I shook my head. The team didn’t deserve to celebrate my win. I wouldn’t be part of it.
As I moved closer to the locker room, I noticed someone standing awkwardly against the wall near the bathrooms.
It couldn’t be.
All the signs were there. Black hoodie. Barely able to see the face. Posture that showed she’d rather be anywhere but there.
Did Josephine come to my game?
I didn’t have time to check because the crowd was starting to sing the school song, and it was making me feel sick. Sure. Now, they were a team. Now, they supported me. As long as I was winning. I jogged into the locker room and didn’t look back.
Jenna and I spent the night curled on her couch watching reruns of The Office. She was a sweetheart. She didn’t question me on not wanting to go to the party. I’m sure she would have liked to go, but she was there for me. She got me some ice to put on my shoulder, and subtly shooed her father away when she sensed I was getting tired of talking about the game. We made out for awhile when we were sure her parents were asleep. It was nice. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my evening, but I was distracted the whole time.
When I got home, I hastened to my room and pulled out my cell phone. I began to text Josephine.
Me: Am I losing it or did I see u at the game?
Josephine: I was there
Me: ?
Josephine: ?
Me: Suddenly become school spirited?
Josephine: What? Didn’t you see my pom-poms?
Me: If there were pom-poms I would have noticed. Sort of my thing. Go for girls with them.
Josephine: You were listening to Ben and me?
Me: Whatever. Why were you there?
Me: hello?
Me: ...
Josephine: Because it’s important to you.
Josephine: Maybe I’ve been too hard on you.
Josephine: We are shifting partners.
Me: And that means something.
Josephine: Supposedly.
Me: Just don’t go falling in love with me.
Josephine: I don’t have the blonde hair and perky boobs for that.
Me: Ha. Ha.
Josephine: Goodnight Peyton Manning.
Me: I consider myself more of a Tom Brady.
Josephine: Goodnight Tom.
Me: Goodnight Josephine.
***
“Here,” Jenna said, handing me a mocha frappuccino, “I still don’t understand how you can drink these in October, but I thought it might help you out this morning.”
“Thanks,” I replied, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. As soon as her car door was shut, I pulled out of her parents’ driveway. I didn’t want to be late.
After texting Josephine, I had a hard time getting to sleep. I knew Josephine was more than likely miserable for the entirety of the football game, but she still came. For me. She was taking our partnership seriously. I needed to do the same. Besides, I still remembered the promise I made—granted silently and to myself—about, helping Josephine out back in this world. I would start with the track meet.
After setting my alarm for the ungodly hour of eight am, I called Jenna to see if she wanted to go to the meet with me. I could hear the surprise in her voice when she answered, as if it was utterly unimaginable that I could be awake so early on a Saturday morning.
Crazier things have happened.
Trust me.
I also saw the track meet as an opportunity to meet these rumors about Josephine and me head on. If I could get Jenna and Josephine to be friends again, and the rest of the school to notice, then maybe the rumors would stop. Maybe I could go back to the way things were before.
I could salvage something.
“What made you suddenly so interested in track?” Jenna asked, searching for a station that wasn’t being bombarded with commercials.
“You ever think radio stations plan a time to go on commercial breaks together so you won’t switch to another channel? I swear they’re always on commercial at the same time,” I said.
“Is it because of Josephine?”
Right. These were the types of questions that I would have to answer. I could do this. No sweat. I cleared my throat. “She came to my game last night. I just thought it would be nice to go to her meet.”
“You two have gotten close?”
I glanced at Jenna. She wasn’t looking at me. Instead, her eyes were glued to the passing scenery. If I hadn’t know her forever, I might have thought she didn’t give a damn about the topic we were discussing, but her leg was bouncing up and down as if it would run off without her.
Crap.
“I guess. I think we’re trying to be friends. I don’t think she really has any friends, you know.”
“Right.”
I could hear everything she wasn’t saying. I could hear them because they would be the things I would say to myself. When did I care about anyone? Did I see Josephine as some sort of charity case? What was my real motive behind this? Because Logan Middleton certainly didn’t ever do anything just to be nice.
But Jenna wouldn’t say those things. She would hint at them. Maybe. Joke about them. Sure. But she would never outright say them.
Did she keep silent out of love?
Is that what love is?
I opted for honesty. At least one us of should be able to say the things that felt better to keep inside. I wanted to be honest with her. “I feel bad. I know part of the reason she gets treated so bad by the rest of them is because of me. I don’t want to be a dick.”
I could feel Jenna’s eyes on me then. She reached forward and placed her hand on mine, giving it a slight squeeze. After a comfortable silence, Jenna asked, “You like my outfit?”
She was wearing a Shepherd High short sleeve t-shirt with a long black t-shirt underneath. On top, she wore her letterman jacket she received from cheerleading. She didn’t need mine. Her hair was tied in two pigtails by shiny ribbons. Always the cheerleader.
I smiled. “Very school spirited. Not sure they’re used to so much pep on the track field.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t bring my pom-poms,” she replied.
“No. You’re lucky. I would have gotten extremely jealous. You know I don’t like you shaking those things for anyone but me.”
“Don’t know what you’re going to do next semester. You do realize I signed up to cheer for basketball this year?”
“Actually. I didn’t. Guess I’ll have to sign up for basketball this year too.”
Jenna laughed. “Right. You suck at basketball. They won’t even let you near the team.”
I tugged on her hand and brought it to my lips, kissing it quickly though my grin. “When I win State, they’ll let me on any team I want to be on.”
“You’re lucky you’re so darn cute. Otherwise, this cockiness might be a turnoff.”
“Hey. Jenna?”
“Hmm?” she asked, a smile still on her face.
“I love you.”
I did. It was the only love I could claim. Maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe Josephine didn’t approve. But I didn’t care. I would not feel ashamed of what Jenna and I had.
“I know you’re not cheating on me with her,” she replied quietly.
It wasn’t I love you, but it meant trust. I knew I had her love; knowing I had her trust was a pretty great thing to hear too.
Josephine was unreal. Completely and freakishly unreal. I saw how fast she ran from the survivors, but this was something different. I knew she felt it. The sense of control I felt on the field, the rush that comes from being in complete control of the way your limbs move. The only thing we could control, but damn were we good at it.
Even the way she pulled off her jacket screamed bad-ass. Gone was the nervousness and skittish behavior that came out anytime attention was focused on her body. In one clean movement, she threw the jacket near the fence where her duffel bag laid. She pulled one long leg after another behind her in a stretch that seemed unnatural no matter how athlet
ic you were. She crouched down in her starting position, staring straight ahead. Focused. Either unaware or not giving a damn that there were people there cheering her on.
It was a shame she kept so covered up all the time. She had a body I knew most boys would go crazy for. If I didn’t know her, or didn’t have a girlfriend who I loved, I'd probably go a little bonkers for it myself. And my appreciation only grew when I saw her run. She didn’t hold back. Maybe she didn’t know how to pace herself, or didn’t care, but she was full-speed from the moment the whistle blew. She would never be a cross-country star, but sprinting she could and would conquer.
The other girls never stood a chance.
When she won the race, way ahead of her competitors, there was little fanfare. She was doing Shepherd High proud, but they were all too busy acting like she was the scum of the earth to congratulate her.
As Josephine zipped her jacket back up, she noticed us. Taking a deep breath and tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears, Josephine walked over to us. She looked from me to Jenna and back to me again. Her skin was flush from her cheeks down to the small glimpse of her collarbone that you could see peeking out from her jacket.
Not that I was trying real hard to look or anything.
“Great job, Jo. Really. They should do like an article in the school paper or something. I’ve never seen anyone run so fast. I bet you could beat some of the boys,” Jenna said, throwing Josephine, Jo, a dazzling smile. A genuine smile. I reached for Jenna’s hand, taking it in my own.
“I bet she could beat pretty much all the boys. Definitely all the boys at Shepherd and probably most of the boys in the district,” I added.
“What are you guys doing here?” she asked shyly. It was strange to suddenly see her so diminished, so timid after the race she just ran.
“Jenna’s a sport’s freak. Watching humans defy logic really gets her going,” I joked.
“You never fail to disgust me,” Josephine replied, but a smile played upon her lips.
“It was Logan’s idea. He kept telling me you were some track superstar. He woke up early and everything. I’m glad he woke me up too. It was definitely worth it to see you run,” Jenna said.
“No way did I wake you up, Jenna,” I said, shaking my frapp cup in her face. I picked her up thirty minutes after calling her, and she was already ready and waiting with coffee when I arrived. She was one of those morning people.
“Is something wrong with that?” Jenna asked, motioning to the coffee I held in my hands. How could I tell her it tasted of dust and rot? I couldn’t. Not without telling her everything. Things I would never tell her. Things I needed to protect her from.
The ringing of Jenna’s cell phone saved me from trying to explain. She pulled it from her jacket pocket and glanced down at the screen. “It’s my mom. Excuse me.” Jenna began walking towards the car. We both knew the phone call would take awhile. Jenna’s mom could talk about her grocery list for thirty minutes, and Jenna was too nice to let her know she was rambling.
“Give it here,” Josephine said once Jenna was out of eyesight.
“Give what here?”
“The coffee.”
I raised an eyebrow and handed her the cup. “Football players usually drink Gatorade. If I knew that drinking overpriced coffee was the usual replenishing regime for runners, I might have joined the team.”
“Clever, Logan.” I followed Josephine as she walked behind the small set of bleachers set up by the track field and poured half the contents out. “When she asks you how you drank it so fast, tell her I dared you to do it. I challenged your manhood or something. You’re stupid enough to take up a dare like that in fifty degree weather.”
I laughed, scratching the back of my head. “You’re right. I would take that dare.”
“Why you here, Logan?”
“What? Not happy to see me?”
“Thrilled,” she replied dryly.
“You were amazing.”
“I did all right. I slowed down there at the end.”
I felt my eyes go wide. “That was slowing down? Hot damn, Josephine. Ever thought about joining the football team? You’d make a hell of a running back.”
“Let’s break one social barrier at a time, buddy.”
We casually strolled over to the parking lot. I waved to Jenna who was leaning against my car still talking to her mom.
“What did you tell her?” Josephine asked, stopping and looking up at me.
I fiddled with the ends of the sleeves of my jacket. Great. Josephine’s fidgeting must be catching. “The truth. Part of it at least.”
Josephine nodded. “Good.”
“Thanks for helping me with the coffee,” I replied, shaking the half empty cup.
Josephine’s mouth curved into a rueful smile. “Damn that apocalypse for ruining your Starbucks.”
“Tell me about it,” I replied in mock outrage.
A beep from Josephine’s pocket broke our easy and enjoyable conversation, maybe the first one we’ve ever had. Josephine pulled out her cellphone. “I’m really starting to hate these things,” I said, snatching her phone from her hand.
It was as I expected. Bentham,
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, pushing ignore.
“What the hell, Middleton?”
“Was it before or after you held a gun on him that you two had a moment to exchange phone numbers?” I asked, pushing her phone into my pocket.
“It was when you were sleeping,” she hissed.
“You told me to rest. If you’re trying to imply something just say it. Since when do you hold back on the snark?” I could feel my face going red. I wasn’t sure if I was more pissed at her veiled implications that I was a pussy, or the fact she was talking to him behind my back.
Josephine took a deep breath. “I thought it might be a good idea to stay connected to the other shifters. We are in the middle of some life-changing, save the world thing that we don’t quite understand.”
“So, we’re teaming up with them now? Don’t you think you should have asked me before you let them into this world?”
“Not this again. Look, I know you want to keep everything separate in your life. Segmented in these neat little boxes you hope to control. But it would be stupid not to build allies.”
I pulled her cell phone out of my pocket and tossed it at her. “That’s the only reason?”
I don’t know why I was so nervous to hear her response.
“Yes,” she answered, but she couldn’t look at me when she said it.
“I don’t want to fight,” I admitted. “We can’t fight.”
She nodded. “No. We shouldn’t fight. We’re...”
“Partners,” I finished.
“Thanks for coming to my meet. Can’t say I’ve ever had anyone come out here to see me run. It was nice.”
“Wow. A compliment. You really should rehydrate. I don’t think you’re feeling too well.”
Josephine laughed in response. It sounded a little forced, but the tension eased a little.
“Thanks for the idea with the coffee,” I said.
Josephine shrugged. “That’s what partners are for.”
Chapter 20
The following Monday was the second day in less than a month that I headed to school earlier than I needed to. I promised Jenna I would stop by the gym and help the cheerleaders put up the homecoming posters. They needed a big, strong man. Or a big enough schmuck who was willing to get up early and do the bidding of a bunch of girls in matching skirts and ribbons because his girlfriend looked cute when she asked him.
Either way, I was there a full hour earlier than usual. With our winning record, Homecoming was a big deal. Which meant every inch of the school had to be covered with mundane, monotonous slogans like: Shepherd High is #1 or Go Team Go!
I let my head bang against the shelf of my locker as I threw my book bag into it.
“Someone’s not a morning person,” a voice chirped, annoyingly am
used.
I slammed my locker to find Josephine leaning against the locker next to mine, holding two cups of coffee. She held one in front of me. “Don’t worry it’s not Starbucks. It’s from Dunkin. A lot cheaper. Hopefully not too low class for Mr. High Brow.”
“I thought we were done with nicknames?” I asked, cradling the beloved substance in my hands.
“Were we? I don’t remember saying that. I kind of like em, Richie Rich.”
“You are more annoying than usual in the mornings,” I replied, pointing a sluggish finger in her direction. “What are you doing here so early?”
“Jenna asked me to help with the posters. I think she thinks if she’s super nice to me in front of all the cheer robots, the rumors will stop.”
I felt the color leave my cheeks. “Um. What rumors?”
“You know...the ones about you and me getting all biblical. Mating. Making the nasty. Doing things—”
“I got the picture. You can stop.”
Josephine laughed as she started to walk to the gym. Always walking ahead of me. I followed her. “You and Jenna are talking now?”
“Yeah. She called me yesterday. Can’t say we talked very long, but it was cool she asked me.”
Great. Sure. I wanted them to be friends, but the thought of secret conversations seemed a little dangerous. “So, you’re here, fully prepared in hoodie-mode, to help the Shepherd High cheerleaders just because of some stupid rumors? I thought you didn’t care about crap like that.”
“I never said I didn’t care. How come bullies always try to make themselves feel better by claiming the bullied don’t give a damn what anyone thinks anyways? I don’t value their opinion, but I’m not exactly thrilled they are going around saying I’d mess around with someone’s boyfriend.”
I stopped walking. “You think I’m a bully? I mean aren’t I a little old for that?”
Because You Exist (Light in the Dark #1) Page 11