The Big F

by Maggie Ann Martin

  I sat on the blanket and waited around for a bit, watching people come into the stadium. I looked down at my phone a couple of times, waiting to see if Luke would text me back. I’d let him know that I was in the crowd and wished him good luck, but I assumed he was busy getting ready for the game.

  “I’m going to go get popcorn,” Zoe announced after five minutes of waiting.

  “Kettle corn if you can, please,” I said.

  “Obviously,” she replied.

  Sports was neither Zoe’s nor my thing, so I knew we would need a lot of food to help us through. I think the last time I watched a football game was the Super Bowl, which I normally just watch for the commercials anyway.

  I heard someone clomping down the bleachers behind me and assumed it was Zoe coming back with the popcorn.

  “That was quick,” I said. When I looked up, Porter smiled down, wearing a DCC shirt and showing a surprising amount of school spirit.

  “Luke wasn’t sure you would make it,” Porter said, sitting down on my other side.

  “I told him I’d come to support him, so I’m here,” I said, firmly looking at the field.

  “I never said I doubted you.” He laughed. “Want something to eat?”

  “I think Zoe’s coming back with something,” I said. “She’s going to be happy you’re here.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I teased. “I just mean she’ll have some more entertainment. I think she hates me for making her come with.”

  “You could have just come with me,” he said.

  “I didn’t know you liked football,” I said.

  He laughed. “My brother played while we were growing up, so I’ve been to my fair share of games. I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

  “Hey, Porter!” Zoe said, coming back to her seat. “Danielle, you didn’t tell me we’d be having guests. I would have brought a bigger blanket.”

  “It’s no problem, my pants are a bit longer than yours,” he said.

  “As they should be,” I said. “No one wants to see your skinny legs exposed.”

  “Ouch, Dan,” he said.

  The players started to run out from behind the bleachers, and Zoe smacked my arm to pay attention. “Look, there’s Luke!”

  We watched the game, mostly being told by Porter exactly what was happening. After the first quarter we switched the seating arrangement so he could sit in between us and give us the play-by-play. It all made more sense with his explanations (barely) and made the game significantly less painful to sit through.

  When the game was finished, we waited around for Luke to come back out. Zoe and Porter talked about some band they were both into as I stalked my phone, waiting for Luke to text me back. We had waited for fifteen minutes before he finally ran out to meet us.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” he said, giving me a quick kiss.

  “Of course!” I said. “It was so fun to watch you.”

  “Don’t worry, I explained to them what was going on,” Porter said.

  Luke laughed. “Thanks, man.”

  He turned to me and held my shoulders. “So, there is supposed to be this after-game pizza thing for the team. I know we had planned on going out after the game but—”

  “Go,” I said. “It’s the first game of the season. You have to.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Of course!” I said.

  He kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you!” he said. He waved at Porter and Zoe, and we were left again in the wake of Luke.

  FIRE:

  to become inflamed with passion; to become excited.

  The week moved by at a sluggish pace as I waited to hear back from Green Transitions about the internship position. I’d e-mailed about it the night after I found the flyer, but I had no clue how long they’d been advertising the position. Finally, on that Friday afternoon, I received an e-mail from Ameera Chopra, the environmental policy analyst I’d be assisting, asking me to come for an interview the next Monday. Since this internship would be nowhere in the realm of a communications position and I was already on thin ice with my mom, I told my family that Luke and I were taking a trip to Cleveland for the day (you know, in case they check the miles on the car or something).

  I made the thirty-minute drive after I got out of class for the day with the empowering sounds of Beyoncé blasting. If I could channel my inner Sasha Fierce for this interview, I would land the position easily. But alas, no matter how much Beyoncé I listened to, the churning in my stomach would not stop. My dad always says that if it doesn’t make you nervous, you don’t want it enough, and I really hoped that I could apply that logic now.

  Cleveland looked bigger than I remembered. My GPS told me a backward route to the office, and I ended up more lost than I would have been without it. I eventually pulled up to a tall building with tiny solar panels sticking out of windows on the fourth floor. This had to be the right place.

  I pushed the elevator button to floor four and waited as the rickety old thing shot me up. When the doors opened I collapsed out, convinced that my death was surely going to be by elevator today. A sign indicated that Green Transitions was down the hallway, and I followed it. My nerves started to get the best of me, and my classic armpit sweat started. I stared outside the door, judging when I should go inside. A lady sat at the reception desk but no one else seemed to be inside the room. Had I found the right place?

  “Danielle?” someone asked from behind me.

  I yelped as I turned around, coming face to face with the person whose entire biography I’d googled just days before. Ameera looked more intense in person than in the photos, which only prompted more armpit sweat. She held out her hand to me, and I took it quickly.

  “Ameera Chopra,” she said. “Please, follow me.”

  Without a question I became Ameera Chopra’s lapdog. I followed her into the office and smiled briefly at the receptionist, who waved almost sympathetically at me. What had I gotten myself into?

  “This is the office. It’s nothing fancy, but we are the force of much of the environmentally friendly implementation in this state. Our team consists of ten people currently—most with an assistant or intern. Do you feel comfortable working in a collaboration space with other interns and assistants?” she asked.

  “Yes. Yeah, sure,” I said.

  “Good,” she said, leading me to the door with her name plastered outside.

  The office was perfectly neat and had furniture made out of what looked like recycled metal with green cushions placed on top of them. Plants lined the large window behind her desk, and I could just barely see the solar panels sticking out over the edge that I’d seen walking in. Her computer sat on a sleek desk with no photos gracing the top of it. She pointed to a small area in the corner equipped with a laptop and high piles of paper stacked all around it.

  “We’re trying to go completely electronic,” she said. “We just have to put all our back files into the system. That would be the main function of this position—I just don’t have time to complete this myself. Do you feel comfortable working with database programs?”

  “I don’t have any experience with them, but I’m a quick learner,” I said.

  “Good,” she said. She motioned for me to sit on the chair across from hers, and on my way down an entire stack of papers went flying across the room.

  “Oh my gosh,” I said, scrambling to pick them up.

  She held up her hand. “Just leave them—I’ll reorganize them later.”

  My face radiated embarrassed heat, and I wanted to melt into the chair until I disappeared. She pulled out a tablet and started reading her prepared questions. I watched her mouth move, but everything sounded like a whooshing inside my ears. She paused and tilted her head in my direction, obviously waiting for the answer to a question I had no idea she’d asked.

  “I’m sorry, can you please repeat the question?” I asked.

  “I asked how you f
ound out about this position,” she said.

  “Oh, right,” I said. “I found a flyer at Denton Community College and was extremely intrigued. I am interested in helping out the environment, but I’ve never known how to go about really making a difference. Seeing this posting seemed like a sign from the universe.”

  “So you have no experience with an environmental planning office?” she asked.

  I flushed again. “I don’t. But I have a lot of experience with office work from my mom’s in-home business. I also run a considerable amount of inventory at the Denton Bookstore, where I’ve worked for a few weeks.”

  “What do you hope to get out of this position?” she asked.

  “A lot of it is that experience you asked me about earlier. I want to be able to have a solid internship so I can find a great job doing what I love,” I said.

  “And what makes you passionate about environmental policy?” she asked.

  “It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, actually. I job shadowed a conservationist when I was young and thought that her job was the coolest thing in the world. Being able to work to preserve the world around you? It sounded like a dream to me. I’m trying to tap into that feeling again, and seeing this flyer really sparked that in me,” I said.

  “So why Denton Community College?” she asked.

  In this moment, I could insert my standard “I didn’t know what I wanted to do yet,” but for some reason I still can’t wrap my head around, I decided to tell Ameera the truth.

  “I failed a class I had no business taking in high school and then didn’t get into the school I’d been set to go to. I’m making up the class at DCC to get back on track, save some money, and prove to my parents that I’m more than my mistake.”

  I exhaled, and we both stared at each other for a few seconds. I had no idea how this would shake out. I went to add something else before she stood up.

  “That about wraps up my questions,” she said abruptly. She stretched out her hand. “Sheila will be in contact with you next week about our decision. Again, thank you so much for making the trip.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my stomach sinking. I should have never told her the truth about DCC. I should have stuck to my standard saying and kept things simple.

  The whole ride home I replayed the interview, from papers falling to revealing my failure, and cringed. There were so many moments that could have been so different, and I felt so ashamed by how it all unfolded. If I never heard from Sheila I wouldn’t even blame them.

  In an effort to cheer myself up after the horrible events of the day, I decided to make a pit stop at Luke’s place. I pulled up outside his apartment complex and prayed that no one would come by and scrape the car on the small street. I hadn’t texted him most of the day since I had been quite busy, and I just wanted to forget about everything that happened and watch a funny movie or something.

  I buzzed his intercom and got no reply. I tried again for the next few minutes and kicked myself for not seeing if he was home before I stopped by unannounced. I started to walk back to the car when I heard someone shout my name.

  “Danielle!” Porter yelled. He had his keys in hand and was waving to me.

  “Oh hey,” I said. “Luke must not be home. I can just call him later.”

  “He should be back soon,” he said. “I just got done with work. Want to come up?”

  I looked down at my phone that still had no text from Luke and sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

  I followed him up the small staircase and into their apartment. The first thing that turned on was a motion-sensor, light-up monkey lamp that made me laugh.

  “Do you know where he’s at? I haven’t heard from him all day,” I said, taking off my shoes.

  “I think he had some training today? And maybe the team was going out afterward?” he said. “There’s a game this weekend.”

  “Oh, duh,” I said. It was still an adjustment to consider the football games as a regular part of my schedule now.

  “You’ll never guess who came in the store today,” Porter said, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “You want one?”

  “Nah,” I said. “And who?”

  “The passed-out drunk guy from that party, girlfriend and all,” he said.

  “You’re kidding!” I said. “Was there any permanent marker on his face still?”

  “Unfortunately no Ghosts of Sharpies Past to be seen,” he said.

  I laughed and looked longingly down at his beer. He scooted it toward me, and I took a sip. He reached behind him and got another out for himself.

  “So what did you write about him this time?” I asked.

  “I believe the words ‘whipped’ and ‘delusional’ were the adjectives I used,” he said.

  “Man, I’m so mad that I missed it,” I said.

  “You always miss the most interesting days at work. Or maybe I just don’t have anyone to laugh with on the days that you aren’t there, so the days you are there seem more interesting.”

  “Great point,” I said. “Megan is a good dance partner, but she’s hardly mean enough to be my real friend and observe people like you and I do.”

  “I’m a great dancer,” he said.

  “That’s debatable,” I said. I took another swig of my beer and pushed the chair out and stood up. “Show me.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and put on some obnoxious techno dance music and started pulling off ridiculous dance moves. I opted for my standard jumping-in-one-place move, with the occasional hand movement. The music got quieter as it built up to the bass drop, and he crouched down, motioning for me to join. As the music swelled we grew taller and taller until the music finally dropped and we both jumped around like the floor was on fire. He grabbed my hands, and we both swayed as we jumped. He spun me around, and I screamed as I almost flew out of his grasp. He pulled me in again, this time keeping a better grip on me as we moved.

  The song changed to a rap song with the f-word tacked tastefully in between sentences, and I pulled away, laughing and trying to pose in my most gangster stance.

  “I didn’t know you were so hood,” I said.

  “I don’t like to brag,” he said. He took a long swig from his beer before jumping into the intricate rap part of the song, nailing every single word. I was in tears laughing so hard, doubled over and resting on the edge of the couch.

  In the middle of my laughing, the lock on the front door was wiggled open and Luke walked in. Porter turned off his music, and Luke came up to my side.

  “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over,” he said.

  “Sorry, I was on my way home and thought I’d stop by,” I said.

  “No, no, I’m glad you came,” he reassured me, kissing me deeply. I pulled away and patted his chest.

  “I’ll just go hang out in my room,” Porter said. “See you at work tomorrow, Danielle.”

  “Thanks for the beer,” I said. Porter nodded before ducking away.

  Luke dropped his gym bag near the couch and grabbed a sports drink from the fridge. He held up my beer and squinted at me. “Since when do you like beer?”

  “Porter brought that kind to work the other night, and I actually liked it. It’s some magical hybrid of coffee and beer. Who even thought of that, you know? Like who was sitting at home and was like, ‘Hey, I’d really like to wake up with a nice refreshing cup o’ beer.’ So unexpectedly delicious,” I rattled on.

  “Sounds … interesting,” he said, taking a giant swig from his sports drink.

  “So, how was your training?” I asked.

  “Pretty brutal today,” he said. “But I think Coach is getting us to be more of a team, you know? I’m excited to see what the game is like this weekend. I think we’re really ready.”

  In an effort to again get in my parents’ good graces, a marvelous idea popped into my head. What better way to keep them from asking questions about my trip to Cleveland than having Luke over for dinner the next night?

  “Tomorrow nigh
t, after the game, do you want to come over for dinner? My parents are dying to see you, and I can totally convince my mom to make your favorite lasagna,” I said.

  His face contorted a bit, and he pulled away from me. “You know that there’s always a team dinner after the game. I won’t be able to.”

  “I mean, you’ve been to the last two,” I said. “Can’t you miss one?”

  “They’re really important for team building and boosting morale. It’s important that I go to them. You understand, right?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said. “Yes, of course.”

  “Another time for sure,” he said. He pressed a kiss to my lips, sealing that promise to them.

  * * *

  As my dad had promised, part of my punishment for my OSU lying scandal was to drive Noah around when needed. On the day of my interview with Ameera, Noah had gotten a call from his agent saying that he made an audition for a movie called Peace, Love, and Corn Dogs that was filming in a different Cleveland suburb. My mom excitedly brought him to all the rounds of auditions, and we found out today that he was cast as the little brother of the lead girl. For his first day of a table read of the film, I was in charge of taking him and waiting around while it lasted so I could bring him home afterward.

  I dropped Noah off at a house location that Peace, Love, and Corn Dogs would be using and decided to drive around the little town. I found a coffee shop that served the best Americano that has ever graced my taste buds and nestled back into a comfy couch. I brought my anthology for my lit class to get some good reading done, and perhaps see what all Porter’s hype about Thoreau was really about. As I started to get sucked into the idea of secluding myself in the woods and writing about it with Mr. Thoreau, my phone began buzzing.

  LUKE: Are your parents available for a dinner on Thursday? I feel bad about not being able to make it after the game.

  ME: I don’t see why not! Let’s plan on it.

  LUKE: Good. I feel like I barely see you.

  I huffed a little, holding back from typing something about maybe if his football schedule wasn’t so busy, but I didn’t want to be that girl. Plus, at this point, I was equally busy with my job at the bookstore and being Noah’s personal chauffeur.