Sell Out by Tammy L. Gray

father’s—charismatic and confident. The qualities people get addicted to.
    My laughter died. Remembering my dad at his prime brought the familiar ache back to my chest. The chemo yesterday had taken its toll, and we spent the night curled up on the couch watching old movies. He slept through most of them, but I didn’t mind. It was enough to have him near. We’d beat the sickness. I chanted it again and again in my head until my shoulders relaxed.
    “Skylar?” Blake’s voice showed a hint of concern.
    My mind catapulted to the present. Ms. Yarnell was busy passing out the worksheets, yet I had been staring blankly at the board. I turned around. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”
    Our eager teacher slid the paper in front of us. “These boys can explain the drill to you, Skylar. This is your opportunity to discuss, to reason, and to have a viewpoint that isn’t given to you on some YouTube video. And boys, don’t think you’re getting away with ditching. There will be makeup work. I just haven’t decided how hard to make it yet.”
    Her passion was admirable. Even if it was met with snickering from most of the class.
    As soon as she took her seat, Blake passed the paper and book over to Cody, who pulled out his pen and began filling in the sheet without bothering to read the questions out loud.
    “Shouldn’t we be helping him?” I asked.
    “Nah. It’s his turn today. I’d rather hear more about you.” Blake was the type to make eye contact the whole time he spoke. It was unnerving, in a way, to have so much energy focused on me.
    “Not much to tell. My parents traveled a lot, so I’ve been homeschooled my whole life. We recently settled here, though, so I thought, why not see how the other half lives?”
    That seemed to pull Chugger into the conversation. “Homeschooled? I thought you all wore Little-House-on-the-Prairie clothes and raised goats or something.”
    I resisted smacking his arm. “Last I checked, there were no goats in my yard. Although I do keep my prairie clothes available for smart-mouthed wrestlers.”
    Chugger caught my humor and came back with feigned shock. “Why, Skylar, are you saying I lack a filter?”
    Cody’s snort was the only sign he’d heard our conversation.
    Chugger punched him in the arm. “Nobody asked you.”
    Cody glanced up, those soulful eyes doing crazy things to my insides before they returned to the writing assignment. He smiled. It was faint and barely recognizable, but I wanted more.
    By the end of first period, I’d learned that Blake had an older brother who held the school record for touchdown passes. Chugger was the youngest of three. His two older sisters were mother hen types, so he was spoiled rotten with no remorse on the issue. I also learned that they’d been friends since grade school. Cody was the odd man out. Joining their crew only a year ago.
    “So, how bad was it yesterday?” Blake’s words came out amused.
    I shrugged. “Quiet. Boring. But at least no one saw how lost I was. Well, except Henry, but he was very helpful.”
    Chugger choked out a cough. “Henry Watkins? The four eyes with high waters?”
    My mouth tightened. “You do need a filter. Henry is a nice guy and could have said mean things about any one of you, but didn’t. Maybe you could offer him the same courtesy.” My hearted pounded by the time I finished, and my hands trembled.
    I stared at the boys, but only Blake made eye contact with me, and his expression was blank. I couldn’t tell if I annoyed him or if he respected my gumption. And why did I feel like I needed his approval? That bothered me almost as much as Chugger’s words.
    “Apologize.” The demand came from Blake. It was cool and effortlessly powerful.
    “You’re right,” Chugger said. “Sorry I said anything.”
    An awkward silence hung around the table. Cody stopped writing and, although he wasn’t looking at me, I sensed something in his shoulders. They were tight. His neck strained as if