So, That Got Weird

by Amelia Kingston

My alarm goes off, reminding me I have a fucking life to keep together. Fuck if I care. I hit Snooze, but instead of drifting back into my nightmares, I stare at the ceiling. I have a million things to worry about, but the only thing running through my head is Elizabeth’s face when I told her what we felt wasn’t real. Her lips quivering. Her eyes welling up with tears. The confused wrinkles on her forehead. She looked like I told her someone she loved died. And I guess I did. The guy she thought I was.

  I pull myself out of bed and try to get out of my head. I open the drawer on my nightstand and grab the fifth of vodka I bought a few days ago. It’s half empty. I take a long pull, closing my eyes to focus on the feeling. The burning down my throat is a welcome momentary distraction from the ache in my chest. I toss the bottle into my gym bag and head to the shower.

  * * * *

  “Jacobs,” the assistant coach shouts at me from across the field. “Coach’s office. Now.”

  I jog back into the locker room, knowing there’s no way this is going to be good. I’ve been half-assing practice all week, showing up buzzed and not giving a fuck. I’m in no mood for this shit. If I didn’t need this scholarship, I’d be off this field in a heartbeat. Two weeks and the season will be over.

  I knock on the door jamb. “You wanted to see me, Coach?”

  “Close the door.”

  I take a seat across from him and wait for the ass-chewing. He stares down at the paperwork in front of him like it insulted his favorite grandmother. He’s more angry than usual, his lips pursed and his eyebrows pinched together so tight they’re nearly touching.

  He doesn’t even bother looking at me when he says, “Jacobs, you’re off the team.”

  “What? I know I’ve lost focus this week—”

  Standing up, he pushes back from his chair and slaps the folder down in front of me. “You tested positive for HGH.”

  “Human growth hormone?” I laugh. That’s how ridiculous this is. I actually laugh at him. “That’s not possible.”

  “Think this is funny? You just flushed your scholarship—your fucking life—down the toilet.”

  “Coach, you can’t be serious.” I open the folder, flipping through the pages of lab results that don’t make any sense. There are numbers, percentages and drug names I can’t even pronounce. “There’s gotta be some kind of mistake. You know I’d never touch this shit.”

  He crosses his arms. “That’s what I would have said at the start of the season. Now, I have no idea who you are.”

  “I don’t do drugs.” My tone is sharp. I’m getting pissed. I’m a lot of shitty things, but a fucking drug addict isn’t one of them.

  Coach shakes his head. “You used to be the hardest-working guy on this team. Now, you show up to practice late, reeking of alcohol and tripping over your own damn feet. You’re lazy, unfocused and have an attitude the size of Texas. Doping isn’t going to make up for half-assing your training, son.”

  “I don’t do drugs. And I’m not your son.” I throw the folder across the desk and pages go flying.

  He sighs. “This will go on your permanent record.”

  “Fucking fantastic. Is there anything else or can I go?” I stand and stalk toward the door.

  “You need to be out of the football house by this weekend.”

  A dry laugh escapes me as the hits just keep on coming. “Of course I do.”

  “I thought you were better than this.”

  “Apparently not.”

  I storm out of his office, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows. I almost rip my gym locker door off its hinges and throw everything into my gym bag. I’m not coming back here. I’m done with this place.

  Three and a half years of pushing myself, of putting my ass on the line for this team, and it all means jack shit. A piece of paper tells them I’m injecting poison into my body and that’s what they all believe. Perfect record and all they see is where I came from. I’ll only ever be some loser druggie’s bastard.

  I make it out to the parking lot before reality sets in. Sitting in my truck, I take an inventory of my life. I’m off the team. No more scholarship. No more roof over my head. Even if by some miracle I manage to finish this year and graduate, I’ll never make it into an MBA program with this on my record, much less get a scholarship.

  “Fuck!” I scream at the top of my lungs and punch the steering wheel until blood is dripping from my knuckles and I can’t feel my fingers. The pain is a welcome distraction from the rest of my life crumbling around me.

  * * * *

  I stumble through finals week half-drunk. I have no idea if I passed any of my classes and at this point I don’t fucking care. I’m sleeping in my truck with everything I own piled in the back under a tarp. So this is how rock bottom feels.

  Knuckles rap on my driver’s-side window, followed by Devin’s gruff voice. “Wake up, sunshine.”

  I rub the sleep out of my eyes and shake the foggy dreams of Elizabeth’s smile out of my head.

  “It’s early, man.” I don’t know what time it is, but I must’ve only passed out a few hours ago. I sit up and comb my fingers through my hair. Someone poured a bucket of sand in my mouth. I need a drink. I open the door and climb out of the truck, stretching my aching back.

  “You look like shit.” Devin hands me a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks,” I growl. We walk around to the back of the truck, I drop the tailgate and we both take a seat. I take a sip of coffee, happy for the warmth in my empty stomach. “How’d you find me?” I’ve been ignoring his calls.

  “Only a handful of places in this town you can park overnight without getting hassled. Wasn’t hard.”

  He hands me a takeout container and I nod in thanks. The scrambled eggs make me think of Elizabeth for the millionth time in half as many minutes. I remember my lips on her neck as I tried to teach her how to make eggs. Domestic as fuck. The last time I was happy before it all went to shit. That memory can go fuck itself. All of them can.

  “You about done with this shit?” Devin asks.

  I lift my hand and flex my fingers. Nothing is broken. My knuckles are swollen and bruised but healing. I miss the pain. I deserve it. “Not yet.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  I glare at him. My stomach twists.

  “No.”

  I haven’t talked to Elizabeth since she ran out of the library. It’s been two weeks. I thought it would get easier, that I’d forget about her, but I haven’t. I’ve never let myself want anyone before. Now I need her. I never knew I was lonely until she walked out of my life. I’ve lost everything, yet nothing seems to matter more than her.

  Devin nods and asks, “Going to finish school?”

  I shake my head. “What’s the point? I was born a white trash piece of shit. I’ll die a white trash piece of shit. Everything in between is just a delusion.”

  “Whatever you say, man,” he grumbles. “This piece of shit is going to work.”

  I hold up the food. “Thanks.”

  He nods and walks off.

  Fuck, I want a drink.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elizabeth

  I walk out of my biochem final in a haze. I’m mentally, physically and emotionally drained. I’ve been functioning on autopilot since I left my heart and my dignity back in that library with Austin. I barely managed to drag myself out of the apartment for finals. I can’t quite bring myself to care about anything.

  I miss him.

  I miss him so much my chest aches from it. Most people don’t realize a person can actually die from a broken heart. Stress-induced cardiomyopathy, or broken heart syndrome, is when the heart literally decides to stop pumping. The muscles weaken and give up. It occurs almost exclusively in women. Surprise, surprise. Men are selfish assholes. Every one of them.

  My head knows Austin will never love me, but my heart yearns for him. Love sucks.

  “Elizabeth!”

  I snap out of my stupor and glance around the busy quad to find Jess
ie waving at me from a few feet away. She comes charging up, flailing a newspaper in her hand like she’s a duckling trying to take flight.

  “Do you believe this bullshit?”

  “Yes. No. What?” My brain is fuzzy. Since Austin, I haven’t been sleeping much. Every ounce of energy I’ve been able to muster has been funneled into studying for finals.

  Jessie grabs my arms and pulls me over to a bench. She shoves the paper in my lap as we sit down.

  “This article about Austin.” Jessie points to the top headline. I shake my head as my eyes strain to focus and make sense of the words. Seeing me struggle, Jessie explains, “He was kicked off the team. They said he was using performance-enhancing drugs.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “I didn’t think so either, but he’s been so different lately. Irritable, on edge.”

  “Austin would never use drugs,” I say unequivocally. “He just wouldn’t.”

  Jessie shakes her head. “He’s not even going to fight it.”

  “What? But won’t he lose his scholarship?”

  “Yep. I told him, if it’s not true, he needs to fight it, and he bit my head off. Said there wasn’t any point.”

  I mutter, “Why wouldn’t he at least try to fight it?”

  Jessie shrugs. “He doesn’t care about anything these days. Monte has been such a loudmouth too. Bragging to everyone about how the only reason Austin’s been beating him all season is because he’s been doping.”

  “I hate that guy.”

  Jessie chuckles. “Me too. He always seemed sketchy to me.” Her cell phone goes off and she jumps up exclaiming, “Shit. I’m late. What else is new, right?”

  She darts off in long, graceful strides.

  I stare at the newspaper, befuddled. I can’t figure it out. I know he didn’t do this. Why won’t Austin fight for himself?

  * * * *

  This game isn’t my escape anymore. It’s a chore. I’ve poured myself into it, hoping I could turn myself back into the person I was before Austin. The girl who was happy playing make-believe and living online. But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not sure this ever made me happy, but it certainly can’t now. I know what happiness is. I know how love feels. Home. This game can’t give me what I felt with Austin.

  I hate it a little more every day. It taunts me with what I lost. Who I was stupid enough to give up. If it weren’t for Jackie’s constant ranting about “teaching the bastards a lesson,” I would’ve quit by now. It’s not about trade deals and peace treaties anymore. It’s all war and embargos. Jackie loves every second.

  “Eat shit, punk. Think you can invade one of us and get away with it?” she taunts the latest Law of Superiority player she’s targeted for destruction. “Vendetta, bitch!” she screams into the mic like a crazy person. She’s on a bit of a havoc bender.

  My country isn’t mine anymore and I honestly don’t care, but Jackie’s made it personal. They came after me because the rest of The Federation was too strong. Earned myself a big fat told-you-so on that one. Funny how things can seem so important one day, and not matter the next. Without Austin, this game is just a game.

  “Lizbit, you take the southern border. Make sure they can’t resupply. Another week without alcohol or sugar and we won’t need to invade. Their people will tear them apart for us.” Jackie’s sinister laugh fills my ears.

  I unenthusiastically reply with, “You got it, boss.” I go through the motions, her reluctant sidekick for another forty-five minutes before I beg off. “Jackie, I’m about ready to call it for tonight,” I sulk into the mic.

  “It’s only eight-thirty. Come on. We can take down at least one more city.”

  “I’m really not up for it.”

  “Hey, what’s up with you?”

  She stares at me in our video chat. I keep my eyes focused on one of my other screens, refusing to meet her eyes as I lie. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing my ass. You’re beyond distracted. I thought you were done with finals.”

  “I am.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  Jackie busts out her warning tone. “Lizbit, lie to me again and I’ll hack your Facebook and post pro-Apple memes.”

  I gasp. “You wouldn’t”

  She quirks an eyebrow. “Try me.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “Fine. Austin is in trouble.”

  “Who gives a shit?”

  “I do.”

  Jackie groans. “Why? The prick deserves it.”

  “He’s getting framed for using performance-enhancing drugs. He got kicked off the team.”

  “Good. I was hoping he’d get rectal cancer, but I guess this works too.”

  “Jesus, Jackie!” That’s pretty harsh, even for her. “Rectal cancer? You’re awful.”

  “No, he is awful. He broke your heart.”

  “Just because he doesn’t love me doesn’t mean he deserves to have someone ruin his life. Austin grew up with nothing and no one. My family isn’t perfect, but at least they’re a safety net. Austin has no one in his corner, but he’s clawed and scraped and cobbled together a life. And now he’s losing everything. Over a damn lie. He must be devastated. It’s not fair. It’s not right.”

  Who would do such a thing? My heart is pounding and the bitter taste of adrenaline coats my mouth. Austin may be too disheartened to fight, but I’m not. I’m furious for him.

  Jackie’s got a wicked smile on her face and my suspicion is growing by the second. I snap at her, “You didn’t do this, did you?”

  She gasps dramatically and places her hand over her heart in mock shock. “Who, me?”

  “Jacqueline Meredith Ryan, tell me you didn’t do this.” I wag a disapproving finger at the computer screen.

  She holds her hands up in surrender. “I wish I could take credit for it, but no. I didn’t.”

  I glare at her, not believing her denial.

  “I didn’t! I swear. Besides, those lab systems are super secure and even my genius has its limits.”

  That gets me thinking. Who would have the skills to pull this off? “You’re saying only a leet hacker could do this?”

  “Yeah. Well, no.”

  I shake my head, confused.

  “You don’t need to hack shit to fake lab results. The weakest link in any network is always the people. I can’t imagine handling piss pays that great. I guarantee someone in that lab is on the take. If you know the right guy and have a lot of cash to throw around, you’re golden.”

  The lightbulb flicks on in my head and it all makes sense. “Monte!”

  “Who-sy, what-y, huh now?”

  “Austin’s teammate. Former teammate, Montgomery. King of the Douchebags?” I use the nickname I gave him after our classroom confrontation and Jackie finally remembers who I’m talking about.

  “Tiny penis. Giant ego.”

  “That’s the one.” I chuckle. “It has to be him. He hates Austin. And he’s always bragging in class about how his dad is some big-time plastic surgeon for celebrities.” My hands fly around wildly and my mind races a mile a minute. “If I can prove it was him, that he set Austin up…”

  “Why would you do anything to help that asshole?”

  I ignore Jackie as I construct my masterplan. “Maybe if I steal his phone or hack his laptop—”

  “Woah, pump the brakes there, Jason Bourne. You realize that shit is illegal, right?”

  “Which is only a problem if I get caught.”

  “Elizabeth, don’t be stupid. He’s not worth it.”

  I take a sharp breath and stare dead into the camera. “Yes. He is.”

  Jackie studies my face and sighs. “God damn it. You’re going to do this no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine, then let’s do this the smart way. I bet this guy’s stupid enough to write his email password down. What are the chances you can get into their house?”

  * * * *

 
This is a bad idea.

  This is a really bad idea.

  This is a really terribly bad idea!

  I stare up at the football house and push down the painful memories of Austin. The last time I came to one of these parties, it was to be with him. Now, bumping into Austin is my worst nightmare. I don’t want to see him. And I don’t want anyone to see me. I take a deep breath and try to remember the plan.

  In and out. Quick and quiet. Ninja-style.

  I glide in through the open door, making my way between the drunk coeds celebrating the end of the semester and the football season. We lost our last two games, the ones we played without Austin, but that doesn’t stop everyone from getting drunk. The party is in full swing, music cranked up and wall-to-wall people. It’s claustrophobic, suffocating. My heart is racing. I don’t belong here. I can’t believe I thought I could do this.

  Calm down. You haven’t even done anything yet.

  I roll my shoulders and mutter “Loosey-goosey,” under my breath. I can do this. No big deal. I’m just hanging out at a party. Nothing suspicious to see here. I bob my head along to the music, searching the room for Monte. If I’m going to search his room for a password, it’d be better if he wasn’t in it. I’m in luck. He’s lounging on the couch in the center of the living room, luxuriating in the attention of the rest of the team. He really is King of the Douchebags.

  I wipe my sweaty hands on my skinny jeans and glance around to see if anyone is watching me. Nope. Invisible as always. For once, it’s a blessing. The music softens to a dull roar as I inch my way toward the bedrooms.

  I stare down the never-ending hallway. Well, shit. There are about a million and one rooms and I have no idea which one belongs to Monte. This might take all night.

  A giggling couple connected from lips to hips comes tumbling down the hallway. They’re walking by Braille, bouncing off the walls as they stumble toward me, refusing to break their kiss long enough to even watch where they’re going. I pretend to be looking for the bathroom, in case they notice I exist. They make it to the last room on the right and practically fall inside. Note to self—skip that room.