Rival Love (16 page)

The bitter wind drifts through the stadium, and I tighten my fists, which are currently stuffed inside my letterman jacket. Why does she have to get to me so much? She’s just a Bulldog. An unwanted pest. That’s it.

The speech by the recruiter finally comes to an end, and I blink a few times before shaking the dude’s hand. As soon as we go our separate ways my uncle places an arm on my shoulder and tries to rub his knuckles against my skull. I shift away before this happens. He smiles. “That’s the third one this month. That’s really good. So what did you think?”

“Think about what?”

“About the schools. Do any of them impress you so far? You seem a million miles into orbit when they talk to you about all the things they can offer you.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. They all sound great.”

“Hmmm. Well, it’s your decision. Your parents would be proud either way.”

Would they be proud? I hope so. But I’m not certain. There are a lot of things they probably wouldn’t be happy I’ve done. How I’ve treated some girls, how I helped jump a Harris Academy nerd outside the movie theater. Yeah, probably not my proudest moments.

Reaching the car in silence, I toss my bag into the trunk, and then get into the back. Skylar is staring out the window, with her head tilted slightly upwards to the sky. I slap her leg and ask, “What did you think about the game?”

She turns those wild-looking eyes to me. “You should have realized earlier they couldn’t stop your run plays and stuck with that instead of trying to impress people with your arm. You would have had more points on the board.”

I’m literally speechless. She turns away and proceeds to look out the window. See? This is exactly what I am talking about. She couldn’t just say, “You played well.” No, she has to constantly throw in some kind of dig. Turning my own stare toward the window on my side, I mutter, “Is that all, Miss Perfect?”

“You asked me what I thought. I don’t know why you’re all pissy about it. At least I told you the truth.”

And there it is. Her logic behind everything. The sad part is if this were coming from Lance or Derrick or just someone who wasn’t her, I’d respect them and their thoughts on how to improve myself. But coming from her, it irritates me. How is it possible for her to see all my flaws?

I sigh loudly. Our gazes meet and she drops hers first. “I guess I’m wrong. You’re kind of like my friend Mikia; she only likes to hear all the good things she did. Not the things she can improve on. So, I’m sorry for assuming we were alike in that sense.” She turns away with a blush. I’m momentarily stunned again. She apologized.

“It’s fine. Thanks for pointing it out.”

***

Coming up on game eight of the season, I notice Skylar’s mood has become more tornado-like than usual. She lashes out at Erin. She hasn’t eaten much this week either.

I get home from practice one day, sweaty, probably smelling like someone’s garbage can, but so damn hungry I put my shower on hold. When I make my way to the kitchen to grab a snack, Erin’s in there, sitting at the island flipping through some catalog filled with scrubs and medical junk. I pick up an apple from the fruit bowl and she looks up at me. “How was school today?”

I give my normal response. “It was good.” I turn to leave when Erin catches my elbow. “Was there something else?” I ask.

“Would you mind checking on Liv for me? She’s been really upset, but I’m pretty sure she won’t tell me what’s bothering her.”

I nod.

Heading up the stairs, I stop outside Skylar’s door. “Hey, Fletch?” I ask while tapping on the grain. The door opens and before me is Skylar with red-rimmed eyes and a hand swiping at her cheeks.

“What?” she sniffles.

“Can I come in?”

She folds her arms over her chest. “Don’t you have company coming soon?”

I shake my head. “Not tonight. She’s tanning and getting her nails done.”

Skylar rolls her bloodshot eyes but moves aside. I take a seat at her desk. She has a few books open; one has bunch of foreign words filling the page so I assume it’s her Italian homework. The next is civics. I look back at her. “We should do homework together.”

“Okay, get out. Seriously, homework? I don’t know what kind of crap you’re trying to pull, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for it.” She points her finger to the door and I laugh.

“Honestly, Sky, I thought we could do this civics stuff together.” It’s the first time I ever called her Sky—out loud, that is. She seems to notice too because her eyes widen a little and she sighs.

“Fine. But I swear, Caleb, if you color over my homework or glue it to my book or whatever, I’ll kill you.” She grabs the beanbag near her bookshelf and tosses it to me. “Go get your stuff, and no, you’re not getting that chair back.” She casts her eyes down to the beanbag in my hands. “This is going to be your seat.”

I drop the beanbag beside the desk, and head to the door.

“Oh, and Caleb?”

“Yeah?”

“Please take a shower. You smell like you rolled in dog crap.”

I hurry out of the room a little embarrassed. I knew I’m not smelling like a prince but dog crap? She must think I’m one of those guys who basks in their sweat.

After my quick shower, I go to my room change, grab my book bag, then return to her room. I slink down into the overstuffed pillow on the floor and we actually do homework together. Well, at least for the classes we share, we help each other out. But for the ones we don’t share, we work silently, trying to figure out our own messes. I’ll admit, working with Skylar is kind of nice. She doesn’t lean over me, breathing down my neck the way Danielle does. She explains things, like where and how she got an answer instead of saying, “Oh you know you got it,” like Danielle does.

“You should have been my tutor,” I mumble.

Skylar looks at me and smiles. “I don’t do blowjobs or sex for rewards.”

I glare at her. “Who said you’d have to?”

She drops her gaze but the way her eyebrows are still raised and her eyes remain wide tells me she’s thinking something horrible.

“You don’t know anything about me!” I yell. “You have no clue who I am or what I’ve been through. But there you go again, being all judgmental because of something you heard.” I slam my books shut and start to get up.

Her fingers brush against my arm causing a tingling sensation throughout my body. “I shouldn’t judge you. You’re right and I don’t know anything about you other than the articles in the paper. But this street goes both ways. You don’t know anything about me either, but God do you judge me, Caleb. You and the rest of those people at Delmont.”

I sit back down again, ready to reply but she moves her fingers to my mouth. The tingling ignites from my lips down to my toes. And for the first time ever, I want to show someone the real me. The broken, torn-up orphan and all the parts of me that I keep locked away. It’s my center, my main drive for being the asshole, heartbreaker, and even the need to be number one at everything in life.

“So, I’ll make you a deal,” Skylar goes on. “I can’t judge you until I learn at least twenty-five facts about you. You can’t judge me until you learn twenty-five facts about me. These facts must come from one of us and not from family members, friends, or newspapers. Oh, and there is a limit on the number of facts you can collect in a day—let’s say two. Two’s a good number. Do we have a deal?”

Her hand is out there, ready for me to seal the deal. I stare at it for a moment then I snatch it up and shake it. She smiles. “Want to start?”

As much as I’d love to start this session of truth-spilling, I can’t think of anything I can really ask her. Let alone tell her about my own self. I mean, I guess my parents’ accident could be one, but that’s depressing and not one I’m ready to share just yet.

Pondering over my thoughts a bit, I finally come up with something I can share. It’s corny, but hey, no one said it had to be total mind-blowing shit or pure gold. “Frogs freak me out. The whole webbed feet thing, and eating flies while secreting mucus, that’s just too much weird shit for me.”

She giggles a little. “I’m not a fan of snakes. If I see one, I scream and run as far away as I can in the opposite direction. I don’t watch movies with them, don’t look at them at the pet store, even when they’re in their little glass cages. No.” She shivers a little, which in turn makes me laugh.

She hits the iPod on the iDeck and Matchbox 20’s “Push” plays through the speakers. I drop my pen and start to sing along. “I love this band.”

“You do? I’m sadly in love with Train.” I smile at that. Maybe these twenty-five facts won’t end up being so bad after all.

Chapter 29

Skylar

My alarm goes off four, five, six times before someone knocks on my door. “Hey, Fletch. You dead in there?”

I wish I were dead. It would be easier. The biggest game of the year is today, and I have no interest in moving from this spot on my bed. My alarm sounds off again, and Caleb doesn’t wait for my response he just opens the door and stares at me. “Fletch, don’t take this the wrong way but you look like hell.”

“Thanks. That’s what I was aiming for.” I roll over to avoid his gorgeous eyes. Why does he have to have those wonderfully emerald eyes with flecks of gold splintering out? And why is it that today he has to look really sexy in his button-down shirt and dress slacks?

My bed shifts a little. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting all…I don’t know, zombie-like lately.”

I prop up on my left elbow but still don’t meet his gaze. “Here’s one fact for today. I feel like every time I walk the halls of Delmont High I’m betraying my friends, and the school I love. And today the feeling of betrayal has doubled.”

“I understand.” I meet his eyes, and he goes on. “Don’t tell anyone this, but I’m nervous about tonight. This is my senior year and you know as well as I do alumni always ask you about this one particular game. I can’t be that person to say we lost. I just can’t.”

I know the feeling. “Caleb, remember how I told you at the away game if you would have figured out their weakness earlier you could have had more points on the board?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all you need to do tonight. Now, go tell my mom I’m sick.”

He doesn’t. Instead, he yanks me out of bed, and carries me to the shower. “Caleb! What the hell…” He turns on the water and before I can stop it, I’m taking a shower with my nightclothes on. My anger is beyond controllable. “You’re such an asshole!” I punch his arm. He doesn’t laugh or growl at me like normal, he simply sighs.

“You should probably close the curtain and start handing over your wet clothes. I’m pretty sure your mom will kill us both if you walk down the hallway dripping water all over the place.”

I untangle myself from my wet clothes and hand them to him. Then I hear the door close. I don’t know why I bother taking the shower. My stomach knots at the thought of going to school today. If my mother makes me go to the game tonight, I’ll just die. Because that will be the final nail in my coffin. I’m currently the black sheep among both sides, and there’s no section in the stands labeled Unwanted Section. Even the stoners and losers have a section and I’m not welcomed there either.

Why couldn’t someone invent something useful, like a ‘miss one whole day of your life once a year’ thingamajig? Meaning you go to sleep on a Sunday and instead of it being Monday when you wake up, it’s Tuesday. Why can’t that exist?

I grab my bottle of body wash and notice it’s practically gone. Really? I make a mental note to pick some more up on the way to work tomorrow, and hide it from my mother who’s obviously using it. I’m all for sharing but she could at least tell me we were running on empty, or at least pick us up another bottle. Instead she buys some gross flower-scented stuff that makes me smell like someone’s grandma.

After my shower, I change quickly, not really caring that I look like a bum in some gray sweats and a t-shirt. Then I make my way into the kitchen. My mom is sitting in her usual spot drinking coffee.

“You know, if you’re going to use my stuff you could at least replace it,” I say.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t use anything of yours.” I give her a look that says she’s full of crap. She pauses and lifts a finger. “Wait, I’m wrong, I used your straightener cream the other day. I thought I put it back where you had it. The bottle felt full to me, but I’ll replace it. I’m sorry.”

Jeez. She probably used all of that too! I’m just about to tell her about my body wash when Caleb strolls in and asks me, “Ready to go?”

Seriously, he’s still trying to make me go to school today? My mom raises her brows like she’s waiting for me to object or something. I sigh in defeat and head out the door with Caleb.

Inside the school is when my walls begin to cave. Every inch of this place is decorated in yellow and brown banners. It makes me ill to see it. These aren’t my hallways. Those aren’t my team colors.

I manage to make it to my first period class without vomiting, even though it’s exactly what I want to do. My stomach is churning and twisting as my butt slides into my assigned seat. Class is barely five minutes in and my name is announced over the PA system. The only thought surfacing in my mind is “What now?”

The people working in the office just shake their heads every time they see me entering. I take a seat in what should be marked Skylar’s chair, since I’m in this damn place more often than I should be. Mrs. Anderson, the elderly woman, tsks at me. “He’ll see you now, Skylar.”

I almost give her something to tsk at. Stepping into Principal Keegan’s office, I look about the room and notice I’m not the only one seeing him this minute. “Um…she told me to come in here.”

Principal Keegan nods. “Have a seat, Skylar.”

Slowly, I walk over to a set of leather chairs and sit in one. “Am I in trouble?” I can’t help but ask. There’s one person I recognize from swimming, which happens to be the coach. The other is the athletic director and there’s another person I’ve never seen before in my life. They all seem to be staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.