Exposed (9 page)

“Yes, ma’am.” I play bobble-head doll again, then run into the gym before she can change her mind.

As I scramble onto the floor to take my place, Ellis tries to trip me, but she misses.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Carny says, her high-pitched voice shrill over the music.

Ellis wheels on the sophomore before I can step between them. “Back off, you little twit.” Her icicle blue eyes stab in my direction, and that fast, we’re in two lines, with Ellis, the other three seniors, and one sophomore under the basketball goal and Devin, Carny, me, and the two freshman twirlers (kind of hiding behind us) standing at the baseline.

Everybody’s got fists clenched.

Nobody has batons.

Probably a good thing.

I wonder what it would cost to pay a hacker to splice Ellis’s grades, wreck her college applications, and transfer her folks to some corporation in Bora-Bora.

As calmly as I can, I match Ellis’s equally cold stare. “I’m still varsity.”

Devin snorts with relief. Carny grins. The freshmen cower, but they’re still on our side.

Ellis smiles, way nasty. “She’s a skank
and
a liar. I saw the scales.”

Devin leans forward, but I grab her slapping hand and keep my eyes locked on Ellis. “For God’s sake, I
don’t
want Adam-P back. You have to know that by now.”

This catches Ellis off guard. I can tell from the twitching in her witch-monster mask and the way those cold blue eyes get a little wide. Her minions stir beside her, but nobody says anything.

Maybe it’s that little success, the fact I’m right about why she’s such a total jerk to me. Maybe it’s the rush of gaining the advantage, no matter how slim. Or maybe I’m as big an ass as Ellis, because what I say next just flows out of my mouth, perfect and smooth.

“But if I change my mind, I can take him.”

Ellis throws herself at me, flailing both arms and shouting at the same time.

Heart banging, I jump to my left. Slam into Carny. Pain flares up my shoulder as Ellis’s grabbing hands miss my throat by inches.

Carny hits the floor. My brain sees it in slow motion. Ellis stumbles and thumps to the floor beside her, landing on her palms and knees.

I’m breathing hard, like I’m running.

Freshmen scatter and scream.

Devin groans. Wades in. I turn toward her as she snatches two big handfuls of senior hair and the girls start hollering. The other seniors stand very still, arms hanging, mouths open. Shocked by Ellis? By me?

Thump, thump, thump.
My chest might explode. I want to yell, make a noise, a whoop, some kind of battle cry, but when my mouth opens, nothing happens.

Ellis staggers to her feet and rounds on me. Her perfume smells like rotten lilacs.

I’ve got both fists ready, and I swing at her and miss, and the Bear’s there like she popped out of thin air.

Blood roars against my eardrums, but I hear the
Bear’s bellow over all that racket. Russian. No idea what she’s saying, but my heart keeps thumping and my breath catches and I don’t move at all.

Neither does Ellis. She’s about a foot from me when she stops. Her blue eyes go wide as the Bear yells again, still in Russian.

Devin lets go of senior hair, Carny cowers on the floor, and God only knows where the freshmen are.

The Bear’s furious glare might kill a healthy plant at twenty paces. It’s directed first at me, then at Ellis. My heart slows down a little bit, and the noise in my ears eases a fraction. Devin looks like she wants to hurl.

Then the Bear claps her hands, and Carny jumps up, and freshmen reappear, and seniors stop restraightening their hair, and everybody scurries into line, Ellis and Devin and me included.

We stand, shoulders back, chests out, hands behind our backs.

Now my heart’s drumming for a whole new reason. Everybody’s breathing hard. I want to smash my head through the bleachers.

Was I out of my mind, baiting Ellis?

Do I need medication?

Fighting? In the
gym
?

The Bear will kill us all. She’ll move the whole JV squad up
today
.

For now, she storms up and down the line, lecturing us—I know that’s what she’s doing, even if I don’t
understand a word of it, except one that sounds like
dura
, which I think means
idiot
.

You’re an idiot, Chan.

I’m really, really a total idiot.

What if Devin gets busted down because of me
?

The Bear stops in front of me. Her dark eyes are bloodshot and narrow and for one long, awful second, I’m afraid she’s actually going to bite me.

She gets close to my face.

Closer.

I feel her breath on my cheek. Smell the pimento cheese on her breath.

My stomach churns.

I can’t keep looking at her, even though I know I should, and my face is so hot, and my insides feel just as hot, and the Bear, through her teeth, growls, “Laps.”

Laps.

My brain hears the word, but doesn’t register it.

“It’s my fault,” I say in a rush. “Don’t make—”

“Laps!” the Bear yells so loud my whole head rings. “Field! Now! Laps!”

And we’re running out of the gym, running as fast as we can, to the track around the football field, where I know Adam-P’s practicing with the two other Adams (Adam-L and Adam-B) and the rest of his team.

When I slow down, Devin shoves me from behind.

“You’ve got to run,” she wheezes as she passes me. “Move!”

I move.

We all move.

For a very, very, very long time.

All of practice, we run. If we slow down, the Bear’s on us, in our face, screeching in Russian.

I also don’t know why I worried about seeing Adam-P. The football field and everyone on it’s just a blur as we speed by, running for our lives. Maybe Ellis is worried. Maybe she hates that Adam-P’s seeing her all scared and sweaty. I sort of care, but I don’t. Not really—about him seeing her, or me, or any of it.

I
don’t
want him back.

I’ve got Paul now, and Paul can’t see me sweat unless I turn on the computer. For a while I run with my eyes closed, not even caring if I fall flat on the black, rubbery track surface. That’s how it felt to talk to Paul the last two nights. Running with my eyes closed. Dangerous, but safe, too. Thrilling, but scary. Something that takes me totally away from the real world.

“Faster!” the Bear thunders from what seems like miles away, and I open my eyes. I’m in front of everybody, and I’m running harder than I’ve ever run before.

It feels … great. Like I’m flying.

Until later, when we’re crawling back toward the gym, and I want to throw up everything I’ve eaten for the last two weeks, and my ribs are coming apart, and I feel like somebody crammed torches down both my shins.

Devin’s limping and leaning on Carny and calling me
names. She’s calling Ellis names, too, and anybody else who gets too close to her. Otherwise, nobody’s much talking to either of us, Ellis or me.

We fall through the door and collapse on the bleachers beside our twirling bags. I make sure to drag my bag toward the door and sit far away from everyone, except Devin. She might call me names—but I know she loves me.

The Bear marches straight to her office and slams the door so hard I’m surprised the wood doesn’t split. She’s not going to say anything to the parents. That’s up to us.

Friggin’ wonderful.

Maybe I should go run with my eyes closed again. In traffic.

Any second now, Mom’ll pop through the door in the shirt she had on this morning—
I Think, Therefore I’m a Democrat
. And I’ll have to explain before other parents call her.

Devin leans toward me and nudges my shoulder. “Hey, butthead. I’m gonna hate you until tomorrow, ’kay?”

The look I give her says
You totally have my permission
.

She scoots closer. Drops her voice to conspiracy level. “Now confess. Where did you get that training program you showed me earlier?”

I shrug and try to look relaxed, try to
feel
relaxed, since I haven’t done anything wrong. My throat’s dry
when I swallow. “I got it online—but the Bear thinks it’ll work.”

I’m still sweating so hard I’m sure I look guilty of murder or something. Parents are showing up. Ellis, Carny, and the freshmen stand and get ready to leave.

When I dare to glance at Devin, her bland expression sharpens. Then she frowns. “You got it from
him
, didn’t you? You
have
been talking to him!”

More people are leaving, so I watch them instead of Devin for a few seconds.

She punches me in the shoulder.

I manage what I hope is an innocent look. “Him who?”

“Chan.” Devin’s frown turns almost as scary as the Bear’s.

I should feel touched that she cares, or nervous, or something, but really, I don’t feel anything but hot and exhausted, and a little like I’ve got the flu. I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to talk about Paul with Devin again, because she might not understand, and her not understanding would just … drag everything down and make it feel bad. I don’t want to feel bad. I don’t want to feel anything but that rush of running with my eyes closed.

“Devin,” Mr. Macy calls from the gym door, saving my ass. “Let’s go, honey. Chan, do you need a ride?”

“No, thanks.” I do my best to smile at him.

Devin studies me without moving. She looks miserable and concerned and interested all at the same time.

“Okay, yes, I’ve been talking to him,” I whisper as the rest of the parents edge into the gym, and girls stagger off the bleachers. “But he’s nice and sweet and totally un-pervy so far. Please don’t worry so much.”

“Chan,” she says again, flat and definitely worried now. Her fingers tighten on the strap of her baton case.

“It’s fine for now, Devin.” My voice sounds hoarse. “I’m going slow. I’m being careful.”

Devin jerks her twirling bag off the bleacher steps. “Don’t forget the outline for the Emily paper. It’s due Monday.”

God, is she pissed about
this
instead of my psycho behavior with Ellis and all the running?

I want to groan really loud, and really long.

Why did I say anything at all?

A few steps later, she’s gone.

The gym door bangs shut behind her, then opens, and a man pokes his head inside. I catch the flash of red hair, and my spirits jump. “Dad!”

A blast of energy.

I’m up.

I’m running again, carrying my baton case, eyes open. I pop through the door into the entrance hallway, drop the case on the floor, and throw myself into Dad’s embrace.

His big arms smash me to his chest, and I do my best to give him a hug even though I can’t reach around him. His brown suit smells like spicy aftershave.

When I finally pull back, he’s smiling. “Glad to see you, too. Been working hard?”

“Practice sucked,” I whisper, then let him hug me again.

This time when he lets me go, his green eyes flick toward the gym door. “Most of the parents already gone?”

He sounds casual, but I know what he means.

Tears push against my eyes as I take his hand and start walking toward the parking lot. I feel more like an ass than ever in my life. “I’m not eight anymore. I don’t care what people think. Seriously.”

He doesn’t say anything back.

It hurts my heart, how I was so awful to him when I was younger.

Don’t pick me up….

I don’t want you to pick me up….

You’re so big, the other kids laugh at me….

God, I suck.

Total little bitch. That was me, pre–Dad’s heart attack. When the other kids called him
fatso
and
whale
and other crap, I hung my head and whined. Post–heart attack, I started punching out big-mouths, or cracking their knees with a good, fast kick. Shut them up pretty fast, too.

Twirlers have muscles.

When we get to his SUV, he opens the door for me, and I climb inside.

Definitely more roomy and comfy than the covered
roller skate Mom pretends is a car.
Gas hog. Politically insensitive. Draft SUV drivers.
… Mom’s sentiments on the subject haven’t changed since Dad bought it, but he drives it anyway and just smiles at her. On some points other than pancakes, they “agree to disagree.”

“I need your help with something,” I tell him as we head out of the parking lot. “Two things, really.”

“If these things involve extending curfews or stretching lights-out time, can’t help you.”

“Nothing like that. It’s just, well, the first thing is, I got in a little trouble in practice, and I know you’re going to hear about it.” I risk a quick glance at Dad as I finish the sentence.

He surprises me by looking more worried than pissed off. “What happened?” His big hands tighten around the steering wheel like he’s choking the life out of the leather. “Was it that—that little punk you dated last year?”

“Oh. No. Not Adam-P.” My throat feels tight when I swallow. “It was his new girlfriend, Ellis. You know, the senior? We sort of had—uh, a, well, kind of a fight.”

Dad’s face goes all red and stormy.

“She called me a name and I said something nasty back and she tried to yank out my hair—but the Bear made us run laps,” I add in one big rush. “Like, all of practice.”

Dad shakes his head and glares at the road. “I thought
the teasing was over. If it’s still going on, I’m contacting the principal, and we’re going to—”

“NO. I mean, Dad, it’s not like that. I can handle it.” My gaze shifts from Dad to the back of my hands. “The Bear
did
handle it. It was … it was girl stuff, that’s all.”

Everything inside me winds up like a rubber band twisting and twisting and twisting. “That’s not the big thing I need help with. I mean, I guess punish me and stuff if you need to, but what I really need your help with is talking to Mom about another … um, thing.”

Dad’s face gets redder and he snorts like a bull.

This time when I swallow, the muscles don’t work right and I almost choke before I get out, “I had some money. And the Bear thought I needed to tone up, so I got a training plan. And … I ordered some weights.”