Sell Out

by Tammy L. Gray

  Blake’s slow smile didn’t look offended. It didn’t look overly friendly, either. It was a smile that spelled trouble. With a promise. “I’m glad to hear it. Keeps the introductions easy.” His eyes shifted to the other two at the table. “That’s Chugger and Cody.”

  Cody. The hallway guy who seemed so different from his friends. I knew his name before the introduction, but used the introduction as an excuse to fully check him out. Up close. Cody’s wide jaw and strong chin made him look years older than a high school senior and borderline intimidating. He was tan like the others with a hint of red on his nose and cheeks. But those eyes. The brown color wasn’t unusual, but the intensity, the laser focus that came at me had my insides quivering. Just like yesterday.

  I looked away, studied the one referred to as Chugger. The name implied an overweight, brain-deficient frat boy, not the freshly shaven heartthrob in an Oxford button down. Hair the color of sandy beaches and eyes to match, his fair skin glistened almost as much as the humor in his eyes.

  Did this table have a hotties-only policy?

  “Chugger? There has to be a good story behind that name.” I peeked at Cody in my peripheral. He was still studying me like an impossible math problem.

  Chugger leaned in. “It’s from junior high.” His lids lowered, and a small dimple appeared. “I’m free tonight. We can swap stories…and other things.”

  Cody snapped to attention like a knight ready to defend my honor. Electricity streaked down my arms, and I felt a strange desire to fan myself. I liked a guy who respected girls. Maybe I’d been coddled growing up, but I came from a world where men opened doors for women and held out their chairs at restaurants.

  I tried to ignore my erratic heartbeat and rolled my eyes at the smiling boy who thought way too highly of himself. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Smart girl.” Blake dropped his elbows on the table, his voice annoyed. “Besides, nobody wants to hear about an eighth grader sucking down a liter of Dr. Pepper and then spewing it all over Kasey Moore’s white shirt.”

  “It was cream, not white, and I had to do three days in detention for it. I also bought her a new shirt.” Chugger winked at me. “I’m nice like that.”

  I had to admit he did have some charm. The kind that would have my dad locking the doors and taking away my phone. But charm all the same. I fought down a giggle and dared to look at Cody again. He was not amused. Nor had he said a word, and I found myself longing to hear him speak.

  “No nickname for you?”

  Blake answered for him. “Not to his face. But behind his back, he’s known as Saint James. The guy has no idea how to have a good time. He’s the most dedicated wrestler at Madison. Our state champion.” Blake squeezed Cody’s shoulder, but I didn’t see the camaraderie. It felt more like disdain or even jealousy. But Blake was supposedly the king of the school, so I must have missed an inside joke.

  Ms. Yarnell called for attention and wrote “Revolutionary War” in script on the whiteboard. I turned around, but the hair on my neck prickled as if someone watched me. Someone with powerful brown eyes. His presence heightened my senses, made me aware of every small noise from the shuffling of paper to the scraping of chairs.

  I never before questioned what I looked like from behind, until now. I obsessed about my shirt tag. Was it sticking out, flailing around like a lost cause? Was my hair a mane of beautiful waves or the bird’s nest that greeted me each morning? Was Cody even looking or had I imagined his interest? Yikes. I was turning into one of those girls Ricky made fun of. Not that the band’s lead guitarist could judge. He’d been married three times.

  Blake saved me from my internal freak out. “Ms. Yarnell puts twerking and tweeting in the same offensive category, so don’t even touch your phone in this class.”

  Laugher imploded in the back of my throat. Blake chuckled along with me, and tears tickled the corner of my eyes. I could see why the students loved him. Blake’s personality reminded me of my father’s—charismatic and confident. The qualities people get addicted to.

  My laughter died. Remembering my dad at his prime brought the familiar ache back to my chest. The chemo yesterday had taken its toll, and we spent the night curled up on the couch watching old movies. He slept through most of them, but I didn’t mind. It was enough to have him near. We’d beat the sickness. I chanted it again and again in my head until my shoulders relaxed.

  “Skylar?” Blake’s voice showed a hint of concern.

  My mind catapulted to the present. Ms. Yarnell was busy passing out the worksheets, yet I had been staring blankly at the board. I turned around. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

  Our eager teacher slid the paper in front of us. “These boys can explain the drill to you, Skylar. This is your opportunity to discuss, to reason, and to have a viewpoint that isn’t given to you on some YouTube video. And boys, don’t think you’re getting away with ditching. There will be makeup work. I just haven’t decided how hard to make it yet.”

  Her passion was admirable. Even if it was met with snickering from most of the class.

  As soon as she took her seat, Blake passed the paper and book over to Cody, who pulled out his pen and began filling in the sheet without bothering to read the questions out loud.

  “Shouldn’t we be helping him?” I asked.

  “Nah. It’s his turn today. I’d rather hear more about you.” Blake was the type to make eye contact the whole time he spoke. It was unnerving, in a way, to have so much energy focused on me.

  “Not much to tell. My parents traveled a lot, so I’ve been homeschooled my whole life. We recently settled here, though, so I thought, why not see how the other half lives?”

  That seemed to pull Chugger into the conversation. “Homeschooled? I thought you all wore Little-House-on-the-Prairie clothes and raised goats or something.”

  I resisted smacking his arm. “Last I checked, there were no goats in my yard. Although I do keep my prairie clothes available for smart-mouthed wrestlers.”

  Chugger caught my humor and came back with feigned shock. “Why, Skylar, are you saying I lack a filter?”

  Cody’s snort was the only sign he’d heard our conversation.

  Chugger punched him in the arm. “Nobody asked you.”

  Cody glanced up, those soulful eyes doing crazy things to my insides before they returned to the writing assignment. He smiled. It was faint and barely recognizable, but I wanted more.

  By the end of first period, I’d learned that Blake had an older brother who held the school record for touchdown passes. Chugger was the youngest of three. His two older sisters were mother hen types, so he was spoiled rotten with no remorse on the issue. I also learned that they’d been friends since grade school. Cody was the odd man out. Joining their crew only a year ago.

  “So, how bad was it yesterday?” Blake’s words came out amused.

  I shrugged. “Quiet. Boring. But at least no one saw how lost I was. Well, except Henry, but he was very helpful.”

  Chugger choked out a cough. “Henry Watkins? The four eyes with high waters?”

  My mouth tightened. “You do need a filter. Henry is a nice guy and could have said mean things about any one of you, but didn’t. Maybe you could offer him the same courtesy.” My hearted pounded by the time I finished, and my hands trembled.

  I stared at the boys, but only Blake made eye contact with me, and his expression was blank. I couldn’t tell if I annoyed him or if he respected my gumption. And why did I feel like I needed his approval? That bothered me almost as much as Chugger’s words.

  “Apologize.” The demand came from Blake. It was cool and effortlessly powerful.

  “You’re right,” Chugger said. “Sorry I said anything.”

  An awkward silence hung around the table. Cody stopped writing and, although he wasn’t looking at me, I sensed something in his shoulders. They were tight. His neck strained as if waiting for an explosion.

  “Personally, I love a good set of glasses.” Blake s
miled like a man who knew he would look good in anything. “What do you think, Skylar? Would I look good in glasses?”

  “Of course, but it would be a shame to hide those eyes.” My answer was meant to be cute and truthful—Blake had remarkably blue eyes—but I realized too late it sounded flirtatious.

  Cody’s head lifted and he tossed his pen. “Done.”

  My nerves prickled under his stare. Why did I feel like it was now my turn to apologize?

  “Dude, that took you almost the whole period,” Chugger said.

  Cody fell back in the chair. “Ms. Yarnell must have been all kinds of ticked when she wrote up this worksheet.” He flexed his fingers like they cramped and passed the sheet to Blake. We each signed our name and passed it back to him.

  He glanced at mine and stared at me with bewildered shock. “Da Lange?”

  My cheeks flushed hot red. He knew the name? No eighteen-year-old boy should know who my mom is. Fear rattled my otherwise steady tone. “Um, yeah. It’s Irish.”

  The bell rang before he could probe further.

  I darted to my feet and Blake followed, grabbing my bag off the floor. “I’ll walk with you.”

  Cody glanced from me to the paper and back up again. He was going to figure it out. I could see the recognition in his eyes. Maybe that’s why he made me unsteady. Maybe it had been there all along.

  “Sure. Let’s go.” My ears were on fire. I wasn’t even going to get a full day of “real” high school before everyone knew I was Donnie Wyld’s daughter.

  CODY

  I watched Skylar run out the door and knew I was right. That’s why she looked so familiar. Her dad was a freaking rock star! And not just any superstar. My idol. A man whose music carried me through some of the darkest moments in my life.

  I heard the faint mention of Skylar’s name.

  “What?”

  Chugger brow creased. “Blake. He has a thing for her. Sucks, you know. It’s like he has first dibs on all the hottest girls in school. First, Lindsay. Now, Skylar.”

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t think about that now. I had to confirm what I already knew to be true. Donnie Wyld married Brianna Da Lange two decades ago, and they had a daughter. I pulled out my phone the minute we cleared Ms. Yarnell’s “no cell phone” cave and typed “Donnie Wyld’s daughter” into the search engine. The pictures were old, probably seven or eight years, but Skylar’s face was too special to duplicate.

  The warning bell rang, but I didn’t care. Never before had I used my popularity to get something, but nothing could derail me now. For a moment, Skylar made me want more than my calculated existence. But it wasn’t her. It was the music. The heartbeat of Donnie Wyld that pulled me in like a drug.

  I pushed though the glass doors to the main office, leaned my forearms on the counter, and began my best Blake impression.

  “Hey, Steph.”

  “C-Cody, um, hi.” Stephanie Moore looked like a modern day Snow White, and making her cheeks flush bright pink was as easy as pulling an A in Life Skills.

  “That haircut looks great.”

  She looked down at the desk and doodled on a sticky note. “Um, thanks. I-I really didn’t think it was noticeable.” It wasn’t, but most girls cut their hair often enough that the compliment always worked.

  “So, I’ve been designated our group leader, and I need Skylar Da Lange’s phone number to set up a study group. She’d give it to me herself, but I won’t see her until after school. I really need to get this knocked out.” My mouth tilted and I winked. “Can you hook me up?”

  Steph quickly glanced to her left and leaned back in her chair like she was trying to see into another room. “I’m not supposed to,” she whispered, but she still moved the mouse and clicked. “But since it’s you.”

  It was odd to see the way she bit her lip and fumbled with the keyboard. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have known my first name.

  “Blake was right about you. You are a sweetheart,” I said hoping she wouldn’t change her mind.

  Her cheek color deepened. Steph spied the area around her one more time and quickly wrote down a number. “A-are you, um, nervous about, um, your first match?”

  Yes. Terrified. “Nah. It’s all good. Are you coming to watch us?”

  She lifted a shoulder and handed me the pink note. “Maybe.”

  “You should.” I scanned the numbers and stuffed the paper in my pocket. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  She watched me with a dazzled stare. “S-sure Cody. Just don’t tell anyone.”

  “You got it.” I left the office a victor, but felt like I needed a shower. Manipulating her was way too easy, and definitely another situation Matt wouldn’t approve of. I reminded myself I wouldn’t be this person forever. That one day I’d be free from the memories that still drifted through these halls.

  SKYLAR

  By the end of second period so many people had talked to me I couldn’t remember all their names. Amber, Kara, Erin, and someone with blue hair streaks and a nose ring. I desperately wanted to bond with other girls, but all they seemed to care about was Blake inviting me into the group during first period.

  What did he say? What did he do? Were you totally shocked?

  I leaned my head against my locker and closed my eyes. At least Cody hadn’t blown my secret. Maybe I’d misread him after all.

  “Careful. It’s dangerous to sleep standing up.”

  My eyes popped open as my locker neighbor shoved a notebook into her locker. Her face was covered by the open door, but she peeked around it. “I’m Zoe. You must be the new girl.”

  “That obvious?”

  She grinned. “Um, yeah. Don’t worry; I’m totally harmless. Not like the rest of these chicas.”

  Wow, a whole sentence without Blake. I returned her smile. “Skylar. And I’m really glad.” Really, really glad.

  Zoe shut her locker door, and I was able to see her in full length. Long dark hair hung to her waist; so black it appeared to have a blueish tint. Her oval-shaped eyes were dark as well. “I just moved here last year, so I totally get why this school has you freaked out.” She smiled and her eyes tilted up. “Where you headed to now?”

  “AP English.”

  Zoe brushed a long strand of hair off her shoulder. She was really pretty, but not in a conventional way. She looked ethnic, maybe Polynesian, but her style and makeup were Cosmo Teen all the way. “Ugh. I’m not taking any AP classes. Too much work. Everyone here is obsessed with dual credit and getting college hours, but I don’t see the rush, ya know? Why not spend five years in college? It’s supposed to be the best time of our lives, right?”

  With each question, she looked up, waited for my nod and then continued. It fascinated me, the number of words she could string together in one sentence. The boys I knew never talked this much. I’d get a grunt and a nod if I was lucky.

  “I don’t know what I want to do yet, anyway. My dad says I need to focus on math and science, but please, do I look like a math girl? My mom is a health nut, so she wants me to be a nutritionist, but again, do I look like I don’t eat cheeseburgers?”

  “I think you look great.” The words tumbled out after I’d caught up with her speech, but I meant them. I was built like my mother, tall and rail thin, where as Zoe’s hips and chest curved like a 1950s pin-up model.

  “What about you? Do you know what you want to major in?” She paused and waited. It was like the battery died in her vocal chords. The silence was strangely unnerving.

  “Fashion design.”

  A big smile cut across her face. “Sweet. Well, Ms. Skylar, runway extraordinaire, I’m gone. Look for me at lunch, okay?” She took off down the hall and talked to several more people she passed.

  I pressed my hand to my cheeks and resisted jumping up and squealing. A girl. A friend. A teenager. Why did I wait so long to do this? Public school was exactly where I needed to be.

  CODY

  I spotted Skylar the minute she walked into the cafeteria. You’d never k
now from her stance she was the new girl. Head high, posture straight, she moved through the crowded tables like a queen among subjects. And from the number of heads that turned, most of the guys in the room would gladly bow down at her snake-skinned boots. Only they knew better because Blake had staked his claim with one push of an empty chair.

  Something bounced off my forehead. “You’re staring.”

  I looked down at the mangled fry on my tray and tossed it back to Chugger. “So what?”

  “So, if Blake sees you he’s going to have a coronary. Just be less obvious.” Chugger glanced where my eyes had been moments ago. “Who’s she sitting with?”

  “I don’t know, but I think I had Poli Sci with the dark-haired girl last year. Zoe or something like that. She talked constantly.”

  Chugger spat out food when he laughed, reminding me why he’d kept his nickname all these years. “Oh, yeah. I had her in my Biology II class. I’m pretty sure she wanted some of this.” He pointed to his chest and bounced his eyebrows. “But Karrisa was also in our group and, wow, that girl gave the best private study sessions. Speaking of which, I need to call her again.”

  My gaze traveled back to Skylar’s table. “You’re disgusting.”

  “And proud of it.”

  As if Skylar sensed me watching, she turned. Our eyes locked for one, two, three counts before I forced my attention back to my food.

  Chugger leaned in and spoke in a hushed whisper. “Did you hear about Henry?”

  My heart stuttered, but I kept my face relaxed. “Nah. What happened?”

  “A couple of guys jumped him after second period. He was in the nurse’s office when I went by to get some Tylenol for the massive cramps in my legs. Stupid practice. But, yeah, he was in bad shape.”

  “He say who did it?”