Chapter 6: Yellow

Judah walked past Tate Hatchett's locker on Monday morning with his eyes on the floor.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

The hall of Corbin County High smelled of floor wax and wet coats.

Tate stood at the end of it, in the middle of six football players.

He was laughing at something.

The scar pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Judah's ass ached with every step, a deep warm ache that went up into his stomach and made him want to run.

Under his shirt the dog tag lay against his skin.

He had worn it to school.

He did not understand why.

Tate's eyes slid over him without stopping and went on.

Something sharp turned in Judah's chest.

He told himself he was relieved.

At ten past ten, a hand closed on his collar from behind and pulled him into the stairwell behind the band room.

The door clicked shut.

Tate pinned him to the cinder block with one forearm across his chest, and the stairwell went quiet around them.

"I said you don't look at me," Tate said. "You didn't look at me."

"You're angry about that?"

"I'm checking."

His other hand slid up under Judah's shirt and spread flat against his bare stomach.

Judah's breath caught.

The palm was hot and rough and dry.

It moved slowly upward over his ribs to the steel resting on his sternum.

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