Popularity is Just an Equation

by A. R. Perry

  “See you then, Cherry.”

  After he leaves, I slouch against the cool exterior of the SUV and take a deep, calming breath. His sudden change of heart caught me off guard. That’s the only explanation for why I lost all motor control. I’m the type of girl who is always in control, so the entire exchange was unnerving.

  Great. And now I have to spend more time with him alone at my house because both of my parents will be gone to some charity event.

  Well, at least I’ll have the rest of the afternoon to get a grip on my thoughts and my breathing.

  As I step onto the sidewalk, I once again tug at the hem of my shorts, aware of the way each step I take makes them ride up. More than ever, I realize I should have listened to my mother’s gentle advice when she pointed them out.

  This is going to be a long day.

  A whistle blows and all of us stop in the middle of our sprints. Coach has us on a death march and judging from the coloring of a few faces, he might lose half his team if he doesn’t cool it. We’re solidly in the off-season, so I can only imagine what is to come next year.

  Nash stops beside me, his hands braced on his waist as he drags in ragged breaths. “Is he more insane than normal?”

  “He’s out for blood.” I pace in a circle around Nash, trying to calm my heart rate before it explodes. “He’s never pushed us this hard in the off-season.”

  Behind us, I hear the distinct sound of someone losing their lunch. I twist around as one of our offensive guards hunches over and gives us all another grotesque look at everything he’s eaten. Newb. Everyone should know by now not to eat anything heavy when sprint drills are planned.

  “Bowser might be done for,” Nash says, using the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat off his brow. “You down for Edwins?”

  I stop my pacing and drop into a groin stretch before they tighten and spaz out. “Can’t.”

  “You’re off tonight.”

  “I also have plans.”

  Nash narrows his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t take Cristy back.”

  “After she’s made out with half the team? Yeah, no thanks.” I stand and shake out my legs. I hate lying to him, but if I come right out and tell him what’s going on, Piper will never stand a chance. And she might kill me. “My mom texted a list of errands to run.”

  Together we head toward where Coach is standing, debating on torturing us with another round of sprints or cutting us loose.

  “I was gonna offer to hang out but errands give me hives.”

  I’m well aware. “Tomorrow I should be free to whoop your butt in Call of Duty.”

  Nash smirks as we meet up with everyone else. “Since when have you ever beat me?”

  “Is practice interrupting your conversation?” Coach asks, his barrel chest puffing up in anger.

  “No, sir,” we answer in unison, which wins us a smirk from Jordan.

  “Glad to hear.” Coach slaps his wooden clipboard on his palm. “You all did good today. I want you to make sure you’re getting enough exercise and cool it on the burgers and fries. The season will be here before you know it and I want to make sure summer break doesn’t negate all the work we’ve done. State is in our sights next year.”

  He eyes us all, fire burning deep in his gaze. “It’s no easy feat. To get there we have to go through the Colts and Vipers. The Vipers have held the title for three years. ‘Bout time we dethrone them.”

  “Go Cougars!” Jordan shouts, drawing a round of primal screams and chanting of our team mascot.

  Coach nods in approval. “Get out of here.”

  “He’s way more intense about this than last year,” Nash says as we walk to the locker rooms.

  “Yeah, I don’t remember running drills this hard so late in the year but if it helps us take down those arrogant Vipers, I’m game.”

  We split around a bench as we enter the locker room. “Anyway, I gotta go.” I salute him as I round a row of lockers.

  “You’re not even going to shower?” Nash shouts over the growing noise of bodies filling the small space. “You must not be seeing a girl after all.”

  I shake my head as I bend down to retrieve all my stuff. If Nash only knew what I was up to, his head would explode. Truthfully, I plan on swinging by my house and showering before I head to Piper’s. If I stay here long enough, though, Nash or Jordan would drag the truth out of me or insist they come along to errands that don’t exist. I can’t do that to Piper.

  I just hope these good-intentioned white lies don’t stack up.

  At five past six, I stop in front of the long driveway that leads to Piper’s house. House might be the wrong word to describe it. More like a mini-mansion with pristine landscaping and a group of redwoods that have only gotten bigger in the past few years. God, I forgot how gigantic the property is compared to where I live. From what I remember of a passing conversation, her dad made some good investments. Good would be an understatement.

  The property is sprawling with a barn that houses two horses and a chicken coop tucked off to the side. The rear portion is three stories with an attic that was converted into a guest room around the time Piper and I met. We used to pretend she was a princess in need of rescuing except instead of scaling the outside, which would inevitably lead to my death, I climbed the long staircase.

  I chuckle as I step out of my car. All that feels like a lifetime ago. Looking back now, we were immature for twelve. The only thing I never told her though was the last time I completed my perilous journey and slayed the dragons and saved Princess Cherry from her tower, I really wanted to kiss her.

  Summer break before freshman year. Right before I got sucked into sports and she got sucked into whatever is keeping her busy these days.

  Jeez. I haven’t thought about that day in years.

  Piper bounds down the brick stairs as I approach the front door.

  “You’re late,” she says, with hands on her hips and eyes narrowed.

  She’s changed into a pair of black leggings and an oversize rainbow shirt that hangs off one shoulder. Back to the Piper I’ve always known. Colorful and relaxed. This morning I had a hard time keeping my eyes off her legs, and I jetted out of there as fast as possible so I wouldn’t have to follow her all the way into school.

  “Figured you would prefer if I showered. Unless you’re the type of girl who likes their men all sweaty from a hard day’s work.”

  Her nose wrinkles as she leans against the wrought-iron handrail. “Gross.”

  I shrug, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Thought so.”

  “Whatever. Come inside.” She beckons as she spins on her heel and jogs up the steps. “My parents are gone tonight, so I ordered pizza. But if you don’t plan on staying long, I’ll enjoy it all on my own.”

  I plop my backpack down by the front door. “Pizza sounds great.” Not as if there will be much to eat at my house.

  “Good. It will be here in fifteen.” She nods toward the family room.

  It’s the only place in the house I remember felt lived in. The rest of the house is spotless, decorated with pictures and knickknacks that cost a fortune. This room. though, has an old leather couch facing a flat-screen TV and a black-and-white shag rug we spilled grape juice on when one of our games of Monopoly got competitive. Her mom simply laughed and said it added character. My parents would have lost their minds.

  “So,” she says as she sits, tucking her bare feet under her butt. “What’s the plan?”

  “The plan…” I scrub a palm over my jaw. In reality, I should have spent more time coming up with a plan, but between work, school, and practice, I didn’t give much thought past agreeing to it.

  “Yeah, a plan. As in, we can’t go into this blind. It needs to be well thought out, or it will never work.”

  “I know what a plan is, thanks.” I sit on the opposite end of the couch, but I swear I can still feel her annoyance. “I figured you would want some input. That’s why we’re meeting.”

  “Oh.�
�� She nods, rolling her lips together.

  Have they always been so full and pink?

  Ugh. What is wrong with me? This is Cherry, not some girl I want to ravage. Besides, she has it bad for my best friend. That’s territory I don’t even want to breach.

  “So, yeah. I figured I’d give you a few pointers about what he likes and doesn’t like. That should be enough to get you an in.”

  “Okay…but just because I like the same stuff he likes or whatever doesn’t mean he’ll see me as girlfriend material.”

  He doesn’t consider anyone as girlfriend material.

  “Listen, I just want you to understand before you’re in so deep you can’t get out. Nash isn’t the dating type. He hasn’t been with a girl longer than a night if you catch my drift.”

  Piper’s cheeks turn pink as she glances down, playing with the edge of her shirt. “I get it.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m a big girl, Carter.”

  “Okay.” I throw my hands up in defeat. All I can do is lay all the cards out on the table. If she still wants to go through with this, then that’s on her.

  “So, what type of stuff does he like.”

  “Football for one.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “Him and every other person at our school.”

  “Except you?”

  “I mean, I get the general idea. Doesn’t mean I need to worship it.”

  “You do if you want to catch Nash’s attention. Football is life. Period. Nothing comes close, not even girls. You need to know the rules back, forward, and sideways. So…”

  She groans, tilting her face to the ceiling. “There’s a ball and people run and catch it.”

  “That’s it?” I can’t help the shock in my voice.

  How does this girl go to our school and still be untainted by football? Everyone, including the teachers, practically lives and breathes it. The players are worshipped with a tad too much enthusiasm, as if we walk on water or some shit.

  “Isn’t that enough?” Her eyes find mine. The light catches them, highlighting the smattering of yellow around her pupil.

  I clear my throat, focusing on the wall above her head so I can concentrate. It’s almost as if they can see right through me. “If you weren’t trying to win Nash I’d say it was enough. But you are, so it isn’t.”

  “You’re going to explain it to me now, aren’t you?”

  I grin. For some reason, I’m enjoying the fact that this is one of the few people at our school who doesn’t worship football and the players. I’m way too happy to drag her over to the dark side. “With pleasure.”

  Forty-five minutes and three slices of pizza later, I’m starting to understand the basic premise. Not that I’m all too excited about this new knowledge. This junk might knock some important things out of my head to make room. And the kicker is, I don’t need to learn about football. I’m not really going to make a play for Nash.

  Oh, well. All or nothing at this point.

  “So, the linemen block and create holes for you to slip through with the ball?”

  Carter grins, picking off the olives from his pizza and dropping them on his plate. He’s got a nice pile going on, what with the five slices he’s inhaled. “Right.”

  “And how often do you manage to break free and run into the end zone?”

  “Often enough.”

  “But not often enough to win state, right?”

  His expression flatlines and I swear he’s seconds away from shooting laser beams out of his eyes and burning me alive.

  Oops. Touchy subject.

  I hold my hands up. “Hey, I’m just asking. You wanted me to know everything about this wonderful sport.”

  “No,” he says through clenched teeth. “We haven’t won state, but that will change next year. And if you were smart, you’ll steer clear of that particular topic or boost Nash’s overall confidence in winning. You don’t want to experience pouty Nash.”

  I don’t want to see Nash at all, but I can’t dig myself out of this hole now. Not with how much effort Carter is putting in. “Noted.”

  “Got any more questions?” Carter takes a huge bite out of his slice. The boy can put food away. No idea where though because he’s all hard lines and rippling muscles.

  Seriously. His biceps are the size of my thigh. Though, okay, that might not be saying much because I’m tiny, but still. There’s not a jiggly part on his entire body and trust me, I’ve been looking all night. My eyes can’t get enough. I’m surprised I can pay attention to what he’s saying.

  I clear my throat, focusing on his face before he catches me ogling. “Yeah. Since it’s the off-season, what the heck am I supposed to talk about? I never went to a game this year, so I can’t bring up a highlight reel.”

  Carter tilts his head to the side. “Good point.”

  I recline in my seat, knees pulled to chest with a smug expression on my face. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be sitting here with a grown-up Carter Jackson talking about football and ways to woo his bestie. Guilt tickles my insides, but I shove it down. I’m actually planning on pursuing anything with Nash. No one will end up hurt. I’ll grab some spotlight and a seat at the popular table, then be done. I just want to revel long enough to rub it in John’s face.

  John’s been avoiding me more than usual. I didn’t see him in the cafeteria today, and he’s switched seats in the classes we share. For someone who wanted to be friends after our breakup he sure seems to want to forget I exist.

  “Well…” Carter squeezes the back of his neck and his faces twists in pain as if his next words physically hurt. “We’re planning on playing paintball this weekend up at the indoor range on Florin Road. Just show up. If there’s anything Nash loves besides football, it’s paintball.”

  “What is up with you guys and violent sports?”

  He shrugs, his emerald eyes twinkling. “You’ll be on his team. Bond with him a little.”

  “Shouldn’t we start with a small run-in? Getting shot with paintballs isn’t my idea of a fun bonding experience. Mostly I’ll scream and then be a bruised mess.”

  Carter balls up his napkin and tosses it on his now empty plate. “If you want to save paintball for later, that’s fine. The team is throwing a party this weekend, but I figured that wasn’t your scene.”

  I bristle, sitting up straight. “And why exactly wouldn’t it be my scene? You don’t even know what my scene is anymore.”

  He shoots me a banal look. “I haven’t seen you at one party since we started high school.”

  “There hasn’t been a party worth attending.”

  He smirks. “You’ve never been to one of the football team’s parties.”

  Jeez, this guy. If he was any more full of himself, he’d drown in his own ego. “Fine. Party it is. When and where?”

  “Saturday. Farmhouse off PFE road. One of the guys knows a guy who doesn’t care if we party in the back field. I’ll text you the info.”

  “Can’t wait.” I try to hide my sarcasm, but it leaks in anyway. Besides the fact that I avoid parties for a reason because alcohol and debauchery aren’t my ideas of a fun time, now I have to come up with an excuse as to why I can’t hang with Blythe and Claire. Well, unless I invite them…

  “Wear something like those jeans you wore Monday.” Carter’s rough voice interrupts my thoughts. “Not the hoochie shorts. You want to go for a subtle change, not a full-on makeover. Guys do notice stuff like that.”

  “Noted.”

  We sit in silence, staring at each other. With any other person we would have reached awkward levels, but with Carter it’s comfortable. Maybe because he’s known me since we were preteens, or maybe it’s because I have no reason to impress him. Whatever the reason it has a calming effect, making me believe I can follow through with this plan.

  “Anything else, Princess Cherry?” he asks.

  I laugh, remembering all the stupid games we used to play before growing up got in the way
. “Cute, but no. I think I’m set for now. You might need to pep talk me when we’re at the party, though. I have a habit of getting into my head and it usually ends with me either going mute or unstoppable blabbering.”

  He grins, and it crinkles the skin around his eyes, lighting up his face. “I’m kinda a sink or swim guy.”

  “Then be prepared for an epic fail.” For some reason my heart does a backflip in my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs and throwing me off-balance. I blame it on the greasy pizza, but it might have something to do with the way he’s still staring at me. Something has changed from a minute ago—an overall tone shift. What’s worse is...I might like it.

  His hands slam down on his firm chest. “Ye have such little faith, grasshopper.”

  “No, I’m a realist. Piper and parties don’t go together as you’ve already pointed out. We’re like oil and water.”

  “With my help, you’ll be the life of the party.”

  “I’ll hold my breath.”

  There he goes again, staring at me. No—staring through me as if he can see through all my bull and bluster and can pick out the real reason I’m doing this. The reason I’ve been shoving down and burying because I don’t even want to admit it to myself.

  Claire was right. This has a little more to do with revenge than I’d prefer to admit. John hurt me and a part of me wants to hurt him back in the only way I can.

  “I should go,” Carter says when we’ve been quiet for too long.

  “Oh.” Disappointment washes over me, which is super weird because I’ve spent over four years being fine with not having him around. “Well, thanks for taking the time to come over. I appreciate it.”

  “What can I say? I’m a good guy.” He grins, his eyebrows jumping as he stands. “Well, not that good of a guy.”

  “I was gonna say.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, feeling nervous all of a sudden. This is Carter, for crying out loud. “Thanks again. And thank Cristy for letting me steal time away from her.”

  His face turns somber. “No need to thank her. We broke up.”