by Randi Rigby
“Good,” I said, heading straight for the fridge, still in my track shorts and Panthers hoodie. Pulling out the chocolate milk, I poured a tall glassful and joined them, sliding my phone onto the table as I removed my hair tie and began working my fingers through my scalp.
Luke watched. I expected him to scowl and tell me to stop shedding all over the place, but he remained silent and impassive. “Good as in you won? Or good as in you didn’t fall on your face?” Cal said, taking a sip of my chocolate milk. “I never know with you.”
“I have never fallen on my face,” I protested.
“Then you must’ve won.” A text flashed up on my screen. Cal grabbed my phone before I could get to it. “Ooh. Who can’t wait to see you again—?”
I tried to snatch it back, but Cal shot to his feet and held my phone high over his head, scrolling through the seven, now eight, texts Justin had sent. “Luke, you might want to look at this. I think some guy’s hitting on your girlfriend.”
“Give it back,” I tugged on his arm. “Seriously, Cal, I’m not kidding.”
Luke plucked my phone out of Cal’s hand and gave it to me without looking at it. Cal stared at him, surprised. “Don’t you even want to know who it is?”
“No.”
I immediately grew defensive. “He’s just some guy Chen liked. He took a picture of me finishing my 400m that I wanted, but I didn’t have my phone with me, so I had to give him my number to get it.”
Luke glanced at me.
“I didn’t encourage him.” Suddenly, it felt important he understood. “I was wearing my infinity bracelet the whole time.” I flashed my wrist at him as proof.
That earned me a reluctant smile. Encouraged, I slid onto his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I promise, I’m very taken.” I teased, nuzzling into his neck.
Luke went absolutely still. I could feel his heart beating—my hand had moved to his chest—it seemed to be the only thing active in his body, even his lungs seemed to have stopped working. Embarrassed, I slowly got up. Cal didn’t even notice; he’d gone back to his homework.
“I should probably go take a shower,” I said to no one in particular, and with just one thought in mind—escaping the room.
12
Luke
Harper left. I felt both a rush of relief and a desperate urge to go after her. But Cal sat next to me, downing the rest of her chocolate milk while still struggling with his economics assignment. He definitely would’ve noticed me jumping out of my chair to chase down his sister. So, I stayed put and tried to convince myself I had everything under control.
I’m a terrible liar.
She’d walked in the door with that lethal smile of hers, and it seemed like the air instantly changed. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The slam of knowing some guy had been making moves on her, had her phone number, and wouldn’t stop texting her was a wake-up call. I wanted to slug him—like a jealous boyfriend. I was that guy. My brain still reeled from the hit my senses took when I’d suddenly found her on my lap. It’s not real, I told myself, and I played it on repeat.
“You about done?” Cal said.
I stared numbly at the Spanish essay I’d made zero progress on over the last twenty minutes. “Yeah.”
“Good, I’m starving.” He checked his phone. “You want to go grab something to eat? Jasmine’s bored. She wants Hot and Wild.”
I took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Cal, are you sure about her?”
“What do you mean?”
I clenched and unclenched my fist. Talking about my feelings wasn’t something I’d ever been good at doing—even with Cal, and I was closer to him than anyone. “She flirts with a lot of other guys.”
He blinked. Then he shook his head. “She’s just friendly. That’s who she is.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
He shrugged. “I trust her.”
You shouldn’t. I tried again. “She flirts with me.”
Cal just smiled. “I trust you.”
I sighed. Cal Adams’ absolute faith in the people he loved never ceased to amaze me. But then again, he’d never had any reason to doubt them. I couldn’t bear knowing there was a good chance that might be forever shattered when he finally opened his eyes to the truth. Nor could I stomach the thought of being with Jasmine, who cared little about the devastation she could wreak on my best friend. Not tonight.
Even though I knew Harper wouldn’t approve—that she’d demand to know why I’d abandoned my post—I told Cal I couldn’t go with him; I had to head home. He immediately volunteered to drop me off on the way. I told him I needed the exercise. He stared at me with a frown.
“What?” I said, piling my stuff into my backpack.
“You never used to turn down a ride from me.”
“I wasn’t going out with your sister before either,” I said.
“Harper makes you want to run?”
I slowly smiled. “That’s not what I meant.” Although it was true. “Just, things change. It’s not a big deal.”
He remained silent for a moment. “You’d tell me if there was something going on, right?”
“You worry too much,” I replied, throwing my backpack onto my shoulders. “Don’t stay out too late. You know we have a game tomorrow.”
☆ ☽ ☆
I had two days to figure out something “special” for Harper, something that could possibly make up for depriving her of the senior prom she’d always dreamed of. My savings account was rapidly dwindling. By the time I’d forked out the cash for the tickets and my tux rental, I had very little left in my budget for anything else—definitely no limos or fancy, expensive restaurants. So far, I’d come up dry. I couldn’t even drive her there. How lame was it we’d have to take her car.
“Luke?”
I looked up from the huge pile of mats I’d just wiped down for the track team. Coach Samms stood in front of me with his arms crossed, obviously waiting. “Sorry, did you say something?” I asked.
“Apparently, I’ve been talking to myself for the last five minutes,” he said. “You got something on your mind?”
“No.”
“You sure? Because you look like you do. I’d bet money on it.”
I shrugged, considering the middle-aged man whose hair had long given up on him but had an extra forty pounds he couldn’t shake. What could it hurt? I cleared my throat. “What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for a woman?”
He blinked—his jaw might’ve dropped. I suddenly felt embarrassed.
“Never mind,” I said, staring at the floor. “Forget I said anything.”
“Come on now, you just caught me off guard. I’ll have you know I’m really good at this kind of stuff.” He put his beefy hands on his hips. “Is Harper Adams the young lady in question?”
I blushed. “Yeah.”
He nodded approvingly. “Is this for a special occasion?”
“Prom.”
“Just the two of you?” He thought for a moment. “You’ll need a way to get Cinderella to the ball.” He broke into a grin. “I’ll be your chauffeur.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not. I’m offering. And if I were you, I’d take me up on it. I just detailed the Camaro. She’s looking real pretty right now.”
I tried to imagine Harper’s face when she saw Coach Samms behind the wheel—he was one of her favorite people. “I could pay you,” I said.
“No, you couldn’t. You can’t afford me. I’m very expensive—trust me. You’ll just have to take this as it’s meant. As a gift.”
“Coach—”
“I’ve even got a fancy suit,” he continued, clearly ignoring me. “Who knows if I can still get into it?” He touched his stomach fondly. “It’s been a while.”
I didn’t know what else to say. “Thanks. I really appreciate this.”
He seemed to be staring off in the distance. “I’ve always liked Harper,” he
said. “You sure don’t meet a girl like that every day.”
I know.
Harper’s eyes had glazed over. Whenever Jasmine talked about anything pageant related—and that was pretty much nonstop now—Harp struggled. I think only the fact that she knew she’d have to get up in front of a lot of people at some point, kept her listening. Something in all that drivel might actually prove useful. It also gave her the chance to barnacle herself to Jasmine without looking too suspicious. I stuck around as moral support.
“Did you figure out what you’re doing with your hair yet?” Jasmine asked, cleaning up the remainder of her lunch.
Harper shook her head. “I’m just trying to get through prom.”
Jasmine squinted at her. “You should probably leave it down. Your neck’s not really your best feature. You know, play to your strengths.”
I marveled at Harper’s self-control. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said sweetly. Underneath the table, she pinched my leg.
“We should probably go,” I responded dutifully, pulling out my phone and looking at the time. “We’re both competing away this afternoon. Didn’t you say you had assignments to turn in before we had to get on the bus?”
Harper made a big show of being sad we had to leave. The last hour felt wasted. Cal hadn’t even been here—Coach had called him to his office. Harp practically sprinted away. “Kill me now,” she said, still dragging me by the hand. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
The resulting awkwardness existing between us from the previous night had quickly disappeared once Jasmine sat down with us. She had her uses. “You’ll be fine,” I said.
“Says you. She wants me to wear these horrible things that look like chicken cutlets in my bra. According to her, I’m too flat-chested.”
I wisely kept quiet. Anything I said would’ve sounded wrong.
“I think she’s secretly trying to sabotage me. I wasn’t at all nervous about the interviews until I got her feedback. Do I really look constipated when I’m thinking?”
I tilted my head. “I don’t know. Think of something.”
She poked me in my mid-section. “It’s not funny,” she muttered. “I can’t wait for this stupid thing to be over. I don’t know what possessed me to agree to it in the first place.”
“You thought it might help—Cal, what’s wrong?” I said, alarmed. Cal had just shown up looking shaken. Harper already had her hands clasped around his arms; those green eyes of hers had grown huge with worry.
“Coach is benching me. Coulter’s starting today.”
“What?” I said. I was stunned. Cal’s game had definitely suffered since he’d met Jasmine—he was having his worst season since we’d started playing competitive ball, but he was a senior. I never thought Coach would resort to this.
“It’s for the good of the team,” Cal said, trying to smile. “He’s right. Jack deserves it. He’s been hitting really well lately.”
I waited for Harper to explode. But she simply enfolded her brother in a hug. “I’m sorry, Cal.” Their eyes met. “You know you can get it back, though, right? Luke will help you. I’ll do your chores for you so you can spend more time at Randall’s. You just need to focus.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Cal said. “I’m just not sure it’s worth it anymore.”
“You love baseball,” Harper reminded him.
He shrugged. “Maybe I love Jasmine more.”
Harper’s jaw set. There was a glitter in her eyes that meant danger. I knew that look well. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. You’re not making sense right now.”
“Baseball takes up a lot of my time. Maybe I should just quit.”
“You can’t quit.” Harper crossed her arms.
“Why not?” He became defiant. “You are. Mom begged you to run next year. You won’t even consider it.”
She glared at him. “Well, I’m not you.”
Their voices had grown progressively louder. People were starting to stop and stare. “This isn’t the time or place to be having this conversation,” I quietly said, indicating the crowded hallway with a jerk of my head. “We need to get on the bus.”
Harper took a deep breath. Her chin lifted as she eyed her twin. “Just . . . don’t do anything stupid, Cal. Promise me you’ll sit on this until you’re capable of thinking rationally. Which, obviously, is not now.”
He started to walk away, his mood darker than I’d ever seen. Harper just looked at me, helpless. I squeezed her arm and quickly followed after him.
“Don’t say it,” Cal warned as I fell into step by his side.
I didn’t. Staying silent is what I do best.
“It’s just a game. I was starting to feel burned out anyway,” Cal said.
Not before Jasmine, but okay.
“It’s not a big deal,” he continued.
You’ve never quit anything in your life. This isn’t who you are.
We grabbed our gear from the locker room. I didn’t think anyone on the team knew of Coach’s decision yet—except maybe Coulter. Jack was the only one who couldn’t quite meet Cal’s eye. Everyone else joked and pushed each other around just like always, and they all wanted to talk to Cal, Mr. Popularity. I could see the effort he was putting into keeping up a good front. I tried to deflect some of the noise onto me, talking much more than I normally did. By the time we boarded the bus, we both seemed a little exhausted.
“Harper’s a piece of work,” Cal muttered, and he stared out his window.
Maybe, but I’d give anything to have someone love me like that.
I wondered how she was doing after her blow up with her brother. Strangely, as much as she and I’d fought, she’d rarely had it out with Cal. I could count on one hand the number of times the two of them had gone to battle. Squabbles, sure, but they rarely escalated into anything serious. I had a feeling she’d be heartsick about now.
I pulled out my phone and sent her a text. You okay?
Three little dots appeared. I waited impatiently for her response. No. What are we going to do?
There was that word again, “we.” I touched it on my screen and conjured up the dark-haired girl with emerald eyes sitting on another bus headed a different direction. If I blocked out the rest of the world, I could almost inhale that bewitching scent of hers. I knew she was worried. I knew she wanted Cal back—just the way he’d always been. I also knew from years of hoping and waiting for my mom to come around, that sometimes, it didn’t happen.
I quickly responded. Whatever it takes.
13
Harper
I waited up for him. Luke warned me Jasmine had been there when the bus got back to the school, and the two of them had gotten into Cal’s Jeep and driven away. Luke didn’t come over to our house—that would’ve raised too many questions about Cal’s whereabouts. As far as my parents were concerned, Cal was with Luke. The moment I heard my twin coming up the stairs, I crawled out of bed and followed him into his room.
“Can we talk?” I said, closing the door behind me.
“Not now, Harp. It’s been a long day. I’m tired.”
Not so long you couldn’t spend four hours with your girlfriend.
I found a smile. Now was not the time for sarcasm. “I’m sure you are. I just wanted to make sure you were . . . okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Come on, Cal. This is me you’re talking to,” I said. Gingerly, I moved closer. Cal seemed stretched tighter than a guidewire. I missed my floppy-haired, easy-going brother. “And . . . I’ve been a mess.” I swallowed hard. “I hate this feeling. Us, not getting along. I’m sorry if I said something that upset you. Really.”
He dropped his sports bag on the floor and sighed. “Everything’s always come so easy for you, Harp. You have no idea what it’s like to be me.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was not the golden child—he was. I’d made my peace with that back in grade school. Everyone loved Cal. T
eachers openly compared us and found me lacking. Our parents would never admit it, but I knew I’d been the challenging one. Mom blamed every gray hair she had on me. Cal was Mary Poppins—practically perfect in every way. I was the screwed-up sidekick who inexplicably shared a lot of the same DNA. In appearance, we were as identical as fraternal twins could be. Personality-wise, we couldn’t be more different.
I tried to make sense of it. “Is this about me running?”
Cal just pushed his hands deep into his pants pockets and stared at me.
“I have one thing I’m good at, and suddenly my life’s the easy one?” I started gathering steam. “Fine, I can run. I even win a lot of the time.”
“When have you ever lost?” Cal challenged.
“Not the point. Mom made me who I am. She pushes me harder than she pushes anyone. And I’ve had to work really hard. You just see me crossing the finish line. You have no idea what it took to get there.” I turned on my heel, all my good intentions to keep a leash on my temper now blown. “You want to be a better ballplayer? It’s not rocket science, Cal. Stop spending all your time moping around with Jasmine and PRACTICE.”
“You done?” There was an edge to his voice I’d never heard before.
I shook my head. “Who are you right now? I want my brother back.”
“Yeah? Well, I just want to go to bed.” He held his door open.
Fuming, I strode out and back to my room. Diving onto my bed, I buried my face in my pillow. Jam donuts!
Pulling out my phone, I texted Luke. He’s home.
And?
We had a talk. Shamed, I sunk my forehead into the palm of my hand, reliving it. Okay, another fight.
He sent me the horrified emoticon.
I know. I texted back. What’s wrong with me?
You want me to list it alphabetically? Or just pull it randomly out of the air?
I reluctantly smiled. I thought love was supposed to make you a better person.
I waited for those three little dots to appear, but nothing came through. Confused, I reread what I’d typed and realized my brain had been thinking one thing, my fingers another. Blushing, I hastily tried to fix it. Being with Jasmine has changed Cal—for the worse.