Don't Hate the Player

by Alexis Nedd

“Is that, like, it, though?” Connor looks at all three of us. “That’s kind of a ‘text me’ thing, no offense.”

  “There’s another thing,” I pipe up. “I’m dropping out of the race.”

  Connor’s brow scrunches up. “Wait, why? I thought you wanted to be VP.”

  “I did, but with field hockey and some . . . other stuff, I don’t think I can do it. We”—I gesture to Penny and Matt—“wanted to offer the slot to you instead.”

  “Me?” The scrunch intensifies. “I don’t get it.”

  “So,” I begin slowly, “since I can’t do it, I thought about who I could trust to take my place on the ticket, and you were the first person I thought of. We’ve all been friends for so long. I thought of who would support Penny like I would support Penny. And that’s you.”

  “I’m not surprised you thought of me,” Connor says, perhaps too ready to believe the pile of garbage I just told him. “I’m very supportive.” He nudges my arm expectantly. What is he even talking about? Is that a bra joke? Happy to clarify; Connor has never seen my bra. Why is he so weird these days? It was only two dates, and if I’m being honest, I had more fun in a thirty-minute car ride on Saturday than I ever . . .

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the table where Jake is sitting with some boys in his class. He catches me looking and betrays nothing with his eyes. Damn, he really is better at being a secret friend than I am.

  “So what do you think?” Penny poses the question to Connor directly. “Darwin and Dimeo?”

  “Double Ds?” Matt suggests. “Could be a campaign slogan.”

  “Well.” Connor squeezes my shoulder. “I don’t love that, but if we get to do this together, I’m in. I think Lia would like that.” He looks down at me fondly, like a farmer showing off a pig that won first prize at the county fair.

  “I think you should definitely take my place,” I try to say diplomatically, “but I’m still dropping out. I don’t know how much I specifically can contribute to this alliance,” I add quickly.

  “I can think of a few ways you can contribute.” Connor grins. “Emotional support, for one thing”—he pecks me on the cheek—“eye candy, for another.”

  Okay, first of all, gross. Second of all, what? I don’t know what forums Connor’s been browsing, but this rapid escalation of maybe-dating to him talking about me like I’m his own personal motivational poster is not what I expected to get out of this conversation. The personal is political for sure, but not that personal. Christ.

  To Connor’s credit, he senses my discomfort and tries to backtrack. “And your brain. Because I respect you. Actually, since we’re talking, I was kind of wondering . . .”

  “Guys! Connor! Matt!” The only person who could make this lunch more terrible waves at our table from across the cafeteria. Connor waves back, which Audra Hastings takes as permission to strut directly toward us. Not like Audra needs permission to do anything.

  “Does Audra just magically teleport to the exact place nobody wants her?” Penny wonders aloud. “Is that what the mean witch cursed her with when her parents stole beans from the garden?”

  Audra’s been behaving herself since the field hockey incident last week, which means she’s overdue for some kind of scene. Most of the time she doesn’t bother me, but her crush on Connor and her subsequent decision to brand me as her rival is annoying on principle. As far as enemies go, she’s virtually toothless; Penny and I have privately speculated that if you pull on her hair hard enough, her mask will come off and reveal a spooky old groundskeeper cursing us meddling kids for foiling her plan to do hand stuff with Connor in the bathroom at prom.

  “Hey all, big news.” Audra wedges herself between me and Connor on the bench. I cede the territory without a fight. If Connor’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. It strikes me that Connor could be just as happy with Audra as he thinks he is with me, if only he stopped subscribing to the idea that only things worth having must first lead you on a merry, infuriating chase.

  “What’s the news?” Matt asks. Unlike Penny and me, he’s fairly Audra-neutral. No one in our social circle has a problem with Matt, so he never has problems with anybody. After witnessing his odd strain of loyalty in action, I think I’m beginning to understand why.

  “Is this from the sushi place?” Audra asks, picking up the plastic tub of rapidly liquifying ice cream.

  “Yup,” I answer curtly. “Connor brought me matcha ice cream. What’s the news?” Lunch is almost over, and I’d love it if Audra went away to save me a little time.

  I’m out of luck. She leans toward Connor with zero subtlety and all but purrs, “I looove matcha. Why didn’t I get anything?”

  Something dawns on Connor’s face. His smirk makes me think he enjoys feeling like the payload on this incredibly boring game map. If he thinks I’m going to beat Audra’s ass for flirting with him, he’s going to have to live with disappointment. “I can get you one next time. Lia’s a matcha girl too.”

  Sure. We’ll go with that. “Yes, I love it. Love leaves, love eating them on purpose. Are you going to tell us the news or what?”

  “Oh, right!” Audra giggles like she completely forgot the reason she sat down and wasn’t stalling to keep us in suspense. “I’m running for class president.”

  Across the table, Penny’s eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “You’re what?”

  “I just got back from Principal Klein’s office. I’m running!”

  Instinctively, I scoot a few inches away on the bench like Audra is about to spontaneously combust. She can’t run for president. It’s already one week into the campaign period.

  Matt says what I’m thinking and asks, “Hasn’t the deadline passed? How did you swing that?”

  “I told Klein there wasn’t enough diversity in the tickets. He saw reason,” Audra says smugly. “Since there are two guys running against Penny, I made him see the light of feminism. He gave me the permission slip and said my parents could sign it tonight. Connor”—she pivots on the bench to put her back to me—“do you want to be my vice president?”

  You have to be kidding me. Audra couldn’t have known that we were just recruiting Connor for our ticket, but her timing couldn’t be more awful. Penny hasn’t had a chance to file the VP change with the student gov office.

  “Oh, Audra, I, um . . .” Connor trails off and leans around her to look at me. “That’s nice of you, but I just told Penny I’d be her vice president. Lia’s dropping out.”

  Audra is not fazed by this news at all. “Wait, she just asked you? So she hasn’t filed the change with the office yet? You could still join my ticket!”

  Penny looks as if she’d really like to try the hair-pulling thing on Audra. Not to see if she’s wearing a mask, but just to tear out a bald patch.

  “What the hell, Audra?” she asks sharply. “Those campaign rules are there for a reason. You should have put your paperwork in with the rest of us, and you can’t just come here and steal my VP.”

  “Girl, why you so mad?” Audra leans back like Penny’s completely normal reaction is something she ought to be afraid of.

  “I’m not your girl, girl,” Penny replies, “and I’m not mad, I’m right. There’s a difference.”

  “Penny, calm down,” Connor says. I know he’s just trying to diffuse the situation, but he could not have chosen two worse words. “I’m not ditching you. Don’t be mean.”

  “Yeah, calm down,” Audra echoes.

  “I am calm,” Penny says. “I just think it’s funny that I had to work for weeks on my campaign, write and submit my speech, mock-up my posters, and give Klein a two-page summary of my platform before he even allowed me to take the permission slip home, but you just walked right in and bypassed all of that. Why’d he do that, do you think? And why do you think you can barge in on our candidate meeting like that’s going to get you anywhere?”

  Oh, I know this one! The answer is raging entitlement. Pick me for this one, Penny. Pick me.

  “I don’
t know,” Audra replies defensively. “You probably would have done the same thing. I didn’t even know Emilia dropped out, and it’s not my fault you did a bunch of extra work you didn’t have to.”

  Penny closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, she looks surprisingly chipper.

  “Nope,” she chimes. “Not doing this. Emilia, you’re up.” She taps her hands on the table with an air of finality and hauls her leg over the cafeteria bench to leave. Matt almost dislocates his kneecap rushing to stand up with her.

  “Same. I gotta . . .” He trails off, trying to formulate an excuse. He comes up with nothing. Before Matt heads off with Penny, he looks back at me and gives me a thumbs-up. I take it to mean either “good luck” or “you got yourself into this so have fun getting out.”

  Definitely one of those two interpretations. Either way, he’s right; I’m going to need all the luck I can get to knock Audra out of the ring, and it’s my fault there’s even a ring in the first place. Penny deserves a drama-free campaign, and it’s the least I can do to give one to her after what happened on Sunday. I put my dreams before hers and didn’t even give her a choice. That was wrong of me, I get that now. I wish it felt more likely that Connor might understand that.

  “Honestly I don’t even know how you’re friends with her,” Audra says stiffly once Penny is gone.

  “It’s easy, she’s dope as hell, and she works hard for what she has,” I snap. I’m really regretting the moment I let Audra squeeze in between Connor and me. There’s a lot I’d like to say to him right now without having to lean over her; Connor has no such reservations.

  “And what about you, Connor?” Audra says sarcastically. “Are you cool with her?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” he says, shrugging. “She’s passionate? I don’t get why she’s mad, though.”

  My patience for Connor is wearing way thin, way fast. I can’t lose him in the final stretch. “Penny did everything right,” I try to explain. “How would you feel if a random new kid was picked to be soccer captain over you and asked for your jersey number?”

  I don’t know, man. Sports analogies aren’t my strong suit.

  “That’s different,” Connor argues. “This is just paperwork.”

  Audra looks caught between wanting to cheer for the fact that I’m fighting with Connor and wanting to speak to my manager.

  “Audra, you mind giving Connor and me a minute?” I ask as sweetly as I can given the circumstances.

  “Actually, I do,” she says primly.

  “I don’t care.”

  Audra stands up in a huff and nudges me so hard I almost slip off the end of the bench. “I’m actually happy because now Connor sees who he’s running with. Penny’s literally the thought police.”

  There is, and I cannot stress this enough, a zero percent chance Audra finished that book.

  “It’s like 1985 with her.”

  Yeah, bingo. I don’t have time for this. If I had a month I might be able to explain it to her. No, a year. I have about three minutes, so I need to choose a different tack.

  “I’m going to go too,” Connor says and pushes away from the table. Behind him, Audra aims a smile directly at my distraught face. She thinks she’s winning. For the first time since she’s gotten in my face about Connor, I’m worried that she’s winning too. Connor wouldn’t move to Audra’s ticket because he’s mad at me, right? I’m the only reason Penny’s in a situation where she needs him. I can’t let him go with Audra now.

  “Are you even going to eat that?” Connor asks, pointing down at the soupy ice cream container.

  I sigh. Salvaging this situation means swallowing my pride, even if I don’t swallow the matcha. “Probably not,” I say. “Thanks, though. It was really sweet of you.”

  “Fine,” Connor says. He picks up the tub and looks genuinely hurt. “If you don’t want it, whatever. It’s garbage.” He attempts an overhand throw at a garbage can near the cafeteria doors, but—as a reminder—Connor plays soccer. He misses the can by a mile, and the ice cream tub bounces off a nearby table.

  There’s a thump, a splash, and then—­

  “Ouch!” someone yells from behind us.

  There aren’t that many people still sitting at tables, but there’s enough left to make the complete halt in all conversations noticeable. Some of them are staring at Connor, some are staring at me, but most of them are staring two tables behind us where the tub of matcha ice cream landed, splattering the people sitting there with bright green goo. Someone has a splotch of it all over his shirt, and two other gamers I don’t know knocked over their drinks trying to duck away from the mess.

  Jake has it the worst, though. It’s everywhere on him. Coating his glasses, dripping down from his hair, and I hope he didn’t love the shirt he’s wearing today, because it’s the matcha’s shirt now. In the enduring silence, I see one guy press a napkin into Jake’s hands so he can at least wipe off his glasses, and when he puts them back on, he looks at me first with confusion, then shock.

  Connor is still standing in front of me with his arm crooked over his shoulder like a remarkably stupid topper on a javelin trophy. He slowly turns around, sees Jake’s table covered in goo, and doubles over with laughter.

  They say laughter is contagious, but as it spreads around the cafeteria, I find I’m immune. Jake isn’t laughing either. I know because even though I told myself I wouldn’t, I can’t take my eyes off him.

  “Connor, what the hell?” I say under my breath. I don’t have to be quiet; the laughter is loud enough to drown me out even if I shouted.

  “Oh my god,” he wheezes. “Hey, kid, are you okay? All good?” He makes a thumbs-up motion in Jake’s direction and clearly expects Jake to make one back. There are no consequences for soccer stars at Hillford West.

  “Can you at least get him a towel?” I try to yell. My throat feels too tight to get the air I need to speak.

  “What, do you know him?” Connor asks.

  I glance back at Jake, who says nothing. The laughter has died down. He and everyone else in the caf can definitely hear us now. “No,” I reply.

  “Look, he’s fine.” He cups his hands around his mouth and makes a condescending show of shouting, “Sorry, whoever you are!”

  “That’s hilarious,” Audra snorts. “Let’s go.” She tries to playfully pull him toward the door. I have to stop her and him both.

  I can’t lose Connor to Audra. I can’t lose Penny her VP. I can’t go to Jake, even though he’s miserable and it’s all my idiot almost-boyfriend’s fault. Parallel, I think. I can’t let my paths touch. It’s time for a Hail Mary.

  “And where do you think you’re going”—I borrow Audra’s tone of smug self-righteousness and throw it back in her face—“with my boyfriend?”

  Connor’s face lights up while Audra’s falls. “Boyfriend,” he says warily. “You mean it?”

  I’ve been sitting on the payload long enough; it’s time to capture the damn thing and get this stupid match over with.

  “Of course.” I smile. “Now can we go?”

  “Hell yeah.” Connor shoulders Audra’s hand off his arm and leans down to kiss me on the lips in front of the entire cafeteria. He closes his eyes, but I keep mine open long enough to catch a glimpse of Jake leaving through another door. He doesn’t give my traitor ass a second look. I am officially the worst secret friend ever.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Team Unity Chat, Monday Night

  MUDD: no offense but can we focus

  BobTheeQ: Give us a minute, we’ll stay on longer tonight to make up for it. Jake, are you OK?

  JHoops: relatively

  MUDD: it’s monday. round 2 is this saturday.

  ElementalP: and you said you don’t even know this guy? like at all?

  JHoops: don’t know him at all. never met him. no friends in common

  JHoops: not even a passing acquaintance

  ElementalP: it’s just so weird???

  shineedancer: It�
��s a total Glee move I’ll tell you that

  BobTheeQ: That was slushies, this was ice cream.

  ElementalP: somehow the dairy element makes it all the more sinister

  shineedancer: it DOES

  MUDD: what? how?

  ElementalP: i’m lactose intolerant ok milk is scary

  shineedancer: omg jake are you lactose intolerant was this attempted murder

  shineedancer: je telephone a la police

  ElementalP: you’re going to jail, random guy

  BobTheeQ: Yeah, I’m Team Jail.

  JHoops: i’m actually kind of worried

  BobTheeQ: Why are you worried? Do you think he’s going to bully you again?

  JHoops: it wasn’t a bullying thing. it was kind of an accident but also maybe don’t throw ice cream

  ElementalP: so why worry? random is random. anyone can die at any time

  shineedancer: you’re cheery tonight P

  JHoops: im not worried about me. It was kind of between him and someone else.

  BobTheeQ: Someone you know?

  JHoops: no

  MUDD: then why do you care? you showered right? got the ice cream out of your hair? got your feelings out bro? can we get on a map now?

  BobTheeQ: Matty. It’s OK. We will be ready for the tournament. We will practice tonight.

  shineedancer: just want to make sure bby jake is ok

  ElementalP: so he can make sure -we’re-ok. gotta support our support

  MUDD: as long as we don’t forget to support our DPS too. we’re still not vibing with the new meta

  BobTheeQ: OK, where do you want to start tonight?

  MUDD: i get to pick the map?

  BobTheeQ: Tonight is special. Just for you. Jake, are you OK to start?

  JHoops: yeah

  MUDD: see, he’s FINE. can we please focus on beating Fury?

  JHoops: you think they’re going to make it past the next round?

  shineedancer: with KNOX on their team imma say yes

  shineedancer: women in the sequel and all that

  MUDD: I spent all weekend crunching the numbers and yeah, fury’s gonna smoke chronic

  ElementalP: anyone. can. die. at. any. time.