Fearless (12 page)

As far as that goes, I was so excited about spending time with Kanoa that I didn’t even mind getting up early for school. Of course, I had no idea what I’d actually agreed to. It didn’t matter, though. It could have been running naked through some rose bushes and I would have gone along with it just to be around Kanoa.

“Morning!” he greeted me with far more cheeriness than anyone should have at seven AM.

I managed a smile. “Hi.” At least I was up to single syllables now. I take what victories I can.

“We’re going to run some laps first. It’s a good way to wake up in the morning.”

I firmly disagreed with that statement. Running, I felt, was something that should be reserved for when you had a machete-wielding lunatic in a hockey mask chasing you. I didn’t argue, though. There wasn’t any point. I was in his hands now.

Somewhere on the second lap, I managed to trip over my own feet and went sprawling. I was furious with myself and humiliated. I wished again for the power to laugh at myself so that I could make some joke to make the whole stupid incident less degrading. All I could think of, though, was how I had just made a fool of myself in front of the guy I was crushing on.

“Guess you’re more of a fish than a gazelle,” Kanoa said as he helped me up.

I brushed myself off. “There was a rock,” I lied, feeling even more stupid.

Kanoa didn’t laugh or call me a liar. “You okay?”

My pride is broken, but there’s no bandage for that.
“Yeah.”

“Come on, two more laps and then we’ll hit the weights.”

I almost refused, but he was already moving and I didn’t know what to do other than follow along—but now I was much more mindful of my feet.

My embarrassment got worse when we got to the weight room. I was barely able to manage half the weight he exercised with. But my stupid pride pushed me to take on more than I wanted. What made it even stupider was that I was trying to impress him.

“Dude, less is more,” he told me as he lowered the weight I was doing.

“No, I can handle it.”

“Too much muscle slows you down, so you want more tone than mass,” he instructed. “You got to trust me.”

I felt so totally lame. “Sorry.”

“Dude, none of us are born athletes. I was skinnier than you when I was a freshman.”

“No way.”

“Seriously.”

I still felt lame, but I made myself stick with his instructions. It wore me out, and by the time we were done I felt like my limbs were all made of rubber. I’ve heard people talk about some sort of high they get from exercising, but I just felt awful.

Even as I was wondering if I really had it in me to keep up this additional training, Kanoa told me I did a great job and flashed me a smile and I forgot all about my aching body.

I rode that high all the way to fourth period, where a storm was brewing. Zach did not give me that great big grin of his. He did not ask me how anything was hanging. He barely offered me a “hi” as I sat down. Figuring something had happened that was none of my business, I just got out my textbook and tried to finish the reading I was behind on.

“Is that Liam guy a friend of yours?”

I froze. I’d forgotten about Liam’s idiotic but well-meaning chat with Zach. “Yeah.”

Zach nodded, doodling in his notebook. “Thought so.”

I almost asked why, but then I stopped myself because there was really no answer to that question that wouldn’t lead somewhere bad. My shoulders tensed as I hunched over my textbook. But try as I might, I couldn’t keep my eyes from sliding sideways to look at him.

Zach’s doodle was a nonsensical swirl as his pencil circled around and around. I’d never seen him look so unhappy. My stomach churned.

“I just don’t know why you would think…. I don’t know how I came off as….”

Zach was never going to be the world’s best thinker, but he’d put it together. It wasn’t like Liam was spotted on campus with a lot of different people. So who else could this mysterious gay friend of his be?

“I didn’t,” I told Zach. “Not at all. Liam was just checking because…. I don’t know. He just was. I’m sorry.”

Zach broke the lead on his pencil. “Okay.”

It didn’t sound okay, but there wasn’t anything I could do. Zach was uncomfortable around me now and I couldn’t fix it. Liam was to blame and by all rights I should have been pissed at him, but instead I was mad at Zach. I’d never once hit on him. Why was he acting like such a big baby just because I was interested—or used to be interested—in him?

Was I really so repulsive that my being attracted to him was that offensive?

The death of my crush on Zach was a painful event that took the entire uncomfortable class period. By the end, I was ready to ask for a different lab partner, but I doubted anyone would be willing to trade—not to be stuck with me. So there was nothing I could do about it.

It’s just really hard when your heroes disappoint you.

Chapter 12

W
HEN
I
’D AGREED TO TRAIN
with Kanoa, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to deal with two practices a day. It pushed me to my limits, which was awful. But then I noticed how those limits expanded, and that felt really good. And of course I lived for those little moments of praise from Kanoa.

Monday, Wednesday and Friday were jogging around the track and laps in the pool. Tuesday and Thursday were more jogging and weight training. It was brutal, but all he had to do was smile at me and I’d find the reserves somewhere in me to do one more lap, one more rep.

“You’re already fast, we’re just making you faster,” he told me one morning.

It helped, though. Like I said, I’ve never been an athlete, so I had zero knowledge of how to get in shape. The various machines in the weight room were like bizarre, scary Medieval torture devices. I had no idea where to even start, but Kanoa walked me through them and showed me the best routine.

So for once, I was ahead of the curve when the rest of my team was brought into the weight room for the first time. While Jimmy worked on impressing everyone with how much weight he could lift, I took my place at another machine and did the reps Kanoa had assigned me.

“Can I partner up with you?” Bailey asked.

The last time anyone had asked to partner with me on anything had been kindergarten and that had only been because I’d hoarded all the red crayons. I stared up at him in disbelief. My surprise only deepened when I saw him looking nervous, like he was expecting me to tell him to piss off.

I remembered what Liam had told me; how people thought I was stuck up. I still didn’t understand that, but I wasn’t going to let that label stick.

“Sure,” I told Bailey and showed him the routine.

I noticed as we worked out that more of the guys were paying attention to me. At first I thought it was because they were snickering about how weak I was. But then I noticed more of them dropping the weight they were doing so they could do more reps. They were following my lead, which was a shock since I didn’t know I
had
a “lead.”

Lancaster was nowhere to be found. He’d said he had to make a phone call and left us. I’d expected him to come in and correct Jimmy and his pack of idiots. But that wasn’t happening. When it came to supervision, apparently the coach had a strict hands-off policy.

“We want to build tone,” I told Bailey, but letting my voice carry. “Bulking up will slow us down.”

“Some of us can use some bulk, matchstick,” Jimmy sneered.

I ignored him. He didn’t matter. What mattered was that way more people were paying attention to me than I liked. As in, just about everyone was eying me. Being the center of attention was something I tried really hard to avoid. But there I was, with everyone looking at me like they were waiting for me to drop more pearls of wisdom.

“Kanoa told me—”

“You’re friends with Kanoa?” Jon asked, looking really impressed. “That guy’s a legend.”

“Er, I’m training with him.”

I meant it to be a clarification, a way of making sure I wasn’t claiming friendship status with a school demigod. Only, once the words were out of my mouth, I realized they sounded like bragging. I sort of thought that was worse.

Of course, the thing is, I was surrounded by guys. Guys love bragging. It’s like the natural dialect—I’d just never spoken it before. So I got a lot of grins and impressed looks and a whole room full of something I think was respect—I couldn’t be sure, since it had been so long since I’d seen any.

“Okay, so, he showed me some routines he uses—”

“Can you show us?”

“Uh….”

“Come on, dude, why should Maui be the only one you help out?” Chad asked.

I glanced at Bailey, wondering about the nickname. He surprised me by blushing and looking down at his sneakers. I’d ask later, I decided.

I didn’t need to look at Jimmy to know that the alpha wolf was pissed again. And, well, I didn’t care. I don’t know if it makes me an asshole, but I really liked all this new respect. I’d never felt anything like it.

“Okay, Tony, your posture is all wrong. You’re taking too much weight with your back….”

Yeah, it was pretty cool. Even the murderous looks from Jimmy didn’t bother me. Mostly, it was because I knew he no longer had the whole team under his spell. He could hate me, but he couldn’t bully me anymore.

But the best part was watching him, sullenly and quietly, copying the routines I was showing to the guys. I knew that had to burn up his guts, and that made it all the sweeter. I never claimed to be a saint. That sounds boring anyway.

“Maui?” I asked Bailey as we all headed for the locker room.

“It’s a nickname I got in middle school,” he explained, looking annoyed. “Chad was in my gym class, so he remembers.”

“Are you from Hawaii?”

Bailey’s fair cheeks colored again. “No, I have a birthmark that looks like an island.”

“I never saw—”

“It’s in a place most people don’t usually see.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “That’s great. I wish I had a cool nickname.”

Bailey was still blushing. “It’s not that cool.”

He did offer me a faint little smile, though.

Friday came and even though I was feeling confident (for the first time in the history of ever) I still went to my locker after practice with the faintest bit of dread churning in my stomach. Two guys were going to find a pink card in their locker, telling them they were off the team.

What may shock you to find out is that I actually didn’t want Jimmy to be one of them. He was really good and certainly the best athlete we had. And, well, he made great décor for the locker room, if you know what I’m saying. I was sure I could deal with his BS, and I wanted my team to do well.

My team…. That was such a weird thought. I sucked at teams. Every time I found myself on a team, I was the one they hated, the one they wanted to bury in a shallow grave. But I was fitting in, making a place for myself.

I didn’t want to give it up.

But I didn’t have to. Two guys, Ray and Greg, got the boot. I wasn’t really surprised. They didn’t goof around like Jimmy, but they only ever put in the bare minimum effort. Neither of them seemed to care about being cut, either, so I guess it wasn’t a tragedy.

Afternoons with Liam were still the best part of my day, though. He loved to hear all about the stuff with the team. His excitement and interest made it even better. When I told him I made the cut, he let out an adorable whoop of delight before saying that he had known all along I’d make it.

“Does your mom have any recipe books I can borrow?” I asked Liam one Saturday as we walked Sully to the park.

“Why, do you have someone you need to poison?”

I laughed. “Dude, your mom is a great cook.”

“You take that back right now.”

I shook my head. “Kanoa has been telling me I have to eat better stuff.”

“Oh, I see.”

He said it in this sing-song voice he liked to use when he was trying to find some way to make something innocent into something dirty.

“My mom is always working, so she doesn’t have time to cook. I was thinking maybe I could learn how.”

Liam’s grin dimmed a little bit. I didn’t like the tinge of sadness there at all. It was way too much like pity. I didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me.

“You can eat over whenever you want.”

I blushed and looked down. “I appreciate that. And that’s cool. But I would like to see if I can make some of those things your mom makes. It would be nice if my mom ate better too.”

“Okay, I’ll ask her. But I won’t ever forgive you. Your house was the only junk food refuge I had left.  Even my dad won’t hook me up anymore.”

That evening Anna showed me how to make food without burning the house down or causing the health department to invade with haz-mat suits. I was amazed there wasn’t any magic to it, just measuring and mixing. I decided to surprise my mom by making her dinner. She worked so hard, I figured it would be a nice thing for her to come home to.

It was kind of fun, too. I put on my tunes and sang along and did my stupid dance moves while I heated and boiled and mixed. Everything went together fine and it smelled great. I was happy, anticipating the stunned look on my mom’s face when she walked in.

So imagine my surprise when she came home and looked bothered. She poked her nose into the oven and then looked over the range and the pots boiling and then gave me the weirdest look I’d ever seen on her face. Like I say, I can usually guess what she’s thinking, but this look was new. Her brow was furrowed and her face was pinched, but there was worry in her eyes.

“If you wanted me to cook something, hon, you could have asked.”

“I thought I’d surprise you.” Now I was frowning. What the hell was going on?

She hung her purse on a peg, not speaking to me for a moment. “I’m sorry we’ve been eating so much take-out.”

“Mom, will you relax?” She made to take over the stove, but I swiped the spoon before she could reach it. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just not appropriate, kiddo. Mothers cook for their family, not sons.”

I stared at her. “Are you kidding me?”