Authors: Lisi Harrison
Monday
Feeling = Unlucky.
My striped sweatbands are missing. This day is going to suck.
Later.
Feeling = Knew it.
We had one hour and forty-five minutes to kill before practice. The guys wanted pizza. I said go without me. I wanted to run home and find my sweatbands. Also, I can’t afford pizza. Not that they would have believed me. Every day I show up wearing a slick watch or belt. I have new headphones, a tablet,
and a “text book” that lets me send messages in class without getting caught. Rumors are going around that I’m endorsed and raking it in. The
Noble High Times
nicknamed me Golden Boy because of my shoes. They “applaud my philanthropic spirit” (whatever that means). They suspect I am “singlehandedly supporting the entire cause” because I “rarely ask for donations and have yet to reveal the charity’s name.”
Mandy lost it when she read that. Then she made me recycle as many copies as I could find so Mom and Dad wouldn’t see it.
Hud and Coops have been begging me to come clean. They know something is up and keep asking if that Lily girl is involved because we’re so style-y all of a sudden and she’s always staring at me. I’ve been saying they’re crazy. But that’s not going to fly anymore. Not after they saw the slick Hummer parked at the Pick and Flick.
Everyone was standing around like Jay-Z was inside. There was a sign in the window with my name on it. I thought it was a joke.
COOPS:
Have fun at
home
, Golden Boy.
ME:
Huh?
HUD:
Yeah guys, nothing is going on. We must be
crazy
.
A few of them laughed.
HUD:
See ya, Slick. We’ll be at Domino’s if you need us. Just look for the poor dudes.
COOPS:
With the gold shoes.
LOGO:
I can’t believe you girls paid for those things.
ME:
Guys, I have no clue what this is about. Seriously!
They walked away laughing.
I was going to chase after them when Anton rolled down a tinted window and told me to get in.
He was wearing a black leather jumpsuit. It crackled when he crossed his legs.
ANTON:
Cappuccino? The bean has been harvested with the a-sa-yeeee berry.
ME:
No, thanks.
He took a sip from a tiny mug. The way he held out his pinky reminded me of Amelia and Mandy playing tea party. Only his was sprayed orange and covered in hair.
The Hummer pulled away from the curb.
ME:
Where are we going?
We drove past the guys. Hud and Coops acted like they didn’t notice.
Feeling = Like I swallowed a sock.
ANTON:
Don’t you read
anything
?
Feeling = No.
ANTON:
Your itinerary was in the last box.
I remember seeing something. But Lily was over and she said she was in a buying mood so I got right to the selling. Then
Adventure Time
was on.
ME:
I didn’t see anything.
Anton puckered and took another sip.
ME:
Anton, I have practice in—
ANTON:
I’ll have you back in twenty minutes. I just want you to see the venue.
Feeling = What’s a venue?
We pulled up to a warehouse. I started to panic. Was this about my debt? Was I about to get whacked? I reached for the door handle. It was locked.
ME:
What’s happening? Why are we here?
ANTON:
I’m going to kill you.
I didn’t yawn but I went deaf anyway. I thought about my grieving parents. They would blame themselves.
ME:
But my sales are good. I’ll just need a few more—
ANTON:
Relax. I’m kidding. Come. Let’s see the catwalk.
Turns out I am contracted to co-host a fashion show Friday night. Each It Guy has to fill twenty seats. They should go to top clients only. Everything the models wear will be sold at the after-party. High-end brands only. I have the potential to pay off the rest of my debt in this one night.
I didn’t tell Anton my “top clients” were Lily, the next-door neighbor. I just said, “Cool.”
Feeling = Four days to find nineteen top clients.
Anton dropped me back at school but I was late for practice. Everyone was on the bleachers. No one said hi or looked at me or hazed me for reeking like Anton’s Animaul cologne. The coach didn’t make me do sprints. It’s like I wasn’t there.
I sat to the left of Hud. He slid to the right.
ME:
Really? So it’s like that?
HUD:
You gonna tell me where you were?
ME:
It was nothing.
HUD:
Then yeah, it’s like that.
The coach pulled a piece of paper out of a wool beanie.
COACH:
Number ten.
LOGO:
Yes!
Feeling = What’s going on?
I had to piece it all together because no one would talk to me.
Rumson was down one player so we had to lose one too. The younger guys volunteered because Octavia is having a party and they wanted to go. Bammer drew numbers. Logo won. He already has a date. Some “wild” freshman. He’s pumped to sit this one out.
We start playing a scrimmage and I’m trying to really focus, which is not easy since everyone is either ignoring me or calling me Slick. I shoot a basket. No one high-fives me. I can’t wait to pay off my debt and be done with this whole thing. I shoot another basket. No one says a thing. I can’t wait for life to get back to normal. Four more days and I should be done. Four more days until Friday. Four more days until normal. Four more days until—I lost the ball. Realizing the Rumson game is the same night as your fashion show will do that to a guy.
I have to get out of that game.
I shoot another basket.
The coach will never let me off the hook. Rumson is too good. I score too much. Logo will never give me his pass. I
can’t tell anyone the truth. I shoot another basket. I have to think of something. I do. I steal the ball from Ryan. Greg is clear. He tells me to pass. I don’t. I line up the shot. I know I should pass. I don’t. I jump. I throw. I land. I Wipe. Problem solved.
I land on my shin but say it’s my ankle. I’m not hurt but moan like I am. I limp off. Hud and Coops don’t ask if I’m okay. They know I am. They know I did it on purpose. But they don’t ask why. They don’t seem to care.
I tell Coach Bammer I can’t play Rumson on Friday. He is bummed. He was counting on me to crush them.
Logo has to play now and will miss the party. He thinks I did this on purpose. Hud and Coops know I did. They know it has to do with my slick new lifestyle.
Feeling = How am I going to find nineteen people on Friday when no one is talking to me?
10.9.12
INT. NOBLE HIGH—AFTERNOON.
Logan is a total ass for not telling me he has a basketball game Friday night. Especially since I didn’t find out from him. Octavia told me.
Actually, she told Audri. I was listening again. We were leaving rehearsal and she was talking about changing the party to Saturday night instead of Friday.
Why?
(Audri.)
Logan has a game Friday night.
(Octavia.)
No, he doesn’t.
(Me.)
Oh, where did you come from?
(Octavia, pretending she didn’t see me, as usual.)
What do you mean he doesn’t have a game Friday?
(Audri.)
Why would he lie?
Yeah, why would he lie?
(Octavia.)
No idea. But he doesn’t have a game.
(Me, only super confident.)
Octavia stopped and turned to face me. Her summer tan had faded. She looked less Kardashian and more Hilton.
How do you know what Logan is doing Friday night?
(Octavia.)
Audri had no clue what I was about to say. I had purposely not told her I asked Logan to the party. I didn’t want her to feel in the middle of all this. Mature of me, right? I know.
Octavia tapped her glitter Converse. I told her how I knew.
What do you mean you’re taking him to my party?
(Octavia.)
I didn’t even invite you.
I shot Audri a look. It ricocheted off her glasses and hit Octavia.
O, you said she was on the list.
(Audri.)
You promised.
I was talking about a different list.
(Octavia.)
Octavia!
(Audri.)
It doesn’t matter. Logan and I can do something else that night.
(Me.)
Like go to Rumson and watch his game.
(Octavia.)
He. Doesn’t. Haveagame!
(Me.)
Octavia opened the door of the gym and shouted:
Do you guys have a game Friday night?
A few of the guys shouted back. One of them was Logan. They all said yes. She let the door slam shut.
You were saying.
Line! Can I get a line? I had no idea how to play it. Octavia had won. She always won.
A sudden bang made us jump. A cute junior had just kicked in his locker. Principal Alden called after him. His name was A.J. Principal Alden told him to stop. A.J. ran. When Octavia’s head was turned I ran too. Down the hall, around the corner, past the lockers and—
oof!
I tripped on a cane.
I landed like a cat, on all fours. My book bag spilled open. A FemFresh rolled out and stopped in the middle of the floor. Jagger the Orphan saw it and walked the other way. Like it had teeth or something.
It’s just a tampon!
(Me.)
Jagger walked faster.
Duffy put it back in my bag.
You’re not scared of it?
(Me.)
Two older sisters, remember?
(Duffy.)
My knee throbbed.
My cane slipped when I shut my locker.
(Duffy.)
You okay?
I didn’t want to make him feel bad so I said I was.
What happened to you?
Basketball.
(Duffy.)
I’m starting to hate that sport.
(Me.)
Why?
More like a player.
(Me.)
It was an accident. I swear.
Not you.
I giggled.
Logan.
You mean Logo? Bet I hate him more.
I do.
No, I do.
No, me.
Me.
We left school together. After three blocks of Logan-loathing we talked about best friends–how they change or move on, and how that hurts. After a while Duffy stopped limping. I didn’t, so he gave me his cane.
He walked all the way to my house. The M3 GTR was parked in the driveway. I waited for him to go all crazy and start humping it. He didn’t. I liked that. He asked what I was doing Friday night. I said nothing. He asked if I wanted to go to a fashion show. I thought he was joking until he said he wasn’t. He told me I could bring as many friends as I wanted. It wasn’t a date. But it was something. And I had nothing. So I said yes.
To Be Continued…
END SCENE.