Off Center (Varsity Girlfriends Book 2)

by M. F. Lorson

The Tribune apparently covered more than just basketball. They even covered Women’s sports which impressed me. It wasn’t hard to find press on women’s ice skating or gymnastics but basketball? Pretty much all coverage everywhere died after college. And the articles, they weren’t just scores and plays like all the others. They were actually written by the athletes themselves about real things. Sure, the game was central, but it wasn’t everything. Often it wasn’t even the focal point of the article. I had told myself I would do the site justice and read three full articles, but before I knew it, it was 2:00 a.m., and not only had I scanned the basketball articles, but I found myself delving into football and hockey as well.

  Some of the writing was so real, the voice so authentic that by the time I hit the back button to load a new article I felt like I knew the player. As if they were a person in my neighborhood and not someone I saw in Pepsi commercials or hocking home and car insurance. Mackey was dead on. Not all sports reporting was the junk they aired between games or printed in Boulder’s chief newspaper, the Daily Camera. Some of it was damn good. I was more motivated than ever to win the American High School Journalist Award, and for once, confident that being assigned sports wasn’t the shot to the chest I’d thought it was. I had hope again and hope was a dangerous thing in my hands.

  I couldn’t model my articles after the Players Tribune and have the starting five write their own features, but I could get to the bottom of what made them tick. I was going to push them to talk about real life challenges and how they did or did not deal with them on the court.

  By Thursday afternoon, I was dying to meet with Mackey and tell him how right he was about the Tribune. I just had one small minor inconvenience to take care of first. Andie.

  I had put off meeting with her for as long as possible. With the Gazette coming out the following week, avoiding her and staying in Elliot’s good graces was no longer an option. I had a plan though. A foolproof plan for keeping her at arm’s length. It sounded a little ridiculous when I thought about it, but it was necessary. She hadn’t given up on her plight to turn us into besties. I’d eaten lunch in the library twice this week just to avoid her.

  I offered to meet Andie at the same location I was meeting Mackey. Exactly one hour earlier. That way she couldn’t get all ambitious and try to small talk her way into my heart. One hour was enough time to get through my article suggestions and talk about what was causing her to struggle yet too short to creep into any friending.

  Thinking about Mackey’s insistence that I was below average height I pulled on a pair of mom’s uber high lace-up boots. They were a little big, but at least I would no longer be at chest height when we stood to face each other. I tugged the hem of my jeans down over the boots, tied my hair back in two french braids and rode down to Perky’s.

  The bell over the door chimed its trademark jingle as I entered the coffee shop and scanned the room for Andie. You couldn’t miss a girl like her, especially not today. She sat at a window booth, the light streaming through the window illuminated every strand of her angelic blonde waves, she was basically the human reincarnation of a ray of sunshine. It was only a matter of time before the cheerleading squad smelled competition and pulled her under their wing. I kind of wished they’d do it now and get it over with. Maybe I could sneak Sammi Parsons (current cheerleading captain) a tip. Once Andie was in with the in-crowd so to speak, Elliot would be out of luck. He was totally gorgeous, but he was not welcome in that circle. They’d never let one of their own date outside the jock circle.

  Andie looked up and waved me over. She’d brought her fancy spiral again, although I noticed it was much thinner now, the telltale frayed edges of paper along the spine revealed Andie had a habit of ripping a page out every time she didn’t like something she’d written.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered us both pumpkin bread and a latte.”

  I winced. “Don’t tell me it’s pumpkin spice.”

  “Just mine,” mumbled Andie, averting her eyes.

  I hadn’t even sat down yet, and already I had managed to insult the girl I was supposed to be helping.

  “I’m not judging you,” I clarified. “Wear leggings, drink pumpkin spice. I support you!” I hollered thrusting a fist into the air.

  “Okay…” said Andie, her eyes wide and slightly frightened looking.

  I got the distinct impression I was making things worse not better. “I feel like I just over did that,” I admitted. Hoping against all hope that she didn’t report back to Elliot that I was a crazy person.

  “It’s okay,” Answered Andie. “I’ll remember to leave out the pumpkin next time. I am wearing leggings by the way.” She snickered, thrusting a leg into the aisleway. “With Uggs.”

  I shook my head in mock disappointment as I took my seat in the booth across from her. This girl was destined for the top of the pyramid, whether she knew it or not. After the barista brought over our coffee and bread, Andie flipped to a blank page in her notebook. I had decided on the way over here that I would first see if she had any of her own ideas before giving away mine. That blank page and equally blank facial expression told me it was wishful thinking.

  I took a sip of my latte. “So…”

  “So…” replied Andie. “Elliot didn’t exactly say what to expect but,” her face brightened, “I thought maybe this could work like tutoring?”

  “Oh no no!” I cried, “That is not what this is. This is just a few helpful ideas to get you started.”

  Andie frowned, “I see. I guess I misunderstood.”

  Her expression was so pitiful, it was on the tip of my tongue to give in and say, “What the heck, sure I’ll tutor you,” but common sense reminded me that that was the exact opposite of what I wanted to do. Tutoring would mean spending time together, and spending time together meant bonding. Unfortunately for Andie, The Lane Crawford friendship department was not hiring at the moment.

  Andie shoved a hunk of pumpkin bread in her mouth and chewed sadly. I wanted to push the girl away, but I didn’t want to be mean about it. I certainly didn’t want to sit there for forty-five minutes watching her make that sad, forlorn face.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I lied. “I just don’t have a lot of time right now.”

  Andie shook her head. “I understand.”

  “I did bring you some ideas though,” I tried. “Good ones. I swear.”

  She wasn’t smiling nearly as brightly as before, but she looked far less like she might cry as I pushed my list across the table. She took a moment to read through my suggestions before eagerly pointing to number two.

  “I like this one,” she said, pointing to the header about early admission. “I think I could work with that.

  “Great,” I glanced up at the clock above the barista’s station. “If that’s all you needed I wouldn’t worry about the whole tutoring idea. You pretty much just needed a shove in the right direction.”

  “You’re right,” said Andie, her voice booming with new found confidence. “I can totally do this on my own. I mean, now that I have an idea anyway. I don’t want you to think...”

  It was getting close to 4:30, and Mackey would be there any moment. I needed Andie to leave. I just didn’t know how to say that. Perhaps I could take a prolonged bathroom break and then text her tummy trouble. No, that wasn’t going to work; we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers yet, and I couldn’t be like, “Can I have your number please? I need to go potty.”

  “Hello, Earth to Lane, I’m still talking here!” Crud, I really needed to work on my pretending to pay attention face.

  “Oh, right. I know. I’m sorry. I just, I kinda double booked this meeting,” I admitted. I figured telling her that would move her right along. Instead, Andie settled in, digging her elbows into the table and leaning forward.

  “Double booked with who?” She asked. I couldn’t lie even if I wanted to. The odds that she was still here when Mackey arrived increased with each second.

  “I’m meeting up
with Hunter Mackey in a few minutes.” Andie’s lips formed a big round Ohhhh. “It isn’t like that. It’s for the paper!” I declared.

  “Would it be so bad if it was like that?” asked Andie with a wink.

  Truthfully no. Truthfully meeting Mackey for coffee because I wanted to see him was probably a lot more appealing than meeting him because I needed his help with my story. But that wasn’t what this was, not for either of us.

  “I mean, he’s great and all,” I said, but as soon as I said the ‘but,’ I regretted it. There was no way she would just leave it be. I looked across the table at Andie, she’d tried to be kind to me since day one, hadn’t she? It was taking a risk revealing this next part but maybe, if she knew, maybe there didn’t have to be a whole complex love triangle thing. I didn’t know if she honored girl code or not but it was worth a shot. “But he’s not the one that I want.” I finished, holding my breath while I waited for her reaction.

  “Oh,” said Andie, and then “Ohhhhhhh!” as realization dawned on her. “The one you do want. He hasn’t exactly noticed, eh?

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Can I make a guess as to who it is?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Andie took a long exaggerated sip of her latte. As if she were consulting her tea leaves or some other hoaky thing.

  “My money is on our dear friend the editor-in-chief.”

  “Wow,” I answered.

  “I’ll take that as an affirmative,” said Andie, leaning back with a satisfied smirk on her face. It was probably a bad thing that even the new girl had picked up on my massive crush, but who was I kidding at this point everyone but Elliot got the picture.

  “I feel a lot worse about slamming your idea now,” she said.

  “Water under the bridge,” I replied, and at the moment, I meant it. The wall between us was slowly beginning to crumble away.

  “I could talk to him if you want.”

  “No!” I cried, absolutely mortified at the idea.

  “Look, I know it sounds scary, but honestly, sometimes guys don’t see what’s right in front of them. You have to like, beat them over the head with it on occasion.”

  “It sounds like you have experience with this,” I said, giving her the sly eye.

  “Yeah well, my last boyfriend was a bestie to lovers kinda deal. I had to make all the moves, or he would still be back there wondering if asking me out was a good idea.”

  “Not your boyfriend anymore?” I asked. I’d shown my hand now it was time for her to show hers.

  “Not since I moved to Marlowe Junction,” said Andie, her voice taking on a slightly sadder tone.

  Crud, in all my concern about her sweeping Elliot off his feet I hadn’t paused to consider whether or not she actually wanted a boyfriend. Maybe she wasn’t such an ideal fit for the cheerleading squad after all. Perhaps a quiet first year at Rosemark was really what she needed.

  “That sucks,” I stated.

  “You’re telling me. Years of investment in that one. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “What’s done is done. I’m here now, and I can help you if you let me. It’s the least I can do for all the help you’re giving me.”

  “I don’t know...” I hesitated. Andie was growing on me, but that didn’t mean I was ready to trust her with talking to Elliot. That was best friend material — a job with Jillie written all over it.

  “I’m gonna talk to him.” said Andie matter-of-factly, “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna say you love him or anything like that. Just feel him out a bit.” Andie gulped the last bit of her Pumpkin Spice Latte.

  I opened my mouth to tell her “absolutely not!” but the chime of the front door opening drew both of our attention. Sensing her moment of escape had arrived Andie scooped up her belongings, winked at me suggestively and darted out the door. Right past Mackey. I regretted not employing the bathroom trick. Without her phone number how was I going to berate her with ‘don’t do it’ and ‘tell me everything he says’ texts? Mackey whistled after her as she wiggled past him and exited to the parking lot.

  “Who was that?

  “Seriously?” I asked. “You too? Can’t a girl move to Marlowe Junction without being officially registered on the to date or not to date list?”

  Mackey filled the seat Andie had just vacated. It was probably still warm from her tiny, perfect, leggings-clad butt. “Not if she looks like that.” he teased, motioning over his shoulder to where Andie stood to key into her baby blue sedan.

  I let out a deep breath. “Her name is Andie Mercantile, she’s a junior, a transfer student and she lives with your new shooting guard. Anything else you need to know?”

  Mackey raised both eyebrows suggestively. “Ah Cub, if I’d known you were gonna be jealous I’d have insisted on this being a real date.”

  My face flushed a deep pink. “Can we just get to the reason we are here?

  “Depends,” said Mackey. “Did you do your homework?”

  “I did,” I said with pride, “and you were right. The Players Tribune is exactly the sort of thing I want to write.”

  Mackey leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. To an outsider, this really would look like a date. I couldn’t decide whether I should mimic his body language and lean closer or avoid the rumor mill and keep my distance. The last thing I wanted was for Elliot to get the impression I was into someone else. You never knew when one of Veronica’s little birds was around.

  “You should start with Anderson,” said Mackey drawing my attention back to the reason I’d asked him to meet me here in the first place.

  I scrunched up my nose in disgust. Anderson Webb was the one member of the starting five I was the least enthused on writing about.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” said Mackey, reading my face. “He’s a jerk.”

  “King of the jerks,” I replied.

  “I’m not disputing it. But, that's not all he is. Maybe there is a reason he’s a jerk?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You mean like, maybe there is a reason he cheats on his girlfriend, sister of one of your teammates and then acts like a real entitled tool about it?”

  Mackey’s jaw tightened. “Yeah well, no one's thrilled about that one.”

  “Let me ask you this,” I asked, trying to understand why a guy like Mackey and a guy like Anderson were friends in the first place. “What do you like about Anderson?”

  Mackey thought about it for a moment. Rubbing his chin while he tried to come up with a good reason.

  “On the court,” he said finally. “He is the guy you look to. He makes sure you get your shot, in the place you like it. And if you miss that shot, he’ll give you another chance, when the timing is right because he knows when the timing is right. Because he knows us.” Mackey looked pretty satisfied with his answer.

  Not me though, that’s not what I was asking. I got that Anderson and Mackey made a good team when it was game time what I wanted to know was what on earth he saw in him the other 22 hours of the day.

  “Off the court?” I pushed.

  This time Mackey didn’t need any time to think. “Off the court, he’s the only one on the team who came to my grandpa’s funeral this summer.”

  My heart panged with sympathy. What a thing to tell a girl you barely knew. When my own grandfather died, I’d hardly even been able to tell Jillie, let alone an almost stranger.

  “I know he’s earned his bad boy reputation, and honestly he probably likes it, but there is another side to Anderson.”

  I let out a deep sigh.

  “Be nice to him,” he pleaded, “it’s just one story.”

  Being nice was not my job. Being nice didn’t win awards and unless the photo that accompanied the story was a basket full of kittens it didn’t hold readers attention either. I refused to promise him anything other than fair and balanced reporting.

  “When can I interview him?” I asked.

  Mackey grinned, “I’m glad you sh
ould ask. A few of us are meeting up for pre-corn maze tots on Friday. Meet us there around five, and you can squeeze in a few questions.”

  “Isn’t that homecoming?” I asked the date etched in my brain from morning announcement after morning announcement over the last three weeks. “You guys aren’t going?

  “Not everyone has a date, Cub,” said Mackey, “And that is another golden thing about Anderson. He could take any girl, but the new guy doesn’t have a date. So what does he do? Plans for a guys night out being chased by masked men and women with fake chainsaws.”

  An interview over tots? With half the basketball team in attendance? That would certainly be interesting. I hadn’t yet decided if interesting equated to good in this instance.

  “I’ll be there,” I said reluctantly. “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Under no circumstances am I expected to traipse down to Langford Farm with you. I’ve seen Children of the Corn, and I know how this ends.”

  Mackey laughed full and hardy, “Deal. But you should know Cub. I would have protected you.”

  “Really?” I asked, thinking it was awfully cute of him to say even if it was just to be playful.

  “Naw,” said Mackey, shushing my budding feelings of endearment. “I would have pushed you towards the first masked offender I saw and used the time to get a running start.”

  Chapter Eight

  The following Friday was a teacher in-service day, which for the staff of the newspaper meant, a huge chunk of time to get your ducks in a row before distribution. Usually, on a day like this, I would be hitting up my fellow staffers for pizza money and exchanging next-to-final drafts for last-minute changes. This in-service, however, was far less communal because it was also the night of the Homecoming dance. Our male reporters were down at Petal Pushers picking up corsages for their dates, while the female staff were busy getting their hair done at Her Royal Hairness. It was just Elliot and me today, much to my delight.

  Or it was anyway until about 10:00 a.m. when Mackey came sauntering in the door. Was it just my imagination or did Elliot recoil a little at the sight of him? I gave Mackey a tight-lipped smile, cautious not to draw too much attention to our acquaintance.