Cheated by Patrick Jones Page A

say,
Brody, it’s not her fault that you decided to cheat. Take responsibility for your own actions, be a man
. But I said nothing. I knew there are two kinds of friends in the world: thosewho tell you what you want to hear, and those who tell you what you need to hear. Brody’s all about want, never about need.
    â€œIt’s not like other people don’t do it too,” Brody said as he flipped Mrs. Kirby the finger from a distance. Ever since I got kicked off the football team, if I do something wrong, I get in trouble.”
    â€œI know,” I mumbled as I spotted Nicole and Kyle on the other side of the gym. I wondered what would happen if Kyle cheats on Nicole. I also wondered how Kyle and Nicole got together so soon after our breakup. Had she cheated on me first? Maybe he had already had his taste. Kyle, that sad bastard, doesn’t know that a little taste is all he’s gonna get.
    â€œShit, shit, shit!” Brody punched himself in the head through his long, tangled hair.
    â€œDude, don’t worry about it,” I said. “Tonight around seven, it’s all forgotten.”
    â€œRight,” Brody said, then raised an invisible glass. We stayed silent for a while, letting the noise of the pep rally surround us. When Coach Simpson spoke, Brody looked agitated.
    â€œYou miss it?” I said, as I stared up at last year’s division banner hanging from the gym ceiling.
    â€œWhat? Football?” Brody responded.
    â€œYeah, playing football.” Brody never talked about it much after he got kicked off the team other than swearing revenge on whoever ratted him out for breaking the Words of Honor oath.
    â€œI miss playing,” Brody said. “I miss making those tackles, smacking pads, yeah, I miss playing the game, but Idon’t miss being on the team. Don’t miss rules. Don’t miss practices.”
    â€œBet you miss the cheerleaders,” I said as I pointed to Lita Gomez. The only Latino girl on the squad, she’s the odd one out, so I suspected she would be Brody’s favorite.
    â€œMaybe,” Brody said, then laughed. “I miss getting As, not getting in trouble. No way Kirby would have called me out if I was still on the team. People kick you when you’re down.”
    â€œTrue,” I said as I felt all of Brody’s resentment wash over me. I didn’t hate the jocks, like the stoners or the artsy kids in theater did. I don’t like sports much, but ex-Dad was always taking me to games or making me watch them with him on TV, and I accepted it as my manly duty.
    â€œWell, we’ll have our own celebration tonight, right, 151?” Brody said with a hard backslap.
    â€œDude, I’m so ready. I bet Aaron’s ready to go again, too.” My eyes scanned the crowd for the third member of the Rum Drinker’s Local 151, but Aaron was nowhere to be found.
    â€œSomething was seriously wrong with ATM last night,” Brody said, then rose.
    â€œThe dad thing,” I muttered, kind of half-hoping Brody didn’t hear me.
    â€œCome on, let’s sneak out of here,” Brody said as he gestured for me to join him. We started down the bleachers through the sea of red Dragon jackets worn by football fans who’d once cheered for Brody and now turned their back on him, which is something I knew I’d never do.
    Just as we hit the last step, the cheerleaders got thecrowd fired up again. Brody looked like he wanted to spit, but instead he said, “It’s just a stupid football game. It’s not like it’s life or death.”
    I grunted and thought then how most decisions were never that simple: life or death.
    What do you think death feels like?
    I read once that the difference in weight between a living body and a dead body is 21 grams. It’s not like I know what that means, but it doesn’t sound like a lot. What is in those 21 grams: your soul? Where does it go? Is it like a puff of