party.”
Itch laughs and the sound comes out brittle, like it would break if it hit the ground. “That’s how it starts,” he tells me. “A game, a party, a bunch of booze. Then suddenly you’re part of their crap and doing their bidding.”
“No one’s talking about doing anyone’s bidding! It’s football, not slavery.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Itch swipes a bright orange bag off the shelf. “There’s a reason we’re not joiners, June. It’s not because we’re geeks and it’s not because we buy into some sort of outdated hierarchy of popularity.”
“I never said—”
“It’s because we’re better than it.” Itch walks over and slings an arm around my shoulders, which are tensed up higher than they should be. “
You’re
better.”
He kisses me and I let him.
I always let him.
The sun has barely risen and already there are two guys installing a storage bench in the entryway. I nod at them as I go by on my way to the kitchen, skirting a pile of boards and tools on the floor.
I find Mom and Cash perched on stools, sipping coffee. Cash stands when I walk in. “Sorry about the noise and the mess.”
“It’s cool,” I tell him. “The banisters look great.”
“Thanks.” He nods at Mom. “See you tonight?”
“Yes!” She says it a little too loudly and glances at me. “Omelet?”
Uh-
huh.
I nod and watch her start to pull out ingredients. “How long until the house is done?” I ask.
“The entryway will be finished this week. Next is my studio. Cash is going to redo the drywall and put in new flooring. We’re also…Sorry it’s still crazy, honey. Sometimes things get messy before they get good.”
“You’re so deep,” I tell her, and she laughs. I realize that Mom doesn’t look messy at all. In fact, she’s wearing coral lip gloss and hoop earrings, so I ask the obvious question. “Mom, are you dating Cash?”
Mom flushes. “No!” I raise an eyebrow and she sets down her spatula. “We’re friends.”
“Friends,” I say.
“And in the spirit of
friendship,
he’s coming over tonight for dinner.”
This time, I say it out loud: “Uh-
huh.
”
“Settle down,” she tells me. But she flushes again, and this time her eyes sparkle, too.
• • •
School let out three hours ago, and I’m still in the main lobby. I’ve already organized my locker and done my English reading for the weekend. Now I’m sitting on the bottom step, braiding strands of my hair. And waiting.
When my phone vibrates—
finally!
—I check the text from Mom:
at least 45 more mins
sorry
mtg still going
dept chair droning on about budget
wish you were old enuf to buy wine
luv u
Damn.
If I’d known in advance, I could have asked Itch for a ride and lured him with the promise of an empty house. Or maybe Shaun would have driven me. Or Lily or Darbs. Or
anyone.
If it at least was Monday, it wouldn’t be so bad, but on a Friday? By the end of the week, I’m ready to get out of here.
I wonder if there’s a chance Shaun hasn’t left yet. He’s not answering his texts, but it’s a very Shaun-like thing to not check his texts. He keeps his phone on silent all the time, even when not in class.
I head out into the student parking lot. There are quite a few cars still here, but I don’t see Shaun’s. I trudge across to see if I’m missing any on the other side—maybe hidden behind a gas-guzzling behemoth like Oliver’s, over there in the center, where he always parks and…
Oliver! That’s a new idea. I didn’t even think about checking with him. It didn’t occur to me that I could ask him for a ride
home.
Oliver isn’t a guy who leaves when the bell rings. He’s always hanging around after school because of all the throwing and kicking and dribbling. I head toward the gas-guzzling behemoth, pulling out my phone to send him a text, and run straight into him.
Oliver catches me by the arms. “Hey, texting and walking. Not safe.”
“I was texting
you,
” I
Itch laughs and the sound comes out brittle, like it would break if it hit the ground. “That’s how it starts,” he tells me. “A game, a party, a bunch of booze. Then suddenly you’re part of their crap and doing their bidding.”
“No one’s talking about doing anyone’s bidding! It’s football, not slavery.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Itch swipes a bright orange bag off the shelf. “There’s a reason we’re not joiners, June. It’s not because we’re geeks and it’s not because we buy into some sort of outdated hierarchy of popularity.”
“I never said—”
“It’s because we’re better than it.” Itch walks over and slings an arm around my shoulders, which are tensed up higher than they should be. “
You’re
better.”
He kisses me and I let him.
I always let him.
The sun has barely risen and already there are two guys installing a storage bench in the entryway. I nod at them as I go by on my way to the kitchen, skirting a pile of boards and tools on the floor.
I find Mom and Cash perched on stools, sipping coffee. Cash stands when I walk in. “Sorry about the noise and the mess.”
“It’s cool,” I tell him. “The banisters look great.”
“Thanks.” He nods at Mom. “See you tonight?”
“Yes!” She says it a little too loudly and glances at me. “Omelet?”
Uh-
huh.
I nod and watch her start to pull out ingredients. “How long until the house is done?” I ask.
“The entryway will be finished this week. Next is my studio. Cash is going to redo the drywall and put in new flooring. We’re also…Sorry it’s still crazy, honey. Sometimes things get messy before they get good.”
“You’re so deep,” I tell her, and she laughs. I realize that Mom doesn’t look messy at all. In fact, she’s wearing coral lip gloss and hoop earrings, so I ask the obvious question. “Mom, are you dating Cash?”
Mom flushes. “No!” I raise an eyebrow and she sets down her spatula. “We’re friends.”
“Friends,” I say.
“And in the spirit of
friendship,
he’s coming over tonight for dinner.”
This time, I say it out loud: “Uh-
huh.
”
“Settle down,” she tells me. But she flushes again, and this time her eyes sparkle, too.
• • •
School let out three hours ago, and I’m still in the main lobby. I’ve already organized my locker and done my English reading for the weekend. Now I’m sitting on the bottom step, braiding strands of my hair. And waiting.
When my phone vibrates—
finally!
—I check the text from Mom:
at least 45 more mins
sorry
mtg still going
dept chair droning on about budget
wish you were old enuf to buy wine
luv u
Damn.
If I’d known in advance, I could have asked Itch for a ride and lured him with the promise of an empty house. Or maybe Shaun would have driven me. Or Lily or Darbs. Or
anyone.
If it at least was Monday, it wouldn’t be so bad, but on a Friday? By the end of the week, I’m ready to get out of here.
I wonder if there’s a chance Shaun hasn’t left yet. He’s not answering his texts, but it’s a very Shaun-like thing to not check his texts. He keeps his phone on silent all the time, even when not in class.
I head out into the student parking lot. There are quite a few cars still here, but I don’t see Shaun’s. I trudge across to see if I’m missing any on the other side—maybe hidden behind a gas-guzzling behemoth like Oliver’s, over there in the center, where he always parks and…
Oliver! That’s a new idea. I didn’t even think about checking with him. It didn’t occur to me that I could ask him for a ride
home.
Oliver isn’t a guy who leaves when the bell rings. He’s always hanging around after school because of all the throwing and kicking and dribbling. I head toward the gas-guzzling behemoth, pulling out my phone to send him a text, and run straight into him.
Oliver catches me by the arms. “Hey, texting and walking. Not safe.”
“I was texting
you,
” I
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