by Tom Leveen
She’s never going to care about me.
Not like that. We’ll be BFFs for the next three years and that’s it. She’ll end up banging that Zach guy, sooner or later, if she hasn’t already—
No. Shut up. That’s not fair, thinking about her like that. She’s not that way.
Cadence is the only thing that makes any sense in that place. In any place. Pete’s cool and whatever. But Cadence … she’s such …
Such perfection.
There are two possible solutions here. It’s only fair to everyone to try both.
So I pull myself up and go into the living room. Mom’s already gone to bed. Dad’s watching an eighties horror movie on a network channel, holding his head up with the thumb and index finger of his left hand.
I stand in the doorway.
“Dad?”
“Mmm.”
I keep my voice level. No peaks or valleys. Man to man. “Can I ask you about school?”
“What about it.”
Take a breath. Take your time. Say it right the first time. Give him the chance.
“It’s been a month, and I’d like to seriously talk about going back to the Academy. Please.”
“No.”
Don’t lose it. Don’t.
“How come?”
“It’s late, Danny. I’m tired.”
“Okay. Maybe tomorrow morning, we could talk about it. I’ve been going to see the counselor chick at school, my grades—”
“I don’t think you’ll do well back there. That’s it.”
“I’m not doing well here.” My voice breaks on the words. God damn.
“Well, keep working. Go to class. Stay out of trouble. Maybe this summer we can discuss it.”
My words come out thin and fragile. “I can’t wait that long.”
“Go to bed, all right?”
“… Please.”
“Good night, Danny.”
I don’t move for a few seconds.
Then I do.
CADENCE
About midnight, Johnny knocks on my doorframe. My door is open and I’m reading A Wrinkle in Time.
“Hey,” he says, leaning against the jamb. “So who was that cat?”
“Danny? He’s just a friend.”
“Uh, does he know that?”
“Sure.”
My brother grins. “No, I don’t think so, Nutcase. He’s crushing pretty hard.”
I put my book down and blow my bangs out of my face. “Dang.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I wondered. I hoped not.”
This is the truth. Like, I consider Pete a good friend, someone who despite all the things he does that I’m not on board with, would still stick by me. And he does make me laugh, like it or not. But he doesn’t give off the same vibe as Danny, that there was always something right under the surface that he’s hiding, but not trying too hard to hide, like he’s hoping someone will figure it out.
“So why’d you have him over then?”
“I dunno. To meet you and Mom and Dad and the guys. Because you’re cool. And he needs some cool people in his life. Pete’s cool, but like different cool. You guys are for real.”
“Oh, sis. You’re not trying to save him, are you?”
“From what, do you mean?”
“Well, your boy Danny’s got his whole bad-guy thing going on, and I respect that, whatever. No big deal. But if he’s already decided that’s who he wants to be, you can’t change that.”
“I don’t believe that. Why not? Why can’t people just choose to be happy? Just pick it. I do it all the time! Even when I don’t want to. It just makes things easier, doesn’t it?”
Johnny laughs and comes into my room. “I know you choose to look at the sunny side, Nutcase. That’s why I love ya.”
“Why do you think he’s bothering?” I say. “I mean, there’s lots of other girls.”
“Because you, my friend, are a bona fide, authentic freak. And so you’re going to attract other bona fide, authentic freaks. That can be good thing. I mean, look at the guys. Freaks! But I’d die for ’em.”
“Yeah … I can see that.”
But somehow, it doesn’t make me feel a lot better. I don’t want to hurt Danny. I think he’s a good person inside. I really do. He and Pete make dumb choices sometimes, but okay. So did Johnny, so did a lot of his friends, so did Dad. They’re turning out okay. But I don’t want to be the person that makes it take longer for Danny to see that life doesn’t always suck. If that makes sense. I’m not sure it does.
“If he makes a move,” Johnny says, “let him down easy. That stuff can hurt no matter how you end up phrasing it, but just try to be gentle, okay?”
“Of course. I hope it doesn’t come to that, though.”
“Oh, it will, young one. It will. And then afterward, keep your radar up.”
“What radar?”
Johnny shrugs. “Maybe nothing, maybe something. If it comes down to you having to say no to him, he might not take it so well. He might change how he talks to you, or stop talking to you at all.”
“That’s dumb!”
“That’s how it is,” Johnny says. “I wish I could say I never did it, but. Well, there it is.”
“High school is starting to suck, Johnny.”
He smiles. “Had to happen sometime. Don’t worry, you’ll survive.” Johnny snaps his fingers. “Oh, one more thing …”
Then he grabs my book and runs off, forcing me to chase him around until Mom shouts at us to stop and go to bed. We say good night and go back to our rooms, and I drift toward sleep practicing different ways to be gentle with Danny, just in case. I really hope I won’t have to, though. No matter what I say, it sounds wrong, sounds like I’m being mean.
Sad face. For real.
FINAL SCORE
SPARTANS
53
Bulldogs
12
FINAL SCORE
SPARTANS
36
Titans
28
FINAL SCORE
Matadors
11
SPARTANS
23
FINAL SCORE
Dons
51
SPARTANS
00
Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
DANNY
The football team got
REAMED
last night. It was maybe the best night of my whole entire life, just hearing about it from Pete, who was busy working the bleachers. Short of making out with Cadence or going back to my old school, it’s about the best thing that could have happened to me.
THIS! IS! SPARTA!
GETTING! ITS! ASS! KICKED!
I want to celebrate, so Saturday night, Cadence and Pete and I go to a playground. We choose that location because: Cadence. Because that’s what you do when you’re Young And Have Your Whole Life To Look Forward To.
Cadence beelines to the swings, and I’m unsurprised. She leaps onto the black rubber seat and whirls around to look at me.
“Push me!” she shouts.
Something about her face, or maybe voice, or maybe the way the seat wraps around her butt—or maybe all three—immediately pops me up.
I don’t answer her, but I dutifully march through the sand, which is not easy in my boots. I take care to touch the seat and chains, not her. I’d like to think she’s giving me the chance to cop a feel—if that’s a real phrase people actually use, which I doubt—but I’m not sure, and so I don’t risk touching her. I want to. Oh, I want to. But it’s not worth making her mad.
Pete hops onto one of those bouncy toys with the big spring in the ground and rocks back and forth on it. He shouts, “Woohoo! Yippee ki yay mother truckers!”
Cadence laughs out loud, and I don’t know if it’s at Pete or the fact that she’s reached Mach 2 in the swing.
“Oh, shit!” Pete cries, digging his feet into the sand. “Gotta smoke,” he announces, and lights up a Marlboro. He keeps his seat on the dinosa
ur spring toy.
“Wheeeee!” Cadence squeals. I can’t tell if she’s trying to be funny or if she’s really that weird. Either way: I love it.
“What’re you guys gonna be for Halloween?” Pete says as he rocks slowly on the dinosaur.
“A pumpkin!” Cadence says. “But maybe not, I don’t know. What about you?”
Pete blows out smoke. “An addiction counselor, what do you think?”
This makes them both laugh for some reason.
“What about you, Danny?” Cadence says.
I give her another push. My thumbs touch her hips, right below the waistband of her shorts. Rock Jack is pleased.
“Homicidal maniac,” I say. “Isn’t it obvious?”
She blows her tongue out, ppppppth. It makes me smile, but she can’t see it.
“Hey, you know what?” Pete says.
“You need another smoke,” I say.
“No. I never had any friends.”
The chilly autumn breeze seems to stop moving around us. I take a step back, and Cadence quits pumping her legs, drifting slowly to a stop on her swing. I don’t know what to say, and I assume she doesn’t, either. That was kind of a weird bomb to just lob out there at the top of the evening. Maybe it’s the playground. Maybe it’s tripped some memory or regressed him to a past life.
“Nah, I mean it,” Pete says, as though we’d responded. He’s looking off into the distance, contemplatively smoking his cigarette. “I sell people stuff, I been selling stuff for a while. That’s just business. I like knowing the kings of the school are just plain old potheads like me. But you guys aren’t like that.”
He blows out smoke, shaking his head a little.
“I dunno. Screw it. Never mind. I gotta leak.”
He climbs off the bouncy toy and walks into the darkness. Cadence and I watch, saying nothing until we can’t see him anymore.
“I hope he’s okay,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“I wonder what brought that up.”
“No clue.” I step to one side so I can better see her face. “You don’t hang out with a lot of different people.”
“No. Neither do you. But I’ve met some cool girls at Sat School. We have lunch together sometimes and stuff.”
“So what is it about us? Me and Pete, I mean.”
“Hmm … you ever lie to me?”
“No.”
“Would you?”
“I doubt it. No.”
“Well,” Cadence says, and pushes off the ground with her feet to start swinging again. “That’s a good start.”
I get out of her way. Since we’re being all philosophical and shit, I say, “Are you seeing anybody? Like, dating?”
She bursts out laughing. How such a big sound comes from such a small body, I do not know.
“No!” she says. “I think you two would be the first to know. Jeez.” Then, still swinging, she says, “Man I love being up high! I think I’ll be a pilot.”
Pete appears from the darkness, walking into the orange overhead lights of the playground.
“I’m high as a pilot,” he says, grinning around a freshly lit cigarette. He resumes his ride on the bouncy dinosaur. It’s a joke, I think. He hasn’t smoked anything but cigarettes tonight.
I watch him sitting there for a sec while we all ignore the fact that he just brought up some real shit. Then he belches and asks if we’ve ever seen this overweight kid at school who draws some amazing artwork on his own arms. And just like that, it’s like the conversation never happened.
Except of course it did. Only half listening, I think about how high up I can get Cadence within my limited means. Because now I have a plan.
DONTE
It’s close to three thirty in the morning by the time I get up my courage. I didn’t drink much, because I didn’t want to sound stupid when the time came. I kept an eye on Amy. She didn’t drink much, either. Does that mean she knows? Has she figured it out?
Tonight was the first time I’ve ever been mercy ruled. Might be the first time in school history, I don’t know. After three straight wins, to get knocked down like that … man, thinking about Amy is the only thing keeping me from just sitting at home reliving it over and over.
At last I spot Amy alone, in the backyard. She’s sitting on a long, poolside lounge chair and holding a red cup, and yawning.
There’re some people in the hot tub, and some people making out in the shadows under a tree on a landscaped little hill. But that’s pretty much it. Most everyone inside is losing steam. I saw Brady go after Brianna Montaro a while ago, but haven’t seen him since. That brother was one depressed QB. I can’t blame him. Hopefully Brianna can help him feel better, at least for a little while.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to myself, even though probably no one could hear over the music anyway. “Come on. Head in the game.”
I step outside through the sliding glass doors, and shut them quietly behind me. Halfway to the chair, Amy looks up and sees me. She smiles, but she looks tired.
“Hey, what’s up,” I say, sitting next to her. The lounge chair squeaks under me.
“Hey, D. You drunk or what?”
“No.” I show her my bottle. “This is like, my third. Since we got here.”
“Mmm,” she says, nodding. “Me, too. I mean, me neither. I promised Brianna and some of the other girls rides home. Been sipping peach schnapps for like five hours.”
“That’s cool, that’s cool.”
I lean back on my hands a bit, and scan the yard. There’s no one who can hear us, as far as I can tell.
“Something on your mind?” Amy says, bumping her shoulder into mine.
The brief, platonic contact sends blood rushing through my arms and legs, like the shiver of excitement I get before every game.
“Yeah, maybe.” My heart beats like I’m running forties on the track. Except forties feel good, ultimately. This feels … well, good, too, but different. Scary.
“What’s up?” she says.
“I don’t know, I was kind of like … damn.”
“You okay? What’s going on?”
I can’t look at her all of a sudden. I roll the bottle between my palms, staring at the little round mouth, and chew my lip.
“Man, Coach would have my ass,” I say finally.
She doesn’t get it. “For what, how come?”
I don’t answer. But when that non-answer stretches out for a full minute, she sighs and whispers my name; like, understanding. I peek over at her. Her face is sympathetic. Maybe sad.
“Guess I don’t got to say it, huh?”
“No,” Amy says, quiet. She reaches out and puts a hand on my forearm. Her fingers are cold from whatever’s in her red cup. “He’d have both our asses. It’s not just you.”
“So if it wasn’t for that?”
“Yeah, if it wasn’t for that. God, Donte. I’m so sorry. It sucks.”
“Yeah.”
I’m half-excited and half-pissed. This isn’t fair, at all. I get it, but it’s bullshit. What’s Coach care, right? What’s it matter? Season’s half over, anyway.
Amy looks around the backyard before scooting around a bit on the chair to face me. “Do me a favor?”
“Yeah, ’course.”
“Sit on your hands.”
I set the bottle down and shove my hands under my thighs.
Amy touches the back of my neck, her fingers just grazing my skin. She might as well have flipped on a light switch. Everything inside me lights up like neon. She puts the other hand on my cheek, and pulls me toward her.
I’ve been in love with this girl since meeting her freshman year at the end-of-year banquet Coach throws. We’ve never done this. Not once. As far as I know, none of the guys have.
It takes less than a minute to understand why she told me to sit on my hands. I want to touch her everywhere.
The kiss starts soft, kind of quiet, but a minute later we are locked in tight. She tastes like peaches. I worry distantly a
bout my own breath, but she doesn’t seem to care.
Three years, and I’m finally kissing Amy.
Coach would have my ass.
And I do not care.
After a long time, she pulls away, almost taking my lip with her. She runs the back of her hand across her chin, and laughs a bit. I do, too.
“Okay,” she says, soft. “So, maybe I’ll talk to Coach.”
“Yeah?”
“Can’t hurt. You want me to?”
I’m about to say yes, except—
Damn. I can’t. It would be better coming from her, yes. But I’m the one Coach would take it out on. Not that he’d do anything real bad, he takes care of his boys. But still. We have the rest of the season ahead of us. Got to make up for last night’s game. I can’t afford to have things be weird on the team right now. I spent so much of the night planning how to talk to Amy, I didn’t ever stop to think what might happen after.
“Maybe don’t talk to him quite yet,” I say, not hiding my regret. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. But—”
“No no,” Amy says, real fast. “You’re right. Maybe when the season’s over. You know. When you know what school you’re going to and stuff.”
School. College. It hadn’t crossed my mind tonight. Kissing Amy, wanting to be doing it, and now having done it after so long … going to school was the last thing I was thinking of. Man, how stupid. Even if Coach didn’t care if we got together, now or postseason, we both have college to worry about. Probably going different places. Damn, I’m dumb.
On the other hand, we’d have a little while. Some time. Who knows?
“Okay,” I say. “After the last game? You could talk to him then?”
“Totally,” Amy says. “Something to look forward to.”
“What about Brady?”
“What about him?”
“I just mean, there’s not like … you know. Anything?”
“Me and Brady? No! He comes over a lot, but that’s because—well, you know.”
“Yeah …”
“No,” Amy says again, like she can’t believe I even asked. “Brady’s like my brother. Well, okay, not like my brother-brother, he’s a total loser. But you know what I mean.”