by Allen, Jacob
“Seriously?” Adam said.
I nodded.
“Rough day.”
And then, as if to ensure that the rough weekend turned into a rough Monday, I glanced behind me and saw Samantha approaching. The very girl who had so aggressively pushed me away.
Yeah, I’d deserved it a bit. I was an ass. But everyone was pushing me away. Colleges. Friends.
Samantha.
“How come?” I heard Adam say, though I hadn’t yet turned my attention back to him.
I just shook my head instead, somewhat in disbelief of where things had gotten. I didn’t mean with Samantha necessarily, though it did blow my mind that I was in such a fucked up state that in the span of two hours, she’d gone from stranger to ice cream “date” to someone who hated me and whom I wanted nothing to do with.
“Just some stupid bitch.”
When I turned back, I saw Adam and Emily exchanging looks. Adam was confused, but Emily looked concerned. I think she knew. She definitely knew. She had to have seen me looking at Samantha.
And at this point, well, I might as well make sure that she never bothered me again.
I turned back, saw her look at me, and she smiled. She fucking smiled. What in the name of fuck was that?
Was she fucking taunting me?
Or was she just being her usual awkward, dorky self?
No, that was the smile of a taunt. That was the smile of someone who relished seeing someone they disliked fall. That was the smile of someone who wanted me to be hurt.
Fuck her.
Fuck this.
Fuck everything.
She walked by us briskly, only briefly nodding to Emily and Jackie, but I wasn’t going to let her off that easily. If other people got mad, too bad. Samantha started to unlock her locker, but I put my arm up against her, preventing her from opening it even if she did manage to unlock it.
“Oh, look,” I said. “If it isn’t the girl that pushed me away yesterday.”
“You’re the guy that got drunk on a Sunday and tried to kiss me after an hour,” Samantha said, refusing to make eye contact with me. “Leave me alone and let me get to my locker.”
“Leave you alone? After what you did?”
Even I knew that what she’d done wasn’t atrocious. But Samantha needed a lesson before she tried anything worse with me.
“This isn’t about me, Samantha, it’s about you,” I growled, ignoring her attempts to pull her locker open.
“Really,” she said, giving up on trying to open the locker. “Because it sure seems to be about you a whole lot right now. It was about you when I walked into the library, it was about you when we got ice cream, and it’s about you now.”
“I’m not the one who acted like a bitch,” I said, much louder than I’d wanted to—but I suppose that was all the better. “I’m not the one who said things about not being with their friends. Yeah, you said that.”
Samantha looked at me in shock, a shock that was slowly transitioning into horror. It was as if she could not bring herself to believe that I was saying these things.
Well, saying them, I was.
“You are quite possibly the most awkward person this school has ever had, Samantha, and that’s saying a lot, considering the number of rich daddies we have here,” I said, a smirk on my face. I let her access her locker, but only because the bell had rung, warning all of us we had to get to our first class. “You are the person that Emily and Jackie couldn’t wait to abandon. You chose to leave, sure, but you know they would have abandoned you if you’d stuck around long enough. You say you want to leave here and go to Harvard? Then go. We don’t want you here.”
Samantha grabbed all her books, stuffed them in her locker, and slammed it with enough force that I flinched. She glared at me, said, “You’re a real ass,” and walked away. Satisfied I’d made my point, I turned and walked in the other direction—not the least bit concerned with the fact that Emily was coming to confront me. She, like Samantha, was too good of a student to spend her time berating me when she had a class.
Sure, Adam and Kevin would rip into me later. Fuck em’. They had their futures settled. I had a lifetime of misery ahead of me if Vanderbilt didn’t change their mind. Compared to my brothers, I pretty much just had jack shit ahead of me.
And if all I had was jack shit, then all anyone else was going to get from me was some heavy bull shit.
* * *
I made it all the way to lunch break with the rest of my day going normally. I didn’t share any classes with anyone in the Broad Street Boys or the girls, and though a few people had noticed my message to Samantha early in the morning, no one had the balls to face me. I might have been a runt to my brothers, but to the rest of the class, I was not to be fucked with.
And then, just as I entered the cafeteria, who did I find but Coach Miller waiting for me.
“You, come, now,” he commanded, as if speaking to a dog. Which, given the way he treated us in practice, wasn’t exactly the most inaccurate thing said about the coach.
Unfortunately, I had little choice but to obey him as if I was his bitch. I kept my head down low as I followed him to his office, several hallways away from the cafeteria. Coach Miller cut an imposing figure even in the hallways—he had at least five inches on me, had a goatee and a bald head that made him look like the villain of a Marvel movie, and chewed gum like it was his job.
In a different life, I imagined that Coach Miller would have made for a hell of a drill instructor in boot camp. Hell, in this current life, he probably did it on the side.
“As the coach of the Providence Prep Tigers basketball team,” he began. “I am in charge of making sure I have the right balance of talent and leadership on my team. I could have five Michael Jordans, but if you all have the immaturity of a newborn baby, you won’t win shit. You know why you’re on this team, Nick?”
He loved to ask questions. Oh, God, he loved to ask questions. I suppose in some weird way, it helped us take fuller ownership of the answer, but for the most part, it just was an annoying habit that wasted time.
“To play point guard, sir,” I said.
“Yes, you are the starting point guard,” Coach Miller said. “And who is usually the leader of the team? Who is the one that sets the tone?”
“The point guard,” I said.
I was in no mood to play hypothetical questions. I wasn’t in the mood to play much of anything.
“So tell me something, then,” he said, taking a breath, the biggest cue that his voice would soon start to rise. “When the point guard, the leader—hell, the goddamn captain—sleeps in and misses practice, what does that say to the rest of the team, hmm? What does that say to the juniors and the sophomores we have when the senior captain is spending his Mondays dreaming about the ladies at school instead of the competition at Nashville High?”
I hated how he could both sound so goddamn condescending and yet be so close to the truth that it was terrifying. I absolutely fucking hated it.
“It doesn’t say anything good, sir.”
“No it does not. Am I right to assume you were sleeping in?”
I nodded.
“Locke, I don’t know what’s going on, but ever since Christmas break, you’ve been a sulking piece of shit. I can forgive a one-off, even from the captain of my team. But I cannot forgive what is soon to be two months of you acting like a diva who can’t believe he’s not the star of his team. We’ve got the conference tournament in about a week and a half, and then the state tournament. We cannot have you acting this way. What the fuck is going on?”
Why even lie? It wasn’t like I was going to be needing Coach Miller’s word to get a scholarship to Duke or Kentucky. Hell, even Vanderbilt was out of the way. Maybe… at this point, third-stringer for Middle Tennessee State seemed like the most likely outcome for me.
“I’m pissed I don’t have any scholarship offers, sir.”
I meant that I was pissed that I wasn’t getting any scholarship offers fo
r football. I knew basketball wasn’t my future.
Unfortunately, that’s not what Coach Miller heard, and to make matters worse, he handled it in about the worst possible way. He laughed. He laughed hard.
“Kid, you can play point guard for us, there’s little doubt about that,” he said. “But if you think you’re going to play against programs like Kentucky, let alone for them, forget it. All the top-tier studs have signed or can afford to wait. You? You top out as a decent D3 player.”
Decent? Division III? That’s it?
That’s all you’re going to give me credit for?
“Really think I’m that bad, huh?”
“No, I think you’re that good,” Coach Miller said, and though I knew he meant it, in the context of my ego, it sounded like awfully fucking shallow praise. “But it’s my job to be honest with my players and put us in the best position to win, no matter what.”
Nothing Coach Miller said was anything I disagreed with. But with all the rejection going on… to get another reminder of it…
You just couldn’t give me one good thing for this year could you, Samantha? You just had to believe that your friends are in bullshit relationships. You couldn’t…
Are you even listening to yourself, dude?
“You’re a smart kid,” Coach Miller said. “Go to one of the Ivies. They won’t give you a scholarship, but you’ll get to use sports as a means to get in there.”
“And let Clark and Andrew have that over me?”
I don’t know what else Coach Miller could have said. But the words that came out of his mouth following the mention of my brothers was about the worst possible thing he could have said.
“Nick, these past two months aside, you’re a great kid. But you’re not as good as Andrew and Clark, and with your height and skill set, you never will be.”
Dead.
With one single sentence, Coach Miller had made me numb. He’d killed me. More specifically, he’d killed Nick Locke, the athlete.
You’re not as good as Andrew and Clark.
You never will be.
It was my worst fear come to life. I could handle a lot of bullshit. I could handle a lot of scholarship drama and a lot of girl drama and a lot of drama in general.
But the instant that Coach Miller said not only was I not as good as my brothers, I never would be, I couldn’t handle it.
There was no reason to keep going.
Not in sports, at least.
“OK,” I said.
But I’d only spoken to fill the silence. I’d only spoken to prevent Coach Miller from saying anything else that was especially stupid, because it wasn’t like I needed him to say anything else. Frankly, there wasn’t anything else to say.
I’d say fuck Coach Miller, but he was right on this one. It was just one of the few things in my life I hadn’t been willing to explicitly think, let alone say out loud.
“I’ll let you get back to lunch,” he said. “I take it you’ll be at practice?”
In a way.
“I’ll see you there,” I said.
“There you go,” Coach Miller said. “Don’t repeat this morning.”
With that, I left. I left the office, but I left more than that.
Let’s just say, Coach Miller, you won’t have any attitude problems on the team anymore.
5
Samantha
Four Years Ago
“They are taking forever!”
I sat on the mall’s outdoor bench with Jackie, waiting for Emily and Adam to come so we could hang out. We had plans to go see a movie—which movie was to be determined, as Emily wanted to make sure Adam liked it—before getting food to eat. We were supposed to meet at noon; instead, it was now 12:20, and I was growing very impatient with the lovebirds taking their time.
“Just be patient, Samantha, maybe their parents got held up.”
“Their parents can call a limo and transport them anywhere in the city,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s not like they have to figure out who’s driving.”
“Just don’t be mean.”
“I’m not trying to be mean, I’m just pointing out the reality of the situation,” I said. “Not that I understand it, though.”
“What?”
“That they’re dating.”
“Why?”
Oh, Jackie. Dating, to me, was one big silly game. It was about boys trying to show that they could be the most romantic and charming and “dude-ish” to the girls. It was about the girls trying to apply the most makeup, look the coolest, and look the most Southern belle.
It was missing what really mattered—school. I didn’t care one bit about what happened in the social world, although I knew I wasn’t attractive or popular. So maybe I was just doing what was best for me.
But I really didn’t care—or at least, I didn’t care enough to put serious effort in. Instead, I was much more focused on school.
“Dating is a waste of time,” I said. “They’ll be broken up within a few months. That’s how all middle school relationships are.”
“But they say they love each other!”
“And you believe that?” I said.
I wasn’t trying to be mean. I just couldn’t help the things that came out of my mouth sometimes.
“I mean, maybe they don’t love each other like our parents love each other, but I think they care about each other a lot. I don’t think that’s a lie.”
“Maybe, but it’ll end anyways, so it’s still stupid. And it’s making them late, so if nothing else, that’s why this is stupid.”
“Well, yeah, true,” Jackie said.
A tense silence fell as I kept scanning the mall for them. I saw a couple of boys looking at us as they walked by, but I ignored them. In any case, they probably weren’t looking at me, they were probably looking at Jackie. No one wanted the brace-filled, pale-skinned, taller-than-average eighth grader.
“What do you want then, Samantha?” Jackie said.
“To get into a good college,” I replied immediately. “I can figure out love when I get there.”
“Which one?”
“Harvard.”
“Wow,” Jackie said, almost breathlessly. “I’m surprised you’re thinking that far ahead. I haven’t even thought about what classes I want to take next year!”
“I haven’t either, but I know where I’m going,” I said.
At least, I knew where I wanted to go. Also, I had lied a little bit—I’d already plotted out the courses I wanted to take all through high school. I knew what AP courses I was going to take which semester, and I knew which teachers I wanted to sign up with.
Yeah, I was a dork. But I took ownership in being a dork, so anyone who thought it was stupid could screw off. I was going to be much more successful in life, anyways.
“Look.”
I followed Jackie’s voice to see Adam and Emily walking in, giggling and laughing, holding hands. The scene was almost enough to make me puke.
I just knew they were too young for love. They were going to break apart eventually.
So why bother in that case?
* * *
Present Day
I had to thank Jackie for the idea to eat by myself in the library.
It let me escape all the bullshit that was now coming my way. I still hadn’t figured out what I’d done to deserve Nick’s wrath, and that was driving me insane. I hated being presented with a problem and not having an answer for it. I could always find the answer.
Until, apparently, it came down to some goddamn stupid boys.
Well, Nick, if your goal was to separate me from the rest of the school, congrats. Except, I’m going to turn this into a good thing. I’m going to do what I can to get into Harvard and then laugh when you wind up at some school well below your stands. So thanks, Nick.
It was a nice feeling. Well, nice for a few seconds before all it did was inflame the tensions I was already feeling. Thanking Nick obviously wasn’t genuine—it was merely something done
to piss him and myself off.
If I had it my way, though, I’d never fucking talk to him again. Unfortunately, with the flow of students and the way our paths would cross, this was practically an impossibility without drastically altering how I moved through the school. Crazy enough, I was considering it.
I bypassed the school computer’s blocks on social media with ease to access the social media accounts of the schools I’d applied to—Harvard, Yale, Duke, Vanderbilt, and UT-Knoxville. All of them seemed like schools I could go to, and all of them, even Vanderbilt, were better than being here. I fantasized about finding myself in Cambridge, toughing out the cold Massachusetts winters so I could study where so many former leaders of the United States had. I imagined sunbathing in the Duke Gardens.
I imagined just about anything that was far away from this Providence Prep campus. Even UT-Knoxville would feel like a gift. If it wasn’t on this particular campus, if it didn’t have any of the Broad Street Boys—Nick especially, and that one wasn’t good enough to play football or basketball there—and if I could just focus on the honors program, great. If I could just stay far, far away from the madness of it all.
I drank all my water while I scrolled through the least of my choices, Vanderbilt. I looked around, made sure there were no Broad Street Boys to steal my books or my backpack, and lurched out of the library, hurrying to the nearest water fountain before someone and claimed my stuff.
When I swung open the door, just before I turned right, I saw Nick sulking in the left. My immediate reaction, much as I didn’t want to admit it, was fear. I feared him seeing me and mocking me. “Hey! Look! There goes the awkward tall girl!”
But that quickly passed in favor of amusement. He was definitely pissed and brooding about something, probably something athletics related. I hoped it was athletics related. Karma was a bitch, and this particular bitch needed to slap him around a bit for the way he’d treated me the past couple of days.