“There’s a huge Bulldog mascot sculpted into the wall of the cafeteria and you want to know if it was me?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m pretty sure there would be a mob chasing you out of the building if that happened.” Lance digs in his backpack and pulls out a thick packet and hands it to me. He elbows my arm. “I got an A because of you.”
“That’s great. I’m glad I could assist that perverted mind of yours.”
He walks with me a little more and pauses at the doors leading to the parking lot. “Are you going somewhere?”
I grumble at the note in my hand.
Lance’s eyebrows waggle a bit. “Oh, no. You’re coming to our game, aren’t you?”
“Not by choice.” I fold my arms across my chest.
“Yeah, well, thanks again. And I hope in spite of you hating us, you might actually cheer for a few of the players.” He winks and leaves me with that stupid thought in my head.
***
Whoever decided to have a row of steel bleachers—no backing to keep the wind out was a grand idea—needs to be slapped upside their head. Each time the wind drifts through, everyone feels the icy cold Lake Erie air freezing his or her butt into place. A guy in front of me has a bunch of those thermal-ready hand warmers and it’s so tempting to ask if he’ll share. Not that I’d use them for my hands, but they’d fit nicely in my back pockets. Maybe they could help bring back some feeling to my behind area.
The Reynoldsburg fans start swaying and chanting as their band starts to play some sort of fight song. The woman next to me elbows me and I cast a dirty look in her direction. But my eyes rest on something in the distance. A familiar golden blond drenched head to toe in black and orange and another girl with sleek, long charcoal hair are coming down the row.
My lifelines, my best friends are here, at this game? And then it dawns on me: Mikia has a major crush on the Reynoldsburg receiver JJ Hart.
Of course as I stare at her, I notice she’s not sporting one ounce of Bulldog colors, but she does have a button on her red wool jacket. They move down a few rows and take a seat. I should let them be. I should respect their wishes to keep a distance. Cut off all ties and communications with them. But they’re my friends. I mean I know we’re on different sides of the tracks now. But they’re so close. The need to pour my entire heart out about how miserable I am consumes me so much I almost forget that my butt has lost all possible feeling.
Selfishly, I move in a little closer to them. I won’t talk to them right away. But at some point I will talk to them. I need to talk to them.
“Do you think she’s here somewhere?” Sam asks.
I watch Mikia’s shoulders rise and fall then she sighs. “Probably. I mean she is one of them now, isn’t she?”
“I went to the coffee shop the other night. Alex said he’s worried about her and wanted to know if we’d talk to her. He said she had a handprint on her face. Maybe we should…”
Mikia throws up a hand. “We can’t. We told her we wouldn’t either. I miss her crazy ass as much as you do, Sam, but think about it. If we start communicating with her and word got out that we were associating with one of them, we’d be toast.”
She’s right. I’ll ruin them. I start to move away, but hear a gasp. “Sky?”
I turn to see Sam and Mikia eyeing me. Sam chews on her lower lip. Mikia gives me an awkward smile. The tension between us is driving me mad. They’re my friends, and we’re acting as if we’ve never met. Swallowing hard I say, “Hi. It’s been a while. How are things?”
“How the…how long have you been sitting there?” Mikia asks.
“Not long. My butt needed a change of seating.” I glance back to the spot I was at and then back at them. “So how’s it going?”
“It’s okay. Kind of boring. Mia is such a leech!” Sam complains. And just like that the tension drops. Mikia snorts and I laugh.
“Ah, Mia, the Post-it queen.”
Mikia rolls her eyes. “It’s like watching a weird version of porn, where the people leave their clothes on, but attack each other with all the intensity. So freaking gross. I just want to keep screaming ‘herpes.’ Roger said he had a delightful chat with you the other day.”
My thoughts flash back to Caleb and me, in the CJD’s parking lot. I threatened one of my good friends. What can I say? That it’s not what they think? Because that’s a total lie. No matter how even I look at it, it looks like I’ve converted fully to Team Bobcat. “I should go.”
Sam catches my wrist. “Sky.” She stares at me with watery eyes. “We’ve missed you. When we heard that you threatened Roger, what are we supposed to think? I mean, I hope you aren’t going to attack me if I come into the coffee shop.”
Mikia interrupts her, “Or jump us in a parking lot.”
“That’s real nice. You two have no idea how this is for me. People at school torment me; I might need to start wearing knee pads for the number of times I’m tripped. I can’t do much about it unless I want to get expelled. And as great as that idea sounds, I’m not ready to lose everything. To top it all off, Brian’s nephew is a walking nightmare.” Still can’t believe he glued my shoes to my closet floor. Jackhole!
Sam pulls me down into a hug. “I’m sorry.”
Mikia rolls her eyes, but then throws her arms around me too. And my heart swells. My two friends are hugging me. “We love you like a sister, Sky.”
Then we all start sniffling. “Shit. We gotta quit being a bunch of saps, my mascara is running. And JJ can’t see me looking like a crazy raccoon.” We all laugh as Mikia runs her fingers under her eyes and wipes away the makeup. It’s silence between the three of us again while we watch the game.
Caleb pulls back into a shotgun and I instantly shake my head while the frontline gives way and no one is open down field. Reynoldsburg’s team is charging him like a stampede of angry bulls. Caleb shuffles, and darts to the left. My breathing increases as I watch the defensive ends and tackles shift and gain speed. “Oh God,” I whisper. One of the tackles catches hold of Caleb’s jersey while the other comes in to finish the job, but Caleb maneuvers out of it and throws the ball to a receiver down the middle of the field.
A breath I’ve been holding escapes. Mikia quirks her eyebrows and smiles. “Are you okay? You look as white as my mom’s starched bed sheets.”
I glare at her. “Do not.”
“Oh, you do. Please tell me you don’t like one of them.” Sam stares at me. Mikia observes me like I’m a science project.
“No. There’s nothing going on between me and Caleb.”
“Who said anything about going on between you two? I was asking if you liked one of them.”
I shake my head. “No.” I look up at the scoreboard and take note of the time left. There’s five minutes left in the game. Suddenly I feel like Cinderella when her carriage is about to turn right back into a pumpkin. “I can’t stand us not being friends. Please tell me we can try hanging out again.”
Sam and Mikia exchange worried looks and then Sam sighs. “Sky, we’d love to hang out and pretend everything is well, you know”—she chews on her lower lip—“how it was. But we can’t, Sky.”
I nod. “Yeah. No biggie. Well, have a good night. I’ve got to go find my mom.”
How I manage to rise, and not collapse, is beyond me, let alone make my way off the bleachers without crumbling to my knees. The pain in my chest is unbearable, but I plaster on the fake smile I’ve mastered since the school year started and find my mom. Brian looks up at me and my mother follows his stare. “Oh Liv, there you are. Are you having a nice time?”
“It’s decent.”
The clock winds down on the scoreboard. The current score is Bobcats: 35 points, Reynoldsburg Ravens: 17. My mom touches my shoulder, pulling my gaze down to her. She touches the seat. “Sit down.”
I shake my head. “Can I just head to the car?”
She sighs. “The game has two minutes left. You can wait.”
Glancing around, I not
ice the stands are pretty clear of any students. I slink down next to my mother and mutter, “My butt is numb.”
She glances over at me. “Now you know how I feel going to your games in March when it’s windy out.”
I narrow my eyes. Why does she have to mention things like this? Can she not see how much it depresses me?
When the game is finally over, my mother and Brian stand up. They make their way slowly toward the stairs and of course my mother takes three steps and stumbles. I shake my head and grumble while jumping down three rows to avoid her. My mood is already sour and I’ve been grounded enough this year. The best thing for me to do in order to keep myself in check is to stay away.
Quickly exiting the bleachers, I scan the grounds. Sam and Mikia are nowhere to be seen, and my mother is just starting to make her way down to me. I take a deep breath, trying to find something to focus my energy on. Unfortunately, a sudden slam into my arm, causing me to lose my balance as well as my focus point, unleashes my fury. “Hey! Watch where you’re going, asshole!”
A man with a Duke baseball hat, matching coat, and dress slacks turns his head toward me. My face drains of color. “Pardon me?” he asks.
I feel like running away. I should run away. But it’s too late because he’s almost upon me. His eyes narrow a fraction.
“Liv, there you are. Do you mind waiting for a bit? Caleb should be over here shortly and then we can go. Okay?” my mom says.
“Yeah sure.”
The man extends his hand out. “Excuse me, is this young lady here yours?”
“Yes, she’s mine. Is there a problem?”
And there goes my car for a month. Caleb will be so pleased. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the grounding to commence. “I believe I accidently bumped into her. I wanted to apologize.”
I open my eyes, as well as drop my jaw to the ground. He had to have heard me call him an asshole. Why isn’t he mentioning that? Of course, the more I look at the guy, the more I notice he’s quite young. Most of the scouts I’ve met are old. Gray hairs, wrinkles—and this guy has none of those. “Oh, well, thank you,” my mom says.
“Do you have another child on one of the teams playing?”
“Me?” Her hand flies to her chest and she smiles. “Oh no. I just have my Liv here. However, my Brian has a nephew on the Delmont team.”
He looks down at me and smiles. “Do you play any sports, Liv?”
I smile back. “I used to. My name is Skylar. My mom likes calling me by my middle name.”
“Skylar? That’s an interesting name. I’m Austin. So you say you were watching a nephew play; which player is that?”
“Caleb Morgan,” Brian answers, closing in behind my mom. “Here he comes now.”
And sure enough, wet locks and all, Caleb is making his way toward us. I can’t stand here and listen to whatever pitch this recruiter is going to spill on him. I need to leave. Jealousy burns through me like a raging temper.
Caleb approaches with a smile. In that same moment, I feel like acting like a child and sticking my tongue out at him. It would be pointless, and completely stupid on my part, but it’s unfair. He gets all this good news and here I am with nothing. He gets to ride the waves of glory while I’m left to suffer. My mom saves me from making a mess of myself by gently pulling me along with her. Thank God. My mom smiles at me. “Let’s go get warmed up.”
Chapter 28
Caleb
The Duke University recruiter rushes up to me, hand out, shaking mine, and then it starts. The nonstop yammering, complimenting me, hoping to talk to me more about my future. As much as I love compliments, and talking about my potential, my thoughts are elsewhere. He wouldn’t be saying half this crap to me if he knew how borderline my grades were. For the last couple weeks all I’ve heard about is the future. What happened to living in the now?
My attention wanders off during the middle of the recruiter’s speech. I can see Skylar and her mother making their way to the parking lot. My sight darts to Lance jogging up to them. Skylar elbows him. He smiles at her. I know I should stop staring, but I can’t. Does she like being with him? I thought she hated all of us equally? Maybe she likes Lance and no one else. But why Lance? I mean, what’s he got that I don’t?
Okay, I seriously need to stop staring at them. Forcing myself to look away and back at the recruiter and my uncle, my thoughts are still on Skylar and Lance. There’s no reason to feel jealous, he’s my best friend. I should be happy. Besides, Skylar is not really that much different than other girls. When it comes down to it, she has sexy features, from her legs to her tight frame and her all-around rocking bod. And yeah, she’s got the craziest colored eyes I’ve ever seen, honey with a splash of orange. Then there is that endlessly long hair; curly or straight, it looks good. Damn good. But the way she moves, God, sometimes I want to press myself up against her and touch her…I shake my head. What the hell am I thinking? I mean, yes, she’s all these things but she’s also stubborn and has an opinion about everything. She’s smart, and has a smart-ass mouth. If Lance wants to deal with that all-around attitude then good luck to him.
The bitter wind drifts through the stadium, and I tighten my fists, which are currently stuffed inside my letterman jacket. Why does she have to get to me so much? She’s just a Bulldog. An unwanted pest. That’s it.
The speech by the recruiter finally comes to an end, and I blink a few times before shaking the dude’s hand. As soon as we go our separate ways my uncle places an arm on my shoulder and tries to rub his knuckles against my skull. I shift away before this happens. He smiles. “That’s the third one this month. That’s really good. So what did you think?”
“Think about what?”
“About the schools. Do any of them impress you so far? You seem a million miles into orbit when they talk to you about all the things they can offer you.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. They all sound great.”
“Hmmm. Well, it’s your decision. Your parents would be proud either way.”
Would they be proud? I hope so. But I’m not certain. There are a lot of things they probably wouldn’t be happy I’ve done. How I’ve treated some girls, how I helped jump a Harris Academy nerd outside the movie theater. Yeah, probably not my proudest moments.
Reaching the car in silence, I toss my bag into the trunk, and then get into the back. Skylar is staring out the window, with her head tilted slightly upwards to the sky. I slap her leg and ask, “What did you think about the game?”
She turns those wild-looking eyes to me. “You should have realized earlier they couldn’t stop your run plays and stuck with that instead of trying to impress people with your arm. You would have had more points on the board.”
I’m literally speechless. She turns away and proceeds to look out the window. See? This is exactly what I am talking about. She couldn’t just say, “You played well.” No, she has to constantly throw in some kind of dig. Turning my own stare toward the window on my side, I mutter, “Is that all, Miss Perfect?”
“You asked me what I thought. I don’t know why you’re all pissy about it. At least I told you the truth.”
And there it is. Her logic behind everything. The sad part is if this were coming from Lance or Derrick or just someone who wasn’t her, I’d respect them and their thoughts on how to improve myself. But coming from her, it irritates me. How is it possible for her to see all my flaws?
I sigh loudly. Our gazes meet and she drops hers first. “I guess I’m wrong. You’re kind of like my friend Mikia; she only likes to hear all the good things she did. Not the things she can improve on. So, I’m sorry for assuming we were alike in that sense.” She turns away with a blush. I’m momentarily stunned again. She apologized.
“It’s fine. Thanks for pointing it out.”
***
Coming up on game eight of the season, I notice Skylar’s mood has become more tornado-like than usual. She lashes out at Erin. She hasn’t eaten much this week either.
I get home from practice one day, sweaty, probably smelling like someone’s garbage can, but so damn hungry I put my shower on hold. When I make my way to the kitchen to grab a snack, Erin’s in there, sitting at the island flipping through some catalog filled with scrubs and medical junk. I pick up an apple from the fruit bowl and she looks up at me. “How was school today?”
I give my normal response. “It was good.” I turn to leave when Erin catches my elbow. “Was there something else?” I ask.
“Would you mind checking on Liv for me? She’s been really upset, but I’m pretty sure she won’t tell me what’s bothering her.”
I nod.
Heading up the stairs, I stop outside Skylar’s door. “Hey, Fletch?” I ask while tapping on the grain. The door opens and before me is Skylar with red-rimmed eyes and a hand swiping at her cheeks.
“What?” she sniffles.
“Can I come in?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Don’t you have company coming soon?”
I shake my head. “Not tonight. She’s tanning and getting her nails done.”
Skylar rolls her bloodshot eyes but moves aside. I take a seat at her desk. She has a few books open; one has bunch of foreign words filling the page so I assume it’s her Italian homework. The next is civics. I look back at her. “We should do homework together.”
“Okay, get out. Seriously, homework? I don’t know what kind of crap you’re trying to pull, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for it.” She points her finger to the door and I laugh.
“Honestly, Sky, I thought we could do this civics stuff together.” It’s the first time I ever called her Sky—out loud, that is. She seems to notice too because her eyes widen a little and she sighs.
“Fine. But I swear, Caleb, if you color over my homework or glue it to my book or whatever, I’ll kill you.” She grabs the beanbag near her bookshelf and tosses it to me. “Go get your stuff, and no, you’re not getting that chair back.” She casts her eyes down to the beanbag in my hands. “This is going to be your seat.”
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