I don’t say anything.
“Besides,” she says, “I’m telling you, your dresses have definitely made it harder not to notice you this week. By the way, you’re welcome.”
I mutter a sarcastic “Thanks,” as we head down to the junior hall, so I can slip the card into Austin’s locker. We, thankfully, change the subject to far more interesting things — her reason for getting sentenced to detention (Telling Ashley Jordan to “Go fuck [herself]”), my next Knowledge Bowl match, and of course, why our moms still refuse to help either of us get our own cars.
As we approach the parking lot, I see Liam leaning back against the hood of his car. He’s wearing a thin white shirt that exposes his well-defined and drool-worthy arm muscles, and his infamous six pack abs. Unbeknownst to him, several girls are gawking in his direction as they wait at the bus stop.
“Do you think he does shit like this on purpose?” Kelsey whispers. “Like, do you think he gets some type of adrenaline rush from all the attention?”
“Definitely.” I clear my throat once we’re in front of him. “We’re ready to go home now.”
“We?” He slowly sits up and looks between Kelsey and me. “I’m only obligated to take you home, and only because you live right next door.”
“I’m only eight blocks away.” Kelsey crosses her arms. “Besides, you don’t even have to take me home. I’m going to help Mariah get ready for her weekend plans, and I’ll just have my mom pick me up later.”
“Good.” He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he wasn’t really that annoyed with her request today anyway. He unlocks the doors to his car and Kelsey and I slide into the backseat.
Without saying anything else, he turns his radio on and speeds out of the parking lot.
“You have to wear the black dress,” Kelsey whispers. “Like, that’s the perfect date dress.”
“I’ll think about it ... I was going to wear jeans, just in case he suggested we go to the lake.”
“It’s Austin Prescott.” She gives me a look. “He’s not going to take you to the lake. It’s going to be an actual date.”
“You’re going on a date?” Liam’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “With who?”
“No one,” Kelsey and I say in unison. I glare at her for not whispering her last words, and she mouths, “Sorry.”
We’re silent all the way to my house — just so we won’t make the same mistake again. So Liam won’t ruin this for me by telling Zach.
When he pulls into my driveway, his eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror again. “Mariah, do you really have a date this weekend?”
“No, but even if I did, what does it matter to you?”
“It doesn’t. I was just asking.”
“Then I was just making it up.” I open the backdoor. “There is no date. But speaking of dates, I’m sure you and Ashley have a whole weekend full of those planned. I think you should worry about that instead of me.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
“Good. I’ll talk to you again when I’m required to, i.e. tomorrow in Lit class. Until then, I don’t know you.”
“You never did.”
What? “What is that supposed to —” I stop myself right there. I am not getting into an argument with him, not getting trapped into him finding a way to get the truth out of me. “Have a great day, Liam. Tell Ashley I said, hello.”
“I won’t.”
“Even better ...”
4
Liam
Blue Harbor Can Go All the Way! Again!
–Harbor Times
Blue Harbor Boys’ Basketball Aiming for a Championship Repeat
—Bleacher Report
Liam Carter is the #1 High School Point Guard in the Country for the second consecutive year!
—USA Today
Zach Dawson, #1 High School Power Forward, considering Duke for college
—ESPNU
I stare at the headlines as they scroll by on the screens at the pre-season pep rally. Each one spurs cheering from the crowd, and an even louder chant of “Go Blue Go!”
The entire team is sitting in the center of the gymnasium, flocked by the school band on one side, and national reporters on the other. I used to actually look forward to the pep rallies, but the closer I got to senior year, the more I realized how stressful they really are.
Every reporter aims to be the first to break the news of where Zach and I will be heading for school, and we’ve both promised not to confirm anything until the end of the season. It’s what’s best for our sanity. Well, at least it is for mine.
“Liam, over here!” A local reporter shouts at me and I turn in her direction, giving her a fake smile I’ve perfected since my days in middle school. I hold it long enough for her and a few others to take the photo, and then I turn around and focus on the screen of headlines again.
“You could at least pretend like you want to be here.” Zach says under his breath. “Look at all the girls from other schools that are here...This is the last time.”
“That’s all you’ve been thinking about this whole time, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely.” He laughs and I shake my head. Zach has always been more into the media circus that comes with this game than me.
I scan the crowd and look for my Dad, knowing he’s somewhere taking endless shots with his camera. Minutes later, I spot him sitting near the middle of the bleachers, shaking hands with a college recruiter I’ve met once before.
All of a sudden, the slideshow of news comes to an end, and the lights above return to their full brightness. The crowd erupts into deafening screams as our Coach stands and heads to the podium at the center of the gym.
“Good afternoon!” His first two words alone elicit screams. “Thank you to the amazing students of Blue Harbor High, members of the media, and members of our community who are here today. We want to thank you for coming to our pre-season rally, which is, ironically in the middle of our football season for some reason. I don’t think our football team is that bad this year, are they?”
The football team laughs from the stands. They’re currently undefeated for the fourth year in a row, and attract just as much media attention as we do.
“I have a few words to say on my team’s behalf, and then I’ll personally introduce each one to you.” He smiles. “And then we have a month and a half before our true season work begins! To give you a bit of a recap of last year...”
I tune out the rest of his words, scanning the crowd again and finding Ashley. Dressed in her varsity cheerleading uniform, she’s immersed in her phone and talking to her teammates. It takes all of ten seconds for her to look up at me and wave.
I wave back, and she blows me a kiss I don’t return.
We won’t be together anymore after this rally is over...
“And now...” My Coach’s booming voice cuts through my thoughts. “Starting with our phenomenal bench, which is currently ranked number one as well...Coming in at five foot eleven with...”
I watch as he announces each player one by one, as the cheers reach a new deafening level with each new name. When he reaches the starting lineup, the principal brings him a second mic.
“Introducing our power forward, the number one power forward in the country...” He smiles. “Zach Dawson!”
Zach stands up and waves at everyone in the bleachers, putting on his best “All-American” smile. His ovation lasts for over five minutes, and I spot Mariah jumping up and down and screaming for him.
When Zach finally takes a seat, he nudges my shoulder. “I just saw someone I’m going to try and leave with after this. I’m pretty sure the girl sitting next to her is her twin if you’re interested in coming along.”
“I’m good,” I say. “You can have them both.”
He smiles at the idea and I’m pretty sure he’s going to go for it. I’m tempted to tell him I actually will go with him, but before I can think it through, I hear coach calling out my stats.
“Six foot four
and the number one-point guard across all the high schools in the country...” He pauses, letting the screams reach another fever pitch. “Liam Carter!”
I stand and wave at the crowd, making sure I stand still long enough for my dad to snap my picture. I look toward where Mariah was and notice that she’s now sitting with her arms crossed, refusing to clap for me as usual.
Laughing, I turn and make sure I’ve waved at all sections before taking my seat again.
The rest of the rally passes by in a short and uneventful blur. The band plays the fight song, the coach formally announces our game schedule, and the principal tells the media and the students to join him and the rest of the staff outside for the official bonfire.
Since I’m skipping the bonfire and have no desire to talk to anymore reporters for the rest of the night, I give all of my teammates a handshake and tell them I’ll see them at practice tomorrow. I start making my way toward Ashley so I can finally get this over with, but my dad suddenly steps in front of me.
“You looked good, son!” He holds his hand up for a high five. “I’m very proud of you, as always.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you doing anything tomorrow morning?”
“You mean, besides school?” I ask.
“Well, yeah that.” He pats me on the back, laughing. “I was talking to a recruiter from the University of Memphis who came all the way here to see you. He has a flight tomorrow afternoon, but he wants to have us over a five-star breakfast to talk about his program with us.”
You mean with ‘you’... “I have a test in Literature tomorrow. I doubt the teacher will let me skip it because some random recruiter wants to treat me to eggs and bacon.”
“Not just any recruiter, Liam.” He looks into my eyes. “The University of Memphis. A top twenty program. And the Four Seasons sells way more than eggs and bacon.”
I don’t say anything. I just stand there as the crowd starts to push past us, as my father waves away reporters who attempt to get a word from me.
“Look,” I say, trying to keep my voice polite yet firm. “I’ll talk to him, but I’m not missing the test for it. Can we do it at six in the morning?”
“That’s my boy!” He claps. “Absolutely. See, how compromising you’re becoming when it comes to simply entertaining these people? You’re going to look back at this next year and be grateful that you did. You’ll be more grateful that you didn’t do what I did when I was in your shoes.” With that he walks away, his fingers tapping against his phone’s screen to make a call, and for the umpteenth time in my life I regret being born to a man who failed at his own college basketball dreams. A man who is attempting to vicariously re-live them through me.
Sighing, I resume my search for Ashley and find her in a huddle with her teammates.
“Well, hello there handsome.” She steps closer to me and gives me a hug. “Were you waiting on me to walk with you to the bonfire? How sweet!”
“Awwww!” Her teammates say in unison.
“Actually,” I say, “I wanted to talk to you alone for a minute.”
“Okay, definitely. In your car?”
“No, let’s just...” I grab her hand. “Let’s just go into the hallway for a second.”
Her friends “Ohh” and “Aww” as if this is romantic, so that only makes me want to get this over with even sooner. I pull her around into the senior hallway and make sure no one has followed us.
“Are you about to tell me you love me, Liam?” She slips her hands into the pockets of my letterman jacket, pressing her chest against mine. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet around me lately?”
“I’m about to tell you that I think we need to break up.”
Her eyes widen and she steps back. “WHAT?”
“You heard me.” I grab her hand again and pull her close to me once more. “I don’t think this is working out.”
“I don’t—” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand. Everything was fine all summer and even these first few weeks of school. Is this because I vomited on your favorite shirt? I apologized like three times for that.”
“No, its just...” I try to think of a way to put a positive spin on any of the negative things that have happened between us, but I can’t think of a nicer way to end this. “We’re just not right together, and I think deep down you know that.”
Tears fall down her face and she moves away from me. “I can’t believe you’re dumping me before homecoming. Actually, I can’t believe you’re dumping me at all. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I promise there’s not.”
“Is it another girl?”
“There is no other girl, Ashley.”
“There has to be, unless...” She wipes her eyes. “Are you secretly gay? Because like, that would explain a lot of things. You’re gay, aren’t you?”
I should’ve done this over the phone... “No. I’m not gay, Ashley.”
“Let me get this straight then.” She narrows her eyes at me. “We’ve spent almost every day together all summer, you’ve taken me out every weekend, and we’ve both finally decided to join collective forces as the best Mr. and Miss Popular this school has ever seen, and all of sudden you just want to break up? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I would still like to be friends, if that’s okay with you.”
“Fuck you.” She hisses. “We are so not going to be friends. You are on my shit list, and you of all people should know what you have to look forward to for the rest of your year here.” She starts to storm away, but then she suddenly turns around. “Did I leave my bright pink water bottle in your car yesterday?”
I nod.
“Well...Can you give it back to me tomorrow?” She clears her throat. “After that, you will officially be on my shit list.” She lets out some type of strange grunt noise and storms off.
A part of me wants to follow her, to make sure she and her friends aren’t going to cause some type of scene at the bonfire, but I walk in the other direction and head to the parking lot. That part of my life is over.
At least, I hope it is...
***
The following morning, I reach a new level of restraint when it comes to my dad. Somehow I’ve managed to keep my thoughts at bay while at the breakfast with the recruiter, and outside of “That sounds great,” “I’ll definitely arrange to have a tour of your school,” and “I’ve always wanted to visit Memphis,” I haven’t said much else.
Instead I’ve watched and listened as my father has heaped praise on my stats, waxed poetical about his own days as a high school star, and subtly asked about how much scholarship money the university has at its disposal.
The “however much it takes to get your son to sign” is the answer. My dad’s favorite answer.
As the waitress steps by our table to retrieve our plates, I lean back in my seat and cross my arms.
“Do you have any questions for me, Liam?” The recruiter looks at me with hopeful eyes. “You’ve been rather quiet this morning.”
“Honestly, no. You’ve answered everything.”
“Great.” He looks over at my dad. “Well, Mr. Carter, is there anything else you have to ask?”
“Just a few more things, Mr. Yates.” He starts to ask about the best time to schedule a weekend visit and I pull out my phone.
I have an hour before school starts, and I have five unread text messages. Opening my inbox, I groan as I notice that all of them are from Ashley.
Ashley: You’re an effin douchebag, Liam! I can’t believe you broke up with me after a pep rally! A. PEP. RALLY!
Ashley: I’m glad we never had sex. Your cock is probably small as hell anyway. That’s probably why you didn’t want to do anything with me. You KNEW I would expose you for having an itty bitty penis.
Ashley: Itty bitty penis. Itty bitty penis. ITTY. BITTY. PENIS!
Ashley: Are you at school yet? Where do you want me to meet you so you can give me my water bottle back?
I stifle a groan and roll my eyes. I start to send her a few choice words, but a new text message pops up.
It’s not from Ashley, though. It’s from Mariah.
Mariah: Are you not coming to school today? You could’ve at least told me you were going to ditch our first partner exam so I could’ve given the teacher a heads-up. You know we’ll both get Fs if you don’t come...
I hit reply.
Me: I am coming to school today. Not everyone chooses to get there an HOUR before it starts...
Mariah: Well, maybe that’s why I’m number one in my class...
Me: No, that’s not it. I’m tied for number one in my class and I’ve never been lame enough to get to school that damn early. Relax.
I text Ashley that she can meet me in the senior lot for the water bottle and put my phone away. “Mr. Yates, it was nice meeting you,” I say as I stand. “Dad, I’ve got to head out. My study partner wants to go over a few things before our test this morning.”
“Of course son, of course.”
I shake Mr. yates hand, knowing damn well I’ll never pay Memphis a visit, and then I tell my dad I’ll see him at home later.
Heading straight for my car, I slip behind the wheel and make sure Ashley’s water bottle is still on the backseat. I take my time driving to school, cruising down the winding roads that are in far view of the lake, contemplating my next move with every mile.
When I pull into the parking lot, Ashley is standing in front of her white car with her arms crossed. She waits for me to get out, but instead of reaching for the water bottle, she reaches for a hug.
“What are you doing?” I step back.
“I’m putting an end to our fight.” She shrugs. “I don’t want us to be mean to each other in texts anymore, and I want us to get back together.”
She can’t be serious right now... “Take the water bottle, Ashely,” I say. “We’re never getting back together. Ever.”
“Is it because I said the ‘itty bitty penis’ thing? I was just angry.”
“It’s because a lot of things.” I’m on the verge of losing it. “But the main reason is that I just don’t want to be with you anymore. I don’t even think we could possibly be friends or associates anymore.”
Mr. Popular: A Falling For My Brother's Best Friend Romance Page 4