Making Bad Choices

by Rita Stradling

  “People are always saying no to me.”

  “Yeah, but it never sticks. I’ll come tomorrow for half of practice, I’m not going to promise anything more than that and I don’t see why it matters so much—” I stopped trying to fight it as he kissed my cheek. “Can we keep making out?” I whispered.

  “All night if you want to, Cassie, I just might need to take some short breaks.”

  “Sure, I’m thinking that’s something I can work with,” I whispered as I closed the very short distance, and kissed my boy again.

  Chapter Twenty

  My phone buzzed as Tyler and I walked toward the gym after school and I fished it out of my backpack. Stopping, I mumbled, “Wait one second? I think it’s from my dad.”

  When I pressed on the screen of my phone, a text lit across my lock screen. I was right, it was from my dad. We just landed and should be home in a couple hours. Love you, kiddo!

  Shit.

  Part of me felt elated that I would see my dad and Josh tonight, but most of me wanted to curl up and cry at the thought. Culter and I definitely crossed well into the no-one-can-ever-know territory last night. It never went past sweet, gentle kissing, but I didn’t think my dad would make that distinction.

  At lunch today, I even considered deleting the two songs on my MLMC playlist. I’d found the second song written on my list in Algebra Two, Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones. It was a song I knew by heart. My mom had played The Stones on repeat throughout my entire childhood. But looking down at the two songs that Culter had downloaded onto my phone, I couldn’t force myself to delete the playlist. He must have even inputted his credit card number into my music account, as I’d never put one in.

  “I think I know how to fix your dilemma,” Tyler said waking me from my trance.

  “What dilemma?” I asked, probably too sharply. A million questions flashed through my mind at hyper-speed: How much did Tyler know? Did he see me and Culter sleeping in the same bed last Saturday night?

  “Oh, sorry, I was seeing into your future. I have a solution for your future dilemma,” he said, shooting me a smile.

  “Oh,” I nodded, slowly, and when he continued walking down the near-empty hall, I matched his pace. “So then, what’s my future dilemma and what’s your solution?”

  “The solution is to ask me to Winter Ball. Your dilemma is that someone is going to ask you, and you’re not going to want to go with them, so you’ll tell them you have, like, an aunt sick with consumption you need to visit—”

  “Consumption?” I asked with a smirk, but what I wanted to do was breathe a heavy sigh of relief.

  “I didn’t say you were a good liar. Anyway, you’ll tell them you’re not going because you have to visit poor Aunt Liza. But, when the dance comes around and your heart’s secret desire is to go to the Winter Ball, you won’t be able to because of Liza’s consumption. The only solution is to ask your junior near-future best friend who would like to go to the dance with all the senior hotties, but can’t go because it’s a senior dance.”

  “Don’t you want to go with your very own senior hottie? Then you wouldn’t have a tag-along.”

  He bumped his shoulder into mine. “One, you’re arm candy, not a tag-along. Two, it’s like if I wanted to marry the queen, you need to wait for her to ask you. There’s a high probability that none of them want to openly admit how much they want my body, but as the night wears on and the lights dim low, our eyes will meet across the dance floor. She’ll blush, I’ll tell her one of my suave one-liners, and then we’ll wander to the back of the gymnasium—”

  “No more, please, I get the picture. So, you know all these ladies will have very angry dates, right? I have a feeling I will be accompanying you in an ambulance if I go along with your plan.” I patted him on the shoulder.

  “How about this: you don’t need to ask me now, as I understand my safety is paramount in your mind. But, when the first guy asks you, and you’re thinking of Aunt Liza, just tell them you’re bringing your gorgeous, hilarious—”

  “Modest.”

  “—modest, near-future best friend.” He grinned wide at me, showing his own set of dimples.

  “You are a dork. And no one is going to ask me.”

  He looked off into the distance. “Three guys are going to ask you, and you’re not going to want to go with any of them. I foresee this for you.” He paused outside the gymnasium doors. “Actually, give me a piece of paper.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have a backpack. Get your own paper.”

  “You’ll want to see my magic trick, Cassie, I promise you this.”

  Sighing, I pulled a piece of paper from my binder, making sure to not take Culter’s loose playlist with it.

  “Pen.” He held out a hand.

  “Fine.” I grabbed a pen out, putting it in his hand.

  “Now turn so I can write on your back,” he said.

  As I was a little curious to find out what that dork was up to, I turned and let him write against my backpack.

  When I turned again, he handed me a thrice folded piece of paper. “Okay, I’ve written three names on that paper. But the deal is, you can’t look until you’ve been asked to the dance by two people. If both of the people who asked you are on that list, you have to take me to your Winter Ball. Especially, as by then you’ll have already told everyone that you’re taking me.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight.” I held up the paper. “If you’ve guessed who is going to ask me, I have to go with you?”

  “Exactly, my friend.”

  “But then you’ll just put them up to it.”

  He gave me a look of mock horror. “I will not cheat. Oh, and you can’t look until you’ve been asked out twice either, as you’d have an unfair advantage that way.”

  I waved the note at him. “This is stupid.”

  He shook his head as he pulled open the gym door. “Just pocket it and don’t look at it, Cassie. You will be so amazed by my psychic powers that you’ll want to take me to the dance.”

  The jumbled timbre of chatter and a loud squeaking of feet running over the gym floor echoed around the space. Tyler, obviously knowing the right route, pointed toward the bleachers that led up on our left.

  I followed him, hopping up onto the side of the bleachers, and gained an immediate view of a big crowd of students. Backpacks piled everywhere as people lay, chatted, snacked or worked on their homework across the wooden steps. Culter had exaggerated when he said that half the school came to practice, but not by much.

  My gaze found Isabella immediately, who Culter intended me to sit with. She, Misty, Snow White and another couple of other girls and guys sat along the lowest row, frequently cupping their hands and shouting out at the basketball boys.

  Tyler was walking along, aiming straight for them. Before he could get too far, I grabbed his wrist and tugged him to sit with me on the bleacher. Leaning in, I said, “I just want to be counted as here, and then we should go.”

  He gave me a look like I was being ridiculous. “Cassie, we’re here, we might as well chill until they’re done and then work on our comic later.”

  “You,” I pointed at his face, “are supposed to be on my side.”

  He leaned back against the bleacher behind us. “My heart is torn between the cousin who has always been there for me since infancy, and the cousin who’s exciting and new. And Culter offered me first use of his new Jameson 360 skate shoes if I convinced you to stay for the whole practice.”

  “Traitor.”

  “I prefer opportunist. Why do you hate watching practice so much anyway?” He gestured out to the center of the gym. “Were you traumatized with a basketball?”

  “No.” I sighed, looking to the guys in jerseys and shorts, running back and forth up the court. On one side, Mason and Spencer jumped up over and over, hitting the ball against the backboard of the basket while they held it gripped in their hands.

  “So, who’s the best basketball player?” I asked as I l
ooked from face to face, hoping to find Culter.

  “Mason and a junior named Bryan are the top players, also maybe Spencer. Culter and Jake are good, but they’re more football guys. Spencer is the baseball MVP, you’ll see it coming up.”

  “They all do baseball, too?”

  “No, I don’t think half of them are going to do it this year. I am, though.” He grinned, wide.

  “That’s your sport?” I asked.

  “That and football.”

  I finally spotted Culter as he jumped up from a lunge to turn and run the other direction. His blue eyes snagged on mine, but quickly turned away as a full dimpled smile crossed over his face. He ran back and forth in his shorts and jersey, sometimes smiling, but never looking over. He leapt up to block as some teammate attempted to make a basket, over and over.

  I leaned back to the bleacher behind us, next to Tyler. “Why does he want us here so bad? It’s not like he can hang out.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because it’s just the kind of thing he’d do for us. Like, he’ll go to my practices and all my games when he’s free. Little things like that just matter to him, things that don’t make sense to me. It’s hard to figure out sometimes.”

  “Well, now you have me to share in your pain,” I said.

  “Oh, come on . . .” he pointed down to the court of sweaty boys, “That pains you? It’s like if you forced me to go to a bikini competition.”

  He had a slight point, I had to admit. Watching the boys run around beat a lot of activities that I could think of off the top of my head—homework for one. At one point, Beefy stopped halfway down the court and waved at me with a big smile on his face. When Spencer looked over to see who Beefy was waving at, I got another huge smile and two pointing fingers from him, like he was saying: “Look at you.”

  I waved back.

  A whistle blew and all the guys gathered around who I recognized as Mr. Johns with a baseball hat on. The team talked for a minute before breaking up.

  Spencer tapped on Culter’s shoulder, pointing over to us. Culter only nodded before running off toward the boys’ locker room.

  Both Spencer and Beefy headed our way, bouncing onto the bleachers, dripping visible sweat. When Spencer shot me a mischievous grin, I knew I was in trouble.

  “Sweat on me and die!” I yelled as I leapt up and scurried higher up the bleachers. Three bleachers up, I half-laughed, half-screamed as I was hoisted up by a sweaty, stinky boy that was way too buff to be Spencer.

  “Gross, Jake!” I shouted through a laugh. He squeezed me once before setting me down.

  “Hey guys! Please try not to kill your classmates, yeah?” Mr. Johns yelled from somewhere behind us.

  Beefy grinned down, his eyes practically glowing with the excitement. “Did you see me make that long shot across the court?”

  Spencer leaned down and hugged me from behind, making me jump as he slimed me with his sweaty arms. I bumped my head back into Spencer’s rather-ripped stomach.

  “Oh my God, you guys stink . . . and you’ve just guaranteed I’ll never watch practice again.” Shaking my head, I half-heartedly fought my way out from the all-too happy, stinky pair. I pulled off my sweater, wiping my face and hair with the inside lining.

  Beefy and Spencer flopped down on each of my sides. “So, what do you think?” Spencer asked.

  “I know nothing about basketball . . . but, you guys seemed good.” I nodded.

  “It’s just practice, games are a lot better,” Spencer waved it off, his breath still coming out a bit heavy.

  Beefy leaned in. “You going to our game Friday, Cassie?”

  “I was planning on it,” I said, grinning over.

  “Cassie, we should go.”

  I looked over to find Culter at the bottom of the bleachers. Not only had he fully changed, his hair fell to one side, wet—meaning, he must have taken the world’s quickest shower. He nodded toward the exit. “Your dad is on his way with Josh, we should get back.”

  “All right, you two.” I gave both Spencer and Beefy a quick smile before hopping down the bleachers toward Culter.

  “Later, Cassie. Please don’t worry about giving me a hug goodbye,” Tyler said, holding his hands out like I might attack.

  “Yeah, why didn’t you get slimed? Gross.”

  “You’re next Baby Fuller. Head lock!” Beefy yelled.

  Shaking his head, Tyler said, “Thanks, Cassie. All I want right now is to get stuck in a dirty, skunk-ass armpit.”

  Pulling on my jacket, I stuffed my sweater into my backpack. As I slung it over one shoulder, I leaned in toward Tyler. “Well, I hope the shoes are worth it.”

  “You are my least favorite cousin right now!” he called out.

  “No relation,” I called back as I climbed the rest of the way down and then hopped off the bleachers.

  Culter squinted at me as I stepped up beside him. “You smell . . . different.”

  “Kind of like two slimy, nasty guys chasing me down to hug me on the bleachers?”

  His eyebrows bobbed. “Kind of like that.”

  Culter and I weren’t the only ones maneuvering our way out of the gym, and we said nothing more to each other until we climbed into Culter’s truck.

  “I’m going to talk to Spencer and Jake,” Culter said as he turned up the heater to blast at my feet.

  “About what?” I asked, even though I had my suspicions, and it probably showed in my voice.

  His arm went behind my chair as he looked over his shoulder to reverse out of our spot. “They’re always all over you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, but you should know he acts that way with every girl in the school,” I lowered my voice to sound like his.

  He smirked. “Yeah. But that’s only Spencer.”

  “I’m just the new girl. It’ll only last for another couple of weeks, and then I’ll just be Cassie.” When we’d passed out of the parking lot, I reached over and grabbed his hand, threading my fingers through his. “What would you say, anyway?”

  “Hands off,” he said.

  “Which would be pretty weird, don’t you think? They’re just being friendly, big brother types anyway.” The moment the words came out, I cringed at their irony.

  He didn’t answer, just looked forward at the road. As we passed the little shops that made up Bulvin town center, Culter asked, “Mind checking if your dad’s home yet?”

  When I checked my phone, I found a text already there from my dad. It simply said: We’re home.

  I swallowed, heavily. “They’re back.”

  “Cool,” Culter said.

  Cool? I swear to God, Culter was from an alien planet. He saw nothing wrong with our situation? Really?

  Squeezing his hand once, I pulled away.

  “It’ll be fine, Cassie. You’re dad is barely ever there anyway,” he said.

  “If you say so.” I glanced over, not even close to convinced. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this, Culter.”

  His dimple peeked out. “We should definitely do this, Cassie.”

  An SUV I didn’t recognize sat in our house’s driveway.

  “Is that my dad’s?” I asked as we pulled up beside it. But I already knew.

  “Yep.” Culter shifted into park, unlatching his seatbelt like it was no big deal at all.

  Fuckbuckets.

  With a deep inhale, I undid my seatbelt. “You can do this, Cassie, be strong,” I mumbled.

  A low chuckle sounded from the other side of the cab.

  “Culter, are you laughing at me?” I turned a glare on him.

  He was. Opening his truck door, he hopped out.

  Pulling on my own handle, I followed him into the snow.

  My father opened the door before we were all the way up the steps. Dark shadows marred his handsome face and his tired smile was directed at me. “Hey guys, you’re home.”

  “You’re the one who’s home,” I said, with a smile.

  Reaching out his arms, my dad offered a hug.

 
“Oh, sorry, Dad! Spencer and Jake, I don’t know if you know them, but they hugged me all sweaty and nasty, I probably stink.”

  He shrugged. “Like I care.”

  “Okay, you’ve been warned, though.” Walking over, I wrapped my arms around him.

  “Come on in,” he said after our hug, stepping toward the house. “You’ve been settling in, okay? Sounds like you’re making friends.” He walked beside me, arm around my back, as we crossed the hallway.

  “Cassie!” My little brother Joshie jumped away from the table, knocking over his chair in his haste to run for me. He ran straight at me, smelling strongly of tomato sauce and garlic. As we impacted, I had to put my foot back so we didn’t topple over. “Whoa, Joshie!”

  “Guess what? I got to watch an R-rated movie on the airplane!” he shouted as he squeezed onto me.

  Behind him, my dad made a face and shook his head.

  I patted Joshie’s head. “What? I’m not even allowed to watch R-rated movies.”

  He looked up at me, grinning with a spaghetti noodle attached to his cheek. “Actually, Dad says that you and Culter can now because you’re both eighteen, but when you were my age, you were never allowed to. And, I could watch it this once—”

  “Because it was edited for the airplane so they took all the scenes for adults out,” my dad interjected.

  “Yeah, but when you were my age you weren’t allowed to do that, right?” Joshie asked.

  “Nope.” I shook my head.

  “Where’s Culter?” Joshie looked around.

  When I glanced around, I realized he wasn’t with us. “Oh, uh . . . he was just here.”

  “Probably doing homework, Josh,” my dad said.

  Josh looked back to me. “I need to talk to him, but I’ll be right back to talk to you too, Cassie. I can love you both the same, you know. Even though you’re different, it’s okay if I love you the same.” He looked at me intently with his bright umber eyes, like all that was a question.

  “Of course, Joshie.” I pulled the noodle from his cheek and threw it into the sink before he ran off and out of the kitchen.

  “Hey, kiddo.” My dad patted my back over my thick jacket, again. “So, how are you doing, really? You okay?”