Woah. Is Brett flirting with me?
Maybe he’s just being nice. Although, his hug today did feel like biting into a chocolate chip cookie after only ever having oatmeal raisin your entire life.
This birthday attention is a little too much for me to handle right now. I shove Brett’s note in the back of my notebook and attempt to concentrate on the numbers and symbols on the board.
***
I SET MY PIZZA DOWN on the table and join Veronica and Jimmy. Veronica brought her lunch and Jimmy managed to arrive before the lunch crowd and bought a salad and orange juice. Gross.
“How was Calc?” Veronica asks me as I sit down. I begin dumping packets of parmesan on my slice of pepperoni.
“Not too bad. I still understand everything we’re working on, so that’s a bonus,” I say lightly. “Hey, Brett asked if we can all go to his game next Friday. It’s at 7,” I announce to the table.
“Seriously?” Veronica asks incredulously.
“Come on, it’s Brett. He’s our friend and he wants us all to go. Plus, I’ve never actually seen a lacrosse game. It’s been three years and we’ve never been to one of his games. It could be fun.”
“Yeah, I’ll go. It’s the polite thing to do, especially if he asked us to come. Plus, Ramona’s right, we haven’t been to any of his games and he always comes to see me in the school plays,” Jimmy chimes in.
“V, don’t you have to go to the game anyway to cheer?”
“No, we don’t cheer for the lacrosse games. And yeah, I guess I’m in too,” Veronica answers with a sigh, no doubt bummed at having to spend her free time at yet another sporting event. “Let’s go get cheese fries after. I’ve been craving some like crazy.”
“Cheese fries? You mean you, like, don’t wanna go to Jet’s party and, like, get completely wasted, like, instead?” I ask shocked, using my best “Air-Head” voice. They both burst out laughing.
“A: you’re so bad at that and B: Can you even imagine us at Jet McCoy’s house?” Jimmy asks through laughs. We’re not too big on parties. It’s not that we don’t ever go to parties, we just prefer to watch movies, play video games and go out to eat. I guess we’re geeky that way.
“I mean, I dunno why you’re laughing.” I continue mimicking the accent. “We’ll watch Brett throw some balls around then, like, go get totally smashed and like–”
Suddenly, their laughter dies out and they’re looking at something behind me. I turn over my right shoulder to see what they’re staring at and––it’s Ryan. He’s holding his tray wearing the same confused but amused look on his face from this morning. I freeze waiting for him to say something, praying that I don’t have orange pizza grease all over my face.
His eyebrows pinch together. “Jet again, huh?” A smirk spreads across his face.
Instead of words coming out of my mouth, I nervously smile and lift my shoulders as if to say, you got me again.
Before things get even more awkward, Brett sets down his tray loudly, breaking the trance we had all fallen into. “Hey, Ryan, what’s good?” Brett usually sits with the lacrosse players and only sits with us occasionally. I’m sure he’s joining us today because it’s my birthday. He quickly and politely adds, “Want to sit with us?”
Ryan looks from Brett to our group, questioningly. I can practically see the gears turning in his brain trying to figure out why Brett is sitting with us, not knowing that we’re all friends. He recovers and says, “Hey, Brett. Nah, I’m going to sit with the guys. See you later. Later, Scott.”
We all mumble “later” almost in unison.
“So, are you guys coming to the game on Friday?” he asks excitedly, flipping his adorable tufts of curly hair to the side.
“Yeah, for sure. We’ll come check it out,” Jimmy assures him.
Brett flashes his award-winning smile that he earned from two years of braces during middle school. His eyes twinkle, although, I don’t think that has anything to do with the braces. He looks genuinely happy. He catches me admiring him and I beam at him in return. Normally, if a guy caught me ogling I would look away and pretend it never happened. Right now, with Brett, it’s almost like I wanted him to catch me.
Fortunately, I don’t have time to overthink this because he uses the same “Air-Head” accent to say, “Awesome. And then I hear we’re, like, getting totally smashed after, right?” I roll my eyes and we all laugh.
There are very few things I cherish more than laughing with the people I love.
I’m glad we’re all sitting together today.
Brett Dixon
Friday 9/27
I have Free Period right now so I guess it’s as good a time as any to start this thing. I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Chan: That Brett Dixon is so responsible.
I had a good morning. I saw Bean fixing her tea before class and we talked for a minute. It made me realize how much I miss her, Jimmy and Veronica. Senior year makes you look back, I guess.
Once I began to play lacrosse I started hanging out with the dudes instead of them. Not because I don’t like them...just because things change. It’s not that I’m more popular than them, either. Okay, that’s not true. I don’t like admitting it because it makes me sound like an dick ass but...I am more popular.
They focus on getting good grades and hang out in their small group. Not that that’s a bad thing. I just drifted apart. The team became my main focus and soon I was going to all the weekend parties and hooking up with girls. It’s all a part of the sports playing thing here at school. Not that I’ve hooked up with tons of girls, but a good handful. Whatever, that doesn’t really matter.
Anyway, today at lunch I sat with them because it’s Ramona’s birthday. There was just something about her this morning. Maybe it was a “birthday glow” or something like that glow that pregnant women get. She looked so damn cute. Maybe it was the glitter she had all over her skirt. Or maybe I just miss her. I don’t know.
Seeing her this morning was almost like seeing her again after a long journey. You know when you leave for vacation and you have fun but by the time it’s over you’re ready to go back home? Then when you get home, you get to sleep in your own bed again? That’s what it was like seeing Ramona. Hugging her was like coming home after a long vacation. That probably makes no sense. It’s really hard to explain. It’s just a feeling I’ve never really felt before.
She made me say something ten times fast. It’s a thing we all used to do when we were younger. Whenever something that came up that was tricky or fun to say, one of us would always yell, “say that ten times fast!” It was really funny when she did it to me today. I’m sure I seem like an idiot, writing all this.
I remember she went through this phase in 6th or 7th grade where she would always wear a fake yellow flower in her hair. I made fun her for it, telling her that all the bees were going to start chasing her around at recess. She wore it anyway. She wore it so often that it became a part of her. It softened her normally dark, almost black eyes. When we were outside and the sun hit her, it turned her eyes deep gold. That’s so random. I can’t believe I remember that.
Wow...I just spaced out for like 5 minutes, having dirty thoughts about Ramona. Never had those before.
Anyway, then Ryan showed up at our table for a second and I think he was surprised to see me eating with them. It’s funny when someone thinks they know you but they really don’t know you at all.
Then again, I have no idea what Ryan was doing at the table either. He was looking and smiling at Ramona and that could only mean one thing...and I refuse to believe that. She deserves better than Ryan.
CHAPTER 3
VERONICA AND I ARE IN Gym running laps around the football field when she decides to make conversation. “Ugh, Daphne was such a nightmare in cheer practice yesterday. I don’t know what her problem is. She was trying to change the choreography and tell Coach how to do her job. Do you think her dad really is the devil? Because I swear, she really is the spawn of Satan.”
Veronica always calls her fellow cheerleader, Daphne Kurchovsky, an evil troll. Mostly because she is and always has been, an evil troll. I’m certain she was born that way. Daphne and I used to be friends until she teased Brett and cruelly refused to dance with him at our first dance in middle school (he was going through his awkward stage). I brutally told her off and we haven’t been friends since. I can honestly say that it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. She gives me trouble every now and then but it’s because she’s still bitter that I stood up to her.
On the outside, Daphne Kurchovsky is the exact opposite of a troll. She has marvelous black braided hair that falls half way down her back. Sometimes she wraps her braids in a knot at the top of her head, making her brown eyes and high cheekbones stand out against flawless black skin. She looks like a model, down to her perfectly sized breasts that match her silky milk chocolate-y legs that look like velvet to touch.
“V...you know–I can’t talk...and run...at the–same time...I’ll die.” I manage to say between puffs of air, my sides already aching. I hate running more than I detest brussels sprouts, Jet and Daphne.
Combined.
I don’t think a person should run unless they’re being chased.
Veronica, on the other hand, is a naturally good runner. If she wasn’t so busy with cheerleading she would definitely be on the track and field team. Veronica inherited super fantastic genes, (not unlike Daphne). She has long, natural, lighter blonde hair (comparable to Jimmy’s, of course) and thin legs that go for days. She’s incredibly tall, which is why she’s always at the bottom of the cheerleading pyramid flinging the smallest cheerleaders into the air.
“Hey! Look.” She points to the guy’s gym class coming out on to the field.
They are dressed for flag football, an unnecessarily, monstrously, competitive gym activity, in my experience. We have gender segregated gym classes, thankfully.
I groan.
The last thing I need is for boys to watch me run. I’m pathetic. Veronica could have lapped me by now but she’s a good friend and always lets me set the pace. She knows if I were alone, I would give up and walk the entire two laps.
I straighten up my back and start jogging a little faster. I’m irritated that I even have to try harder now that boys are watching. I know I shouldn’t care, but I definitely do.
Honestly, I don’t mind being out of shape.
I just don’t want anyone to know I’m out of shape.
After we finish our laps, Coach Price throws out soccer balls for us to kick back and forth. Veronica and I are passing it to each other near the fifteen-yard line. We stay close enough that we can still have a conversation. Not a private conversation, but a conversation all the same.
“Do you wanna sleep over next weekend after the game?” Veronica asks.
“Yeah, just remind me. I have to ask my mom but I know she’ll say yes.”
“Cool. We can stay up all night and play Mario Kart.”
Ever since Jimmy got a N64 from a secondhand store a million years ago, we’ve always played Mario Kart when I’m over. It’s sort of “our thing,” even though I’m still really bad it. Veronica is pretty good but Jimmy is the best. When we were in middle school, Brett and I would both go over after school and all four of us would play.
Veronica kicks the ball making it fly into the air.
I try to be all David Beckham about it and jump to head-butt it but instead, it smacks me above my right eye and flies to the side.
Veronica, being the friend that she is, immediately starts cracking up. Like, grabbing her stomach and bending over cackling.
I grab the right side of my forehead.
“Ow! That hurt!” I yell at her. It doesn’t stifle her one bit. I turn to look for the ball but Brett is already running up to me, soccer ball in hand.
I notice Daphne glaring at me. I just got hit in the face and she’s looking at me like she wants my head on a spike instead of pointing and laughing like I would expect her to.
Why is she looking at me like that?
“A for effort, Bean,” Brett sincerely commends. “Are you okay?” He raises his thumb to gently rub the tender spot on my forehead. His touch makes the spot tingle even more and makes my heart beat quicken. My face flushes pink in response.
“I’ll be fine. Just embarrassed.” I take the ball from his hands and cradle it against my chest. I glance around to see if anyone else saw.
Oh great.
Jet is pointing and laughing at me from a distance. My entire body caves inward and I groan. Brett follows my gaze then looks back at me. I avoid his eyes, looking at the ground and rubbing the white painted grass with my foot.
“Don’t worry about it, Bean.” He puts his arm around my shoulders and squeezes. When he lets go, he gives a cold look in the direction of Jet, who I suddenly notice is standing right next to Ryan with an unreadable expression on his face.
When Brett starts walking away, I try to catch Ryan’s gaze but he looks away before I can. Coach Price blows her whistle and signals for us to bring it in.
The boys go their way and we go ours.
***
AFTER SCHOOL, I CAUTIOUSLY MOVE my head out of my car trunk after throwing my bag and books in. I nearly jump out of my skin when I notice there’s someone standing right next to me. It’s not until after I heatedly say, “Jeez Louise, creep much?” that I realize the creeper is Ryan.
“Oh, sorry. Is it a bad time?” he politely asks.
“No. Sorry,” I tell him quickly, noticing how rude I was. I look down at my giant saddle shoes. “I’m fine. You just scared the crap out of me. It’s all good.” I look up at him.
“I have a favor to ask you.” He sticks his hands in the pockets of his khakis, his stance firm and confident with his shoulders pulled back and legs wide.
My heart skips a beat in anticipation.
“Uh, okay. Is something wrong?” I ask nervously, my heart rate picking up simply because he’s talking to me.
He flashes me his grin. “No, no, nothing like that. I was just going to ask if you could give me a ride home. If not, it’s okay.”
“Did you walk to school today?” I ask abruptly. It’s a fifteen minute drive from me to school and he lives an extra five minute drive away from me...
Not that I’ve counted actual minutes.
“No, I took the bus. The closest it stops to my house is by your neighborhood.”
“Oh. Right.” I’m such an idiot. I shake my head and slap my palm to me forehead. “Duh.”
“My car is in the shop and I missed the bus. I mean, I could even walk from your house, it’s no big deal if you can’t take me all the way.”
Ryan has a black Mustang. I don’t know anything about cars but I know that his is new, shiny, well taken care of and is indeed, sexy. Or maybe it’s him driving it that makes it sexy. I hear girls swooning over it every now and then in the hallways. That car solidifies his status.
“No, no. It’s fine. I can take you home,” I say, a little too eager. I’m thrilled and terrified at the same time. I feel the corners of my mouth start to turn up.
Be cool, Ramona. Be cool.
“Do you know what’s wrong with your car?”
In my attempt to “be cool,” I fling my keys up in the air to catch them.
Except, I don’t and they slip right through my fingers and onto the gravel.
As I bend down to retrieve them, I take a deep breath to force myself to chill out. I stand back up and look over to see if he’s noticed. He looks away really fast and tries to hide a smirk.
“Nothing serious. It just needed a couple things tuned up.”
I unlock the car and we both get in. I’m strapping myself in and ask, “Why did you ask me for a ride? Why not one of the basketball guys?” I realize how rude that sounds so I quickly back pedal. “I mean, I don’t mind at all, really, it’s not a big deal. I’m happy to help.”
He laughs. I’m not sure what’s funny, so I chuckle awkwardly and
look out of my review mirror as I back out.
“You live the closest and you were still here. Also, I’m not tight with that many basketball players...because I play baseball.” He grins, showing off his one dimple.
I squeeze my eyes shut, bite my lip and grimace at all once.
“I knew that! I knew that. Baseball. You play baseball,” I state like I knew it whole time.
Which I did.
I do.
I just had a brain fart.
I open my eyes and admit, “Sorry. You’re kind of making me nervous.”
He looks at me surprised, then flashes an amused grin at me. “You’re making me nervous. Please don’t close your eyes again while you’re driving. You have precious cargo on board now.” He winks.
I laugh and shake my head. Then I think…
What if I do kill him?
Holy crap.
What if I get us into an accident and we both die? Or even worse, he dies and I live?
What would the headline read? “Random Girl Kills Star Baseball Player in Auto Crash!”
I tense up again. He notices.
“Are you cold, Scott? There’s this cool feature in cars called heaters,” he says as he turns the heat up.
I’m not cold.
At all.
But I let him turn the heat up anyway.
“Smartass,” I say through a broad smile.
“Oh, you think I’m smart, huh?” We make eye contact, then for a split second his eyes scan my body, pausing at where my skirt hem ends on my legs. I immediately focus back on the road and try not to panic. My breathing picks up slightly.
Focus, Bean! Don’t accidentally kill Ryan Applebaum.
I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing and focus on not killing us on this narrow one lane road. I begin to replay the scene in Annie Hall when Christopher Walken talks about driving into on-coming traffic in my mind. I’m thinking about what an intense and genius scene it is and then–
“Left–Left! Woah, Scott! Turn! It’s left!” he commands alarmingly, pointing down the driveway I should be turning into.
“Sorry, sorry! I’ll turn around.” I look at him to see if he’s mad. He’s not. If anything, he’s entertained.
Ten Times Fast Page 3