Boy Trouble by Reshonda Tate Billingsley Page B

break when she’d faked her own kidnapping.
    Both Shay and Bali side-eyed her, like they were mad that she was talking to me. But she ignored them and continued talking. “Kennedi. She’s in the bathroom. She’s crying and I think she’s hurt.”
    I took off toward the girls’ bathroom. As soon as I opened the door, I could see that it was empty. I looked under the stalls and in the third one, saw Kennedi’s UGG sneakers.
    â€œHey, K. You all right?” She didn’t answer. “K,” I repeated, “it’s Maya. Don’t make me climb over the stall.”
    There was a pause, then the door clicked, and opened. “You know you’re not about to climb over a bathroom stall,” she said, trying to force a smile.
    â€œWell, you’re right about that, but I needed to get you out.” I studied her. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes red, like she’d been fighting and crying. “What’s wrong with you?”
    It was then that I noticed the bruise on her right cheek. “OMG, what happened to you?”
    â€œI fell,” she said, brushing past me.
    â€œYou fell? Where?”
    â€œOn my way to school.”
    I couldn’t help but stare at her. I knew that Kendrick had dropped her off at school today because I’d seen her sitting in his truck when we got to campus.
    â€œHow could you fall and get a bruise like that?” I demanded to know.
    â€œI just did, okay! Leave it alone.”
    â€œDid Kendrick do this?” I asked, feeling my anger already building. She didn’t have to tell me the truth. I already knew.
    â€œMaya, chill, okay?” She leaned in the mirror and examined her face. Then, she reached in her clutch and pulled out some face powder and dabbed it over the bruise.
    â€œSeriously?” I pointed at her face. “That’s okay with you?”
    â€œMaya, it’s not even like that. Just stay out of it. You don’t know nothing about nothing.” She dropped the compact back in her purse. “You know what? I’m out. If Ms. Clark asks where I went, tell her I’m sick.”
    Kennedi stormed out of the bathroom. I debated following her, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. This was the last straw. I made a mental note that I was going to do some digging. I needed to get through to my friends. Maybe some hard statistics would do it. I doubted it, but I needed to at least try.

Chapter 14
    I would never understand why a girl thought it was okay to let her guy put his hands on her. But obviously, there were a lot of girls who didn’t feel the same way. That was all I could think as I read all the stories of domestic abuse.
    I’d sat down at my desk to do some research, thinking I’d pull up a few stories here or there. But the number of young people dealing with domestic abuse was mind blowing. I’d thought that only people with low self-esteem and no love for themselves would put themselves in a situation where they’d be beat up by someone that was supposed to care about them. But as I read story after story, I knew that wasn’t the case at all. These were stories from honor roll students, from girls who were rich, poor, black, white, from all religions. Each of them enduring pain in the name of love.
    I’d loved my ex, Bryce, something crazy. But I’d loved me more. That’s why we weren’t together now. He hadn’t treated me like the queen that I was, so he’d had to go. I was having a hard time understanding the mindset that allowed a person to be in an abusive relationship, and the whole “he hit me because he loves me” mentality made no sense to me. Love didn’t hurt. Period.
    I sadly shook my head as I clicked PRINT on yet another article about Demond Cash’s abusive history. Apparently, he’d been arrested for domestic assault three years ago. But it was before he’d become a big-time actor so it