Perfectly Messy (6 page)

I search for Lucy, catching sight of her hanging back in the gym, having a word with the evil coach. He better not be lecturing her or giving her any crap. She nods sternly before exiting.

I meet her at the door. “How’d it go?”

“Eh,” she says.

“What? He cut you!”

“Calm down. I’m starting point guard. He just, um, lectured me about how he invested his time into me my freshman year and how he didn’t appreciate it when I ‘ditched’ the team.”

“He seriously said that?” Oh my God. I’m telling our coach. That guy needs to be out of here, forever.

“Don’t worry. I knew it was coming. It’s not like I hadn’t practiced what I’d say to him.” She winks at me.

“Whoa. Really?” I stand back, amazed at the force that stands before me. Just five months ago, she couldn’t stand up for herself. Now? She’s stone.

“Yup.”

“So you guys are good?”

“Ha, no way. Not good. But we’re in agreement. If I ever see him look the other way while a teammate trashes someone, I’m out. If he actually coaches and cares, I’m in. He wasn’t pleased that I worded it like that,” she shrugs, “but he agreed. He knows he’d be fired if I ever shared the crap he knew about but didn’t act on.”

“So.” I wrap my arms around her waist. “You’re doing it? You’re in?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” She nods to the girls waiting at the table on the other side of the gym. “I’ve got to go actually. Captain’s talk.”

“Oh, who’s speaking?”

“Jaclyn.”

Right. I’d forgotten she was captain. I should’ve known that. The school’s so big, it’s hard to keep everyone on my radar.

“And me.” Lucy’s eyes fill with excitement. “Co-captains. Jaclyn says she’s cool with it.”

“What!” I say in an Alex-like whoop. I scoop her near, kissing her forehead. “You are amazing.” She laughs, pushing me away.

“I assume you made your team?” She nods to the varsity and JV guys, huddled around another table. Oh, right. My captain’s talk. “Go have your chat. We can meet up after, okay?”

“Absolutely.” I turn away but my gut turns. My Psych paper’s due tomorrow and the strategy meeting with Dad and Paul is tonight. But how Lucy beams back at me is my answer. My heart twists. There’s no way I’m missing more of that. We’ll hang for dinner then I can buzz back home for the meeting with Dad and Paul. The paper will have to be an all-nighter. No big deal. It’s worth it for time with my girl.

***

Paul looks up from his laptop. “Justin, be reasonable.”

Dad shifts in his chair, not speaking when he should.

“Dad…” I turn, excluding Paul. “An interview? No way. We both agreed I’m not doing that show. It’d be intentionally leading him on to snag money for your campaign. That’s not right. There’s no integrity in that.”

Dad pulls his hands through his hair, like I do. He rolls his lips in before he speaks. “Justin, the preliminary stats are showing this race is too close. With his funding, we could reach so many more voters.”

Paul butts in. “You’ll be projected as honest, smart, and responsible. No one will think badly of you. If anything, it’ll snag more voters for your father. Plus, fifty grand would make a huge difference this close to the end.”

I throw my hands up. It blows my mind why Dad hired this guy. Paul’s always rubbed me the wrong way. Political image adviser? My ass. A reality show is a reality show. It’s going to make our whole family look like chumps.

“Please.” Dad reaches out and squeezes my arm. “I’ve got this campaign covered on every side but through social media. The other guy is dominating out there. That’s a huge voter percentage that I’m missing. Carl would make sure that interview is posted everywhere online.”

I suck in a deep breath. “I’m not single though.”

“Actually,” Paul looks over his glasses at me, “you are. Single is defined as unmarried. So, even if you are dating, you are technically single. The requirements for the show are a marital status of single.” He turns his laptop around, showing me the screen. “Technically, you wouldn’t be lying.”

“Son, I hate asking you to do something you don’t want to do. But this will help us all.”

“The media would eat it up, Justin.”

“Yes. Eat it up, chew on it for a week, and spit it out to the dogs.”

“Justin,” Dad’s voice drops, “it’s TLC. Not MTV.”

I want to scream “No!” Moving against this feeling goes against everything I’ve learned about making life choices.

Dad reaches out and squeezes my arm. “Consider it.”

I grit my teeth and stand. “Fine. One interview. But that’s it.”

“That’s all we’ll need to get the funding and the social media spin.” Paul smiles. “Knew you’d come around.”

Dad glances down at the table, pulling out a new file. I wait for him to feel my glare.
Look at me
. But he won’t. He’s moved his pawn and now it’s time to strategize some more. This is not the man I grew up admiring. Politics has a way of turning the greatest people into slime.

He continues to rearrange his folders while Paul packs up and leaves. Finally, alone together, his eyes find mine. “Thank you.” He nods to an old family photo on the mantel, the one that includes all of us a few months before Jackson passed away. He’s wrapped in our arms, smiling despite the pain. “Family matters. You’ve done so much for me, son. Thank you for giving a little bit more.”

There’s the man I know. Where was he five minutes ago? Well, now that he’s finally
here
,
I’m not wasting the chance to confront him about how he treated Lucy. I pull open the fridge for some turkey and lemonade. I set them on the counter and take a deep breath. If I’m doing this interview, then he’s got to fess up to being an ass around Lucy.

“What did you think of Lucy?” I ask before taking a swig of lemonade from the container.

“She’s very pretty.”

“Yup,” I say, waiting for more.

“Polite.”

“Uh huh.” I eat a slice of turkey as I watch him figure out how he screwed up. His eyebrows furrow, then spread apart as his mouth drops open with his breath.

Aha, got it. There we go.

“Okay. You’re right. I honestly don’t know how I feel about her. That was my chance to meet her.” He rubs his temple. “I really screwed that one up, didn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it went well.”

“I’m sorry that Carl threw me off. I kept thinking campaign instead of family. She’s important to you, correct?”

“Yes. She’s awesome.”

“Oh, so I take it you really like her?”

“As I told you last week at dinner, I love her.” I set the lemonade down. Why didn’t he believe me the first time? Or listen?

“Ah, I see.” Dad straightens out his wedding ring. “Well, then I owe her an apology too. I didn’t take the time to get to know her, and I definitely want to if she means so much to you.”

“Thank you.” I hold out the lemonade to Dad. He takes a sip.

“Jeff! How many times have I asked you not to drink from that?” Mom says as she opens the basement door, sweaty from her treadmill run.

“He made me do it,” Dad says as he tosses it back to me. Mom laughs and I roll my eyes before I take another long sip.

“Okay, okay.” Mom takes the container away while the rim is still in my mouth. “So what’d I miss?”

“Oh, just Dad forcing me to do a reality show.”

“Jeffery Marshall.” Mom’s voice drops low and stern. “You know how I feel about that show.”

Dad throws his hands up. “It’s only an interview, Christy. Not the show.”

“Are you okay with this?”

No. But it’s not like I have a choice.

“Justin?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. One interview won’t hurt. There’s no way I’m doing that show next fall though.” My eyebrows raise toward Dad.

“I wouldn’t want you to either,” Dad replies.

“Good. Because you both would be on my bad list if you did that show.”

Dad points at me. “Did you know your son is in love?”

I nearly spit lemonade from my mouth. Nice subject change.

“Yes, of course. A mother doesn’t miss that.” Mom steps away from his side. Usually they are all over each other. I mean, this is better, but… it’s weird. There’s too much tension. It reminds me of the days leading up to Jackson’s death.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I messed up meeting her,” Dad growls.

“Because Justin told both of us last week, during our only family dinner. Remember?”

He doesn’t answer.

“See, this is what I’m talking about when I say you need to pay more attention, Jeff.” They stare at one another, silent.

I step back from the counter. Time for a quick exit. “Okay, I’ve got a paper to write.”

“Right now?” Mom calls behind me as I make my way down to the basement. “Didn’t you have dinner with Lucy earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t this that twelve-page one? You know the rules. No hanging out with friends until homework is done. You aren’t eighteen yet.”

“Mom, if I ever miss a deadline or an assignment, feel free to lecture me. Until then,” I raise the container of lemonade to her, “cheers.”

“Cheers, son!” Dad calls behind her as I close the door. Good. He owes me escape from at least the homework rule. I can’t believe she still tries to hold that over me.

“Jeffery, we need to talk.” Mom’s voice filters through the door.

I beeline it for the television, turning on football. iPod on and headphones in, I crank Hammock, sure to drown out their arguing tones.

Lucy

Coach T tosses his hands up in the air. Face red and blotched, he yells at Chelsey, “Are you kidding!? What was that?”

I tug Chelsey’s hand behind the bench, giving it a squeeze as I send her a sideways eye roll.
You’re Good. He’s crazy
.

“Bottom of the fourth quarter, girls. Two baskets behind. You’re killing me!”

I glance out into the bleachers where Eric jumps up and down in his Superman costume, oblivious that Coach T is grilling us. I wave back, loving his enthusiasm for Halloween, even though it’s still over a week away. A flash of familiar yellow makes me turn. I hate that Marissa’s blond hair captures my attention. After she betrayed me by sleeping with Zach, I go to great lengths to avoid her in school. But right now Marissa’s pretty impossible to miss since she’s sucking face with Zach in the back corner. Eww.

Why would they even come? Is this their sick idea of a date? Making out in front of me? Whatever. They can do what they want up there. The court is my domain now.

Coach catches my look of disgust, then tosses his clipboard in the air. I reach out and catch it before it slams to the ground, a guaranteed technical foul. Coaches and players can’t throw stuff. He knows that.

He glares at the clipboard in my hands. “Is this a joke to you, Zwindler?”

“No, sir. Just waving to my brother.”

“And how does that help?” Oh my gosh. For real! I’m so done with his crap.

“It’s helping about as much as your incredibly inspiring speech.”

Chelsey sucks in a breath as Coach takes a step closer. Rage doesn’t even begin to describe that bilious look on his face. He glares at me but I hold his gaze. He can’t treat us like that, and he knows it. I’ve got more on his past behavior than anyone in this gym. Call it blackmail, but whatever. I’ve got team email threads with his name on it and responses, that include the horrible stuff the seniors said about me.

“Fine.” He takes a step back. “Just get Zwindler the f’ing ball.”

The ref blows the whistle and we all jump up and dash onto the court, eager to get away from that troll.

“Whoa, Lucy. I can’t believe you said that!” Jaclyn squeezes my shoulder. “Thanks. I never would’ve had the balls to do it.” She pats my butt and I laugh. Jaclyn, the queen of the butt pat. I take position at the top of the key, watching Chelsey from the sideline as the ref gives her the ball. The crowd roars, Laura’s bouncing around in front of the cheerleaders in a hot witch costume, doing a much better job of rousing the crowd with her dancing than the cheerleaders are doing.

I take a deep breath; the sound deafens in my ears.

Just me, the girls on the court, and the ball. Go.

Chels slaps the ball and I jog backwards a few steps, hands overhead, making as if I’m going to catch a pass. I feign a jump, throwing my defender toward me, but dart the other direction toward the hoop. Mac, Jaclyn, and Grace weave under the basket, creating a brief opening. I dart, catching the ball from Chels. Mac’s defender drops away from her to take me on. I toss the ball behind my back to Mac, who throws it up for an easy lay-up.

One basket down.

The defender swears, snatching the ball and returning to the baseline before throwing it back into play. Her throw is lazy, towards the girl Jaclyn defends. Jacyln stretches her freak spider arms, snatching the ball from the air. The lanes open. I sprint for the drive. Jaclyn sends the ball my way.

Defenders collapse in on me. I’d probably make the shot, but it’s too risky.

Four seconds left on the clock.

Chelsey blurs past my left peripheral.

Yes. A sharp bounce pass and it’s in her hands. She squares up.

Swish.

Bzzzzzzzz.