the bottom hard.
Zac reached for it. "That’s enough."
She pulled it back. "I know."
"You’re messing it up."
"It’s salt water, Zac. The world will survive."
"The project won’t."
"Then cry about it."
He stepped closer. "You want to fail now too?"
Roxie’s eyes snapped to him. "Too?"
His mouth shut.
"No, finish it," she said. "Fail too? Fail what else?"
Zac looked at her face, then away. "Forget it."
"No. Say it."
"You’re acting like everything is already ruined."
Roxie laughed. "Maybe it is."
"Because of me?"
"You want that much credit?"
Zac’s eyes narrowed. "You keep throwing shit at me so I’ll stop asking."
"Then stop asking."
"I asked because you look like you’re about to pass out."
"Careful, Zac. That almost sounded human."
His face hardened. "Fuck you."
Roxie lifted her brows. "Better."
He moved closer. "You want me to be an asshole so badly."
"I want you to be honest."
"I am."
"No. You’re careful. There’s a difference."
He stared at her.
She stepped closer too. Her head hurt. Her eyes burned. The room felt too small, and he kept looking at her like he could see through her skin.
"You’re careful when people can see," she said. "Careful with your parents. Careful with your team. Careful with your name. Careful with me."
"I’m not ashamed of you."
Roxie laughed. "You should listen to your mom."
His face tightened. "What?"
"She’s probably right. I am a risk. Fights, suspensions, rumors, parking lot scenes. Your pretty little football future might catch something from me."
"Shut up."
"That sounded brave. Where was that voice when she said it?"
"I defended you."
"Hah."
His jaw flexed. "I did."
"You told her I had a name." Roxie stepped closer. "Amazing. Big moment for women everywhere."
"You heard one part of a conversation."
"I heard the part where your mother talked about me like I was dirt on your shoe, and you stood there."
"I was standing in front of my parents."
"And I’m standing in front of you now. See how easy it is to say something?"
"Fuck you."
Roxie smiled even though her eyes burned. "Keep going. You sound better when you’re honest."
Zac stepped closer.
Roxie moved back one step.
The edge of the lab table pressed against her lower back.
She stopped.
Zac saw it.
His eyes dropped for half a second, then came back to her face.
"You want to call me a coward," he said, voice lower, "say it."
Roxie gripped the edge of the table behind her. "You’re a coward."
His face went still.
"You’re brave when it’s boys in hallways. You’re brave when Steve is at my window. You’re brave when you can bleed and look like the hero. But when it’s your parents, you get quiet."
Zac’s hands curled at his sides. "You really want to do this?"
"I already am."
"You don’t know what you’re talking about."
"I know what I saw."
"You saw two minutes."
"I saw enough."
His laugh came out low. "You’re unbelievable."
"And you’re still a coward."
Zac moved closer.
Roxie’s back pressed harder against the table. The cups rattled behind her. Her hand hit the packet, and the pages slid sideways, but she kept her eyes on him.
"Say it again," he said.
"You’re a coward."
His jaw tightened.
Roxie’s pulse beat hard in her throat.
Zac leaned in just enough that his voice dropped between them.
"You keep saying that because you know it gets to me."
Roxie’s breath caught.
Her fingers tightened around the table edge.
"You’re full of yourself."
"Move then."
She didn’t.
Zac looked at her mouth.
Roxie saw it.
Heat rushed to her face, and she hated him more for making her feel it. She shoved him with one hand.
He caught her wrist before she could pull away.
"Let go."
"Stop shoving me."
She yanked her wrist free and grabbed the packet from behind her.
The cups rattled again.
"Write the damn hypothesis," she snapped, shoving the packet against his chest.
Zac caught it.
Their hands stayed there for a second, both gripping the same packet, his knuckles brushing hers.
Neither of them moved.
Roxie looked up at him.
Zac’s mouth was tight. His breathing was uneven now.
"Fine," he said.
"Fine."
But he didn’t step back.
And Roxie didn’t make him.
