Chase is at his locker, his tall, wide-shouldered frame dwarfing the open metal door. I stop when I get there, arms crossed in front of me.
“Hey,” he says. “What’s—”
“We need to talk.”
“Everything okay?”
“No.” I overenunciate the word, my face hot with anger.
“Did I do something?” He gives me a confused look.
I shake my head. “You’ve got about one minute to get me someplace with fewer people, or I’ll blow my top right here.”
“Uh…” He looks up and down the hallway, which is still full of students. “Your car?”
“Fine.”
I turn on a heel and lead the way, my fury building steam with every step. Chase follows me out the main entrance and down the stone steps, people staring curiously at us the whole way.
Staring, but not saying a word. Because they don’t dare call me a bitch, cunt, or lesbian with him five feet behind me. And for some reason, that incites my anger even further.
We’ve almost made it to the parking lot, but I can’t walk another step without saying something. I turn and glare at him.
“Where were you at lunch today?”
He arches his brows in surprise. “I had lunch in my coach’s office.”
“Why?”
He scoffs and looks at me like I’m clueless. “To avoid the blowback.”
“Yeah?” I narrow my eyes and cross my arms. “What kind of blowback did you get today?”
“Gin, I have no idea why you’re pissed at me. Don’t play games about it, just tell me.”
I ask in a louder tone. “What kind of blowback, Chase?”
He sighs heavily. “The guys are all pissed at me, obviously. No one wants to sit by me in class or even talk to me.”
“And?” I demand.
“And what, Gin?” He raises his voice to match mine.
“There better be more than that.”
He scoffs again. “Yeah? I’m not getting what you think I deserve, is that it?”
I take a step closer to him, leaving just a foot between us. “There was bodily fluid on my locker handle this morning. Someone painted ‘Gin is a cunt’ on a chalkboard, and my entire class had to be moved. Jack spit in my fucking eye, Chase.”
His expression darkens. “Jack Pearson?”
I throw my arms in the air. “Yeah, Jack Pearson! I’ve been called every name in the book today. So many times. I’ve been stared at and whispered about, all because you didn’t give out that stupid rose this morning.”
I poke a finger into his chest, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? All that talk about it being disgusting and wrong, and now you’re pissed off that I’m not doing it anymore?”
I ball my hands into fists at my sides. “No, I’m not pissed that you’re not doing it anymore, you asshole. I’m pissed that I have to feel the fallout. All of it. While you sit in your coach’s office and avoid reality.”
He looks up at the sky, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “Come on, Gin. I’m doing my best here. I’m out, for good. But having football players brawling in the cafeteria isn’t good for anyone.”
“And Jack spitting on me—who is that good for?”
Chase’s eyes bulge in a look of frustration. “That’s not my fucking fault, Gin! I’ll handle it now that I know, and if I’d been there to defend you, I would’ve.”
“I don’t want you defending me!” I shove his chest with my palms, but he doesn’t move. “I show up, Chase. To this miserable school every day. To the cafeteria at lunchtime. I took a stand, and I’m not ashamed of it. But you? You took a stand and then ducked and ran.”
He shakes his head. “Not fucking fair, Gin. Because I had lunch in my coach’s office?”
“Not just because of that. When Michelle needed a friend, did you step up and be a friend to her, in front of everyone? No, you secretly asked me to do it.”
There’s a spark of anger in his darkened blue eyes. He leans in and speaks in a low tone. “You think it’s a coincidence, Gin? What happened to her, and me feeling guilt so strong I can’t even breathe sometimes? If I even look at her, I feel sick. Do you see what she’s become? And it started with something I did. She’s the walking proof of what a miserable prick I am. And that’s why I asked you—because you’re strong and…good.”
I close my eyes for a couple seconds, resisting my urge to back down. These things need to be said.
“Chase, you decided to take a stand, and that’s a good thing. So, do it. Stand tall and be proud.”
He looks away in disgust. “I’ve got nothing to be proud of. I decided to stop using girls, sure, but how many have I already used? How many have I damaged?”
I keep my eyes locked on his. “Own it, then. Apologize. Move forward.”
“How do you apologize for that, Gin? What words are good enough?”
“Sincere ones. If you’re sorry, don’t hang your head and hide.”
He scrubs a hand down his face. “Look, I hear you. But I can’t…I have to stay on the team. Football is my ticket out of here.”
“Right,” I say bitterly. “So you’re just gonna keep playing, not be part of the gangbanging, but not condemn anyone else doing it, either?”
“I said I think it’s wrong. What more do you want from me?”
I shake my head sadly. “Nothing. And I mean that in every way, Chase. I want nothing more from you. Don’t text, don’t come to play practice, don’t ask me for rides. Just stay away from me.”
I turn around and walk to my car, shaking all over. It’s not until I’ve gotten in my car, buckled up, and pulled out onto the road that I let the tears fall.
Finally. After two weeks, I cry.
I never would’ve thought a single rose would ruin me this way.
Chapter Twenty
Chase
The knock on my closed bedroom door makes me close my eyes and exhale deeply. My dad must want to go another round over committing to a school. The more I refuse to do it, the closer he seems to get to realizing that he can’t force me to do what he wants.
It’s not like when I was playing Pee Wee football, looking to him on the sidelines for signals instead of my coach. I’m not falling into line this time.
I don’t respond, hoping he might go away, and a couple seconds later, the door is slowly pushed open a few inches.
“Chase?” my sister Alyssa calls into the room.
I’m lying down on the bed, and I sit up when I see her.
“Hey, you can come in.”
She opens the door, slides into the room, and closes it behind her.
“Can I be in here for a little while?” she whispers.
“Yeah.” I pat the spot beside me on the bed, and she comes over and sits down. “What’s going on?”
“Mom’s crying.” She looks at the ground, sounding ashamed to be admitting it.
In our house, we rarely talk about the elephant in the room, which is my dad’s drinking and anger. The rest of us seem to think that not acknowledging it somehow makes it less real.
“Do you know why?” I ask Alyssa.
“Dad’s yelling at her. He seems mad about everything. He told Cassie she looks like a whore in the shirt she’s wearing.”
I didn’t hear any of that over the music I have on. I shake my head and put my arm around Alyssa.
“You stay in here as long as you want, okay?”
She nods. “He won’t mess with you because tomorrow’s game day.”
Her words are like a punch in my gut. She’s right. Dad doesn’t start shit with me on Thursdays or Fridays. This is the night before game day, and he wants me getting my head into the right space for tomorrow night.
I can’t possibly think about football, though. Gin and I haven’t spoken in almost a week, and it’s making me crazy. I didn’t realize how much I’d started to rely on her until she wasn’t there anymore.
If I pass her in
the hallway, she’s always looking somewhere else, deliberately avoiding eye contact. I stopped going to play practice because I know she doesn’t want me there. At first, I thought things would blow over, but now I don’t think so.
Gin’s strong. She’s not one to cave easily. And even though I think she overreacted, I get where she’s coming from. She doesn’t seem to understand the pressure I’m under, though.
A few of my teammates are with me. Ben Hart, a junior, was the first to have the balls to approach me and tell me he agrees with my decision. A few other guys followed, but none of the heavy hitters who are on the field with me at kickoff every Friday night.
Those lights that shine on us weekly every fall made us feel like rock stars. Invincible town heroes. Entitled assholes who treated girls like trash.
I look over at my little sister and swallow hard, a fresh wave of shame hitting me.
“Hey. Don’t you ever, ever let a guy disrespect you, you hear me? The way Dad treats Mom—don’t you ever put up with that. Your body is…it’s yours, and you shouldn’t let anyone treat your body like it’s there for their stress relief or entertainment.”
She nods, her eyes wide and solemn.
“I’ve made mistakes,” I admit.
“You have?”
“Yeah. But I’ve learned from them, and I hope I can help you avoid making the same kinds of mistakes.”
Alyssa turns to the side so she’s facing me. “Kids at school are saying stuff about you. I tell them to shut their faces.”
I pat her knee and smile. “Thanks, kid. I’ll be okay.”
“You are going to college, right?”
“Of course I am. Why are you asking me that?”
She shrugs. “I heard Dad telling Mom he thinks you don’t want to go.”
“Ah.”
That explains his rage. The old man thinks I’m gonna end up like him—his chance for redemption shot down. Makes me want to wait even longer to commit to a school.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I turn and look down at Alyssa.
Her eyes shine happily. “Yes. I won’t tell anyone.”
“When it’s time for you to start college, you’ll be able to go anywhere you want. I’ll be in the NFL by then, unless I get injured in college, which I’m gonna do my best to avoid. I’m gonna take care of you then. You’ll have a car and nice clothes and all your classes paid for.”
“Really?” She grins hopefully.
“Yep. So for the next four years, once you start high school, here’s what I want you to do: work hard in all your classes. Get the best grades you can. Don’t get too distracted by boys. Make good decisions, and if you need help knowing which decisions to make, you can ask me. Can you do all that for me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m gonna do the same for Cass, but she doesn’t know that yet. I’ll still be in college when she starts college, so she’ll have to take out loans, but I can pay them back after I get drafted.”
“I’m so excited,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Me too. And can I tell you one more secret?”
She nods enthusiastically.
“Everyone thinks the guys I play football with are my team. And they kinda are. But the truth is, you and Cassie and Mom are my team. The four of us, we’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna make sure of it.”
“Not Dad?”
I shake my head. “He’s not on our team.”
The song on my stereo ends, and the sound of my Dad raging about something takes its place. Alyssa sighs softly and looks at the ground.
“I’m going out there,” I say to her. “Find a book in here to read or something, okay?”
She nods, her eyes wide with worry. “Cassie’s not a whore.”
“No. Remember this, okay? Dad’s anger has nothing to do with anyone but himself.”
“Okay.”
I get up and head for the door, giving her a reassuring smile over my shoulder on the way out. As soon as I’m in the hallway, I hear Dad yelling from the kitchen.
“We just had meatloaf last week! I’m so fucking sick of meatloaf.”
“I thought you liked it,” I hear my mom say. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head and clench my fists as I walk into the kitchen.
“What do you want?” my dad demands. “If you’re not here to tell me you’re ready to commit to Bama, turn around and walk back to your room.”
I walk over to the kitchen counter, which Mom is leaning her back against, and stand next to her.
“You want to bitch about dinner now?” I ask my dad in a level tone.
“Excuse me?” His expression twists with shock.
I don’t know what’s come over me, or why. Maybe it’s all the stress that’s been squeezing me like a vise, but I feel changed. I’m not leaving this room.
“Come on,” I say. “You’re tough enough to say it when she’s in here alone, be tough enough to say it when someone bigger than you is standing here.”
“This is none of your goddamned business.” He points a finger at me. “Get out of here. Go watch your film or wring your hands about what school to pick before you’ve got none left to pick from.”
“No, you get out of here,” I say, feeling more confident with every word. “Take your sorry ass to the bar—”
“Chase,” my mom says softly.
“—and leave the rest of us to eat our delicious meatloaf in peace.”
“Listen here.” My dad advances on us, and I feel my mom flinch. “This is my house, and—”
“Get out right now, or I’m not playing tomorrow night.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’ll tell Coach I need a mental health day to recover from my dad pushing my mom around.”
“Chase!” My mom looks up at me, shocked.
“I swear to you, I’ll do it,” I tell my dad.
He narrows his eyes at me in disgust, swipes his keys from the counter, and leaves.
“What are you doing?” my mom asks me.
“Standing up,” I say, remembering Gin’s words. “You deserve better than him, Mom.”
“Honey, he means well.”
I roll my eyes as the engine of my dad’s truck roars to life and he backs out of the driveway.
“Don’t waste your breath defending him to me, Mom,” I say, heading back out of the room.
I feel a twinge of satisfaction as I walk back to my room, thinking about his expression when he knew he was beat.
Nothing means more to my dad than his progeny leading Roper High to glory in every game.
There’s still a war, and I won’t have a way to win it for a long time. But today, I won a battle, and given the shitty week I’ve had, I’ll take the small victory.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gin
Madison misses her cue for the second time in a row, and I have to keep myself from snapping in frustration. It’s not my job to feed her lines or remind her of cues. I let Mr. Douglas handle it, and I slip in my earbuds.
It’s Monday, and it’s been eleven days since Chase and I argued. At this point, I don’t just want to count the days, but also the hours. I miss him.
He seems to be under just as much heat as I am. Last week, word flew around the school fast that Chase had punched Jack Pearson, giving him a nasty black eye. I knew he’d done it as retribution for Jack spitting on me, and my heart had swelled with affection.
How sick is that, me going weak-kneed over a guy punching someone for me? But since that guy is Chase, and it was Jack he punched, I couldn’t help it.
A line has been drawn on the football team. Chase leads the small group of opponents against the Sweet Sixteen. Jack leads the group of swaggering knuckle-draggers who are angry over being cheated out of their fun.
I’m proud of Chase, and I want to tell him that. But I ache for him to call or text or find me at play practice, and tell me he misses me and he’s sorry. I need to hear him say that I matter to him, and not in response to me chasing after him li
ke a lost puppy dog.
I paint in silence, lost in my music and my feelings, until Mr. Douglas approaches me. I pull out my earbuds and stand to see what he wants.
“How’s our set coming, my esteemed art director?” he asks.
“Pretty good. We’re back on schedule.”
“What did you make for Ellie’s bedroom?”
“Just a wall with a bed and posters painted on it.”
He gives me a thumbs-up. “Still need an MIT banner?”
“If possible, that would be great. I left a space for it on Ellie’s wall.”
“Mrs. Morganstern brought one in for us. I left it on top of my filing cabinet.” He takes a key ring from his pocket and passes it to me. “The one with the Cardinals logo opens my classroom door if you want to go get it.”
I take the keys. “Sure, I’ll go now.” I arch my brows at him. “Or—I’ll steal your car and head for the border.”
“Ha! You want to take that hunk of junk off my hands, be my guest.”
I smile and put my earbud back in, Adele’s voice filling my ears. Mr. Douglas’s classroom is about the same distance from me no matter what route I take, but I decide to cut through the gym, just in case Chase is lingering outside the locker room.
I’m pathetic and I know it. The football team is always changed and on the field by now, but I’ll take even a small chance of running into Chase.
Maybe it would give us a chance to talk without one of us having to apologize. Or maybe I’ll just swallow my stupid pride and admit I overreacted.
I have absolutely no experience with boys, but when I talked to my mom about Chase this weekend, she told me just to do what feels right.
After eleven days of radio silence, talking to Chase again is what feels right. I miss our secret looks as we pass in the hallway and his playful nightly texts.
The gym is empty today—the cheerleaders must be practicing outside. I walk through it, slowing by the boys’ locker room door just in case Chase comes out.
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