by E. M. Moore
“There you are, Tessa!” I turn to see Christie Fisher, the girls’ field hockey captain coming bouncing up to me. A guy with her same strawberry blond hair is right behind her. When he smiles, his teeth practically sparkle in the strobe lights bouncing off the walls.
“Um, hey,” I say. I look back to Dawn who just shrugs. Christie acts like we’re best friends, but I’ve literally only spoken to her once, and that was earlier today. The day I had comes crashing back to me, making me want to hide. Here we all are. Behind Christie and the guy who stopped right beside her are all the smug little assholes who thought it would be funny to ask me out today when they didn’t really mean it. I know it was all Ryan’s idea. His little play after meeting me in the stairwell. He just wants me to see that no one likes me. No one would even think it.
“This is my brother,” Christie says. She points at him, her lips sparkling with lip gloss.
Her brother holds his hand out. “Chase,” he says.
I shake his hand. His envelops mine. We shake for too long, so before it gets awkward, I just pull it away.
“He’s in college,” she says. “Freshman. I let him be my date for tonight.”
Chase rolls his eyes. “That’s because you don’t want Mom to know who you really want to be your date tonight.”
She flares her eyes at him until I’m giggling at their exchange. I often wanted a sibling, but since my mother had such a hard time having me, I knew it would never happen. Without answering him, she strolls up to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. She leans over and whispers, “I also brought him because I thought you could use someone to be around tonight. I heard what happened…about guys asking you to the dance as a joke? It’s so cruel,” she says with pure sadness in her exchange. “My brother’s a good guy. I promise. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
A pity date? I want to crawl inside a hole and never come back out again. I’m almost horrified except when Christie steps back, Chase is actually checking me out.
“You two get to know each other,” Christie coos. Then, she spots someone else and runs off.
This doesn’t seem to shock Chase. I wonder if he knows the real reason why he’s here. To entertain me, the social pariah at RHS. Chase doesn’t even look after his sister, he just steps forward. “I have to get this off my chest. Full disclosure. Huge fan of your dad’s. Used to watch him on TV when I was a kid, then realized I have exactly zero talent for basketball. You can ask my youth coaches. I was so terrible. I’m pretty sure they still have a picture of me up in their offices with a huge red ‘x’ over my face. I was truly that bad.”
I’m used to people telling me they’re a fan of my father’s, but they usually just go on and on about him. Chase doesn’t do that. “You couldn’t be that bad,” I say, starting to smile now. The feel of the pity date is wearing off. Dawn and David walk toward the snack tables. She gives me a thumbs up, but I turn my attention back toward Chase.
“Oh yes, I was. Believe me. It’s okay, I’m not a total sports reject. I found my niche in lacrosse.”
“Yeah?”
His eyes flash. Before he even says his next words, I know that he truly loves the sport. “I play in college.”
I bite my lip. Chase is doing exactly what I want to be doing. “That’s awesome,” I tell him.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I can tell he wears his status like a badge of honor. “Enough about me. You.” He shakes his head incredulously. “Christie tells me you signed your name on Sign-Up Day...”
I laugh, embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. “I did,” I tell him. I don’t know why, but I search behind Chase for the Ballers. They’re in the middle of the dance floor, girls grinding up on them while they take liberties with their bodies. I look away, my stomach flipping.
“Your dad must be so proud,” Chase says.
I scrutinize him, but as far as I can tell, there’s nothing but a genuine look in his eyes. Looking down at the floor, I let his last comment slink away. I haven’t known him long enough to let all my secrets spill, especially the part where I’m not sure my dad even cares that I signed up to be a Warrior.
“I’d love to play with you sometime.” He winks. “You know, just so you can make me feel completely inept.”
I laugh at that. “Well, then it would only be fair that we play lacrosse, too. I’m not sure I know how to handle a ball that’s only this big.” I make a small circle with my hands for show.
Chase and I talk for a while longer. He leans against the bleachers, and I lean right next to him. Dawn and David drop us off cups of punch and then head out to the dance floor. I see Christie dancing close with a guy. He has dark hair, dark features. He almost seems like the exact opposite of her.
Chase shakes his head and looks away. “I swear my sister loves barking up the wrong tree.” His brows furrow. “Why do girls always like the bad boys again? She’s tried explaining it to me before, but I’m flummoxed.”
The fuck if I know. But when I look at Chase, I realize he actually wants an answer. “Um, is ‘I don’t know’ an acceptable answer?”
He looks down and laughs. “I guess. I was really hoping you’d be able to answer for all womankind, but thanks for dropping the ball.”
Talking to Chase is nice. The nerves I had about coming here tonight start to ease until I’m relaxed and comfortable with him. He’s older, and I feel like he’s so far removed from all the Baller bullshit that he couldn’t care less, even when the Ballers notice I’m there. Heat creeps up the back of my neck. I don’t want to be on their radar. Not tonight, and definitely not now. This is one of the only nights I’ve felt practically normal since enrolling at Rockport High. Or maybe even since Mom and Dad started fighting.
“Do you want to do dance?”
My ears perk up. The DJ has just started a slow song. For some reason, this seems like a better alternative than dancing to an upbeat song where I have to worry if I look like an idiot. I nod, and he takes my hand, leading me to the floor. We stop on the very edge, which I’m thankful for. The Ballers have pretty much declared the inner circle of the dance floor as their own. Not one person other than their dates has penetrated it all night.
At Broadwell, there was a popular clique. It was mostly the guys and girls who were the richest and the best looking. I may have even been considered as part of that clique even though I never would have acted the way the Ballers do.
“I wish Christie would have told me how pretty you were,” Chase whispers.
I almost stumble but catch myself. I save all of my superior physical qualities for basketball, otherwise, I’m a mess.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you before,” he says. “But you’re grown up now.”
His voice is husky as he speaks into my ear. The music is so loud closer to the dance floor that it’s the only way I would be able to hear him. I don’t know what to say in answer, so I just don’t say anything. My tongue seems to have grown three sizes in my mouth, making it impossible to talk.
Chase laughs nervously, his hand softening on my back. “This might be a good time for you to say something.”
I laugh instead. The only thing going through my head is how bad at this I am. Or maybe it’s just with Chase. I had no problem with Ryan Linc’s hands on me earlier. This feels foreign and strange. Maybe that’s because it’s how it’s supposed to be.
I never think of anything to say, and the next minute, it doesn’t matter. There are gasps parroting through the crowd, and then laughter. I feel Chase lift his head and then freeze in our gentle swaying. “C’mon,” he says after a moment.
“What is it?”
He’s already dragging me off the dance floor the way we came. We thread our way through couples. When I meet their gazes, their eyes widen. One girl says, “Oh my God, is that you?”
I turn to look, but Chase has a death grip on my hand. “Don’t,” he says.
I should listen, but I don’t. My heart thumps like crazy in my chest. Before I even look ov
er my shoulder, I know it has to be about me. People are laughing. Chase is trying to usher me out of there. Ryan told me it was going to get worse. Apparently, embarrassing me in front of the whole school on the first day wasn’t enough for him, now he has to do it at a dance. In front of Chase, too. I tweak my neck just a little further…and all the color drains from my face. It’s me, alright. I’m in my running outfit from the other day at the track. My hair is a mess on my head and I’m mid stumbling back. On my forehead in black permanent marker are the words “I suck” with the penis drawn close to my lips. My stomach drops, and I really do stumble this time. Dawn is rushing toward me, her eyes bright and angry. Suddenly, I can’t stand all of this. I wiggle myself out of Chase’s grasp and run toward the gym doors. He calls after me, but I don’t stop.
I knew I shouldn’t have come. I should have known the minute I thought how normal this all seemed that it would have been anything but.
Fucking Lake.
14
By the time I get outside, tears are stinging my eyes. From the high of being called pretty by a cute guy to completely humiliated. I want to puke. I want to expel the fact that that even happened from my body, but I also know that the memory of it will still be there.
My phone starts ringing. I glance down at Dawn’s number, but I stick it back in the small purse I brought with me. It rings again, this time a text from a number I don’t recognize. It’s Chase. I groan inwardly, and I really want to crawl into a hole and not come out again. He tells me the picture is gone, and he wants to know where I am. Dawn probably took them to where my car usually is, but what they don’t know is that I actually parked in the student lot this evening.
My bottom lip starts to swell I’ve been biting it so hard. Chase is nice, but how am I supposed to even talk to him again? I’m certainly not going to tell him where I am. I’m going home, and I’m staying in bed all weekend until I have to come out for school on Monday.
As I approach my car, I see a dark figure leaning against it. I slow to a walk when I see it’s Sloan leaning casually against it. The little bit of light from his screen was the only reason I could see who it was. He looks up when he sees me and puts his phone away. “How’s your night going?” he asks with a smirk.
“Fuck you.” I fumble for my keys, ignoring him, and going to the driver’s side. My hands are shaking so badly that it’s hard to hit the button on the fob to get the doors unlocked. Finally, I get it. I slide in and go to shut the door, but Sloan’s there.
He leans over the top of the car. “You can’t go anywhere tonight, Recruit. Tryout trials start now.”
I throw my purse in the passenger seat and step back out of the car. Sloan backs up, his eyes widening just slightly at the look on my face. I don’t know what the fuck tryout trials are, probably just another way they can fuck with me, but I’m so not in the mood. “I’m going home, asshole. Isn’t that what you guys wanted? Humiliate me so I leave. Congratulations, it fucking worked. But if you even think this is enough so I won’t be there when tryouts start, you’re all fucked in the head. And you’ve seriously underestimated me.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest slowly. His hazel eyes are currently a brown-green color that look almost muddy with the lack of light. “Why, when I asked you what you were doing here at RHS, didn’t you say anything about basketball?”
“Why the fuck do you think?”
He tsks. “Mouthy.”
His eyes zero in on me, and instead of just making me want to punch him in the face, I also tell him the truth even though he doesn’t deserve it. “I knew you guys wouldn’t like it. You would’ve done just what Lake did to me with the fucking dick on my face, only worse. What’s next? Are you going to try to injure me so I can’t play? Pull some Tonya Harding bullshit?”
He narrows his eyes almost imperceptibly.
“You, of all fucking people,” I say. I should stop talking, but they’re the ones who’ve had everything to say so far. It’s my turn. I laugh, the sound manic to my own ears. “You should know what a picture does to some people.”
He towers over me, his hands coming up on either side of my body to cage me in. His face is contorted in anger. It’s a beautiful sort of anger. No matter how ugly anger is on him, it can’t transform him into ugly. Unfortunately. My blood pulses at my wrist as he gets a hold of himself. “Don’t ever fucking mention that again.”
I smile this time. I know I’ve hit a sore spot. About a year and a half ago, a picture came out in the tabloids of his senator father having an affair. Miraculously, his parents are still together, but I have a sneaking suspicion it’s not all roses at the Ivy house. How could it be? The car at my back is cold. His chest rises and lowers with the force of his breathing. He’s only millimeters away from me. “You of all people should know about public humiliation, Sloan. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe you guys should fight fair.”
“I didn’t take the fucking picture.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s the first you saw of it, too.” I place my hands on his chest and shove him back. Surprisingly, he moves. “This is about basketball; it always has been. Maybe that’s what we should keep it to still. No more bullying. No more bullshit.” I slide my hands down my dress and prepare to get back in the car. “If you can’t do that, maybe I’m a bigger threat to you than I even thought.”
“You’re nothing,” Sloan growls.
I shrug, showing more bravado than I have at the moment, but I think I’ve actually hit on something. Why can’t we just have this out with basketball? The fact that they haven’t up until this point makes me think they don’t believe they can beat me. “Let tryouts speak for themselves,” I say, one foot in my car. “If I don’t make the team, if I can’t hack it, what will you guys have lost? Nothing. You already think I won’t make it, so what’s the problem, Ivy?”
I give him one last look and try to shut the door, but he moves forward again, catching it. “I was serious, Recruit. Trials start now. Grab your shit and head out to the outdoor courts.”
With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, shoulders bunched.
I place a hand over my chest as it hammers against it. I’m not going to let any of those guys take this away from me. I can beat them. I know I can. I don’t even have to beat all of them, I technically only have to beat the third stringer. My whole future depends on it.
I’m not sure if Sloan is messing with me on the tryouts trials thing, so I swing by the athletic fields on my way home, and sure enough, there are cars there, figures already on the court. “Son of a bitch,” I mutter.
I pull in, get out, and go right to my trunk. I know I have clothes in there to change into, but there’s also no fucking changing rooms right here, and I’m not about to change in my car with the Ballers and their cell phones nearby.
“Ten seconds, Dale!” a voice shouts. It’s Ryan’s.
I grab my gym bag and my shoes and sprint to the court before dropping my shit onto the grass next to the pavement. There are two field lights, one behind one hoop, the other behind the one on the far side of the court.
“You’re late,” Ryan says. He has one hand casually around the ball while the other is perched on his hip. It’s a sexy pose, not going to lie. And he also pulls it off so well. What the fuck am I thinking? He’s not sexy, he’s an asshole.
“I apologize,” I say, my voice terse. “This was the first I’ve heard of…whatever this is, and I was dealing with something else.”
Lake snickers. I want to run right over there and punch him in the nose. That’s probably exactly what the Rock Ballers want though. I don’t know exactly the rules they have here, but I’m sure fighting one of your own teammates is frowned upon, no matter how much he deserves it.
“Five suicides for tardiness,” Ryan says. “While you’re running, I’ll tell you what the trials are.”
I kick off my homecoming dance shoes, just a pair of flats, but I’m not running suicides in freaking flats. My feet would be fucked
the next day.
I start to pull on socks and then sneakers when Sloan says, “Today, Dale.”
As soon as I lace up my sneakers, I head to the edge of the court. Ryan raises an eyebrow at me, but I’m still sticking with the not changing in front of them thing. There will not be half naked pictures of me around school like there’ll inevitably be “I suck” pictures around from now on.
I start, my dress billowing out behind me. I try to be careful when I bend over to touch the lines on the court, so I don’t show off my panties, but I also want to run these hard. I want to show them I can keep up with them even though I have breasts and am wearing a dress.
“Trials are a thing the Ballers initiated,” Ryan starts. I hear him over the steady thumping of my heart and my concentration on the court lines in front of me. “Think of it as a pre-tryout. You know the importance of teamwork. Teammates are a family. If we don’t think you fit in before tryouts, we tell Coach, and believe me, it weighs in his decision making when picking the team.”
Well, fuck me. They’re already going to tell Coach they don’t want me on the team. That means I’m going to have to try extra hard during regular tryouts, and whatever bullshit the Ballers are pulling here. Not that I think I can sway their minds, but maybe they’ll see that I’m not messing around.
“For the next two weeks, you’re ours. You’ll show up when we tell you to. You’ll do what we tell you to. We’ll assess you ourselves based on your performances and willingness to work.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Matt and Shawn standing on the edge of the court with their arms crossed. I have only one more line to run. When I finish, I stand right next to Shawn who shifts a little away from me. A bead of sweat drips down my back, followed by more. The dress wasn’t actually all that bad to run in, but I’m going to have to throw it away when I get home. I’m going to be a sweaty mess.
When we’re all there in front of them and Ryan is done telling us that we’re basically their bitches for the next two weeks, Hayes steps forward. His nickname of Ice Man is on point tonight. He towers over us all, his deep blue eyes assessing. “I think you all missed a key point in what Ryan just said. You all are a team. Why did none of you run those lines with Dale? If one of you is late, you’re all late. Five more.”