Lowering my voice, I gave the kids a conspiratorial wink then said, affecting Hagrid’s deep Cockney accent, “‘Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh.’“
They giggled as I got shushed by my boss, Mrs. Carranza, librarian at large.
The young eyes around me were saucers, pitched forward as the announcement drew closer.
“‘Harry—yer a…’“
I stopped mid-sentence, catching sight of Becks, standing at the edge of our circle, looking at me with a smile in his eyes.
“A what? A what?” Gwen Glick said, tugging at my arm.
“Shut up, Gwen. Let her finish.” Vince Splotts pushed her hand away.
I looked at him sternly, trying to forget about Becks. “Now, Vince, you know we don’t talk that way during Corner.”
“I know, but—”
“Apologize, please,” I said.
“But Miss Sally, she was being annoying. I was just saying—”
“I heard what you said.” I crossed my arms and tilted my head toward Gwen whose lip was now quivering. “Tell Gwen you’re sorry, please.”
Vince rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Sorry.”
I looked at the girl in the faded Star Trek tee. “And what do you say Gwen?”
“Apology accepted,” Gwen muttered, turning a glare on Vince. “And I am not annoying.”
“Gwen.”
“Sorry, Miss Sally,” she said. “Now can we hear the rest? What does Hagrid tell Harry he is?”
“He’s a wizard,” Becks answered.
As Gwen saw him, she smiled and waved like a mad woman. He grinned back.
“That’s right,” I said, flipping the book closed, “and I think it’s picture time.”
The kids groaned, and Vince said in a pitiful voice, “But Miss Sally, we didn’t even get to the end of that chapter.”
“We can finish it next week.” Usually I tried to read them two chapters per session, but Becks was here now, looking like he had something to say. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it, but my concentration was blown. “You guys just go up to front desk, and ask Miss Carranza for some paper and crayons. I’ll be right over.”
The kids got up, grumbling as they made their way over to the reference desk, and Vince shrugged, saying, “I’ll just watch the movie anyway.”
He hurried off, and only Gwen stayed behind.
Becks stepped forward. “Hey there Sal, Miss Gwen. How’s everything going today?”
“Hiyah, Becks,” Gwen said, bouncing on her toes. “Everything’s good. Miss Sally did a great job reading, and I got all As on my report card. Except for gym,” she muttered, “which isn’t really a class anyway.”
“Well, excuse me,” Becks said, “but gym was my best subject in elementary school.”
“Really?” Gwen eyed him suspiciously.
“Sure was.”
“Oh, well, I didn’t really try all that hard. Maybe I’ll do better next time.”
“I’m sure you will.” He gave her one of his devastating smiles, and the ten-year-old looked like she was head over heels. Becks simply had that effect on women.
I stepped in, trying to save her from herself. “That’s great, Gwen. You going to draw me another pretty picture today or what?”
“But I’m talking to Becks,” she protested.
“Go on,” Becks said. “I’ve got something I need to say to Miss Sally. We’ll talk some more another time.”
“Alright.” Gwen sulked away, throwing glances at us over her shoulder.
“I really do like that little redhead,” Becks said. “She reminds me of you, Sal.”
I nodded. “We have a lot of things in common.” Like the love of Trek and, oh yeah, the boy standing in front of me. “What’s up?”
“Not here,” he said. “Don’t want anyone to listen in. It’s kind of personal.”
I tried to push down my fear as we weaved in and out of the rows.
Once we couldn’t hear the kids’ whispers anymore I stopped, turned back to him. He looked like he was nervous, thinking hard. The first was a new one on me. Becks hardly ever got nervous, and when he did, it usually meant something bad was coming.
“What is it?” I asked before I lost what little courage I had. No one ever really used this part of the library. We were completely alone. I was trying to decide whether or not that was a good thing.
“I want you to break up with Ash,” he said.
Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.
“What?” I asked.
“I want you to break up with him, Sal.” Becks looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t flinch.
“Why?”
Becks’s eyes shifted restlessly, looking at the books around us as if they might hold the answer. “It just doesn’t feel right,” he said finally. “You and Stryker are so different, Sal. He’s not the one for you.”
Mentally, I agreed but decided to listen and see where this was going.
“I mean, he’s such a jerk,” he went on. “And you’re…”
“I’m what?”
“You’re…you.” I scowled, and he tried to backtrack. “No, no, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a good thing, Sal. A very good thing.”
“How good, Becks?”
He frowned at me like I was the one not making sense. “The thing is, the two of you together…it’s just wrong. Don’t you feel that? I can’t concentrate in school. I’m killing ‘em on the field, but I can’t get too excited about it because then I remember you’re with him. You’re never around anymore. I miss you so much; it’s driving me insane and…”
“And?” I held my breath. One impossible thing had already happened today; was it too much to hope for another? Did Becks feel the same way I did? It sure sounded like it, but I was afraid to hope.
“Here’s the truth, Sal.” Becks held my gaze as I waited on tenterhooks. “Ash is no good for you. I know you haven’t been with him long, but I think there’s an easy way out. You could tell him you realized you’ve still got feelings for me. It’d smooth things over, and it’s a believable lie. Then until graduation in a couple weeks, I’d go back to playing your boyfriend. Faking it should be easier this time around. We’ve already done it once.”
My chest contracted, the air in my lungs releasing in one long exhale. This is what he’d had to tell me?
“What do you think, Sal?”
I thought I was having a heart attack, that’s what I thought. It sure felt like I was dying.
“Good idea, right?”
Stupid, that’s how I felt right then. Like the biggest fool in the world, and it was all my fault for thinking, even for a second, that Becks would—that he could—love me like that.
Tears trickled down my face, but I couldn’t hold them back. Not this time.
“That’s a horrible idea,” I said, my laughter sounding like a sob. “It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
His eyes grew concerned, and he took a step forward, but I wouldn’t let him any closer. I couldn’t let Becks get any closer, or I might fall apart.
“Because you want to keep playing pretend when all I want to do is make it real.”
He froze. “Why—”
“I love you, Becks,” I said, the words ringing true even through my crying. “I’ve always loved you.”
Becks rocked back, as if my confession physically knocked him off balance. The look of shock on his face didn’t help things.
“I knew you never looked at me that way, but you must have had some idea,” I said. “The way I’d always trail after you, how I wanted to be next to you, with you more than anyone else in the world. Our friendship’s always been ironclad, Becks, but I’ve loved you from the start and never stopped. Even after I realized you could never love me back,” I whispered.
One shoulder leaning heavily against the bookshelf, his eyes searched mine. Becks shook his head, speaking more to himself than to me. “I would have known. You’d have told me.”
Another laugh/sob esc
aped. “I’m telling you now, Becks. Slytherins can be brave sometimes, you know.”
“Sal, I…I love you, too.”
My head snapped up, the tears forgotten. “What did you say?”
Becks locked eyes with me and repeated, “I love you, Sal. I always have.”
“Don’t,” I said, taking a step back as he took another forward. “Please, don’t do this, Becks.”
“Do what?” he said and kept walking until my back hit the wall. I tried to look away, but he was so close, too close. “I’m saying I love you, Sal. There was just never a good time to tell you. I thought it’d ruin everything if I told you and you didn’t feel the same. I’ve felt this way since the moment I set eyes on you. I just…never had the courage to say it out loud.”
“Becks, please.”
“I’m telling you the truth.” Becks shook his head as his fingers ran along my cheek. “Why can’t you believe me?”
The question was so similar to one I’d asked him in the past. Though that one had been about his stupid lucky scruff, the answer he gave worked just as good.
“I want to, Becks. Really, I do.” The words tumbled from my lips. “It’s just I’m not willing to take a chance on something so important and lose.”
He scoffed, hand falling away from me, recognition in his eyes. “Jeez, Sal, that’s not—”
“If I was wrong,” I choked, crying again, “the fallout would be too painful.”
“Sal,” he said after a moment, “I don’t understand.”
I placed my hand against his face, feeling the stubble bite into my skin. Smiling a watery smile, I said, “I know you don’t, Becks. It’s like you and this beard. Sometimes you want to believe in things so bad you convince yourself they’re true.”
Becks went to respond, but I shook my head.
“But they’re not, Becks. Don’t fool yourself.” I backed away. “I’m a big enough fool for the both of us.”
When I told Mrs. Carranza I needed to leave early, she didn’t question me. I must’ve looked awful because the woman usually wanted an explanation for everything. In the car, I turned the radio to a local station where they eventually started talking about Becks. Penn or UCLA, they said. They’d narrowed it down to those two top picks after the results this week. Their voices socked me in the gut, but it was like layering a scratch on top of a knife wound.
As I was walking in the door, Mom said, “Sally, I’ve got something for you.”
Her voice had come from the kitchen, so I drifted that way, barely aware of my legs moving.
“Mom, I don’t—” I stopped short, seeing her face.
Her eyes were so bright, jaw quaking with the force of her smile. Mom was radiating so much; it was like she’d swallowed the sun. In her hand was a large, white envelope with the Duke seal on the cover.
“Big envelope,” she said, nodding, holding the package up high. “You did it, baby. You got in.”
As she rushed forward, throwing her arms around me in a great big squeeze, I hugged her back, not knowing what else to do. Mom kept saying how great I’d done, how she’d always known I’d get accepted, how Duke was lucky to have me.
But the news didn’t affect me the way I’d thought it would.
My confession had rocked the balance of my carefully constructed world. Becks knew—and he hadn’t come after me. The memory of him lying, to both of us but mostly to himself, was…tragic. It was a good thing I was all cried out. I’d gotten into Duke, a dream come true, but the bigger dream had just exploded in my face. No matter where he chose, Becks was going away. It felt like that scene in Star Trek where Nero destroys the planet Vulcan, and there’s nothing left but a big, smoldering black hole. My soul was that black hole, and even the thought of Duke couldn’t fill me up.
Who knew it was possible to be so happy and so sad at the same time?
CHAPTER 17
I shifted back and forth, foot to foot, until I couldn’t stand it another second. Looking back at the clock, seeing the time, my pulse ratcheted up another notch.
“Mom, you almost ready?” I called.
“Five more minutes,” she said.
“I don’t want to miss anything.”
“We won’t.”
She’d said five minutes ten minutes ago, and we were already cutting it close. The game would start at seven on the dot. It was already thirty minutes till.
“Geesh,” Mom said, stepping into the room, looking fresh as a daisy. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Mom, parking’s going to fill up quick. The lot’s always jammed for the championship.”
“We’ll get a space, Sally.”
Yeah, I thought, probably somewhere in the next county over. She took her time applying her lipstick as I tried not to let the anxiety get to me. Broughton was good this year. Their team wasn’t going to just hand over the state title. Chariot was going to have to be on their game tonight.
“Alright, ready,” Mom said, swinging her purse over her shoulder.
“Finally,” I said, grabbing my keys, practically jogging to the door.
Once we were in the car, I revved the ignition, rolling my eyes when Mom said, “Seatbelt.” Of course, I put it on; I always wore my seatbelt, but she was flipping through radio stations as if we’d even have time to listen. It might’ve taken her twenty minutes to get to the stadium, but not me. Ten miles over the speed limit wasn’t really speeding.
“Sally.” Mom’s stern tone said otherwise.
I eased it back to seven over. But seriously, this was the championship.
“Looks like Becks made his choice,” Mom said casually. “I don’t think anybody expected it to be UNC. They all thought he’d go out of state.”
“I know,” I spoke over her, “but the Tarheels are number one.”
“Is that why he chose them?”
“I don’t know, Mom. It’s also close to his family.”
“Close to you, too,” she pointed out. “Duke’s, what? Ten miles away from UNC?”
I shot her a don’t-go-there look. “I’m sure that didn’t even enter his mind.”
Mom wouldn’t back down. “And I’m sure it did.”
How could it have? I thought. Becks didn’t even know I’d been accepted. He’d been avoiding me ever since that embarrassing scene at the library—which was fine because I was avoiding him, too. Reaching out, I stopped on a station with lots of guitar and plenty of bass.
Becks had actually made the announcement yesterday, and like everyone else, I’d tuned in to see it. He hadn’t called afterward. Though I’d picked up my phone a dozen times, I hadn’t either. It was like we were strangers. We’d barely spoken, and whenever we did, it was always about nothing important. I missed him more than ever. We didn’t have a lot of time before graduation, and if I hadn’t said anything, if I’d never come up with that dumb fake boyfriend idea in the first place, we’d be spending every waking minute together.
Or at least I imagined we would have. Things were so screwed up. I could hardly remember the good old days when me and Becks were just me and Becks. Now with the whole love thing hanging over our heads, he’d gone mute, and I was just trying to hold it together. Sure, the schools were close, but what did it matter if we weren’t even speaking?
As expected, when Mom and I arrived, we had to park about a mile away. There were no available parking spaces in the lot, so we’d had to park beside the curb a few streets down. They took our tickets as I tried to catch my breath. Man, that was a long walk.
“You made it,” Hooker said as I joined her and Cicero at our seats.
“Barely,” I said, looking around for Mom.
Her high-pitched whistle drew my attention, and I finally saw who she’d stopped to talk to. The Kents, everyone besides Becks and Clayton, of course, all looked back at me, waving with enthusiasm. I waved back, swallowing down my bitterness. Becks hadn’t looked that happy to see me in days.
“Can you believe it?” Hooker said when I turned back
to her.
“Believe what?” I asked.
I must’ve zoned or something while she was talking because she looked slightly annoyed.
“Becks,” she stated like that said it all.
“What about him?”
Hooker stared at me like I’d sprouted an eyeball in the middle of my forehead. “Spitz, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Didn’t you watch the news the other night? Or this morning?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Well, why aren’t you more excited?” She titled her head. “You and Becks’ll be minutes away from each other. I mean sure, your schools are total rivals, but with all the worrying you’ve been doing, I thought you’d be over the moon.”
“Yeah,” I said sadly. “Me, too.”
“Oh, come on,” she huffed. “It’s so obvious he’s doing this for you. How can you not see that?”
I placed a hand over her lips. “Let’s not talk about it, okay?”
Hooker scowled. “You’re being a real dork. You know that, right?”
I shrugged. So long as we didn’t discuss it, I wouldn’t be reminded that Becks hadn’t told me the news himself. I could forget that we weren’t talking, pretend we could go on as we always had.
The players filtered out onto the field, and my eyes instantly went to Becks. His green and white jersey shined beneath the stadium lights, his face determined, jaw heavily dusted with five o’clock shadow, high-stepping to warm up his legs along with the other players.
He looked fantastic. Gone was the drooping, miserable shade of a person he’d been little less than a week ago. This was Becks in his element, shouting commands at his team, firing up the crowd. Chariot was here, and they were here to win. Becks’s voice rang out again, strong and powerful.
I tried hard not to think about the fact that, up until recently, I hadn’t gone a day without hearing that voice. Not since we’d met.
The first forty-five minutes were excruciating. Chariot ended one point up, but the lead was hard-won. Becks and Ash weren’t playing any worse than they had at any other time during the tournament, but the Broughton team wasn’t letting up. Every time we made a great play, they’d answer with one of their own. We had them on offense, but their defense was killing us. Running the ball up field, goal to goal, was nearly impossible. Their guys were everywhere. Whichever team won, by the end, they would’ve earned it no question.
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