The Keeping Score Box Set

by Tawdra Kandle

  I’d dated Sarah back in junior high, when dating hadn’t really meant much more than a few afternoons at the movies and a stolen kiss or two. Back then, she’d still been thin, and the boobs I hadn’t dared to touch were small and perky. We’d enjoyed hanging out together, and when our infatuation had run its course, we’d stayed casual friends. Over the last few years, I’d seen Sarah at parties, where we’d chatted from time to time. She’d blossomed, as my mom would say, and she’d become part of the popular crowd. I knew she’d gone out with a couple of different football players, but as far as I’d heard, she hadn’t gotten serious with anyone. Sarah was one of those rare girls who was genuinely nice, yet could hold her own with the bitchier chicks.

  “Thanks.” I stopped and gripped the metal railing separating us. “What’re you doing still here? I thought cheer practice ended an hour ago. At least.”

  She shrugged. “It did. I wanted to watch you guys.” Her eyes searched my face. “I also wanted to ask you how Nate is. I heard talk around school that he was pushed down the steps to the gym.”

  I frowned. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “It’s going around. If you’re worried about Mr. Platten hearing it, I don’t think that’s going to happen. No one wants to see the team have to play without Brent tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Good. I’m pissed at them. God, I’m more than pissed, I’m furious. But Nate doesn’t want to rat them out, so I’m doing what he wants.” My frustration laced the words.

  “Hey.” Sarah laid one small hand over mine where it rested on the railing. “If that’s what he wants . . . but is he okay? Someone said he was unconscious when the EMTs took him out of here.”

  “He was, but yeah. He’s going to be all right, I think. I just don’t get why those jackasses feel like they have to torture him. We’re not in junior high anymore. Nate doesn’t bother anyone.”

  She sighed. “Guys like them don’t need reasons to act like assholes. Just like all the cheerleaders who’re bitchy to—to some of the other girls. My mom calls it stupid high school crap. She told me she’d like to say it ends after graduation, but some people just never grow up.”

  “Great.” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Nice to know I have more of the same shit to look forward to, huh?”

  “Guess so.” She lifted her hands from mine and crossed her arms over her chest. “God, it’s cold, isn’t it? I’d better get home. Early night, with the game tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. I should go get changed. We’ve got the Twelfth Man dinner tonight.” Every week that we played on Saturday, Coach organized a team dinner on Friday night, complete with pasta so we could carb load and a motivational speaker. Some of the guys groused about having to go—attendance was mandatory—but I secretly loved the dinners. The food was always excellent, the speakers Coach found were interesting, and hanging with the team—there was nothing better than being with my buds, in a situation where there were no chicks, no booze and no drugs. No pressure to be anyone but who we were.

  But I hesitated before I turned to leave. Something had been percolating in my brain since I’d spotted Sarah watching us from the sidelines. It wasn’t an idea I was proud of, but I was pretty certain it would work. “Hey, Sarah, you going to the diner with us tomorrow after the game?”

  She tilted her head. “I always do. Maybe you don’t notice because you’re surrounded by other girls.” She sounded teasing, not accusing, and I grinned.

  “Hey, I can’t help it if they all find me irresistible.” I reached out, tugging at a lock of her hair that had escaped from the hairband. “Maybe I need someone to help me fight them off. Want to be my protector?”

  Happiness sparkled in her brown eyes, and brand-new guilt stabbed at me. I liked Sarah. I didn’t want to use her. But maybe . . . maybe I could give her a good time, too. I didn’t need to hurt her. We’d had fun back when we were younger, and there was no reason to think that couldn’t happen again.

  “Well, I guess if someone has to do it, I might as well volunteer.” She lifted her face, her lips curving into a smile. I wondered if she expected me to kiss her then, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Not when the memory of Quinn’s lips was still so fresh in my mind. Not when I could practically still taste her on my tongue.

  Instead, I touched Sarah’s cheek with the tip of my finger. “I’ll see you after the game then. I better get inside before Coach comes gunning for me.”

  “Okay.” Sarah turned her back to me, bending to pick up her pom-poms and handbag. I eyed her sweet little ass as the material of her shorts stretched tight over it.

  Yeah, there wasn’t any reason Sarah and I couldn’t have fun together again. Maybe even more than that.

  The fact that it was going to hurt Quinn wasn’t something I wanted to think about. In the long run, she’d be better off. In the long run, the only one who’d end up losing was me.

  And I was willing to pay that price.

  Speaking of paying for sins, I knew I had to talk to Brent, Tim and Karl, the sooner the better. They had to understand that what they’d done today wasn’t cool. Just because I hadn’t thrown them under the bus didn’t mean I was going to let them get away with it.

  The three of them were standing in front of the lockers, eyeing me as I came in. I glanced around, but Coach wasn’t anywhere in sight. I stopped behind them, hands on my hips.

  “In case you’re wondering, Nate’s going to be okay. No thanks to the three of you assholes. Are you out of your fucking minds? You could’ve killed him. And if that doesn’t bother you, if you’re that damned hard, think about yourselves. You think they’d let three cold-blooded killers play on this team? You think you’d still be in school at all? No way, man. Even now, if it wasn’t for Nate, you’d be facing assault charges.”

  Tim’s eyes were wide, and Brent’s mouth had dropped open. Karl ran a hand over his face.

  “Dude, we were just messing around. If you hadn’t yelled—”

  “If I hadn’t yelled, the whole thing would’ve escalated and Nate might’ve been hurt worse. I’m not taking any blame for this, except that I didn’t get there faster to stop it. But I want you to know this: Nate’s the one who made the call to cover for you. If he hadn’t insisted on me keeping my mouth shut, I was planning to come back here and tell Coach the whole story. So you keep that in mind the next time you’re tempted to get physical with Nate. Or with anyone else you like to harass. Stay away from him, you got that? Or I swear, I’ll make you sorry you didn’t.”

  Brent shuffled his feet and reached for a clean T-shirt. “Loud and clear, Lion.” He glanced at Tim and Karl.

  Tim cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know why we did it. I guess we just fucked up.”

  Karl slammed his locker shut. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll stay away from the—from him.” He turned his back on me and stalked off toward the showers.

  The entire locker room had fallen silent, listening to us. I ignored them and went to my own locker, rooting around for my towel and clean clothes. Next to me, Matt was already shrugging into a button-up shirt, his blond hair still damp from the shower.

  “You okay, Lion?” He kept his voice low, and his eyes were glued to my face.

  “Yeah, guess so. I will be.” I exhaled long and deep.

  “Hey, man. It’s done. Shake it off.”

  “Yeah.” I closed my locker. “That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to shake it all off. Every damn thing.” I thought about Quinn again, remembering with a pang the softness of her lips beneath mine and the way her body had molded to me. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, repeating my last words.

  “Every damn thing.”

  Quinn

  I hadn’t expected to hear from Leo that night after he’d kissed me. Not really. Yes, I’d kept my phone in my pocket and then on my nightstand, and yes, I’d checked the volume and made sure the ringer was turned on about every fifteen minutes or so. But it hadn’t surp
rised me when the phone stayed silent.

  It hadn’t surprised me, but it had hurt.

  I’d already planned to go to the football game the next day. I went to every game, and I knew my parents wouldn’t think twice about me heading there today. I’d texted with Sheri that morning and learned that the doctors wanted to keep Nate one more day, because he was still in a great deal of pain. I could almost feel her anxiety through the phone, even though she assured me that it was nothing to worry about.

  Go have fun today at the game. Give Leo a hug from me and scream for him like I do, LOL. I’ll tell Nate you’ll see him later.

  It felt weird to climb to the upper bleachers on my own, since usually I stuck to the first row, to make it easier on Nate. Quite a few people stopped me to ask about Nate; I guessed word of his accident had made it around the school. Gia Capri, one of the girls who worked on the paper with me, grabbed my arm as I passed.

  “Hey, Quinn. I heard what happened to your friend. What’re you going to do?” She glanced down at the field, where the players were just finishing warm-up. “You’re not going to let them get away with what they did, are you?”

  I hesitated. Clearly the truth about what had happened with Nate wasn’t much of a secret around the school. I lowered my voice. “What did you hear, exactly?”

  Gia stepped around two of her friends who stood between us, flashing a smile of apology to them. “Sorry, newspaper business!” She dragged me out of the way of the people climbing the steps until we stood against the side railing.

  “I thought you were there when it happened.”

  I shook my head. “No, I got there a few minutes later. After Nate was already at the bottom of the steps.”

  “Ah, okay.” She nodded. “What I heard was that Brent started picking on him, things got out of hand, and Nate ended up falling. But someone else said Tim pushed him.”

  I closed my eyes. “Shit.”

  “Yeah, exactly. The kind of bullshit that goes on around here and no one does a damn thing about.” She cocked her head. “You should write about it.”

  “I can’t.” I sighed. “I promised Nate that I wouldn’t. I think he doesn’t want to be the one responsible for getting them kicked off the team.”

  Gia growled and tugged on the ends of her short blonde hair. “I get that. I really do. But how’s it going to change if no one talks about it? What happened to fighting the bullies?”

  “I don’t know. Leo . . . he said he’d take care of it.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure. Leo Taylor’s going to stick up for someone like Nate.”

  “They’re friends. We’re all three friends. Leo’s the one who got to Nate first yesterday, and he drove me to the hospital.” And kissed me until I forgot my own first name. Yeah, I thought I’d better leave that part out.

  “Yeah?” Gia didn’t look convinced. “Let’s just say he doesn’t strike me as someone who’s going to stick his neck out for anyone but himself. Or maybe his football buds.” She lifted up her hands. “But hey, I’ve been wrong before.” She looked over her shoulder at her friends. “I need to go sit down before I lose my seat.”

  “Yeah, I need to find one before it’s standing room only.” I pointed up higher.

  “I’d invite you to join us, but it’s pretty tight here. But hey, next time, right? My friends and I come to games ironically.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Meaning that we make fun of the players, the cheerleaders . . . you know, the whole school spirit deal.”

  If it wasn’t for Leo, I could see myself feeling the same way. “Sounds like fun. Thanks, Gia. See you Monday.”

  I’d just started to move away when she called my name again. “Hey, Quinn, we’re going over to the diner after. If you want to come? I know you usually hang with Nate, so . . .” She let her voice trail off, but somehow, being Gia, she didn’t make the invitation sound like a pity offer. I considered for a minute before I nodded.

  “That sounds like fun. Meet you there?”

  “Yep. We’ll save you a seat, and if you get there first, get a booth for four.”

  I waved and began the climb again. There was a little space at the very top, just below the press box, and I murmured my excuses as I sidled in front of people and sat down.

  Franklin Township wasn’t exactly Eatonboro’s arch rival, but they were a strong opponent, I knew. Township was a regional school, and a lot of the kids came from area farms. They were big guys, probably outweighing our boys by a good forty pounds each. I watched Matt Lampert on the sidelines, bouncing on the balls of his feet, helmet in his hand as he scanned the field where the opposition was taking their warm-up. His face was impassive, and I wondered if he got nervous before games. I knew Leo had a routine he stuck to every time they played. He was definitely superstitious about it.

  As if I’d summoned him by my thoughts, Leo wandered into my line of vision, coming up to stand next to Matt. A rush of longing flooded through me, my eyes hungrily taking in his shoulders under the wide pads and the way they accented his narrow hips, his tight rear end . . . God, I wished I’d taken the opportunity to cop a feel of that backside yesterday when I’d had the chance. The pants of his uniform clung to the muscles of his legs, and I remembered the feel of those legs pushing into mine yesterday, the touch of his hands all over me.

  “Hey, Q! What’re you doing here?”

  I swiveled on my seat just as Jake gripped my shoulder and squeezed. He was leaning out of the open window of the press box, grinning at me.

  “Hi, Jake.” I craned my neck to see him without bothering the men who sat on either side of me. “Oh, I come to all the games. But I usually sit down lower, with Nate.”

  “Ah, okay. Yeah.” Regret filled Jake’s eyes. “I heard about his accident. He’s okay, though?”

  “Yeah, looks that way.” I smiled. “Thanks for asking.”

  “You look like you’re pretty crowded there. Why don’t you come back here? We’ve got extra seats in the press box, and you’re press, after all.”

  It took me about two seconds to make the decision. “I’d love to, thanks, Jake.” I stood up and stumbled past more knees and glares from people who felt that my nanosecond in front of them was impacting their ability to see the game that hadn’t even started yet.

  Jake held the door open for me and pointed at a metal folding chair. “It’s not exactly luxury, but at least you’ve got leg room.” He gestured to the older man sitting at a mic, wearing headphones. “That’s Mr. Ranetti. He announces the games and broadcasts them, too. You know Ken—” He nodded to the skinny kid sitting by the window, who I knew helped to cover sports for the newspaper. “And this is Caren Hopkins. She’s the high school sports reporter for the Lawrence County Journal. Everyone, this is Quinn Russell. She’s our columns and opinions editor at the paper.”

  There was a low hum as everyone mumbled hellos, but their attention—and mine—snapped back to the field, as the game was about to begin. Mr. Ranetti read off both team rosters, and a kind of contrary pride swelled in my heart when the loudest cheers seemed to come for “Number ten, wide receiver Leo Tayyyyylor!” The cheerleaders launched into the chant they’d written expressly for Leo, and I managed not to roll my eyes. I called that a victory.

  The Eatonboro Eagles won the toss and deferred to receive in the second half. Beau Dunton, our kicker, sent the ball flying end over end until it landed around Franklin Township’s thirty-yard line, where the kick returner scooped it up and attempted to run downfield. He only got about five yards before the Eagles laid him out.

  In the next ten minutes, Township attempted to get past our defense, but the line was strong. Watching Brent plow through the blockers, I felt a twinge of empathy for Leo, realizing why it was so important to him that his linebackers were able to play today. I didn’t condone what they’d done, and I still thought Nate was wrong to cover it up, but I understood it just a little more.

  Almost the entire first half of the game was essentially a stand-off. The Ea
gles managed to run for a few first downs, but they weren’t able to convert them into any real yardage or a score. Even from up in the press box, I could see the frustration on Leo’s face each time Matt was forced to throw the ball away or run with it, rather than pass it to him. Although I knew our blockers were working hard to protect their QB, Matt was finding it nearly impossible to get out of the pocket long enough to execute a decent pass.

  “Damn!” I dropped back into my seat, clenching my jaw after Franklin Township actually succeeded in sacking Lampert. “Harris missed that block. He practically invited their DE to stroll in for the sack.”

  “They’re all wearing down.” Jake leaned back in his chair, studying me. “You know a lot about the game, don’t you? I mean, I don’t want to sound sexist, because I’m not. But most girls I’ve known are proud when they can talk about touchdowns and field goals. They know the basics, but you seem to know what you’re doing.”

  I lifted one shoulder. “Leo’s been my best friend since we were born. He started to be obsessed with football when we were about nine, and I had to listen to him jabber on about it all the time. After a while, I figured I might as well pay attention. You know, if you can’t beat them, join them. And yeah, I love the game. It’s got history, it’s got a certain elegance . . .” I smiled and shook my head. “Sorry. Not many people ask me about football. Now you know why.”

  One side of Jake’s mouth curled into a half-smile. “It’s just another piece in the mystery that is Quinn Russell. I like finding out about you, a little at a time.”

  I flushed. “I’m really not that interesting, Jake. Sorry to disappoint you. I’m actually pretty boring.”

  He laughed. “Q, the last thing I’d ever call you is boring. Matter of fact, I’d say you’ve brought more excitement to the paper in the time you’ve been on staff than I can remember us having before you joined.”