by Emily Lowry
Tyler looked away briefly. He splashed more water on his face. “You’re telling me that my awkward little sister has suddenly decided she’s going to be all grown up?”
“Something like that.”
He adjusted his jersey. “Good. She needs something to get her out of the house on Saturday nights. While you’re at it, teach her how to relax. Pull a two-fer and teach Nina, too.”
I laughed. “I’ll start with Zoe. If that goes well, I’ll turn this into an entire school. Take over Life Skills class with Mason’s Dating for Dummies.”
Orc took a five-step drop and whistled the ball to one of the junior receivers. The pass came with heat, but it was off target by a good five yards.
“How’re you going to do it?” Ty asked. “Are you going to start your lessons with all the reasons why she should stay away from boys like you?”
I bumped my shoulder pad into his. “What’s this, your big brother speech?”
“Totally,” Tyler said. He pretended to growl. “You stay away from my sister, you hear? If you don’t, blah blah blah, patriarchy, blah.”
I chuckled.
Tyler grinned. “Nah, dude. Zoe’s smart. Smarter than me when I was her age.”
“She’s smarter than you now.”
“Smarter than both of us.”
“Put together.”
“Probably,” Tyler said. “It’s all good, dude. She may be awkward, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s not the type to stand for a guy who doesn’t treat her well. Not after what she saw with Dad.”
The divorce was finalized three years ago, but the scars would last a lifetime. That summer, Tyler stayed at my house almost every night. Zoe was usually with Nina. Neither of them talked about it much, but from what I heard, their Dad did his best to make the divorce as miserable as possible. Word was he was now in Chicago, but no one seemed to know for sure. Zoe and Tyler had never gone out to visit.
“Plus,” Tyler said, “my sister’s way too smart for a hardhead like you.”
He wasn’t wrong. I was way, way too much of a classic meathead for Zoe. I did okay in my classes — I was never in danger of failing — but I wasn’t anywhere near the honor roll, either. Except in gym, but that barely counted as a real class. And Zoe? She preferred intellectuals. Bookworms. Guys who liked chess, apparently.
Me? I couldn’t imagine anything more boring than spending an afternoon staring at a chessboard, contemplating my next move. I wanted to be out in the sun, doing something active. I listened to audiobooks when I was working out, but I wasn’t sure Zoe would count that as “reading.”
“It’s the best of both worlds,” I said, putting my helmet back on. “She gets a date with Kevin. I get a date with Meredith.”
“Everyone wins,” Tyler agreed. “Guess that means I’ll have to save my big brother speech for Kevin.”
“You should start practicing,” I said. “You’re the least scary person on the planet.”
“Yeah, I’ll start practicing if it looks like you can actually get Zoe a date,” Ty said. “You got the hard part of the deal. I love my sister to death, but her social awareness is in the negatives. Good luck teaching her.”
I jogged back onto the field. “Don’t worry about that. I got a plan.”
16
Zoe
On Tuesday, Mason started dropping hints about his big plans for teaching me how to date. I actually felt excited. Maybe he was onto something. Maybe I could learn the skills I needed to pick up boys. Somehow, I resisted texting Mason repeatedly asking what his plan was. I was the person who liked to be prepared. Mason was obviously the type of person who liked to make people wait. Watch them sweat a little.
Then, in Life Skills on Friday, Mason finally made his move.
We were looking for a small town we could live in for our fake lives. Mason closed his eyes and pointed to a map, his finger landing on a small town near Denver called Evermore. I’d never heard of it, but it seemed nice.
Mason finished scrolling through photos of the town, then set his phone aside. “So?” He asked. “Are you ready for your first lesson?”
I looked at him, confused. “I thought there was a game tonight?”
“There is. But your lesson’s not tonight. It’s right now.”
I swallowed nervously. Right here, right now? What if someone was listening? I was awkward, sure, but I didn’t want the entire school to know that I was so awkward that I didn’t have a clue what I was doing with boys. Was there anything more embarrassing than getting dating advice? “What if someone hears us?”
Mason leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and shook his head. “For this whole teaching thing to work, you need to be a better student.”
I narrowed my eyes. It was probably the first time in my life anyone had accused me of being a poor student. Other than Mr. Hinshaw, but I was sure he just had a grudge. “Maybe if you were a better teacher and told me what you had in mind?”
“Nope,” he said. “You just have to trust me.”
I bit my lip. I couldn’t think of a way around this. “Fine,” I said. “But if I have to trust you blindly, then when I teach you to dance, you’re going to have to trust me blindly.”
He grinned. “I have the utmost faith in you.”
“All right. So, what’s my first lesson?”
“First, we need to get out of class.”
I looked at the clock. We were only 15 minutes into the class. “So, my first lesson is to learn to be more patient?”
He shook his head. “No. Grab your stuff.”
“I can’t just walk out of class,” I said.
“Oh, Zoo, you have a lot to learn.” He shoved his binder in his backpack. “Come on.”
Um, and how was this going to work? I definitely wasn’t the type to just walk out of class whenever I felt like it. I stole a nervous glance at the teacher, then slid my binder into my backpack. I slung it over my shoulder and tentatively followed Mason to the front of the room.
“Mrs. Cortez,” Mason said.
Our teacher looked up from the textbook she was reading. “Yes, Mason?”
“You mind if Zoe and I get some fresh air? We want to do some practice interviews — Zoe’s going to be a neurosurgeon — but it’s a little loud in here.”
I wanted to smack him. He could’ve at least come up with a better excuse. But, to my surprise, our teacher nodded.
“Thanks,” Mason said. Then he walked out of the class as if what had just happened was the most natural thing ever.
I ran to catch up with him. “How did you do that?”
He looked at me strangely. “Do what?”
“Get out of class like that. You practically walked out.”
He shrugged, his football jersey pulling tight across his chest. “I didn’t walk out. I asked the teacher.”
I rolled my eyes. “Different rules really do apply to you, don’t they?”
He grinned and slung his arm around my shoulder. “Maybe so. But you should be happy — that means they apply to you too, as long as you’re with me.”
I struggled to hide the smile creeping across my face. This was my first taste of being one of the cool kids, being one of the ones who could get away with anything. What else could I get away with?
I shook my head. No, Zoe. Don’t go mad with power. You haven’t even passed your first lesson yet.
“So where are we headed?”
“This way,” Mason said. He pushed open a door, and we stepped out into the beautiful late August sun. The grass was green, the sky blue, the air warm. It was the perfect summer day. Mason closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Man, nothing beats being outside.”
“What’s my first lesson?”
“Eager, aren’t you?”
“I’ve literally been waiting all week for this.”
“Won’t be much longer now,” Mason said. He motioned for me to follow. The cafeteria was mostly empty, except for a couple people studying. We headed t
owards the beach.
“You’re just using this as an excuse to work on your tan, aren’t you?”
“Call it multitasking.” He slid his sunglasses on. “Okay. The first thing you need to know about men. They’re dumb and they don’t notice things. Which is why the woman always makes the first move when she’s interested.”
Well, that didn’t seem accurate. Mason must’ve seen the doubt on my face.
“They do,” he insisted. “You’re just a lot more subtle about it. You don’t need to ask the guy out. You just need to put yourself in his proximity. So he notices you. And so that’s what we’re going to do today.”
We came over the small hill. The beach was beneath us, but just before the beach, there was a flat grassy patch with a pair of stone chessboards. Kevin was sitting at one chessboard by himself, staring down at the plastic pieces. Analyzing something.
My heart jumped to my throat. “I’m not ready for this.”
Mason shrugged. “It’s exposure therapy.”
“I don’t want to be exposed.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Mason said. “That’s not ‘til lesson three.”
I smacked his shoulder. “Not. Funny.”
Mason smirked. “It was a little funny. Relax, Zoo. All we’re going to do is set up at the chessboard beside him and have ourselves a game.”
“Great,” I said sarcastically. “Too bad I know nothing about chess.”
“It won’t matter.” Mason started towards the chessboards before I could stop him. “Here’s another secret about men. Not one of us can resist playing the hero to a damsel in distress.”
“Sexist, much?”
Mason shrugged. “I’m just here to tell you the rules. Can’t help if you like them or not.”
We sat at the chessboard next to Kevin’s. The stone seats were warm from the sun.
Mason unzipped his backpack and pulled out a Ziploc bag with all the pieces.
He arranged them on the board in what I assumed was the correct order. I knew the basics of chess, but I could never remember what positions the pieces were supposed to go in. Was the queen supposed to be on her own color, or was that the king?
I had to give him credit though — Mason was prepared for this lesson. The chess figures in the bag looked cheap, like they were from the dollar store. I was willing to bet he bought them just for today. If nothing else, at least he was taking this seriously.
Kevin didn’t pay any attention to us. He would check his phone, then move a piece. Was he re-creating a game? I had heard of people doing that before when they were trying to learn something. Or maybe he was playing someone online. Was that still a thing?
Mason chuckled. “I can’t believe you think you can beat me. I’m the best at literally everything I do. And it’s such a simple game, it’s not complicated like checkers.” Mason’s ocean eyes glittered. He was up to something here.
Kevin looked at us, looked at Mason, then at the chessboard. The corner of his mouth twitched. Then he returned his focus to his own game.
Mason finished setting up the pieces. “This is going to be the easiest $20 I’ve ever made,” he said. “Okay. My turn. Black always goes first.”
“White,” Kevin said.
“What?”
“White always goes first,” Kevin said. He was right. Even I knew that.
Mason waved the thought away. “It doesn’t really matter. It’s basically whoever brings the pieces gets to decide.”
“That’s not how it works,” Kevin insisted.
Mason shrugged. “It is today. Besides, I always win when I go first.”
“No one always wins,” Kevin said.
“I do when I’m playing people like Zoe,” Mason said. He was acting the part of a cocky jerk perfectly. But why?
“How much are you playing for?” Kevin asked.
“Twenty big ones,” Mason said. “Wanna put some money on me? Could double up.”
Kevin licked his lips. “I want to put some money on this. But not on you. How about this? If you’re so good, you’ll probably have no problem beating me and Zoe put together. I’ll even give you two-to-one odds.”
Mason pretended to consider this. Then he motioned for me to slide to the side. “All right. Two against one.”
Kevin left his game and sat on the stool beside me, our shoulders touching. My palms sweat. He smelled like fresh printer paper. It was probably the closest he’d ever been to me. I always wondered what he smelled like.
Was that a creepy thing to think?
“Game on,” Mason said.
Kevin nodded, eyeing the board seriously.
The game, as you would expect, was a massacre. After a handful of opening moves, every move Kevin made was taking one of Mason’s pieces. First his castle, and his knight, then his queen. Within ten minutes, Mason’s king was surrounded.
“Checkmate,” Kevin said.
Mason frowned. Then, he opened his Ziploc bag, and started collecting pieces. “I have to go to practice. He probably just got lucky.”
“Don’t forget to pay the lady,” Kevin said.
Mason glared, pulled out his wallet, and handed me a crisp twenty.
I offered it to Kevin. “I think you did most of the work.”
He refused to take it. “We were a team.”
I knew he was lying, but it was sweet that he was lying. Team or not, we both knew that he had done 95% of the work. Our eyes met, and I smiled. “Thank you.”
He smiled back. “We must play again sometime.”
Mason unceremoniously shoved the pieces into his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, then marched away without saying anything.
Kevin watched him leave. “If you look closely, you can almost see the tail between his legs.”
I forced a laugh, suddenly feeling very nervous. This is probably the first time in my life I was alone with Kevin. He was sitting next to me talking to me. In one lesson with Mason, I had gotten further than I had in one year of crushing on — okay, stalking — Kevin.
“Yeah,” I said, eyeing Mason’s retreating figure with a smile. “What’s his deal?”
“He just thinks he’s better than everyone,” Kevin said simply. “But like most jocks, he’ll probably peak in high school. Not like me. Or you.”
The bell rang before I could respond.
“Got to go,” I said. “We’ll play again sometime.”
“I’m usually here,” Kevin said. He turned back to his game.
I headed towards the school. I pulled out my phone and sent Mason a quick text, thanking him.
Zoe: You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to make yourself look bad.
Mason: Every guy likes to be the knight in shining armor. And knights need dragons to fight. Happy to be your dragon.
Zoe: Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re the best. Your crazy plan worked.
Mason: Sometimes you have to take a hit to make the play.
17
Mason
I thought about the last text I had sent to Zoe. Sometimes, you had to take a hit to make a play. And at no point was that truer than our first game of the season. It was an absolute slugfest. I stood in the pocket as long as I could before throwing the ball, and it felt like each time I threw, I got crushed. But, somehow, when the clock reached zero, we had won.
Saturday morning, I woke up sore. I spent the morning moving in slow motion, groaning in pain each time I had to do something. Reach for the cereal? Groan. Bend over to put on socks? Groan. Wash my hair in the shower? Groan. Honestly, all I wanted to do was lie on the couch, watch college football, and sleep. But today was supposed to be my first lesson with Zoe. As promised, she was remarkably quiet about what we were supposed to be doing.
The doorbell rang.
I got off the couch, groaning, and opened the front door.
Zoe stood on my front step, a giant smile on her face. She was wearing a cowboy hat, a checkered shirt, and cutoff jean shorts. She had another cowboy h
at in her hand, and she shoved it into my chest. “Are y’all ready to go down to the barn to do some dancin’?” She spoke with the most adorable fake Texas drawl.
“Yes ma’am.” I put the hat on my head and tipped it. “I’ll go wherever you’re willing to take me. Should I get my horse out of the garage?”
“That’d be mighty kind of you,” Zoe said. “But the place we’re going is on High Street, so I think we can wander. Shall we?”
I tipped my hat again, and we were on our way. I was surprised how excited I was to see her.
We fell into easy conversation as we walked.
We talked a bit about the game last night — she came to watch her brother play — and we talked about Life Skills. We decided that our fake people would both be married — not to each other — and would move to Colorado to seek their fame and fortune.
By the time we reached the venue, Zoe had just finished telling me that the top reason to move to Colorado was the altitude. Apparently, the dry mountain air would make her hair a lot easier to control. And, she claimed that due to the thin atmosphere, I’d be able to throw a football further.
I wasn’t sure if she was joking.
We stood in front of a small brick building that I’d never noticed. Artistic graffiti covered the walls, showing palm trees, ocean, and shooting stars. Zoe pushed the glass door open and let me inside. The twang of a guitar filled the air.
“I’ve definitely never been here before,” I said.
“That’s the least surprising thing I’ve ever heard,” Zoe said. “It’s only the best dance studio in Beachbreak. It’s where we all go to train over the summer.”
“Even Meredith?”
“Especially Meredith.” Zoe led me towards the dance studio.
I’d expected a simple room. Some windows, maybe a wooden floor. A stereo sitting in the corner blaring music. What I didn’t expect were hay bales, the smell of leather saddles, and a busload of senior citizens. We were the youngest people by decades. Heck, we might’ve been the only people that had their original hips.