Students of the Game

by Sarah Bumpus

  “Nothing, I, uh…I just thought you didn’t eat like that.”

  “What do mean?”

  Embarrassed, I answer, “I heard a rumor that you were on some kind of weird diet. That’s all.”

  “Oh, let me guess steak and eggs, three meals a day…or something ridiculous like that?” Bryce grins, then before shoveling a forkful of syrup drowned hash browns into his mouth, he says, “You can’t believe everything you hear, Joy.”

  Devon seems to be enjoying this breakfast more than I should be. I suspect it’s the company of our surprise guest, because he says, “Hey mom, since it’s Joy’s birthday and Bryce is here and all, got any good stories? And by good, I mean embarrassing?”

  “Hmm…I have something better than stories.” Mom stands up with a mischievous look in her eyes that by no means can imply anything but, good. She leaves, and shortly returns with a ratty old shoebox. “I have pictures!”

  Oh, no. Thanks a bunch little brother. I picture myself tracing the mouth piece of his trumpet with hot sauce the next time he’s not around.

  For the next half hour or so, my mom digs through the box and passes around pictures, telling little stories about where they were taken, and what the occasion was. There are some of not just Bryce and I, but Devon as well. Easter egg hunts, sledding in the winter, building sandcastles at the beach…there is even one of us from that infamous washed out Halloween night. I smile when I see how ridiculous my ‘mer-vamp’ costume was, and find myself actually enjoying all this nostalgia that’s being stirred up on my birthday.

  Suddenly, Devon reaches in the box and pulls one out. He pretends to cover his eyes “Oh, gross! Joy and Bryce in the bath tub together!”

  “What?” I exclaim in mortification, and snatch the picture out of his hand. Bryce looks like he’s about to choke on a mouthful of pancake. Devon starts to laugh when I look down at it. The photo is really of Bryce and I together in a kiddie pool, with bathing suits on.

  “Jerk,” I say, toss the picture down then peg Devon with a clump of eggs.

  “Nice arm you’ve got there. Must’ve had a good teacher,” Bryce jokes.

  “Yeah, and I’m not afraid to use it!” I retort in Devon’s direction.

  My mom interrupts our shindig by getting up and saying she’s going to be late if she doesn’t start cleaning up. Bryce looks up at the wall clock. “Crap! Is it really that late? Better go and replace those pads, Joy. I have to work at noon!” He takes a swig of juice, quickly stands up, and thanks my mom for the food.

  Since it’s my birthday, my mom forces Devon to help her clean up, though secretly I’m almost positive it’s because of the bath tub comment. I follow Bryce back outside, and breathe in the wonderful hint of spring. I feel the heat of the sun absorbed by the asphalt, penetrating the soles of my slippers, as I sit down on the edge of my displaced tire. Bryce continues where he left off. He picks up a tool and starts to scrape at some rust.

  “I didn’t know you were working, where at?” I ask.

  He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but answers, “Art’s Auto Parts and Service, I have some hours after school and weekends, working the register in the store. My dad doesn’t want me to do any spring sports, to avoid unnecessary injuries. I’m cool with it though. I get a good discount on stuff for my Jeep.” He looks at me and smiles. “And I’m not surprised you didn’t know that. You’ve probably never even been in there.”

  I smirk at him when he turns back towards my car.

  Bryce slides out both of the old brake pads and exclaims, “Damn, Joy! These things are toast. You could have gotten hurt.” He tosses them aside in disgust.

  Don’t know why he’d care about that. Suddenly I feel the urge to know why Bryce is really here. “Can I ask you something, Bryce?”

  “Sure.” He says in the process of applying some kind of goop around the new pads.

  “You know how you said back in the house, that you can’t always believe what you hear?”

  “What about it?”

  “Well obviously you heard about that stupid fight Missy and I had, right? It’s just that some of the things she said, made me wonder if you think I’m as pathetic as she does.” I pause, and look down at my lap. “You always act so different when we’re alone. I guess I just don’t know what to believe.”

  Bryce stops toying with the car and exhales slowly. He comes over and sits down next to me. Reaching into his back pocket, Bryce pulls out his wallet, and hands me a dog eared piece of folded cardstock. I open it and realize it’s the same photograph that he had posted to his Facebook page a few years ago, the one of us standing on my porch, with him in his Batman shirt. He points to the t-shirt and begins, “When I’m behind a football helmet, it’s like it’s my super hero mask. I’m a totally different person when it’s on. People see me putting on a show and the people I hang around with want to be a part of that. They don’t know, or understand the real me. I don’t think anyone does.”

  He sighs and continues, “Look, Joy. I do care about you and I don’t want to see you hurt. I know I’m the last person on earth you would believe to hear say that, but it’s the truth. I know I screwed up in the past, and criticizing you for getting involved with Carver-that wasn’t my place. I know you can take care of yourself, and I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make it up to you. I don’t know what it will take to prove that to you.”

  He looks away and I let his words soak in for a moment, “I understand…” and I think I do. In a way it’s similar to what I’ve been doing my whole life, trying to meet the expectations of others. I’ve focused so hard on living for them and not allowing myself to just be me. I want to laugh at the absurdity of his comment about criticizing me for seeing Carver. I should have listened when he tried to warn me. If he wasn’t lying about Carver, then why did he lie about not drinking?

  I decide to ask. “Why did you tell me you didn’t drink?”

  “What?” Bryce snaps his head back in my direction.

  “I heard that you got wasted at a football party and-”

  Bryce interrupts me, “Who told you that, Carver?” He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “Yes, I got drunk, but it wasn’t by choice, and I said a bunch of stupid things that I don’t even remember saying.”

  So, the comment he made about being in love with me…that must be one of those ‘stupid things’. I knew it. Why would I even think for a second that it would be, true. Why am I even questioning it, anyway? Do I want it to be true?

  “What about you and Missy having…history? The question comes out of my mouth without thinking, but it’s as if the answer will solidify my belief in what he’s been telling me, and I don’t regret asking it.

  Bryce’s face turns to stone and his shoulders tighten up. “What kind of history?”

  I find myself blushing. Ugh, he’s a guy… how can he not know what I mean? “Um, you know…” I fumble to get the words out.

  “You mean…like sexually.” Bryce runs his hand through his hair, and I think it’s odd that he almost looks relaxed. “I guess not many guys would admit this, but I’ve never had sex with Missy.”

  “Oh.” I start to feel the doubt I had about him melt away. “Well, me either, with Carver…if you really want to know.”

  It feels so good to be talking to him that I’m about to confess what happened Friday night, but Bryce changes my mind when he says, “Good, because if he messes with you, I will break his goddamn neck.”

  Usually guys say this in a joking manner, however, Bryce does not. I remember that he needs to stay out of trouble to keep his scholarship and I’d hate to see him lose it because of me. He breaks my train of thought when his demeanor softens and he asks, “So have you then, with anyone?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Bryce! Seriously, you’re asking me this?” Then realize it’s my own my own fault for bringing it up. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my face towards the sky, “Yes, once…with Ben Sweeney!”

  Bryce starts to laugh and I slap him on
the shoulder. “Oh, please…who was your first? She couldn’t have been that much cooler.”

  He looks at me a moment, then his eyes fall to the ground, before opening his mouth to speak.

  Is he blushing?

  Suddenly, my mom comes around the side of the house and sees us sitting, my car still unfinished. “Bryce, honey, I thought you had to be at work soon?” she yells as she’s loading up her car with her own work paraphernalia.

  Whatever he was going to say is quickly pushed aside when he checks his phone for the time. “Crap! Joy, I don’t have time to finish this today. By the time I get out of work it will be dark.” He jumps up and starts collecting his tools.

  “But we have school tomorrow!”

  Hastily tossing his stuff in the back of his Jeep he says, “I’ll pick you up.”

  “What? No…it’s cool. I’ll call Farah.”

  “Nah, don’t put her out. It’s my fault, I insist.”

  Every time we argue I feel like I get weaker and weaker, giving in more easily. I agree to it without further dispute. I start to hand him back his photo but he puts his hand up. “Keep it. I didn’t see that one in your mom’s shoebox.” Bryce quickly jumps into his Jeep, pulls into reverse and backs up towards me. He sticks his head out the window and yells, “Happy Birthday, Joy!” before gunning it down the driveway.

  “See you in the morning, Bryce,” I call, but he’s already halfway down the street.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “You should have seen the look on everyone’s faces when you jumped out of that Jeep this morning!” This is how Farah greets me Monday at lunch, excitedly slamming her tray down, causing her orange to roll halfway across the table.

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I pretty much expected that. Nothing goes unnoticed in this school.” Especially the fact that Carver is absent today. I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or not as I picture that menacing nightstick and the threats from Carver’s dad.

  “Well, considering your track record this year…” she jokes and I stick my tongue out at her.

  “Aren’t you hot?” I ask, noticing the baggy sweater she’s sporting, cinched with a belt and leggings underneath. It’s a rather warm day for the beginning of April and I’m actually in a t-shirt and denim capris.

  Farah shrugs it off by saying she’s a slave to fashion. While we are still the only ones at the table, she asks, “So what is up with you two, anyway?”

  “Nothing, I guess we’re sort of friends again,” I confess, “can’t say the same about Seth though.” I look over towards the table that Seth has moved to since our fight last semester. He now sits with a couple guys from his math class, and some juniors I recognize, but can’t remember their names.

  “I have talked to him you know,” Farah says, in a sympathetic tone. “I understand where he’s coming from, getting picked on or whatever by those guys, just for being himself. I trust your judgment on Bryce, but Seth? He’s like you,” she smiles. “He’s really quite stubborn. I don’t know what it will take to get him to come around.”

  “Have you told him about Mystery Man?” I ask, then throw in, “Whom, I still haven’t met.”

  Farah laughs at the moniker then frowns as she decides on how to respond. “Yeah, he knows. Maybe things would be different for us if he would just admit to me how he feels. It’s like he lacks the confidence to think he’s good enough for me.”

  “How would telling you make a difference?”

  “Well, then I would know that he’s putting his heart on the line…Like, taking the risk to win my own heart, completely.”

  A few other classmates join us and we leave the conversation where it’s at. On the way out of the cafeteria, we toss our lunch remains in the garbage bins, and Farah’s appears mostly untouched. She turns to me. “So, Joy? You want to meet the mystery man…and his name happens to be Derek by the way…then why don’t you come down to Providence with me this Friday?”

  Farah tells me her sister is on Spring Break and this fact results in an array of parties to choose from. After what happened at Carver’s this past weekend and our mini heart-to-heart at lunch, I’m jonesing for some quality girl time, so I agree.

  “Whoo hoo! You are going to have a freaking blast!” Farah yells, interrupting my thoughts, and causing those in close proximity to turn and see who’s putting on a show.

  “Totally,” I agree, somewhat half-heartedly. We part ways, with Farah happily skipping down the art wing.

  Farah has to stay after school to edit some pictures for Yearbook, so I’m left with the option of taking the bus home with Devon, or catching a ride with Bryce. Choosing the lesser of two evils, I choose Bryce. I catch up with him after final bell, and we walk down the hall in step. I feel like the stares coming from other students could singe holes right through my skin, they are that intense. When we pass the gym, Missy is hanging around near the door talking with two other girls. I assume she’s waiting for Bryce, but he keeps on walking past her without a second glace. I look back at her and all three of them are looking in our direction, laughing.

  “Um, did you need to talk to Missy about something? I can wait outside…” I say slowing down, pointing in her general direction.

  “Nope,” is all he says and doesn’t break his stride, I have to jog a few steps to catch back up.

  Bryce roars out of the parking lot and flips the stereo on. A classic rock song I recognize has just started, and Bryce cranks it up, starting to sing along. I give him a funny look that only causes him to smile and sing louder, not to mention, more out of tune.

  “What? Is my voice that bad?” he jokes.

  “No, I just didn’t think you listened to this kind of music.”

  “Why because I play football?” he says sarcastically but still smiling.

  I smile to myself and lower my window, letting the breeze blow loose strands of hair about my face. We ride the rest of the way enjoying the music, and the warm weightless feeling of leaving the school and all its drama behind for the rest of the day.

  When we arrive at my house, my mom’s car is there, so I don’t ask Bryce to stop at the mailbox. That little metal carrier pigeon, is soon to be delivering my fate about Brown. I expect it any day now. “I’ll be back,” I say to Bryce, as I jump out of the car. “Gotta go check something.” I take off running towards the house.

  I open the door and my heart is beating fast, a mixture of the quick burst of exertion and anxiety. I pause a moment to catch my breath.

  “Joy? Is that you?” my mom calls excitedly, as soon as I enter. “It’s here!”

  I run to the kitchen. She’s standing at the bar, and presents me with a bulky envelope that I know is good news. Ripping it open, I pretty much maul the envelope in the process.

  Dear Miss. Anderson,

  Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you that you have been admitted….

  I don’t even read the rest. I just start screaming, which in turn, causes my mom to start screaming too. I run around the side of the bar, with the letter flapping like a victory flag. We are in the middle of a big embrace when Bryce comes bolting through the door, with a fearful look on his face, “Is everything alright? I heard-”

  “I got in, Bryce!” I exclaim, pulling away from my mom. I run towards him, letter still in hand. “I got in! I got in to Brown!”

  Euphorically, I jump up and Bryce catches me in a hug. I wrap my legs around his waist as he hugs me back. The small part of me that is not entirely consumed with happiness, realizes that I’m in an intimate embrace with Bryce Colton right now. My eyes briefly flicker to his, questioning his reaction, but the only feeling I can gauge is his happiness for me.

  “That’s awesome! Congrats, Joy. Let me see.” He puts me back on my feet. I hand him the letter and we both walk back to the kitchen. Bryce looks over the letter and makes a big deal about it, reading portions of it out loud to us. We are all chattering with excitement when Devon comes in from the school bus.

  “Hey, what’s wi
th all the commotion guys?” he asks, looking left out.

  I laugh, and give him a big hug and kiss on the cheek, and show him the letter.

  My mom takes out a pitcher and starts to mix up a packet of pink lemonade to celebrate. I’m pretty sure it’s an unintentional beverage choice, but it makes me think of the day my dad died, and how it was just the four of us here when we found out. It’s not a melancholy feeling that the drink invokes, in fact it makes me believe that part of him is here with me joining in the celebration. I smile and raise my glass towards the air in toast.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  BRYCE

  Do you ever get an urge to do something that’s so strong, that it consumes you completely, and you’re pretty sure you’ll die if you don’t do it?

  Yeah well, take my word for it, you won’t.

  I’m sitting at the breakfast bar absentmindedly chatting with Devon, watching Joy lean over her acceptance letter, with her mom at her side. It’s so awesome to see her finally able to relax, knowing her fate. She smiles down at the paper when her mom points to something printed at the bottom, and I just can’t stop thinking about how much I want to kiss her. I could just get up right now, walk over to her, and pull her towards me. I bet her lips feel softer than every single one of my mom’s damn rose-petals, put together.

  As if feeling my gaze on her, she suddenly looks up. Our eyes meet while her mom continues to talk. In that moment, I go from feeling the utmost happiness for my old friend, to the sad realization that with this letter, comes the official announcement that it’s over.

  I’m losing…no…I’ve already lost. She’ll be at Brown and I’ll be in Virginia. It would be pointless to tell her how I feel because of that, and I know now, I’ll never have the chance to win her back.

  “What do you think, Bryce?” Devon’s voice brings me back.