Jerkbait

by Mia Siegert

  “What party?” Robbie asked.

  “Tristan didn’t tell you you’re invited to my birthday?” Keisha asked with a hint of disappointment.

  It was my moment, the chance I was waiting for. I knew it was sort of wrong and self-serving, but I put Robbie on the spot. “I was going to. I just was worried he’d say no.”

  “Say no to what?” My brother asked.

  Hook. Line. Sinker.

  Maybe my brother would say no to me, but I was certain that anyone would have a hard time telling Keisha no. She was too sweet.

  “I’m having a party for my birthday at the old cinema,” Keisha said. “I’d really love it if you and Tristan came. I mean, I know it’s been really rough for you, but it’d mean a lot, you know?”

  My brother became stock still, freezing the way I often did when I was put on the spot. And, for a moment, I felt absolutely horrible.

  “You don’t need to if it’s too much,” I said quietly.

  My words seemed to snap Robbie out of it. Politely, he said, “Maybe.”

  “Please try to come.”

  “No promises.” Without another word, Robbie walked out, frowning at me. Like he was disappointed in me. I was disappointed in me, too.

  Keisha smiled at me. “Come on, Tristan. Come eat with us, please.”

  “Won’t they mind?” I asked, not feeling quite as enthused as I did a few minutes ago.

  “Probably, but I don’t care. You’re my friend.”

  I picked up my tray and followed Keisha to the table. Heather and Durrell looked surprised to see me, and more surprised when Keisha pulled up a chair at the end of the table next to her.

  I ate lunch relatively quietly, listened to everyone else talk, nodded my head accordingly, and kept smiling. The more I smiled, the more Heather seemed to hurt. She squirmed in her seat, looking quickly between Durrell and me, an uncertainty on her face. I grinned in return. Being happy with her friends was my best weapon. I didn’t even need to say anything nasty or be a jerk, just show Heather that I could live without her in my life. Besides, I liked joking around with Keisha. She was really smart and really funny. She was also really pretty with her dark skin and even darker hair with its constantly changing style. Even though I wrote her a short story, maybe I’d get her earrings for her birthday. It’d look great with the curlhawk.

  The rest of the day I was smiling, thinking about lunch, thinking about Keisha more as I thought about Robbie less. I started feeling optimistic. Things were finally going right. Things were finally going better than just back to normal.

  At the end of the day, Robbie was waiting at my locker. “So, about Keisha’s party . . .”

  “It’s Saturday,” I said, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to go. Dad and Mom’ll flip out if I try to go without you.”

  “It’s right after a game. Matinee, remember?”

  “Do you need to go out with the guys afterward?” I asked hesitantly.

  Robbie stalled. He pulled his fake piercing in his mouth when he bit his lip. “How much do you like Keisha?”

  Truthfully, I said, “I don’t know yet.”

  “But you think you might like her? More than a ‘she’s pretty and I’m horny’ sort of thing?”

  I thought about it for a few moments. Keisha was pretty. Very pretty. Her face was unique, angles making her look almost goddess-esque. The way she styled her dark brown, curly hair always complemented her personality. Fun. Sweet. Strong. And most importantly, kind.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I really think I do.”

  Robbie nodded. “Pretty sure I owe you.”

  “Seriously? You’ll go?”

  “I can be nice once in a while,” Robbie said, forcing a smile that made him seem even sadder. I wanted to embrace him but I didn’t trust myself not to back down, to give myself a reason to be miserable. Robbie going was a gift to me. And like hell I was going to blow it. Not this time.

  23

  It was weird not being on the ice for a game, and even weirder watching warm-ups. I sat next to Dad, halfway up the stands. Dad never liked sitting on the glass unless it was a championship game. Being further back allowed him to see the big picture and to watch the scouts’ reactions. Mom sat on the other side of us. She hadn’t said a single word to me. She also wasn’t glued to her iPhone, surprisingly, fingers bunching up around the strap of her purse.

  Robbie skated up to center ice for the opening face-off. We had never been the biggest guys on the ice at 5’10, but Robbie looked downright tiny. The referee dropped the puck, both centers’ sticks snaked out. Robbie moved in a slight daze as the puck left his possession. He rarely lost the opening face-off. Beau barked something to him as our opponents redirected the puck and forced it into our zone. Robbie chased after them, unsteady on his skates.

  “He looks terrible without you,” Dad murmured.

  With each shift, Robbie scrambled for the puck, head swiveling each side to find someone to pass to before he’d get trapped. He fell down with each hook and trip, all uncalled, like the refs were ignoring him. Their defenders rattled him off the puck, forcing him to dump and chase.

  “Pass it to him,” I said beneath my breath as Robbie skated to the slot, the net wide open. Henry wouldn’t even look at him. Robbie banged his stick against the ice, trying to draw his attention but it was no use. From afar, I heard my twin scream something but his words were unintelligible.

  The first period ended. The second came and went, two goals against. The third not much different, except Beau was able to score, the puck going just below the blocker.

  Only when there was less than two minutes to go did the team started passing the puck to Robbie. He tore up center ice looking almost rabid, passing the puck back toward Raiden as he looked to his right. Immediately, I felt sick. Robbie was looking for me.

  He received the puck on its side, barely able to get possession. But the goalie fell for the move, skidding and leaving a wide open net. My brother’s shot hit the crossbar. On the rebound, he missed the net altogether.

  The end buzzer sounded. A 2-1 loss when it should have gone into overtime.

  Robbie stayed on the ice a bit blankly as he looked around the stands for us. I stood up and waved, trying to draw his attention, but he skated back toward the locker room. I don’t think he saw me.

  “Check on your brother. I’m doing damage control,” Dad said, getting up and making a beeline toward the press box. Mom surprised me as she got up and followed him. If she was interfering, then it was a lot worse than I’d thought. His draft rankings were dropping faster than the New York Stock Exchange. One bad game could make a difference from a high second, or even possibly late first rounder from a seventh, or worse.

  I frowned and went down the steps, scooting along the concourse before I slipped into the locker room. I could hear screaming before I even opened the door.

  “You played like shit,” Coach said.

  “They wouldn’t pass to me.”

  “Don’t give me excuses. Maybe you’re just some gimmick, like your brother.”

  I pressed against the side of the lockers, out of sight, until I saw Coach stalk out.

  Then I heard another voice. Henry’s. “It’s God punishing you.”

  “Don’t you dare bring God into this.” Robbie’s voice escalated. “I was wide open.”

  “Just like how the net was wide open and you missed.” I was surprised. It was Raiden’s voice, without question. There was something in his tone besides anger. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

  “That wouldn’t have been a problem if—the hell are you doing?”

  There was a scuffling, then a loud shriek. Robbie’s shriek. “GET OFF!”

  Finally, I exploded into the locker room. It was empty. I raced to the showers just as they shoved my brother on the floor in one of the stalls, nude
. Holding him as Henry turned the tap as hot as it could go. My brother’s skin was red as a lobster.

  I ran as fast as I could toward the group, shifting my body to hip-check Henry hard into the shower wall. Henry grunted, doubled over. “The hell is wrong with you?” I snarled, twisting the faucet off. “All of you!”

  “Stay out of this, Butter,” Beau said.

  “Not if you’re not going to protect one of your teammates. How can you call yourself captain?”

  Beau’s lips pulled in a taut line. “Clear out,” he instructed the others, leading the pack, not offering an apology.

  Robbie began to shake hard, hands clenching into fists. His face screwed up in an effort not to cry. I grabbed a towel and knelt next to my twin, ignoring the wetness that soaked through my pants, and handed it over. He pressed it to his face instead of his red body.

  I stood and caught eyes with Raiden, who stood by the edge of the showers. I didn’t think he’d been one of the ones holding my brother under the burning spray, but I hadn’t been focused on them, I’d been focused on Robbie. Anger burned on my face. “Coward,” I spat.

  Raiden looked like he might speak before he shook his head. He looked at Robbie before turning his back, casting one last glance over his shoulder. I swore I saw a tear streak down his cheek but he was gone before I could check. Coward.

  I waited for Robbie to get to his feet on his own, turning my back to give him privacy as the shower turned on. It felt like hours before he stood next to me, towel around his waist, skin back to its normal hue.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “The scouts . . .” Robbie inhaled, voice as shaky as his shoulders. “Did I blow it?”

  I understood not to press. “Dad and Mom are doing damage control.”

  “Then it was worse than I thought.”

  “Everyone can have a bad game.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  And though I didn’t want to, I said, “Yeah. I know.”

  Robbie bit his lip and walked past me to his stall. He pulled out his hockey bag and rooted through for his clothes.

  “You know,” I began, “You don’t need to take it.”

  “Take what?”

  “This sort of treatment. Maybe you should quit.”

  “Are you serious?” Robbie’s head snapped up. “Hockey’s the only thing I have left that doesn’t make me want to . . .” He trailed off.

  “All the draft stuff’s making you miserable,” I pressed. “Dad’s making you miserable. The team—I mean. There are other choices out there.”

  “Easy for you to say. You don’t love hockey,” Robbie said. “I’d rather die than quit.”

  And in that moment, I understood why Robbie tried to kill himself.

  My brother dressed quickly and silently. I rubbed my hands together as I waited. I knew he loved hockey, breathed hockey, but it was hard to imagine anyone putting up with this.

  I was surprised to hear him say, “Wanna drive back with me?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, sure,” I said. We walked out to Robbie’s car and got in it. I shot a quick text to Dad as a heads up, but he didn’t reply.

  As we drove, I wondered what to text Keisha about her party. There was no way we’d be able to go. Not after what Robbie endured. I already was trying to think of what to text her when Robbie asked, “So, what does semi-formal mean?”

  “Huh?”

  “For Keisha’s thing. That’s tonight, right?”

  “You . . . still want to go?”

  “Not really,” he admitted. “But you want to.”

  “You just got the shit kicked out of you—”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” Robbie grumbled.

  We drove in silence. “You really wouldn’t mind? We don’t need to stay the whole time, I just . . . want to see Keisha. Give her a present or something.”

  “I already said I’d go,” he muttered. “Just leave it be.”

  And so, right or wrong, that’s exactly what I did.

  24

  Even though the old cinema never played movies anymore, it was rented out for occasions, like corporate parties or birthdays. We walked through the double front doors. The lobby was filled with students. I saw Heather and Durrell dancing in a large circle with some of the other juniors and seniors. No one ever danced as couples unless it was a slow song. Just circles: big circles, little circles. Keisha was dancing in the big circle.

  I stood watching, not sure if I should interrupt when she looked my way. She waved and wove through the group to give me a hug. Her hair was pulled up and curled, held back by a tiara, and she wore a short, blue dress, which complemented her dark skin. In heels, she was about my height, maybe even a tiny bit taller. “I’m so glad you guys could come!”

  “Thanks for inviting us.” I handed her a card with a gift certificate inside.

  “Oh, Tristan, you didn’t need to do that. I mean, you already wrote me that amazing story.”

  I shrugged and tried to play it off. “Well, I know. I mean, I just wanted to.”

  Keisha grinned, then set the envelope on a table that had some other presents on it. Robbie quietly put down the wrapped notebook he bought her, trying to push it behind some of the larger gifts. Keisha noticed, but beamed anyway.

  “Come on,” she said. “I want to introduce you to some of my friends from out of state.” She linked her right arm with me and her left arm with Robbie before he’d have the chance to decline, and walked us across the lobby. Although there was a small group of students, one tall guy with a pink shirt and bright blue tie stood out. Robbie’s eyes widened. He tried to pull back, expression on his face saying it all. Mayday, mayday! Send help and abandon ship!

  “Tristan, Robbie, this is Kenny. Kenny, Robbie’s the guy I told you about.”

  “Ooh, I see. Enchanted.”

  I had to bite my tongue. Kenny was the living stereotype of camp. The type of guy you’d look at and think, “Rainbows and unicorns and lisps, oh my!” Keisha pushed Robbie toward him. I watched my twin reluctantly shake Kenny’s hand and turn his head toward the door as if he were plotting an escape route, but it was too late. Kenny started talking, hands wildly gesturing to accompany his words. Keisha tugged me away from them. I looked over my shoulder at Robbie, who gave me a death glare, while nodding and smiling fakely at Kenny as he tried to inch away.

  “They could be really cute,” Keisha said. I smiled but didn’t have it in me to tell her that I doubted Robbie would be attracted to anyone that flamboyant. Then again, I didn’t know what kind of guy Robbie liked. It’s not like we talked about it or anything. I just assumed big men with muscle. Athletes, like the different Devils players in the posters on his walls. Like Adam Henrique, whom all the girls swooned over. Or maybe some sort of post-rock guy who also liked female piano rock musicians. Maybe sometime I’d ask him.

  Across the empty cinema, Heather and Durrell were grinding in the circle of dancing students, occasionally making out as their bodies collided. PDA. Lovely.

  Keisha asked, “Does it bug you that they’re together?”

  “No,” I lied. I didn’t want Keisha to think I was still into Heather, even if I still had some sort of attachment. But that attachment was slowly dissolving into hatred. “It bugs me that her personality did a one-eighty on me.” I took a deep breath. “I’m really surprised you invited us after all the drama and stuff, you know?”

  “I always wanted you to come. Robbie, too,” she added quickly, not quite looking me in the eye. The bass from the DJ’s speakers was loud enough for the ground to vibrate beneath my feet. Keisha swayed a little from side to side, not quite enough to be dancing in place. “I know it’s kind of old and lame, but I love 90s music. Told the DJ to play as much as possible. Forget requests. Is that selfish of me?”

  “It’s your birthday,” I said. “Besides, who doe
sn’t like 90s music?”

  Keisha glanced toward the dance circle, and sighed with a closed-lipped smile. “They look like they’re having fun dancing.”

  My confidence might have been destroyed by Heather, but at least I knew how to take a hint. “Let’s have fun then.” I tugged Keisha toward the group. People parted to let us in, the birthday girl was the queen. A few pulses of music, and I realized we were right across from Heather and Durrell. For a moment, Heather and I locked eyes. Immediately, I turned to face Keisha and rested my hands on her hips to keep her close and try to keep Heather out of my sight. Behind Keisha’s shoulder, Craig gave me a thumbs up before making out with some guy.

  With each song, I got closer to Keisha. She really knew 90s music and sang along to everything, from Destiny’s Child’s “Jumpin’ Jumpin” to Crush’s “Jellyhead.” I was surprised I knew almost as many of the lyrics as she did. When we weren’t dancing or singing, we were laughing. I hadn’t had that much fun with a girl since Heather. Hadn’t really smiled since this mess with Robbie happened and our parents locked us away.

  The music cut abruptly and the lights turned on. Was it the end of the night already? I was stock still, unsure whether I should pull away from Keisha or stay close to hide my tented pants.

  Keisha took a step back and I hooked my thumbs in my pockets, pulling the fabric away from me, trying to think of boring things.

  “You know,” Keisha said. “I’m really glad you came, Tristan. Robbie, too.”

  “We should hang out more often. I mean, if you want.”

  “Yeah. I would.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Durrell watching me. He looked confused.

  I took a deep breath, then pressed my lips to Keisha’s cheek. “I’ll see you in school or on Facebook or something, yeah?”

  Keisha looked dazed for a moment by the kiss, then grinned and nodded. “How about both? And maybe outside of school, too?”

  “It’s a date,” I said without thinking.

  For a moment, I thought she might lean in and kiss me back, maybe with tongue, but she scooted away to wish her other guests goodbye.