by Chloe Smith
He repeated those three, simple words over and over again in his head trying to make them come true. Why did his mind keep wandering back to Scarlett? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? He didn't even think about Alice this much, and she was the most popular girl in school.
"Dude, are you okay?" Kyle asked as they began changing into their sweats for practice.
"Yeah, sorry. I'm just stressed," Tristan said distractedly.
"About what?" Kyle asked, prying into Tristan's personal business. Ugh, Tristan really didn't want to answer him, but felt obligated to since Kyle was his best friend.
"Our next game," Tristan lied, naming the first thing that popped into his head.
"Well, you don't need to be because we're going to beat those losers!" Kyle yelled into the locker room, and everybody clapped, cheered, and whistled their agreement with Kyle.
The entire varsity football team filed into the boys' locker room and began changing into sweats for today's practice while Tristan and Kyle began getting all of the items they needed for practice today since their coach wasn't there.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl. Tristan kept repeating in his head, still trying to make those three, little words become actuality.
"Hey, Tris, what are we doing today since the coach is gone for the week?" Sal called from across the bench.
"Well, Kyle wants to practice Blitz, and Coach wants us to practice Play 14. So, we'll probably work on those the first half of practice and then just some extra running and basic techniques the second half," Tristan said in a monotone voice.
Half of the team grumbled when he said Play 14.
"We've done that play a hundred times," someone mumbled.
"Yeah, well, last game someone fumbled the ball and lost us six points."
About one hour and forty-five minutes later, the entire varsity football team was on the field, running posts—running from one post on one side of the field to the opposite post on the other side. It was a long run, but it helped with their cardio workout, and Tristan wanted his team to be able to run nonstop throughout the game and not be out of breath. He needed them to be alert even if they were exerting a lot of energy into just running. So, he liked to run a lot and get his team used to it before a big game. Besides they had already practiced all of the plays they needed done before this week's game, and he was sure that everyone knew all of the necessary things for all of the plays, so he wasn't too worried about those.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
Post 26. 24 more to go.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some—
Tristan's attention was caught by four girls walking to their cars in the parking lot. One blonde, one brunette, one black-haired, and one had a long, curly, scarlet ponytail. Tristan's brown eyes locked with the redhead's figure as she walked in the middle of the line. He wondered why the girls' wanted to be unpopular. When he had talked to Ginny at the club, she had been total popular material—probably even more popular than Alice Barrington. They all had the bodies—well, except for the blonde, whose body wasn't exactly all that fantastic—to rule the school. And Ginny had the attitude and personality to defend herself against any type of gossip or rumors that she could stay on top and never been pushed off. And, for some off reason, Tristan had a feeling that Alice was too insecure and whiney to stay on top forever. She was just so clingy and dependent on everyone else that anyone could push her off the top of the school's social hierarchy.
Tristan's feet tangled themselves up as he continued to watch the group of four girls walk to their cars in the parking lot, and he tripped right in the middle of practice. Oh, wow, he had never done that before. He was usually completely coordinated and in control of his body's movements. But that damned redhead just managed to make him fall head over heels… He stopped himself before he could finish that sentence.
"Tris, you...okay?" Tom panted while he continued running in place and at the same time helped Tristan up.
"Yeah, just some rock on the ground that I didn't see," Tristan lied. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
Tristan continued running and looked back at the four girls. Only now there were merely two of them. The ugly duckling blonde one and the brunette one were gone. They had probably already gotten in their cars and left school. The black-haired one suddenly jumped in her car, giggling. And Scarlett was left standing there.
But now it was a male that caught Tristan's attention. It was some guy he had seen only a few times before in his entire life. He was senior; smart, attractive, and rich. What is he doing talking to Scarlett? Did they know each other? Was he her brother? Suddenly something about Scarlett's brother tugged at his memory. It felt like he was trying to remember a dream that he had had years ago and couldn't get a grasp on what it was. He knew she had a brother, but he felt like her brother was younger than she was, so this boy couldn't be her brother. So, why was he talking to her?
After the senior and Scarlett talked a little bit, Scarlett turned heading for her old punch buggy, but the male—his named started with an F—grabbed her hand. Fury burned within Tristan's chest. Tristan shook himself. What was that? Why was his chest burning? He had only felt this pang once before in his life, and that was when his little brother got to ride in the front seat of the car during a long road trip. He had been jealous of his brother. So, why was he feeling it now? It wasn't like Scarlett was anything important to him. She was just some unknown girl who was his lab partner and shared some forgotten past with him. That was it. The end.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Post 28. 22 more to go.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
They were just talking. Maybe he needs something. Maybe he had some idiotic pre-calculus question to ask her. Maybe—
Scarlett nodded and then began walking with the boy over towards his motorcycle. Tristan couldn't believe what he was seeing. The tall male was saying something that made Scarlett blush.
Now they were both straddling the bike. Scarlett's arms were wrapped around the guy's torso, her head lying on his back. She looked so comfortable and easygoing against his body. And Tristan began to feel that pang of jealousy again. God damn it, stop that! Tristan mentally yelled at his body.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Post 31. 19 more to go.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
Tristan watched Scarlett and the senior speed out of the school parking lot.
"STOP RUNNING!" he yelled. And, as he had expected, the football team stopped running, placed their arms on their knees, and panted hard through their mouths. Tristan knew that it was better for the lungs if you placed her hands on top of your head and breathed slowly through your nose, but he didn't feel like telling his team that because an idea was forming in his head. And while his entire team huffed and puffed around him, Tristan wasn't panting. He was fuming.
"Practice is over. Go home. Practice Friday. Don't be late." And Tristan ran to the locker rooms to change and take a quick shower before the plan finished fabricating in his mind.
After he finished the quickest shower he had ever taken in his entire life, he pulled on a T-shirt from his bag, boxers, and jeans. He stuffed his aching feet from running so much into tennis shoes, completely forgetting to put on socks. And then he was out of the locker room in less than a minute. He hurriedly walked down the hallways of the practically empty school—the only people who were still in the classrooms were the teachers, the kids who always had after school detention, and the nerds. Once Tristan made it out of the school building, he ran to his convertible, threw his bags into the backseat of the car, and sped out of the school's parking lot.
Tristan didn't exactly know why he had stopp
ed practice so early; only that he needed to talk to Scarlett. He didn't know what he wanted to say to her, but he knew that he had to say something. He was jealous because of her. And he needed to get her out of his mind, so he needed to talk to her. He needed to calm his inner self and begin getting his mind back on track: football, family, friends, and popularity, oh, and grades. So, the only thing he could think about doing to get her out of his brain was to talk to her and get some of this stress off his body. And he needed to be completely stress-free because he had a big game coming up and he couldn't have some insignificant girl bombarding the space in his mind.
He didn't know exactly where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to talk to Scarlett. So, he figured that he should probably swing by her place and have a chat with her. He knew that she lived down the street from Alice, so he began heading off in that direction. He only hoped that the guy she was riding on that motorcycle with would bring her straight home—boy, he sounded like a strict mother. But he really needed to talk to Scarlett. And hopefully they could finish a complete conversation without fighting. He knew that Scarlett had some sort of uncalled for grudge against him, but maybe he could just break through to her and make her see that he really wasn't that bad of a guy. And then his mind began to wonder, what if the guy didn't bring her back home right away? What if he drove her around for a while? How long would Tristan have to wait for Scarlett to get home? Why did he feel so much like a stalker as he parked the car across the street from Scarlett's two story house? Maybe he could stop by Alice's house to pass the time if the guy didn't bring Scarlett straight home. Tristan outwardly shuddered as this thought crossed his mind. No way was he doing that. The last time he had seen Alice was at her house when he had realized that she had illegally drugged him and taken complete advantage of him by screwing with him in the back of his own car. Tristan shuddered again as he remembered those horrible details. Thank God he couldn't really remember what had happened because he had been so drugged—or drunk, but who was really wondering? He just hoped that Alice wasn't pregnant. But he was pretty sure that she was on the pill, so he pushed that thought out of his head and continued to watch the front door of Scarlett's house like some stalker.
Tristan waited for hours for Scarlett to come home. That guy probably had taken Scarlett on a long ride on his big ass motorcycle to show off. Who knew that the most unpopular girl in school could catch a thrill by riding on the back of some Harley? Tristan certainly didn't know that. Why the hell did he care? He shook the questions out of his head, pulled out his homework, and began trying to finish the much neglected paperwork that he hadn't even taken a look at since it had been assigned last week. But after he realized that doing his homework wouldn't help him get the redheaded girl out of his brain, he stuffed his work back into his backpack and threw it into the back seat of his convertible.
Well, this was not how he had expected his day to turn out. First he had tried to confront Scarlett and find out what had gone down between them so many years ago, but that plan had gone up in flames before their first class had even started. And then he thought that maybe he could try to tackle her—metaphorically—again during lunch, but she had been MIA—just like Alice, which didn't bother Tristan one bit…Alice, not Scarlett. He had been bothered by thoughts of Scarlett all day and he wanted to be free of them. Finally he had decided that he would have a nice, long conversation with her after lab, but she had scuttled out of there like a fat boy who saw a bar of chocolate. And then he had seen her ride off with some boy on a motorcycle during football practice. Well, that just wouldn't do.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. What? Tristan couldn't believe that he had just thought that last thought. What did that even mean? Tristan shook the thought from his head and continued to wait for Scarlett to arrive home.
Chapter Six
Francis dropped a very overwhelmed Scarlett off at her house around ten o'clock that night. They had gone out for a long ride. Scarlett had never been so thrilled in her life. She had never even seen a real life motorcycle up that close. Today had been the first time she had ever done something so fun and exciting since…the incident. Scarlett stared after Francis until he had completely disappeared around the corner. He was hot. She couldn't deny it. And the thing was she couldn't believe that she had never noticed the hints he had been dropping all these years. Now that some light had been shed on the subject by Francis, she did remember a few things that he had done. He had always complimented her even on her worst days. And he had even given her presents on Christmas and candy on Easter and Halloween. He even knew her birthday. Scarlett felt as if she should find that sort of stalker-ish, but she just couldn't bring herself to feel scared around him. She only felt at ease. She was so awe-struck about her fortunate turn of luck that she didn't even see her mother until about five minutes after Francis had left.
When she did see her mother, at first she just thought it was some dead animal's body lying in her front yard; it wasn't until the 'dead animal' stirred, and Scarlett saw an empty beer bottle clasped in its hand that she realized her mother was passed out on the front lawn. Scarlett had to do a double take as she made out the human features of her mother. She couldn't believe that she had mistaken her own flesh and blood with that of a decaying animal. Her mother's hair was a mess of red tangles and had grass stuck in all sorts of different places. And Scarlett was disgusted to see bits of puke on her mother's chin and a few splashes of beer and vodka on her mother's outfit. And then Scarlett could smell the smoke that Rosa had probably been smoking at the bar while drinking. Scarlett only hoped that she had smoked all of the weed at the bar and didn't bring any home because Scarlett didn't want to be held in contempt for holding illegal drugs in her house.
"Holy crap, mom," Scarlett whispered under her breath as she hurriedly went to aid her completely passed out mother. She couldn't believe how her mother acted. Sometimes Scarlett felt like her mother acted as if she was still in college.
With little to no help from her mother, Scarlett managed to half-drag, half-carry her mother into the front living room and plop her down on the couch. Scarlett came back to reality as she looked at her mother's sleeping form on the couch in front of her. She had been on something that could probably be considered a sugar high and now she needed to get down off cloud nine and take care of her helpless mother, just like the good, old days.
"Okay, this does it." Scarlett spoke to the walls since her mother was dead out. "No more alcohol for a year. You can normally make it into the house." Scarlett took the empty bottle from her mother's hand and threw it away along with the other thirty or so full bottles from the fridge in the kitchen and the fridge in the basement.
Scarlett climbed up the creaky staircase to her room. Since nobody had been home since this morning and it wasn't quite night yet, all the lights were off. Scarlett's mother did this to save money—for drinks and cigarettes. To Scarlett, it felt like an old, creepy horror film. The house was dead quiet except for the noise of the creaking staircase beneath her tingling feet and her own breathing.
Paranoid, Scarlett stopped climbing the steps to listen to the rest of the house. Dead silence. Even though it scared the crap out of her to not even hear the snores of her mother, it was better than hearing the long, usual rant about good grades and saving money and yaddi yaddi ya. She was really happy that her mother was passed out cold and unable to open her mouth to tell her only daughter to study. Suddenly Scarlett thought she heard a noise outside her front yard. She stopped abruptly on the staircase again and strained her ears to hear the noise again and confirm her suspicious mind. Nothing. She continued up to her room and quickly shut her door.
Okay, Scar, calm down, Scarlett told herself, you are safe in your own home. Why are you so damn scared?
Scarlett looked around her room to make sure that there was nothing out of the ordinary there. Nope. It was all clear and fine here. So, Scarlett felt a little bit better now that she knew there was nothing bad in here. She didn't know why s
he was so scared all of a sudden. She could feel her heart pumping louder than usual, which wasn't normal for her. Usually Scarlett was the logical, headstrong girl who didn't think about anything irrational, so why was she so nervous that something was here in her house with her? She shook off the aching feeling and looked around her room again.
Scarlett went over to her desk and pulled out her homework. And then suddenly her thoughts wandered back to this morning when Tristan had tried to talk to her. Why had he been so insistent on getting through to her? Why did he even care? She knew that he really only cared about himself and his popularity. He didn't even let his 'friends' know that he was actually smart. He kept his intelligence a secret from everyone. That was so stupid. She felt like she was on an episode of 'The Secret Life of the American Teenager' where that brunette slut kept her good grades a complete secret from everyone to keep her reputation in check. How much dumber could teenagers get these days?
Scarlett turned her attention back on her neglected homework and tried to concentrate on the words in front of her, but they continued to keep getting hazy as her mind determinedly returned to a certain blonde-haired, brown-eyed boy who had never crossed her mind in the four years of high school. Damn him. Scarlett cursed him as she threw her homework aside and stomped over to her bed where she threw herself on it and found the remote. She huffed as she turned the TV on and flipped through the countless channels.