Synopsis
Seventeen-year-old twins, Andrew and Andrea Morris, have always been close. They share everything—from their friends to a room—and they both enjoy star positions on their high school’s soccer teams. All’s right with the twins...or is it?
When new student Ryder Coltrane moves from Texas to their small New York town, he spins Andrew’s world upside down. All of Andrew’s past relationship troubles begin to make sense and his true feelings start to click into place after Ryder comes out to him. His friendship with Ryder turns secretively romantic, but secrets, they soon find out, are hard to keep. Once rumors start to fly, so-called friends turn on them, and the boys’ relationship turns into a bomb about to explode. But Andrew never expected it would be his own twin, Andrea, holding a lighter to ignite it.
Andy Squared
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Andy Squared
© 2012 By Jennifer Lavoie. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-794-3
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: September 2012
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editors: Lynda Sandoval and Stacia Seaman
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
Ackowledgments
This book would not be what it is without the help of Mom, Dad, and my sisters, Tiffany and Cassandra. Thank you for dealing with the weird one in the family! My deepest gratitude goes to Dr. Cappella. Without your class and encouragement, this novel might never have seen the light of day. It may have taken years, but I did it! I appreciate my friends and students who read the various drafts and commented kindly but critically. Last, but certainly not least, my wonderful editor, Lynda Sandoval. You rock! I couldn’t have asked for a better guide.
For my family and friends who put up with me while I wrote this.
Chapter One
The neon yellow ball rolled to a stop in front of Andrew. He leaned over and placed his hands on his knees, panting.
“Again.”
“Andrea,” he started, pausing to catch his breath. “We’re good. We have to get ready for school.” He heard a beep and saw the faint blue glow from her watch.
“We have ten minutes,” Andrea said, and put her hands on her hips. She stood between two orange cones, ready to defend her position. The harsh light from the barn floodlight lit up her face in the early, pre-dawn morning. She squinted against it and pushed a strand of her blond hair off her forehead.
Andrew groaned and straightened up, settling his foot under the ball and flipping it into the air. He juggled it on his knee for a moment before letting it rest back onto the ground. Why had he insisted on an early-morning practice? He hated mornings, and so did his twin, so why had they been out here since shortly after five thirty, running up and down the small field by the old barn, with Andrea pushing him like a drill sergeant? Because he’d missed the easiest goal at the last game. The keeper ran out of his box and left the net wide open, and Andrew missed. What an idiot.
He scowled at the ball and kicked it forward, dribbling it down the field toward Andrea. She moved her hands from her hips and crouched down, holding them in front of her.
“Focus, Andy,” she yelled. “Don’t think about that goal, just do it. It’s all over your face. You’re gonna freeze up if you keep thinking about it!”
Easier said than done, he thought, the ball passing back and forth between his feet. He glanced up at the makeshift goal and launched himself forward, sweeping out his left leg and sending the ball flying past Andrea, between the orange cones, and straight through.
“Good,” Andrea said as she retrieved the ball and set it on the ground in front of her. She kicked and sent it flying back to the other half of the field where it hit the side of the barn with a loud thunk. “One more time.”
Andrew pushed his bangs off his forehead and wiped the sweat off with his hand. “You should be keeper for the girls’ team,” he said, deftly changing the subject, hoping to distract her from the practice and end it early.
“I don’t like just standing there. I want to be running, you know that. No glory in standing still.”
“You’d save the game,” he pointed out, ambling back to the barn.
“I want to win the game, not save it. Besides, then we won’t be the same position, you know?”
Andrew shrugged and picked up the ball. “It’s not like we’re on the same team anyway, so what’s the difference? You’re good at it.”
Andrea flashed him an annoyed glare and picked up the cones. She didn’t respond to him as they put the equipment away and shut off the floodlight. The field plunged into darkness and the two carefully made their way back to the house at the base of the hill.
Just as they reached the back door the alarm on Andrea’s watch went off. She pressed the button, silencing it, and they crept inside. Upstairs they could hear movement from their parents’ bedroom, and the coffeepot started to percolate on the kitchen counter.
Once in their shared room, Andrea nudged the door shut with her foot and flopped down on her bed face-first with a groan. “I’m so tired. I’m never doing that again,” she said. Her voice came out muffled from the thick blankets.
Andrew knelt down and pulled out the bin under his bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved polo. Yet again he bemoaned the fact that the renovations to his room still were not completed. I really want my space back. As he stood, the door swung open with too much force and hit the wall.
Their mother stood in the doorway, putting her earrings on, with a smile plastered to her face. “Breakfast will be ready soon. I’m making pancakes this morning.”
Andrea ignored her and pulled the covers over her head while Andrew gathered his clothing. “I get the shower first.”
“Take your time,” Andrea grumbled from beneath the covers.
The bathroom stood just across the hall from the bedroom. Spread across the nearly nonexistent counter space was Andrea’s makeup kit, which Andrew pushed aside as he set his things down. He grabbed a towel and got into the shower.
By the time he finished and had gotten dressed, Andrea was just getting up again. He went downstairs to the kitchen and heard the bathroom door slam behind him.
“Morning, Dad,” Andrew said as he sat down in his chair and grabbed some pancakes off the steaming stack.
His father sat across from him, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper. “Morning,” he said without looking up. “It’s getting cold out. We’re going to have to start the woodstove soon. Maybe later this week. We need more wood, though.”
“Okay. I don’t have practice after school tomorrow.”
“All right. Tomorrow, then. Do you think one of your friends could come and help load up the woodshed?”
“I’ll ask,” Andrew said, and sipped his orange juice. He doubted any of them would volunteer, though. No doubt Andrea would find something to do, too.
“Did Andrea get up yet?” His mother stepped into the kitchen holding her purse. Sh
e set it down on the counter and lightly swatted her husband on the shoulder. “I told you a thousand times, no reading the paper at the table. You’re going to get food all over it and I won’t be able to read it later.”
“She’s in the shower. She’ll be down in a few minutes,” Andrew answered in response to his mother’s question, ignoring the light admonition she gave to his father.
“Good. That girl’s going to drive me crazy one of these days.”
“Doesn’t she already, dear?” His father didn’t look up from his paper, but Andrew could see the hint of a grin on his face.
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”
Andrea came down to the kitchen a few minutes later, just as Andrew finished his breakfast. She poured herself a cup of coffee, which earned a glare from her mother.
“You better hurry and eat or you’re going to be late. Coffee is not enough to keep you going until lunch.”
“I’m not going to be late, Mom. Chill,” Andrea said with a flippant wave of her hand. Andrew brought his dishes to the counter and set them there, pouring himself a small cup of coffee.
“Just eat your breakfast.”
The rest of the short meal passed mostly in silence, with Andrew standing at the counter, warming his hands on the cup.
“Oh, Andrew. I need you to give these forms to Mrs. Conway in the office. They’re for the school committee. She’ll know which one.”
“Okay,” he said, setting the papers to the side.
Andrew grabbed Andrea’s last piece of bacon and ran for the stairs before she could stab at him with a fork. He heard her frustrated yell all the way in the bathroom. A short time later he had brushed his teeth, fixed his hair, and was downstairs with his book and soccer bags. Andrea’s things were already at the foot of the stairs. As an afterthought, he shoved his mother’s papers in his book bag and zipped it shut.
“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” they both said as they ran for the truck.
“Drive carefully.”
“Remember to hand those forms in for me, Andrew. They’re due today.”
It was cool outside, which did not surprise Andrew. He took a deep breath and let it out; he saw his breath in the air and a thin layer of frost covering the windshield of his old, gray pickup.
“Can I drive?” Andrea asked sweetly.
“No,” he replied without hesitation, almost before she was able to finish her sentence.
It was the same routine every morning between the two of them. Andrew wouldn’t let his sister drive his truck, and even though she asked every day, she never really pushed. They tossed their bags into the back, climbed into the truck, and slid across the cloth seats. To Andrew’s immense relief, the truck turned over and started on the first try.
Chapter Two
Cars and trucks only filled half of the student parking lot by the time the twins arrived at school. Andrew parked toward the back where most of the trucks were and they climbed out with their bags. Andrea waved to him and headed inside out of the cold, making a beeline toward a group of her friends. Andrew waved back and went straight to his locker.
After struggling with the combination lock for a few minutes and finally giving the locker a well-placed kick, it popped open and the contents shifted onto the floor.
Andrew stared at the pile and sighed before picking up the mess of papers. He shoved them back in the locker. I should probably clean that at some point, he thought. As he grabbed his math and history books, he heard a high-pitched shriek from close behind him, and he cringed.
“Andy! Hi! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you this morning.” Cynthia, varsity cheerleader and current girlfriend, came running over and threw her arms around him from behind. He fought a grimace and somehow managed a smile before turning to face her.
“Just got here.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I missed you. I’m sorry I had to cancel our plans last night. My parents had to go out of town, and like, they said I had to watch Justin. Little brat got sick,” she said, making quotations in the air with her fingers.
“It’s fine. I didn’t mind. I hope he’s feeling better.”
“He’s fine. But listen, you should come over tonight, okay? My parents are going to watch his tournament and won’t be home.”
Again, he fought another grimace. “I’ve got soccer practice after school, and then I made plans with Dad, sorry. Chores and all that, you know how it is. Can’t get out of it.”
“You’re not even going to try?”
“Can’t. He needs to get it done, and I already offered to help. I can’t just back out on him.”
“Oh…well, maybe later then…”
Andrew nodded and shouldered his bag. “Look, I gotta get to class. I’ll see you at lunch.”
Before she could protest, he took off in the direction of the office, relieved to get away. As he walked and waved at his classmates, he debated ending it with Cynthia. It’s been two months. That’s gotta be long enough. But how could he let her down without causing some sort of a scene? He snorted and shook his head. Breaking up with her was going to cause a scene no matter what. Cynthia loved drama. She lived for it. I’ll wait for the season to end. She’ll be less distracting then.
Andrew arrived at the office and opened the door. The room was pleasantly warm compared to the cooler hallways, and much quieter. Andrew approached the front desk and leaned over it. Next to him stood a boy he didn’t recognize. After a cursory glance he ignored him and pulled out the forms his mother had given him.
“Hello, Andrew. What do you have there?” the secretary asked, a bright smile on her face.
“Some papers Mom wanted me to hand in. Forms or something.”
“Oh, I know what they are. I’ll take those, thank you.”
“I’m finished with these, uh, Mrs. Conway,” the boy next to Andrew said, leaning over the desk and letting the papers drop down in front of the secretary. His arm knocked into Andrew’s as he did it, and Andrew knew it was on purpose. What a jerk, he thought as he pulled his arm out of the way and turned to leave.
“Sorry,” the boy said, turning to face Andrew. He smiled and Andrew stepped back, caught off guard by the intense green of his eyes.
“See you later, Mrs. Conway,” Andrew finally said with a harsh intake of air.
“Bye, Andrew. Okay, Mr. Coltrane, here is your class schedule…”
Whatever else she said to the boy, Andrew didn’t hear as the heavy office door slipped shut with a soft schik behind him. He navigated the halls by slipping between the crowds of students between the office and first-period history on the other side of the building.
So he’s new here, Andrew thought as he walked. Wonder where he’s from. The warning bell for first period interrupted his thoughts and he picked up his pace through the crowded, noisy hallway. Students loitered by their lockers and in doorways, greeting friends, laughing and joking. Someone was pushed against the lockers and an argument broke out, but a teacher stood nearby and broke it up. One small freshman fell into him as he passed by; Andrew caught him.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Andy!” the smaller teen said.
“No worries.” Andrew gave him a smile and shrugged before ducking into his classroom.
Mrs. Appleby was not there yet. He moved to the back of the room and the last row where he sat and dropped into his seat. He piled his books in front of him and opened his notebook. His friend Sarah was sprawled in the seat in front of him, her head down on the desk. Her breathing deepened, already asleep. Andrew reached over with a mischievous grin and nudged her shoulder. “Sarah, wake up.”
She grunted in response and pushed at his hand.
“Come on, you can’t be sleeping before class, you cheat.”
“Andy,” Sarah whined. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, stretching, and leaned back to rest her head on his desk. Her long, chocolate-colored hair pooled there. He flicked a strand off his book. “I had to study for Mr. Jackson’s calc test last night. Do you know wh
at time I finally managed to fall asleep?”
“No.”
“Guess,” she demanded.
“One?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.
“No! Try three. Three in the morning!” She groaned again and sat up, yawning. “I need coffee. No. You know what would be great? If they made caffeine an injection, like a drug? Yeah, I’d do it. Straight to the vein.” She sighed heavily. “Sad thing is I’m still going to fail that test, even with all the studying. I hate calculus. What a waste of time.”
Andrew laughed and shook his head as Mrs. Appleby walked in. “You’re terrible.”
“All right, class, let’s settle down. Take your seats. Josh, get off your desk. We have a new student joining us today. Please be nice and welcome him, and none of the pranks you pulled last year, Michael,” the teacher said, standing in front of her desk.
“Aww, Mrs. Appleby! No idea what you’re talking about,” Michael responded, and the class laughed.
“I’m sure you don’t. Ryder, take a seat in the back next to Andrew.”
Andrew looked up at the sound of his name and saw the student from the office walking down the aisle toward him. Sarah straightened up in her seat and giggled, then leaned to her right and started whispering to Karina, who leaned across the aisle to get her attention.
“This my seat?”
Andrew nodded. “No other one open.”
“I’m Ryder Coltrane.”
“Andrew Morris,” he replied. He noticed a small accent, but he couldn’t place it exactly. It sounded Southern, but which state, he couldn’t tell. “Where you from?”
“Texas. Just moved up last week.”
Andrew looked at him, curious. The sound of his voice enticed him, and he asked another question to hear more of it. “Texas? And you moved up here, to New York? Talk about a change. Must be a hell of a lot colder up here.”
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