So Not Happening (20 page)
He opens his mouth to say something just as a large football player appears beside him. Jared and I step apart as the intruder leans down and mumbles low.
At Jared's nod his friend retreats.
“I better go.”
“Trouble?” My nosiness kicks into overdrive.
“Nothing serious. Just need to make a sweep of the grounds and make sure nobody's got a lamp shade on their head or is peeing on the petunias. But I meant what I said—or what I was trying to say. I would like to be friends.”
I smile broadly. “Friends it is, Jared Campbell.” I shoo him away with my hands. “Better go check for lamp shade violations.”
Joy flutters in my heart at the sight of Matt and Lindy still dancing, though both look fairly uncomfortable. But we can work with uncomfortable.
Left with no one to hang out with, I decide to return to the kitchen, where I reunite with the Fritos and graze like a grass-starved cow.
Fifteen chips and another Sprite later, my mind drifts back to Moxie. God,
life is so unfair! What could possibly be the purpose of taking
away my cat? Punishment? What did I do?
“I'm onto you, you know.”
I freeze mid-bite. Mid-prayer.
Brittany Taylor advances on me like a vulture.
“Hello to you, too, Brittany.” There's no way she could know I'm here to sniff out a story.
“You think you can come in here and just move straight to the A-list? It doesn't work like that.”
“Yeah, I guess it wouldn't when I have people like you trying to sabotage any efforts at making friends.” She flinches. “I
know
it was you who leaked it to Tiger TV about my
Ask Miss Milliard
blog.”
Her pink lip curls. “So?”
“I don't care anymore. The stuff I said was wrong, and I probably needed that little slap in the face to wake me up. Besides . . . I've been at the top of the popularity chain all my life. I didn't realize I had grown bored with it.” I pop another chip in my mouth. “Thanks for helping me branch out.”
Clutching my can, I flounce past her, onto the back porch and into the darkening night.
Two kegs stand at attention on the deck, but surprisingly nobody is around. Which is odd. Because if there's a spot that never gets lonely at a party, it's next to the keg. Not that I drink. Because I don't. But I've been around it enough.
My mood takes another nosedive as I think of my cat
and
my boyfriend. I texted him a million times to talk to him about tonight's party. It just makes a girl feel good to have her man care where she is—and to at least give her the chance to assure him she only has eyes for him no matter how many tall, buff guys she'll be mingling with. But Hunter never called me, and not only did I not get the privilege of answering twenty questions about the party, all I did get was a text that said “okay.” Okay? I tell him I'm going to an event at which there will be alcohol, dancing, and most of the Truman football team, and all he has to say is okay? I think part of me wanted him to ask me not to go. Or at least a “Call me when you get back so you can tell me how you
didn't
make out with anyone.” I've already lost Moxie. Am I losing Hunter too? What next, the apocalypse?
My eyes cloud over with tears for the millionth time tonight. I'm like a leaky faucet, and I can't seem to turn it off. Inhaling deeply, I swipe at my face.
Then freeze.
Three shadowed figures at the edge of the property run into the surrounding woods.
Two more follow.
They move silently, stealthily.
Where did they come from?
And where are they going?
Setting my can on the wooden railing, I watch them for another few seconds then descend the steps of the deck and walk toward the woods, following the disappearing shadows.
M
y heart pounding and my ears peeled like a dog on point, I slow down my steps, careful not to make a sound that the disappearing partygoers can hear. I follow the path of their voices, hanging far behind. We walk deep into the trees, and every ten paces I can't help but sneak a look behind me. I'm officially weirded out.
Just as I'm about to give up because of my really poor shoe choice, they stop.
I'm still too far away to make out the words of their conversation, so I inch forward and move off to their left, seeking cover behind a pair of trees. The moonlight shines down upon them, but I cannot distinguish their faces.
“What's this about, guys?”
Matt! That's Matt Sparks.
“Do you trust us?”
“Dante, just say what you have to say.” Matt's voice is weary, cautious.
“You were invited here tonight to become one of us.”
“If you're asking me if I think we should all get matching tattoos, the answer is no.”
Somebody laughs. “Matt, over ten years ago, a group of football players met after practice. They decided they were sick of losing.”
“And?”
“And those players made a pact that they would do whatever it took to see the Tigers become the strongest team in the state. They became more than teammates—they became brothers. And the tighter the team became, the better they played. They were unstoppable.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
Good
question, Matt. Keep 'em coming.
“Aren't you sick of losing? Don't you want to see us have a winning streak again? Take the state championship?” I recognize one of the voices from the Dumpster.
“Of course I'd like to win, but I'm not following any of this.”
“Let's just say that since last year we've been working on our team-building skills. The Brotherhood lives again—with us. Whatever it takes to get to those glory days—that's what we do.”
“We think the stronger our bond, the stronger our team becomes. And with strength must come fearlessness. Fear draws us closer. These guys here”—a shoulder is slapped—“these guys are my brothers. I'd die for them. I'd step through fire for them. That's what a real team is.”
“What is it you want from me, Dante?”
Get me another name, Matt.
“First of all, what we tell you tonight is private. You discuss it with no one. Do you promise?”
“I don't know. I guess.”
One of the football players does not appreciate Matt's casual attitude. “Tonight we are introducing you to the Truman Brotherhood, man. It's all about risking everything—to win. It's about a dare we hope you can't refuse. Because your skills could take us to state this year. Your skills, combined with ours, could get us all a full ride to any college in the state. But we need our strongest players united on this.”
“And the coaches are behind this?”
“Oh, Coach knows all about the Brotherhood—and he definitely wants the legacy to continue. The legacy of winning. But we need to know we have your full loyalty, Sparks.”
“I don't have to drink any goat's blood or dance naked in the moonlight here, right?”
“This is serious,” snaps Dante. Are you ready to be a warrior?”
“Yeah.”
“Care to prove that?”
“How?” Matt asks.
Above me a bird coos in the night. I shiver, even though the air is sticky hot.
“Do you like any extreme sports?”
“Yeah, I like to dirt bike and skateboard. So?”
“Then you're gonna like our idea of an initiation. Are you with us?”
Coo! Coo!
My head jerks up as a bird barrels straight down, its wings mere feet from my face.
I cover my head, open my mouth, and prepare to squeal—
Until a hand closes over my lips.
“What was that?” one of the guys yells.
“Don't move a muscle, Kirkwood,” a voice hisses near my ear.
“See if somebody's over there.” Someone stomps our way.
I tremble as Luke Sullivan plasters his body to mine. His breath waves over my neck, and his hand still covers my mouth. Then he cups his free hand and calls into it, making the most perfect shrill cry of a wild bird. He does it again. I hear the footsteps stop.
And as if inspired by God, the bird returns and makes two swoops around the tree, its distressed sounds almost matching Luke's.
“It was just a bird,” Matt says.
“We better get back. We've been gone too long. Sparks, you and Dante will go to the house first. The rest of us will follow in a minute.”
“We have more to discuss, but we'll be contacting you.” My ears perk at a new voice. This one familiar, but too low to really distinguish. “Remember, you know nothing. If any of this leaks, there are consequences. You support the team, or ... we make sure you get
off
the team.”
Matt's response is muffled by shoes crunching on the ground as he and Dante leave, pointing their flashlights on the path.
Satisfied that there's enough noise to move, I turn in Luke's arms and find we're nose to nose. He shakes his head and places his finger on my lips.
Yeah, like I was going to talk at a time like this.
Well, okay, I was. But I was going to be really quiet about it.
I can't make out much of his face, but I can feel his heart beating as spastically as mine.
Finally the rest of the team leaves, but not before shining flashlights near our area of the woods. Luke pulls my head to his chest and covers me with his arms.
The players walk on, their beams hitting trees and bouncing off of Luke's dark clothes.
“You're in pink, for crying out loud,” he barks when we're safely alone. “You come out here to spy and you weren't even smart enough to dress inconspicuously.”
I rear my head back. “Oh yeah, because wearing camo to the party
wouldn't
have been conspicuous?”
“What were you thinking coming out here by yourself? Do you have any idea what could happen to you?”
“A bird could attack me? My editor could body-slam me into a tree?”
“I saved you. I saved your ungrateful neck.”
“I was doing just fine out here on my own. I don't need you or your help.”
“Should I review the last five minutes for you? Because I seem to remember saving your completely blown cover.”
“You're a pompous, arrogant jerk.”
“You're a spoiled, ungrateful prima donna.”
“I can't stand you.”
“I don't care.”
My ragged breathing mingles with his. I feel his biceps bunch under the hands that I've placed on his arms at some point. “Luke?” I whisper.
His head lowers until his mouth rests near my ear. “Yes?”
“Let go of me.”
He pushes me away like I'm strapped down with explosives and begins to pace. “You really could've been hurt out here. Those guys are up to something.”
“You think?” I lean into the tree and take some deep yoga breaths. “I've been
trying to
tell you that. I
told
you I heard some sort of conspiracy that day at the Dumpster.”
“Yeah, but you also inhaled a lot of old burritos that afternoon too.”
“Something's up, Luke. Something with the, uh, starting lineup. And now Matt Sparks is getting involved.”
“I know. I heard.” He clicks on a small flashlight, and I can see the contours of his face.
“How long were you standing there?”
I make out a faint smirk. “The entire time. I followed you from the house. Anybody could've seen you leave, by the way. Remind me to lecture you about discretion later.”
“I'm writing myself a note right now.” I roll my eyes in the dark.
“I didn't know you got an invitation to the party.” “I didn't. I overhead you talking to your friends about it.”
“And you
followed
me? Could you get any more pervy?”
The ground crunches as he pivots, and he plants himself in front of me. “You deliberately went against my orders to stay out of this situation. You have a story. This situation is none of your concern.”
I jab my finger in his shirt. “You came out here to get information so
you
could get this story, didn't you? Now you're a perv
and
a story stealer. I can't believe you, Luke.”
He wraps his hand around my finger. “Keep your voice down,” he hisses. “That is not true and you know it. I just crashed the party to see if there
could
be anything to your hunch. I figured I'd be here less then ten minutes—just long enough to ascertain that there was nothing to your idea.”
Ascertain?
I need a dork dictionary just to keep up with this conversation.
“And just as I was about to leave, I saw you walking into the woods—by yourself.” Luke looks at his fist closed over my hand and drops it. “You can't just go walking into a situation—especially at night. In the dark. Alone. Like an idiot.”
“Idiot?” I hiss. “This
idiot
has found proof that there's something brewing with the athletes. This
idiot
tried to tell you from the beginning that I had overheard something significant. Maybe I wouldn't have
had
to go off by myself had you believed me in the first place.” The bird coos again overhead. “Nice bird distraction, by the way. Somebody's obviously spent a lot of time researching mating calls.”
Despite my hot tone, he smiles. “I watch a lot
of Animal Planet.
Look, Bella . . . I'm sorry.”
“Do you acknowledge that there's a story here?”
He sighs. “Yes.”
And I can put aside the stupid trash article and work on it?”
“No.” He holds up his hands to fend off my verbal attack. “The article is still due first thing. We don't drop one assignment just to work on another. You wrap up your current deadline, and we'll discuss the football situation.”
Good enough.
“Bella, this could be huge.”
I grin like I've hit the keg a few times myself. “I know.”
“What I mean is, you're not experienced. I can't let you work this story. We have a hierarchy at the paper.”
“What? No!” I punch his arm. “I'm already neck-deep in it. I let Dante blindfold me and stuff me in a car to be here. I
deserve
this story, Luke.”
He runs a hand through his wavy hair. “On one condition.”
“I won't share my story with the rest of your staff, Chief.”
“Okay. You won't share it with them.” He nods then walks away. “You'll share it with me.”