Rules We're Meant to Break

by Natalie Williamson

  “I can be practical and have goals, Mom. I haven’t even heard from KU yet, so I don’t know about scholarships from them.” Another wave of anxiety rises in my chest at this thought, because what if KU doesn’t give me a comparable scholarship? How will I ever talk Mom into letting me go then?

  Mom must be having a similar thought, because she smiles at me sweetly. “We’ll deal with that when you hear back from them. But in the meantime, I’m proud of you, sweetheart. So proud.”

  Then she comes around the island and hugs me tight, which almost makes me feel bad for wanting to get out of this place so badly.

  Almost, but not quite.

  * * *

  Hannah has a doctor’s appointment the next morning, so it’s just me and Ryan at our table in the commons. He shares his chocolate-frosted donuts with me and listens while I word-vomit about Hannah and Wichita State and dorms and KU’s admission status page. It takes me like ten minutes of rambling to get everything out, and when I’m done I flop forward to rest my head on the edge of the table so that I don’t have to see his reaction to everything.

  There’s a rustling sound, and then a little donut appears in front of my face. When I take it, Ryan pats the back of my head. “Well, first of all, the money thing is a problem, but you can do your best to fix it,” he says. “Just apply for more outside scholarships. Try to line up a job in Lawrence. Start looking at apartments and comparing rent and stuff, you know?”

  “I know,” I mumble around a bite of donut. “I applied for three more scholarships last night. But the apartment stuff is so overwhelming. And I don’t know if most places even hire people this far in advance.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to ask, though,” he says. Another donut appears in front of my face. “And it wouldn’t hurt to ask Hannah what’s going on with her, either.”

  “Ugh, I know,” I say, pushing myself upright. “I know you’re right. I just…”

  “You’re afraid of what she’ll say,” he finishes, zero judgment in his expression.

  I nod miserably.

  Ryan sighs and glances around at the commons, which is loud and full of our chattering classmates. Cammie and her friends are at a table only a few away from ours, but Jordan and his friends aren’t here. Not that I’ve been looking for him or anything.

  “Look,” Ryan says, and I glance at him, wondering if he’s somehow read my thoughts. “I can’t lie to you. Hannah has made some comments about next year that make me wonder if she isn’t as excited about the apartment thing anymore.”

  “Shit. Like what?”

  He shrugs. “Little things. Stuff kind of like what you mentioned. The other day she was asking me how Bri likes the dorms at K-State, and if Parker regrets living off campus his freshman year.”

  I wince. Bri and Parker are Ryan’s twin siblings who graduated last year, and Hannah has been asking Ryan a lot of questions about their living situations ever since they moved to Manhattan at the beginning of the school year.

  “For the record, I told her the truth—that Bri hates the dorms and that Parker loves living off campus. But I don’t think the answer was as important as the fact that Hannah was asking the question in the first place, you know?”

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  “So talk to her, okay?” Ryan says, watching me carefully.

  “I will,” I promise.

  Eventually.

  * * *

  On Thursday at Jordan’s, I have a hard time staying focused on this week’s paper. I think I’m doing an okay job of hiding my distraction, but after about twenty minutes he reaches over and pulls the laptop away from me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He snaps it closed. “It’s break time.”

  “But we haven’t even been working for half an hour.”

  “I know,” he says, getting up to go grab the basketball. Buffy follows closely at his heels. “But if I have to sit through another thirty minutes of you sighing every five seconds just because the rule is we work for an hour before we take a break, I’m gonna go nuts.”

  I have to process that for a second. “Was I really sighing every five seconds?”

  He smiles at me crookedly, head tipped to the side. “Yeah. It might have been more.”

  “Shit. Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just come on.” He points to Buffy and adds, “You hang.”

  I laugh and follow him out of the garage, checking over my shoulder to make sure Buffy stays in the doorway. She does, and Jordan bounce-passes me the ball so I can take the first shot. We play, and it isn’t long before I feel myself relax. And when we finish the game—I lose, of course—I don’t move back toward the garage.

  His eyebrows go up in surprise. “Another game?”

  I flex my fingers and shove them in the pockets of my hoodie. We shouldn’t—we should go back inside, actually get some work done. But I need to be moving right now. “Yeah. You first this time.”

  For once he doesn’t argue.

  “So,” he says as he watches his first shot swish through the net, “what’s on your mind?”

  “Right now? That maybe I should’ve stayed with the usual game plan and gone first.” He jogs after the ball and then comes over to where I’m standing.

  “Actually it’s here.” He taps his foot on the ground. I move to where he says and reach for the ball. But he doesn’t let it go. He waits and looks me straight in the eye until I realize that I have to answer for real or we’ll be standing here all night.

  “It’s nothing. Just college stuff. No big deal.”

  He lets go of the ball but doesn’t back away. “College is a big deal. At least for you. I can tell.”

  “Oh yeah?” He nods. I sigh. “Okay, yeah. You’re right.”

  “I know.” He gives me this shit-eating grin. I thrust my arms out and hit him in the chest with the basketball. Not hard, but enough to push him a little off-balance.

  “Shit, Amber,” he says, and I worry that he’s mad. But then he laughs and I know it’s okay.

  “Sorry. But it’s my turn.” He nods his head in acknowledgment and backs further away. I shoot and the ball goes in.

  “Nice one.”

  He goes to shoot again and I think he’s going to let me off the hook with the college thing, which would really be for the best. But then he says, “All right, so college. What’s the deal?”

  I hesitate. This feels too personal somehow. But then, maybe college talk is relevant. I am here to help him with school, after all. Or at least I’m supposed to be. “I got my acceptance letter from WSU earlier this week. They offered me a full ride.”

  “That’s awesome! Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”

  “I want to go to KU,” I say slowly, “but I haven’t heard back from them yet. And now, with this offer, my mom is pushing me to stay here even though I don’t want to.”

  He’s already got his arms in the air to shoot, but slowly he lowers them. Tucks the ball under one arm and looks at me. “Why not?”

  This answer comes more easily, if only because I don’t have to tell him the whole truth. “KU has this behavioral science major that I really want to do.”

  Jordan grins. “You want to be the next dog whisperer, don’t you?”

  “Maybe,” I say, grinning back in spite of myself. I finally caved last week during our impromptu Buffy marathon and told him about my job and some of the books I read when I was training my Buffy. He didn’t laugh at all. He told me he thought it was cool. “Or maybe work with people, I don’t know.”

  “You’d be good at either one,” he says, his voice quiet.

  “Thanks.” I clear my throat and look away. “Anyway, until I hear back from KU, I’m kind of stuck in limbo. And it sucks. Especially since I’m worried that even if I do get in, I won’t get enough financial aid to convince my mom to let me go.” I hesitate for a second, then add, “And also there’s the fact that I’m pretty sure my best friend wants to live in the dorms instead
of getting an apartment together like we’ve been talking about since we were freshmen. So my college situation kind of sucks right now.”

  “That does suck,” Jordan agrees, and I nod. “Have you talked to Hannah about it? I’m, uh, assuming she’s the roommate and not Ryan McKinney.”

  “She’s the roommate,” I say, fighting a grin for a reason I won’t let myself name. But my grin fades as I shake my head. “I haven’t talked to her about it yet though. I’ve been avoiding it since I’m in limbo with KU, until I find out whether I’m admitted or not anyway. Maybe it sounds dumb, but I don’t want to have a fight with her about it if I can’t even go there in the first place.”

  Jordan shakes his head. “It’s not dumb. I hope you do have that fight with her eventually though. Because then that means you’ll be admitted to KU and have enough aid money to go, right?”

  “Right,” I say, my face warming as he studies me.

  We’re quiet for a long moment, standing here watching each other, and then Jordan says, “I want to play Division-One ball in college, but it’s not looking like that’s gonna happen. That’s why I asked for help with my papers. I’ve got an offer to play for a D-Two school but my grades aren’t quite good enough to get the scholarship unless I bring them up this year. And we’d need that scholarship for me to go since it’s a private school.”

  His tone is even as he says this, but I can tell by the tension in his shoulders and the set of his jaw that this matters to him a lot. There’s no denying that Jordan is good at basketball. Like, really good. It would be a shame if he didn’t get to play next year. Without thinking, I hold out my hands. He hesitates a moment and then bounce-passes me the ball. I look at it, feel the grit of it under my fingertips. Then I pass it back and say, “Okay. So we’ll make sure your grades are where they need to be. Or your English ones, at least.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  His shoulders relax. “Thanks.” Then he turns away from me, facing the basket to take his shot. It goes in easy and I run after the ball as it starts to roll down the driveway.

  “Here,” he says, tapping his foot in the right spot when I get back to him.

  I don’t shoot yet. Instead I look over my shoulder at Jordan and do something I shouldn’t. “The D-Two school. Where is it?” I ask.

  “Rockhurst. In Kansas City.”

  Only an hour from Lawrence, where I want to be. That’s hardly anything, really.

  Rule number seven, Amber. Remember the rule. I shake myself out of these thoughts, clear my throat, turn to face the basket, shoot, and … miss. “Damn.”

  “That’s H,” he tells me, and then he runs after the ball.

  “I am aware, thank you,” I call. All he does is laugh in response.

  Later, when I’ve lost and we’ve gone back into the garage to get some work done, he says, “Are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

  Tomorrow night is the first varsity game of the season. I’ve been planning on going for a while, because Hannah and Elliot are going together and she needs a wingwoman. But I shrug like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. I might even cheer for you.”

  Jordan pulls the laptop toward himself and smiles. “I’d like that.”

  sixteen

  Hannah and I carpool to the game with Elliot and Ryan—Megan has to work tonight, apparently—and the teams are already out on the court warming up when we get there. I spot Jordan right away—he’s running for a layup right as we go in—and I watch as he runs back to the end of the line and laughs at something one of the forwards says to him.

  “Amber.” Hannah tugs my arm. Mentally scolding myself, I jerk my gaze away from Jordan and follow her up into the bleachers with the boys.

  “So, what do you think?” Hannah asks once we’re settled into our seats. “We gonna win?”

  “Um—” I say.

  “Hell yeah we are,” Ryan says, leaning around me to look at Hannah. “Have you been paying attention to Baugh the last three years? He’s gonna kill it out there.”

  Hannah raises an eyebrow and smiles slyly at me. “Not as much as some people.”

  I choke on my own spit and have a spectacular coughing fit, so bad that Ryan has to pound on my back to calm me down. “Whoa,” he says, peering at me when I finally sit up, eyes watering. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say hoarsely. I get up and motion toward the doors out of the gym. “I’m gonna go get a water. You guys want anything?”

  Hannah glances at Elliot, who shakes his head, his face slightly flushed as usual. Then she turns back to me, eyes sparkling. “We’re good.”

  Ryan comes with me so that Hannah and Elliot can get some alone time, and by the time we make it through the concession line and back into the gym, it’s tip-off time. The centers are already facing off at half-court, with the rest of the players circled around them. Jordan is standing with his back to me, arms loose at his sides, shoulders hunched forward a little like he’s ready to spring into action. “Shit.” I trip a little as I take a too-quick step forward. “We’re gonna miss it.”

  “Chill.” Ryan grabs my shoulder to steady me. “We’re good. Let’s watch right here. Okay?”

  I nod vaguely, eyes still on Jordan as the ref blows his whistle and comes out onto the court with the ball in hand. The ref says something to the players, and I see Cory Mitchell, our center, give a sharp nod and glance over his shoulder to where Jordan waits. Then the ball is up in the air and Cory swipes it away from the other team’s center and back over his head. Jordan grabs it and races down the court toward the basket, the other players falling back with him.

  Jordan passes to one of the forwards at the top of the key, ducks around a player for the other team, and ends up right on the outside edge of the three-point line. I hold my breath as someone passes back to Jordan and he shoots; it comes out in a cheer that blends in with the rest of the crowd as the ball goes in.

  Someone taps my shoulder and I jump, surprised to find Ryan still behind me. I look back and find him grinning. He tips his head toward the bleachers, where Hannah and Elliot are waiting. “Come on,” he says, prodding me forward. “A three-pointer already. Looks like it’s gonna be a good game.”

  The rest of the first half goes a lot like those first few seconds, with our team scoring like crazy and Jordan making amazing shot after amazing shot. Every time he does it’s like my heart races faster, and it doesn’t help that Hannah and Ryan both keep elbowing me. I’m gonna have bruises by the end of this thing. With a minute left in the second quarter we’re up by twelve points, mostly scored by Jordan, which has not escaped the other team’s notice. They keep fouling him in the hopes that he’ll miss his free throws, but he never does. He sinks them all.

  With thirty seconds left until halftime, Jordan gets fouled again. Only this time he wasn’t taking a shot, so he steps over the line to inbound the ball. He’s under the basket, and right as he’s holding up a hand to signal the play to his team, he looks up in this direction. He searches the crowd for a second before his gaze locks on me, and a wide grin spreads out over his face. My breath catches as we stare at each other for a second, and then, breathing hard, Jordan turns back to the game.

  “Uh,” Hannah says as Jordan lobs an overhead pass to Ethan Hawkins. “Did I imagine that, or did Jordan just look up here at you?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging, trying to sound nonchalant and keep my breathing under control. But I know he did. Shit.

  “Right.” Hannah smirks at me and then turns back to Elliot and links her arm through his.

  We win the game by fifteen points and I’m hoarse from cheering as we follow the flood of spectators down onto the court and then back out of the gym. People are already going out to their cars, which means traffic is going to be a bitch, so Hannah votes that we hang around for a bit and the rest of us agree. We’re supposed to go to Hannah’s house after this, so Ryan calls Megan to let her know that we’re leaving a little later than we planned and get her vote
on what movie we should watch. I’m arguing in favor of either the newest Star Wars movie or Black Panther when a familiar voice calls my name.

  “Well, well, well,” Hannah says in a low voice, stepping closer to me so only I can hear her. “Look who it is.”

  “Shut it,” I tell her, fighting off a rush of excitement as I turn to see Jordan picking his way through the crowd and coming our way. He’s smiling and sweaty and still in his uniform, and he looks amazing. He’s also not alone, and at the sight of a few of his teammates trailing him, my excitement turns to anxiety. Hanging out with Jordan by myself is one thing, but all of our friends in one place like this is another thing entirely. One I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for.

  “Hey,” Jordan says when he reaches me, tugging at a spot where his shirt is sticking to his chest. “You came.”

  “I did,” I tell him, all too aware of my friends and his closely watching this exchange. I can feel the rules bending as we stand here, and I’m worried that one wrong move is all it will take for them to break. “Great game. Seeing you play like that makes me think you’ve been going easy on me.”

  His smile turns shy as he shakes his head. “I really haven’t been.”

  “He’s not kidding,” Cory Mitchell says, grinning and stepping forward a little bit. “He won’t stop bitching about that backward shot you keep using on him.”

  “Oh really?” I ask, swallowing hard. Jordan’s talked about me to his friends. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, since he’d talked to his family about me. This explains why Cory has been smiling at me in the hallways lately.

  “Really.” Cory nods. “Did you know you’re the only one to get him to HOR status? That’s serious business, Richter. You should be proud of yourself.”

  My face flushes red, but Ryan saves me. “Whore status?” he asks. “Whoa, Amber. Is there something you need to tell us?”

  Everyone cracks up but Jordan, who looks at me steadily, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a smile. My stomach swoops, and I look away. I need to get out of here.