Perfectly Messy

by Lizzy Charles

  “Isn’t this that twelve-page one? You know the rules. No hanging out with friends until homework is done. You aren’t eighteen yet.”

  “Mom, if I ever miss a deadline or an assignment, feel free to lecture me. Until then,” I raise the container of lemonade to her, “cheers.”

  “Cheers, son!” Dad calls behind her as I close the door. Good. He owes me escape from at least the homework rule. I can’t believe she still tries to hold that over me.

  “Jeffery, we need to talk.” Mom’s voice filters through the door.

  I beeline it for the television, turning on football. iPod on and headphones in, I crank Hammock, sure to drown out their arguing tones.

  Chapter Five

  Lucy

  Coach T tosses his hands up in the air. Face red and blotched, he yells at Chelsey, “Are you kidding!? What was that?”

  I tug Chelsey’s hand behind the bench, giving it a squeeze as I send her a sideways eye roll. You’re Good. He’s crazy.

  “Bottom of the fourth quarter, girls. Two baskets behind. You’re killing me!”

  I glance out into the bleachers where Eric jumps up and down in his Superman costume, oblivious that Coach T is grilling us. I wave back, loving his enthusiasm for Halloween, even though it’s still over a week away. A flash of familiar yellow makes me turn. I hate that Marissa’s blond hair captures my attention. After she betrayed me by sleeping with Zach, I go to great lengths to avoid her in school. But right now Marissa’s pretty impossible to miss since she’s sucking face with Zach in the back corner. Eww.

  Why would they even come? Is this their sick idea of a date? Making out in front of me? Whatever. They can do what they want up there. The court is my domain now.

  Coach catches my look of disgust, then tosses his clipboard in the air. I reach out and catch it before it slams to the ground, a guaranteed technical foul. Coaches and players can’t throw stuff. He knows that.

  He glares at the clipboard in my hands. “Is this a joke to you, Zwindler?”

  “No, sir. Just waving to my brother.”

  “And how does that help?” Oh my gosh. For real! I’m so done with his crap.

  “It’s helping about as much as your incredibly inspiring speech.”

  Chelsey sucks in a breath as Coach takes a step closer. Rage doesn’t even begin to describe that bilious look on his face. He glares at me but I hold his gaze. He can’t treat us like that, and he knows it. I’ve got more on his past behavior than anyone in this gym. Call it blackmail, but whatever. I’ve got team email threads with his name on it and responses, that include the horrible stuff the seniors said about me.

  “Fine.” He takes a step back. “Just get Zwindler the f’ing ball.”

  The ref blows the whistle and we all jump up and dash onto the court, eager to get away from that troll.

  “Whoa, Lucy. I can’t believe you said that!” Jaclyn squeezes my shoulder. “Thanks. I never would’ve had the balls to do it.” She pats my butt and I laugh. Jaclyn, the queen of the butt pat. I take position at the top of the key, watching Chelsey from the sideline as the ref gives her the ball. The crowd roars, Laura’s bouncing around in front of the cheerleaders in a hot witch costume, doing a much better job of rousing the crowd with her dancing than the cheerleaders are doing.

  I take a deep breath; the sound deafens in my ears.

  Just me, the girls on the court, and the ball. Go.

  Chels slaps the ball and I jog backwards a few steps, hands overhead, making as if I’m going to catch a pass. I feign a jump, throwing my defender toward me, but dart the other direction toward the hoop. Mac, Jaclyn, and Grace weave under the basket, creating a brief opening. I dart, catching the ball from Chels. Mac’s defender drops away from her to take me on. I toss the ball behind my back to Mac, who throws it up for an easy lay-up.

  One basket down.

  The defender swears, snatching the ball and returning to the baseline before throwing it back into play. Her throw is lazy, towards the girl Jaclyn defends. Jacyln stretches her freak spider arms, snatching the ball from the air. The lanes open. I sprint for the drive. Jaclyn sends the ball my way.

  Defenders collapse in on me. I’d probably make the shot, but it’s too risky.

  Four seconds left on the clock.

  Chelsey blurs past my left peripheral.

  Yes. A sharp bounce pass and it’s in her hands. She squares up.

  Swish.

  Bzzzzzzzz.

  A deafening roar breaks through the buzzer. “The Eagles Win!” booms from the sound system. I run to Chels, wrapping her in my arms.

  “YES, CHELS!”

  Jacyln jumps on my back. “We did it!” The rest of the girls rush onto the court, squealing at unbelievable decibels.

  Three for three. Not a bad way to launch the season.

  I glance back at Coach T, who’s clapping and shaking hands with random parents. He looks like a baboon smiling, totally fake. That ugly grin will disappear the moment we step into that locker room. At least we won, but he’ll still have a crap load of stuff for us to work on. If the man says one positive word, I’ll be shocked. We walk back to the bench to grab our stuff. I glance at the South wall. Empty. Again. Crap.

  The South Wall is Justin’s spot, where the guy’s team stands if they return from their game early to cheer us on. At least, that’s where they are supposed to be. Justin still hasn’t seen me play and I only had the chance to catch the last half hour of his second game.

  I reach into my bag and pull out my phone.

  Me: We Won!!!

  Justin: Crap!

  Me: Crap!? Lol

  Justin: No, we’re like five minutes away. I was hoping to see you play.

  Me: It’s okay. There’s always next time. It’ll be nice to see you! :) How’d you do?

  Justin: Nailed it. Luke rolled his ankle though, so Coach pulled Alex up from JV. He did okay.

  Immediately, another text alert pops up on screen.

  Alex: Don’t listen to Justin. I killed it. Five baskets. Walking on frickin’ air.

  Justin: Whatever. Don’t listen to him. He smells.

  I laugh, knowing Alex is leaning over Justin’s shoulder. I wish I could watch their actual banter on the court or the bus. Hell, I wish I could see some of them at all. I miss Alex. And Justin? I miss him more than I ever missed basketball. Walking with him from History to Study Hall isn’t enough time together. Not even close.

  A squeal draws me away from my phone’s screen. An arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into a hug. Laura.

  “YOU ARE AMAZING!” Victory ice cream when our men return?” I cringe. For Luke and Laura, every game won means ice cream and, as Laura’s shared, then some. Ice cream sounds good, but it’s a little weird enjoying it with them knowing exactly what happens in the back of Luke’s SUV afterwards. Plus, Justin and I need time together.

  Alone.

  “Rain check?”

  “Fine.” She leans in and pecks my cheek. “But we’re still on for shopping tomorrow night?”

  “Absolutely! My schedule’s clear.” Justin’s got that James J. Hill board meeting anyway. He’s been nervous about it, constantly pulling out the proposal he submitted for his painting company to be hired to paint the mansion. Pretty sure he’s reviewed the thing like twenty times by now.

  I glance at the South Gym’s doors, still shut and wall still empty. This five minutes is too long. My insides ache to be wrapped up in his strong arms. I force my eyes to wander from the door, so I can appear normal. I catch a glimpse of a blond woman in a maroon and gold hat stepping down the bleachers. Before she leaves, she waves.

  Whoa. I know her! Cynthia DeClaire. University of Minnesota girls’ basketball coach. Was she here to watch me play? Or was she scouting someone else?

  Just then, the South door is thrown in. Alex leads the way, bouncing and hollering into the gym. Crazy, overconfident freshman. Jen’s next with her team of cheerleaders. The crowd cheers when she does a flip. And, like always
, Trish cheers the loudest. It’s so sweet. They haven’t come out yet so I don’t get to see much of them together. But when I do see them, they always seem to be supporting one another. I like that. It’s the way it should work.

  The Junior Varsity team follows the cheerleaders. They look boyishly skinny compared to the seniors behind them who walk in confident and take their spot along the South wall. Justin’s the last through the door, his black hair still shiny and extra curled with sweat from the game.

  Finally.

  My legs carry me to him before I can think.

  I jump and he catches me, wrapping my legs around him. Our lips find one another. The ache in my gut ceases. Sweet relief.

  “Now, this is the way to celebrate a victory.” He laughs gorgeously and I melt.

  Then a camera flash blinds us, followed by Dad’s signature cough.

  Oh, right.

  Public.

  “Get a room!” Trish taunts with a wink as she walks past with Jen.

  I slide down with a laugh but Justin doesn’t let me out of his arms. He leans in closer. “Do you mind if I come over? I know it’s almost ten.”

  My heart jumps; time with Justin? Yes! Thank God Mom recently amended my ten o’clock curfew. I can be with Justin until eleven, as long as he’s at our house. We haven’t had a chance to take advantage of the rule yet.

  “Yes.”

  Justin bends down to my ear as my parents and Eric walk down from the bleachers. The warmth from his breath sends goosebumps running down the back of my legs. Best tingles ever.

  He chuckles softly as he feels my reaction, then whispers, “I’m glad you said yes, because, seriously, even if you said no, I planned on being there. You may not know this about me, but I’m amazing at climbing trees. That one outside of your window is seriously tempting.” He gives my side a squeeze and steps forward, greeting my dad then giving Mom a hug.

  Tree climbing? The thought of Justin climbing in my window makes my heart throttle forward. Maybe I’ll have to start leaving it unlocked…

  ***

  Justin rests the bowl of popcorn on his lap as we sit on the back steps. “I’ve missed this,” he says as he strokes a circle on my palm. “Being with you.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” I reach for a piece of popcorn, but he stops me. He picks it up, placing it in my mouth for me. He waits until I swallow it, before following it with a salty kiss.

  “Is it always going to feel like this?” he asks when he pulls away.

  “This?”

  “The ache of being away from you. The pure bliss of being with you.” He shakes his head. “It’s like I’m never relaxed unless you’re with me.”

  My heart backflips as his words resonate with me. I entwine my fingers with his.

  “I’m going to make sure we have more time together. More time to just be and not rush around.” Justin wraps his arm around me as I shiver, my knit sweater doing little to protect me from the breeze. “Lucy,” his tone shifts, “something’s come up with the campaign.”

  “Oh?”

  “Involving me and that show…”

  “Oh.” He isn’t doing it, is he? No, he wouldn’t. Ever. That’s just not him. How would that work for us?

  “I have to participate in this promotional interview thing. It’ll be online.”

  “Like, as one of the upcoming college bachelors?”

  “Not exactly. It’s more a showcase of the potential guys they’d follow.” He picks a red leaf off the vine that crawls up the railing of our deck stairs. “I don’t want to do it, believe me,” he says.

  “Then don’t. It’s your life, Justin.”

  “It is, but… this really matters to my dad. It could mean the difference in his success, his dream. Twenty minutes of my time is worth that.”

  “But…” The word slips out before I can restrain myself.

  “But, I have a girlfriend.” He leans over, kissing my head. “I know. Listen, if you don’t want me to do this, if it will hurt you in any way, please let me know and I’ll call the whole thing off.”

  I pluck my own leaf from the vine to pull apart. Will it hurt me? No. Is it embarrassing? Yeah. I’m supposed to be his girlfriend. But, that means I need to stand with him. Only a week ago, I told Justin that I was game. I can handle the political stuff until the election.

  He strokes my hair. “I’ll call it off.”

  “No, it’s okay. Do what you need to do.” My fingers find his and I squeeze. “Just a few more weeks of this nonsense, right?”

  “Right.”

  His phone buzzes on the step above us. He ignores it. It buzzes again. Then again.

  “You can look. I won’t mind.”

  Justin sighs, reaching back to grab the phone but not taking his eyes from mine. “I’m only going to look so they’ll shut up.” He holds the phone in front of me, sharing the screen with me. I love that he doesn’t hide anything from me. Not that he’s the type of guy who’d cheat. But, I like that he doesn’t even give me a chance to doubt who he’s responding to.

  The phone keeps buzzing in his palm. Fifteen Facebook notifications in, what, twenty-eight seconds? His brow furrows as he opens up the Facebook app. There’s a photo of us from after the game. My legs wrapped around Justin, him gazing up into my eyes. We’re both tagged. The comments keep rolling in, ranging from Cutest Couple Ever to Get A Room. Justin laughs until he gets to the comment about my boobs. Squeezable huge tits from some guy I’ve never heard of. Holy crap.

  Instantly, I cross my arms in front of myself. Justin motions to turn off the screen, but I stop him, engrossed in what begins to unfold. The tone of the comments shifts. Gone are the sweet or funny ones from people we know. Strangers throw insults and sexual entendres as the photo is shared. Both girls and guys. We stare in disbelief, refreshing the screen. A few of the names I recognize from school tell the strangers to shove it or F off. Good, at least someone else thinks this is cruel.

  Then, as some random chick starts estimating the size of Justin’s boner, which he clearly doesn’t have in the photo, he slams the phone shut.

  “What was that?”

  “I think we just saw the evil side of Facebook.” He shakes his head and asks for my phone. “Do you mind if I untag you?” I hand it over, letting him access my app to undo the tag. Then he takes a moment to do his own.

  “That was crazy.”

  “Yeah,” he responds, his brow still furrowed.

  “You okay?”

  His fists clench. “I hate how they said stuff about you.”

  I push down the lump in my throat. “Justin, I’ve dealt with people being asses before. No big deal.” Truth is, it really sucked, but Justin will only worry if he knows how much those last comments hurt.

  “We’ll have to be more careful.”

  “How? It’s the Internet. People will say what they say.”

  “We can cancel our accounts.”

  “That’s not going to stop the comments or people taking random photos of us at school.”

  Justin rubs his jaw, clearly still bothered. I lean in, kissing his cheek. “It’ll be okay. Once the newness of us blows over, people will get bored. Move on to the next couple, you know?”

  “I hope so.”

  The back screen door opens. “Lucy?” Dad calls out. I bite my tongue. Dad’s much more of a curfew enforcer than I expected. Justin clicks his phone on: ten fifty-seven. Yup. Dad’s way more on top of the minutes than Mom ever was.

  “It’s time,” Dad says.

  “I’ve got three minutes, Dad,” I call back.

  “All right, three minutes. Then bed.”

  “Yeah, got it, Dad.” I stand up, pulling Justin up behind me.

  Justin pulls his fingers through my hair before he touches his forehead to mine. “I’m so sorry I can’t see you tomorrow. Campaign lunch, final push to get that vote. We’re in crunch time. Then I’ve got a paper and studying for the Calc II midterm.”

  “Don’t forget the board meeting
.”

  “Right! That too.”

  That familiar ache returns to my heart, the horrid pull of being apart. I push my lips against his. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Same,” he whispers.

  The door squeaks open again. “Lucy,” Dad calls.

  Mom laughs in the background. “Dan, give them a moment. My goodness.”

  I pull away from Justin. He winks back with a frustrated grin. Seriously, that grin. That jaw. That stubble. “When’s the interview?”

  “They’re coming tomorrow.”

  Chapter Six

  Justin

  How do girls wear this stuff? A camera flash blinds me again as I readjust on the curvy red couch. The lights’ heat is melting off all of the foundation spackled on my face. I take a quick selfie and Snapchat it to Alex. He mentioned being a bit bummed out Sally missed his game. I really need to call him.

  After sitting under the lights for a few minutes, the makeup artist returns taking a pencil to my eye. Makeup was never part of the agreement. Dad owes me big time. I had to cancel my study session with Jen for my Calc II midterm to fit this in. I’m afraid I may have hit my math threshold. I used to aim for A’s, but now passing seems damn near unachievable. I hope she’s up for rescheduling with me, that is if I can find the time.

  “So, Justin.” Carl clears his throat with a hack. “Jessie here is going to ask you some questions. Where you live, hobbies, aspirations, the regular stuff.” An older woman with a cat sweater and frizzy hair smiles at me from the stool next to the camera. She’s interviewing me, off-camera? My heart rate slows. Okay, cool. Maybe my instincts were wrong and this isn’t a crude reality show.

  “Hello, Justin. So nice to meet you,” she says in a smooth voice that no male on earth could define without using the word sexy. “How are you?”

  There’s a beat in her voice that I recognize. No way. I shift forward toward her. “Were you the voice for the evil female computer in the latest Bond film?”

  “That’s me,” she says with an aunt-like grin.

  “Wow. Very nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” The way she says it sends goosebumps down my spine. Weird. The computer chick from the film was so hot. Jessie laughs as she pulls out yarn and needles from her purse.