by Katie Nelson
“So Tanner,” Tomas said, leaning back on his elbows. “Admit it. This is way better than anything you’d be doing back … wherever it is you’re from.”
I picked a long piece of grass and wound it around my fingers. “This is probably exactly what I’d be doing back home. There’s nothing to do in Hollister except hang out and drink. Only, instead of being at the beach, we’d be out in the hills or in someone’s orchard or something.”
“Well, we’re here. At the beach,” the Duke said. “I think we should take advantage of it.” He bent down and started taking off his shoes, then his socks. When he pulled his shirt over his head, Peyton gave him a coy smile.
“What exactly are you suggesting?” she asked.
“Swimming.” His shirt was off and he stood, unbuttoning his jeans. Peyton jumped up too, pulling her sweater off, stepping out of her shoes.
“Wait. Skinny-dipping?” I said. “Do you have any idea how cold that water is?”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. You can wear your boxers, if you’re too shy.”
Everyone laughed. My face burned, and I was about to protest when Kelsey stood and pulled her shirt over her head. I tried not to gawk as she stood there in her pink and black polka-dotted bra.
This. Changed. Everything.
Peyton had her jeans off, too, standing there shivering in her bra and panties, and she grabbed the Duke’s hand and ran down to the water, squealing when they reached the surf. Garrett and Tomas were beginning to strip, and I knew that this was it. I pulled off my shoes, stuffing my socks inside, and unzipped my hoodie.
“Do you think they’ll find our bodies after we succumb to hypothermia or will we be eaten by sharks tomorrow morning?” I asked.
Kelsey kicked some sand at me and ran off to the water. I watched as her silhouette blended into the dark night, my eyes following her screams as she plunged into the ocean. Even though she was covered—as much as a bikini would cover, at least—this felt different. More intense. And as I peeled off my jeans, I didn’t care about curfew or my grades or winning another tournament. I knew that I wanted to do this, to be here, now.
Garrett and Tomas were down to their boxers. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m keeping these on.” Tomas said. “That water’s cold, and I know all about shrinkage. Wouldn’t want either of those girls to get the wrong idea, you know?”
Garrett threw his almost empty can at him, and a few drops of beer splashed his face. Tomas took off, chasing Garrett to the water. I followed, glad that the moon wasn’t out, and screamed as I broke through the waves.
The water was almost unbearable at first, so cold that it hurt. My chest ached as I tried to breathe. After a few minutes, the numbness set in. We splashed and dove under the waves, surrendering to the power of the current, to forces larger than us, stronger than we even understood.
CHAPTER TEN
IT WAS THE FRIDAY NIGHT after our beach trip, and once again, I was camped out in the library. As usual, Kelsey was with me, and the Duke was nowhere to be seen. But things between us—between the six of us who had been there on the beach that night—were different. At least, they were for me. We talked more. We texted all the time. We sat together at the same table in the dining hall. We were all in the same community-service group and spent Saturday afternoons cleaning up Foothills Park. For the first time, I actually felt like I belonged at Bannerman.
I was pretty stressed about how much work we needed to do, though. After seeing the cases other schools were running at the Berkeley tournament, I’d made lists of everything we’d need if we were serious about winning—research and analysis, anecdotal evidence and case studies. Judging by his absence, the Duke didn’t share my concerns.
I put my pen down, unable to read one more paragraph about food stamp reform, and looked across the table at Kelsey.
“What?” she asked.
“I don’t get it,” I said, banging my forehead against the thick book. “I mean, the night before Berkeley, he brings me over a hundred pages of briefs. And they’re actually good. Totally saved us in a couple different rounds. Since then, he hasn’t lifted a finger. I know he cares. I saw him in those rounds. He wanted to win. So why isn’t he here? And why won’t he help me?”
“Probably because he doesn’t have to,” Kelsey said, adjusting her reading glasses. “He knows you’ll do the work. Sure, you’ll whine about it like a three-year-old, but you’ll do it all the same.”
I threw my highlighter at her, bouncing it off her shoulder. “I do not sound like a three-year-old. My whining is way more advanced. Five-year-old, at least.”
“Whatever. Are you done with that?” She pointed at my elbow, which was resting on Black’s Law Dictionary. I pushed it across the table and she flipped it open, searching for something.
I couldn’t let it go. Not yet. So even though I knew she was trying to work, I asked another question that had been bugging me for a while. “Where do you think he got those briefs? I know he didn’t write them. They’re not off the Internet or from a handbook. I checked.”
She kept reading. “Where does he get most of his stuff? In the two years he’s been here, I’ve never seen him write a paper. Or study for a test. But he does fine.”
“So he’s cheating.”
Kelsey looked up, setting her pen down on the table. “Look, I didn’t say that. I don’t know what he does. Maybe he’s an insomniac and works when everyone else is sleeping. Or maybe he’s really smart, and all of this comes easily to him. I don’t know. It’s none of my business. And it’s none of yours, either.”
There was so much more I wanted to ask. So many things that didn’t add up. How exactly had he gotten us out of curfew last weekend? Why hadn’t anyone tracked our phones? Or noticed that we’d scanned our ID cards to get back into the dorm at 2:45 a.m.? Who was helping him? I’d heard at least six versions of the Duke’s life story, all of them different. But Kelsey wasn’t a gossip, and she hated drama, so I wouldn’t get much out of her.
“Hey, can I borrow your chem notes? I need to finish up yesterday’s lab.”
She tilted her head toward the stack of books on her right. “Blue notebook. Second section.”
I reached over and retrieved the notebook, careful not to knock anything over. When I opened the cover, a glossy brochure slid out, and even though I wasn’t trying to, I stared at the picture on the front: a beautiful girl, covered in make-up, smiling and waving, wearing a sash that read “Miss Teen USA.”
Kelsey looked up and saw me. She reached across the table and grabbed it, stuffing it into her bag. Her face flushed, and when her hair fell forward, she didn’t push it back.
“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to snoop. It was right there.”
She shook her head. “I know. It’s just … It’s my parents’ idea. And I’d rather die.”
Sitting across from me, her thick plastic glasses slightly crooked, wearing an oversized hoodie and yoga pants, she hardly seemed the beauty-queen type. Then I flashed back to the night at the beach, and the memory of her in her underwear, and I knew that in the swimsuit competition, at least, she’d do fine.
“I don’t know … I mean … I could see it … Not that you have to. If you wanted to … You could totally …”
I was an idiot. I needed to stop before I made it worse. I clamped my mouth shut and paged through her notes, trying to copy the properties of acids and bases into my lab book. When I finally glanced up, she was staring at me, eyebrows raised. She shook her head. “What is it with guys and beauty pageants? Is this 1952?”
“No. That’s not what I meant.” I put my hands on the table and leaned across. “I know you’re about a thousand times smarter than I am. And in ten years, I’m sure you’ll be making way more money than me. I just meant that you’d do well. You could win the whole thing. If you decided to do it. But only if you wanted to.”
She went back to the book she was reading without comment. I could tell she was embarrassed, but I wasn’t exactly sure
why. Because I saw the pamphlet? Because I knew she was considering it? Or because I’d told her she could win?
I finished copying her notes while she worked on her paper for psychology. We worked in silence, the next hour ticking by. I had The Scarlet Letter to read, but each time I got a page or two in, I’d hear a gasp followed by frantic scribbling. After the fourth time, I asked her what she’d found.
It was exactly what she wanted me to say. She looked across the table, her eyes alive with excitement. She started telling me about some theory and how they tested it, and the words were gushing out of her until she was barely able to speak fast enough. I couldn’t keep track of what she was talking about, but I listened to her explanation, and in that moment I realized that she was unlike any girl I’d ever met. Even with the chocolate stain on her sweatshirt and her hair sticking up in funky pieces, she was beautiful. And I wanted to touch her more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
I moved my hand across the table, closer to hers. I leaned in, nodding and crumpling the pages of my notebook with my elbow. She read me a quote, smiling and slowing down for emphasis at her favorite part, and all I could think was that Garrett and Tomas and every other guy in our class was a complete fool. Because this girl was not cinco. Not number five. It wasn’t even a question. She was perfection.
“Isn’t that amazing?”
I smiled. “Yeah. I mean. Wow. So cool.”
She laughed. “Okay. That was a little much.”
“What?”
“Thanks for humoring me. I know I get carried away sometimes. The other guys just talk over me or interrupt and change the subject. But you’ve got to admit, this research could open a lot of doors.”
“Speaking of doors,” Walt called out, “you two need to get your butts out that one. I’m closing in five minutes.”
It was ten-thirty. “Closing early?” Kelsey said. “Got a hot date tonight, Walt?”
We shoved our stuff in our bags as he walked through the library, closing doors and turning off lights. “Yep, with my heating pad, my recliner, and my DVR.”
He waited by the door, holding it open for us. “Wow,” I said, as we walked outside. “Even Walt has a more exciting weekend than we do. What does that make us?”
“Pathetisad. So pathetic it’s sad.”
I laughed. We walked across the quad, our steps slow, close enough that our arms brushed against each other every so often. I didn’t want the night to end, and by the pace of her steps, it seemed like Kelsey didn’t either. “Well, it’s not too late,” I said. “We could salvage a little bit of dignity. Want to grab some ice cream?”
Under the harsh glare of the streetlights, it was hard to read her expression. We’d reached the fork in the path, one way leading to my dorm, the other, to hers. We stopped, and she turned to face me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I waited, wishing I could read her thoughts, hoping that she felt even a tenth of the rush that I did when we were together.
She scrunched up her face. “I don’t know. I’m not really hungry. And you have a lot of reading you still need to do.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Adjusting my backpack on my shoulder, I shrugged. “Sure. No big deal.”
I walked toward my dorm, feeling like I’d been punched in the gut. I knew she had her rule, but I was hoping that she’d want to break it. I guess I wasn’t anything special. I was fine to share a table with in the library, but nothing more. I reached the door and grabbed the handle to pull it open, but in the reflection of the glass, I saw her. She was still standing in that spot. I turned around and looked. She smiled and waved, then finally turned and left.
When I got back to my room, I called Sam. It was late, and I could tell he was already in bed, but I needed a distraction, and he was the one person I knew would always answer. We talked about how much he wanted a dog and the new Taco Bell they were building downtown. After Sam yawned for the third time, we hung up so he could get some sleep.
Later, lying in bed, my thoughts drifted back to Kelsey. I tossed and turned for an hour and a half replaying our conversation, wondering what it meant.
I fell asleep before I came to any conclusions.
The Duke avoided me for two weeks after the first tournament. He knew I was irritated with him. Every time we made an appointment to work, he ditched me. And he missed class more than he attended. He’d stood up Peyton, and she’d been a total train wreck ever since. One night at the library, Peyton came with Kelsey. She spent the whole time analyzing everything she’d ever said to the Duke that might have driven him away.
Garrett and Tomas had seemed annoyed, too. The Duke skipped a couple of their late-night poker tournaments, and wasn’t responding to all of their texts. They acted like they didn’t need him, but they were terrible liars.
But I was the Duke’s partner. I couldn’t ignore him, write him off, or whatever the rest of them were doing, because I couldn’t compete without him. He knew that—I could see it in the smirk he’d given me when Watterson chewed us out—but it didn’t make any difference. Debate was my life, my ticket out of my minimum-wage future. For the Duke, it was just one more thing that came easily.
For whatever reason, when Watterson lit into us that Thursday, the Duke finally snapped out of it. “You’re right,” he said, interrupting Watterson’s tirade. “We’re gonna do it. Today. We’ll go over to my parents’ house and work on our case. There won’t be any distractions there. Will you write us a pass off-campus? Excuse us from the forum assembly?”
Watterson glanced at the schedule. “The Challenges of Entrepreneurship in East Africa,” he read. “Could be interesting, but I guess you can skip it.” He nodded and moved on to Tran and Jason.
As Watterson interrogated them about why they couldn’t win a topicality argument, the Duke turned in his seat, leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, and faced me. “You can thank me for getting you out of that snoozefest later. Meet me in the parking lot. 4:15. We’ll grab In-N-Out on our way out of town.”
Later, I hated that I was there, wedged in the front seat of his stupid car, holding my milkshake between my knees while we sped toward the coast. I hated the way my hair would stick straight up for the rest of the day, despite the copious amounts of gel I’d used that morning, because he had to drive his convertible. And I hated the fact that no matter how often he went AWOL, I knew I’d always put up with it. Some guys need Rogaine to regrow hair. I need medication so I can grow a spine.
“Tanner. You listening?” he shouted.
“I can’t hear a thing. This car makes more noise than a 747.”
The Duke smiled and nodded. “German engineering. Don’t make ’em like this anymore.”
“Yeah, for a good reason.”
The Porsche barely slowed as we left the highway and turned onto the private drive that wound up the cliff to his house. Though I’d been there the night of the party, I was still blown away by the sheer size of the place. More bedrooms than I could count, an exercise room, home theater, an elevator, and even an indoor driving range and putting green in the basement. And for what? Just the Duke? He still lived at the dorms. His mom and step-dad were rarely even there. He’d told me there was a penthouse in New York and an estate somewhere in England.
“Hang on, mate. I’ve gotta take care of the alarm.” He ducked down a hallway while I walked into the kitchen. As my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, the lights came on. I blinked and set my backpack down on the tile floor. “Want anything to drink?” His voice came over the intercom. “There’s sodas and water in the fridge. I’m gonna hit the bathroom.”
“Okay,” I shouted, not sure how to operate the intercom. I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. I was about to sit down at the kitchen table, when I stopped.
There was a pair of earrings on the table. Abby’s earrings. I’d recognize them anywhere. I remembered the Christmas morning two years ago when she’d unwrapped them. She’d gasped when she opened the bo
x. And the look on her face—we’d never seen anything like it. Aunt Kristy even cried. Ever since, when Abby got dressed up and wanted to impress someone, she wore those earrings. The smooth walnut table in this massive, cold house was the last place they should ever be.
I heard the clipped step of shoes on the hardwood floor. Quickly glancing over my shoulder, I scooped up the earrings and stuffed them into my pocket. I nodded as the Duke entered and shook the water bottle at him. “Found one. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I followed the Duke into the study where he dropped onto the leather sofa. I wanted to ask him what was up. When he’d seen Abby and what was going on. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, tell him that he’d better not break her heart. And then in the same breath to warn him about her. She’d never end it with Blake.
But I couldn’t do it. We were here, finally working together, and I needed the Duke to do this. To understand our case like I did. To care. I was afraid that if I asked him about Abby, all of that would be impossible.
I set up my laptop on the coffee table between us. “So how do you want to do this?” I asked. “I’ll rewrite my speech, and you write up the Georgetown study? As a follow up to our contentions two and three?”
The Duke ran his hands through his hair. “Tanner, you work too hard. You gotta learn to relax.”
I let out a loud breath. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t have that luxury.”
“Watterson’s uptight because we’ve got another tournament coming up. He hates losing, especially to Miramonte. He’ll lighten up.”
“I don’t like to lose, either.”
I opened up a new file and began typing. I’d found a great quote the night before, and wanted to try it in my opening speech. My fingers clicking on the laptop keys, I tried to ignore the Duke as he sprawled out on the sofa, texting. I wasn’t sure why I’d thought that today would be any different. That we would actually work, together. I should have known.