Across the hall, Chase, Tyler, and Logan spoke with Richard Whitmore and one of the university administrators who had been attending the donor reception. Jordan could see them through the glass. Richard talked. The others nodded. A security officer asked Jordan to describe what happened.
Jordan did slowly. Tyler blocked him. His portfolio was taken. His papers were scattered. He warned Tyler not to touch him.
Tyler threw the first punch. Chase grabbed him from behind. Logan grabbed his wrist. Jordan used only enough force to stop them. Did you strike anyone?
No. Kick anyone? No. Continue after they stopped resisting? No. The officer looked at his notes. You're trained. Jordan paused.
Across the room, Coach Brooks sat against the wall. Jordan glanced at him. Yes. In what? Wrestling.
The officer looked up. How much experience? Jordan's answer was quiet. A lot. Coach Brooks almost laughed.
The officer did not understand the understatement. Neither did the university employee standing beside him. Jordan preferred it that way. He had spent years keeping that part of his life separate from Crownbridge. Now Chase had dragged it into the light.
By the time Jordan was released to go home, it was after 9. Professor Hayes had arrived and insisted on photographing the damaged papers before Jordan moved them. She documented the rain soaked recommendation letter, the torn edge of his portfolio, and a faint mark on Jordan's cheek where Tyler's fist had grazed him. "Go home," she told him. Jordan looked toward the hallway.
"What happens now? An incident report. And after that, Professor Hayes hesitated. Jordan saw the answer before she gave it. That depends on what evidence they accept.
Logan's phone, Richard's influence, the silent witnesses. Jordan gathered his things. Coach Brooks drove him home. For most of the ride, neither man spoke. Richmond slid past the windows in wet reflections.
Traffic lights bleeding red and green across the streets. Storefront signs trembling in puddles. Buses groaning through intersections. Brooks finally said, "You did exactly what you were supposed to do." Jordan stared out the passenger window.
"Didn't feel like it. You got attacked. I know you protected yourself. I know you didn't hurt them. I know.
Brooks glanced at him. Then what is it? Jordan looked down at his hands. They begged me to let go. Brooks waited.
Jordan's voice lowered. I hated that. Why? Because for one second, everybody looked at me like I was exactly what they'd already decided. Brooks understood.
Not because Jordan had lost control, because he had revealed that he could have. Jordan rubbed his palms together. They're going to remember the part where those three were on the ground. Brooks nodded. Some will.