Secret Girlfriend (8 page)

Chapter 10

I lay in bed the next morning, the heat already seeping
through the thick stucco walls, thinking about boys and how incredibly confusing
they were. Downstairs, the front door slammed and I listened to the ghost of my
father drive away. Pulling the sheet over my head, I tried to count the days
since I’d spoken with him face to face. How long had it been since I’d seen
something other than just a passing hint of him—more than a dirty dish in the
sink or the jacket he forgot to put away the night before?

We couldn’t go on like this much longer. To be honest, I
wasn’t sure which one of us would break first. It was times like that I questioned
his love and his hate. How much of each was directed at me and how much at fate
and the world at large.

At least there were groceries. I mean, he even got
everything I asked for last week. Sometimes I wanted to request something
insane to see if he’d just get it instead of leaving me a note saying no.

Pushing him from my mind, I got ready for the day, throwing
on my typical shorts and tank top. I stretched in the kitchen while downing the
last of the OJ from the carton.

Bending deeper into the stretch, my body groaned, begging me
to collapse in the sun and not move for a
Lost:
Season Three
marathon amount of time. But with no other way to tryouts, my
poor abused body was out of luck.

Planning was the key to making it through the day. I’d given
myself even longer than usual to get there so I could walk up those darn hills.
Who built a school at the top of a three-hill stepped pyramid?
Seriously?
Not the guy who lived at the bottom of the
hill—unless he hated kids that is.

I slung my backpack on as I stumbled out the door and
lurched to a halt. There, in my front yard, was not one boy with a car, but
two.

Luke sat on the hood of his old pickup, two travel mugs
resting beside him. Chris’s car blocked him in. Standing in front of Luke’s
truck, Chris faced him, angry sounding words spilling from his mouth. Luke
leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, lips pinched in a tight line, staring
him down.

This was not the way to brighten up my already
perkiless
morning. If they thought I was going to play
referee to the silliness going on in my drive, they were sadly mistaken. I
considered going back inside and escaping out the kitchen door.

“Um.
Morning?”

Both guys swung my way, but only Luke’s expression shifted
into a smile when he caught sight of me.

“Babe, what is this guy doing here?” Chris gestured at Luke
with an angry, sharp motion. “You said you guys aren’t hanging out.”

I glanced at Luke in time to see his smile slip and his
brows draw down.

“We aren’t hanging out,” I said. “I’m not sure what
either
of you are doing here.”

“Giving you a ride,” they both answered and spun to glare at
one another again.

“There’s no need.” Chris stalked toward his car, shouting
for me over his shoulder. “Come on. I don’t want us to be late.”

Luke slid off the hood as I walked by. I straightened,
waiting for him to challenge me, to prod me into admitting I’d rather go with
Chris than with him.
Forcing me to say it out loud.

Instead, he handed me the second glass of sweet tea and
said, “See you on the field.”

I hopped in Chris’s car, slightly embarrassed that Luke saw
me open my own door. Before I could close it, Chris was backing out of the
drive, kicking dirt up at Luke’s truck. He barely slowed to turn onto the road
and cross the rickety bridge. Both his hands gripped the steering wheel, his
knuckles edging white. We’d almost gotten to the school when he finally slowed
down.

Avoiding my eye and making himself busy with rear defrost
button, Chris finally spoke, his voice grated and low. “I don’t think you
should let him follow you around like that.”

“He isn’t following me around. He was just picking me up.”
It had to be the lack of sleep that made me
so on
edge, because I could feel my patience with Chris slipping away for the first
time ever.

 
“
I’m
picking you up for tryouts.” Chris
loosened his grip on the wheel and started drumming his fingers along the top,
occasionally tapping out a beat.

“Chris.” I held my breath as I laid a hand on his arm. “He
doesn’t mean anything by it. He knows I don’t have a car and is just trying to
be nice.”

Fingers tightened. Knuckles whitened. He nodded.
“Yeah.
No big deal.”

I let my hand fall to my side as we pulled into the empty
parking lot. For a moment, Chris sat, hands clasped about the wheel, staring at
the building in front of us.

“Okay. So, it’s no big deal,” he said again and turned the
car off. “I just need this to not be drama with us. I get enough of that crap
at home. I don’t need it at the field, too.”

I looked at him, surprised by this. Surprised he’d admit to
something wrong. I knew his dad was a jerk, but drama?

“What’s going on?” I asked. Because, I mean, that’s what
people do, right? They ask you what’s bothering you when they care.

“Nothing.”
The word was short and low.
He got out and slammed the door behind him, ending any chance to check the
nothingness of the
nothing.

Together, we walked into the dark school. Chris stopped with
me at the stats locker as I stowed my bag and gathered the binders for the day.
He watched, his eyes narrowed like he was reading the forward line of a rival
team, and then he stepped closer. Brushing my hair behind my ear, he leaned in
and lowered his voice enough for it to not echo in the silent hall.

“I need to know you’re on my side.”

I raised my head, looked into those lush eyes, and tightened
my hold on the binders to avoid reaching for the soft tuft of gold cascading
over his forehead. It never dawned on me before that he doubted he had someone
on his side.

“I am. I swear.”

He studied me, judging my words against what he saw. What he
thought he knew about Luke Parker. The weight of that stare snared me and
sucked me in further than I already was, making me feel all
floaty
and stuff.

Chris’s gaze flicked past me before returning to rekindle
the
floaty
-feeling when he caught my smitten stare. A
smile tickled the edges of his mouth before he lowered his head and swept his
lips over mine in a light kiss. His hand brushed up my neck, cradling my head
and bringing me closer. I barely noticed the bang of the door falling shut
behind me amid the new high-power
floatiness
. Chris
raised his head, pushing my hair back again before looking over my shoulder,
his smile broadening before he stepped away.

“I’ll see you on the field, babe.”

I watched him disappear down the hall and into the boys’
locker room, my fingers raised to the place his lips had last touched.

My locker door slamming shut dragged me from my misty
reverie.

Luke moved around me to face me head on.

“He,” Luke stabbed a finger in the direction Chris had just
gone, “has a girlfriend.”

“It isn’t what you think it is.”

“I think he has a girlfriend. I think he’s using you. I
think you’re too smart to fall for this, and I can’t figure out why you’re
letting him toy with you behind his girlfriend’s back.”

Anger washed over me in a heat so warm I felt my hairs raise
just to get away from my skin. “I am
not
the other woman.”

Luke grabbed my arm before I could spin away from him.

“Amy, you aren’t the
only
one, and that is just as important.” He turned in the direction of where Chris
had disappeared. “And, I’m pretty sure Cheryl isn’t the other woman either.”

Before I could fight with him, explain to him, try to
convince him of something I wasn’t even allowed to talk about, he stormed off.
I stood there, alone with my embarrassment, anger and confusion, not sure who
any of it was directed at.

Without him the hall felt empty, cold. And I felt stupid and
didn’t even know which guy to blame.

Another group wandered into the school, their loud laughter
and loose soccer balls breaking the silence. I shook myself back to reality—or
reality as I knew it—and made my way out to the field. Let the boys take care
of the table and Coach and everything else. I was having enough trouble taking
care of me.

Chapter 11

“Whalen!”

Well, that voice didn’t belong at soccer tryouts. Actually,
that voice didn’t even belong in Ridge View anymore. I turned to see
Jenn
Cafry
, last year’s
cross-country captain, walking my direction.

“Hey,
Jenn
,” I answered as she
settled next to me on the grass, falling into a matching stretch. “What’s going
on? Shouldn’t you be running for your spot at college by now?”

She snorted. “It’s my mom’s birthday. She figures I’m only
three hours away, I can just flit back and forth for whatever she defines as
important stuff.”

“Well,” I grinned at her as I switched legs. “There’s always
the free laundry situation.”

“There is that.” She switched legs, keeping our stretches
even. “So, my brother’s trying out for the team.”

Cafry
.
The little
blushy
freshman.

“
Cafry’s
yours, huh?
Cute kid.”

She laughed.
“Yeah, Kevin.
I forget
he’s in high school. Four years is a big difference. I keep thinking he should
be out on the swing set or playing with GI Joes or something.”

I pictured poor blushing
Cafry
if
he heard his sister now.

“But, he told me a really interesting story last night over
dinner. He told me about this girl beating the entire boys’ soccer team in a
race. He told me she’s the stats girl. And, imagine my surprise when I find out
it’s only the best distance runner on the team… well, since I left.”

I could never tell with
Jenn
if
she was being funny or cocky, so I just flashed
her a
grin and let her read it however she wanted. “Things change.”

She brought both legs in, sitting with them crossed in front
of her. “They change so much that you toss your cross-country record out to
count balls in nets for boys?”

I glanced toward the school, hoping no one would head down.
Coach stood up there, watching us, clipboard under his arm. I suddenly felt a
bit suspicious.
Coach, that meddler.

“Yeah.
You know.” I shrugged.

“No. I don’t know. If you go back to the team, they’d take
you with open arms.”

That was probably true, they’d want my points. But, they
probably hadn’t noticed I was gone. Even my own coach hadn’t checked in to see
what I was doing.

“No offense,
Jenn
, but since you
guys left I was pretty much on my own there. I ran by myself at practice. I run
by myself now. It’s all the same and you know…”

I hope she filled in my convenient trailing off in some good
way, because even I didn’t know.

“Yeah, see, that’s the thing. I don’t know. Kevin told me
you were dating one of the
guys
maybe, but he wasn’t
sure.”

What was I going to say to that? I just shrugged and let her
fill in more blanks, struggling to meet her gaze as she studied me. Then, with
a quick nod she grinned.

“Alright, I’ll give you this. The team was mostly a bunch of
snotty girls who couldn’t make the cheer squad but were too athletic to do
nothing.” She stood up, brushing the grass off her butt. “You do what you need
to do. But don’t let a boy push you around.”

I stood to avoid that hovered-over feeling. “Alright,” I
answered back.

She started toward the school before she turned. “Listen. I
get it. Honest. But, if you need to talk, email me.
Anytime.
And, I’ll need someone to pace me when I’m home for Thanksgiving if you’re up
for it.”

“Pace
you
?
Didn’t you hear? I’m the girl who beat the boys’ soccer team.” I grinned at
her, picturing my lips hitching up on the right side in my best Parker impersonation.

It must have been pretty good, because she was still
laughing and shaking her head as she climbed the hill to the parking lot.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed running with
Jenn
till I saw her again. I thought about being jealous of
Rachel’s time at camp—and my general lack of other friends due to the whole
invisibility thing. But, my time with
Jenn
had always
been easy. We ran. We talked. She saw me. I guess when I wasn’t cloaking
myself, I was better at this
friends
thing than I
thought.

# # #

“Alright men, round up.
First things
first.”
Coach slammed the clipboard against his other hand as the guys
grouped around him, some faces hopeful but most looking worried. He waved a
hand to motion me forward.
“Whalen, roll call.”

I handed him the three sheets with the initial list of boys.
As he worked his way through the pages, I crossed out those who hadn’t shown up
on my copy and handed him the new count.

“We’re already down fourteen.” Coach studied the group. “I’m
going to start us off with what you all want to know. No reason to keep you
distracted all morning.”

Coach opened the box at his feet and pulled out two practice
jerseys—one blue, one green—before continuing.

“I don’t care if you like your captain or not. What I care
about is that the captains treat the teams with respect and the teams follow
their leaders. Bickering is for old women.”

He held the blue shirt in his left hand and the green jersey
in his right. Raising his left hand he shouted, “Blue captain is Adams.”

Coach named a junior. Most likely the guy they were looking
at for JV captain.

The guys all shouted good-natured guy speak that must have
been encouragement but sounded shockingly like common put-downs.

Raising his right hand, Coach shouted, “Kent.”

Relief rushed through me like an adrenaline kick in the last
quarter mile of an uphill 5k. Around him, Chris’s guys slapped his back and
shouted more badly worded praise. I waited for him to glance my way.
Waiting for my chance to add my congratulations to theirs.
Hoping it mattered even a little.

Without warning, his friends tackled him and he disappeared
under a pile of sweats and cleats.

Coach gave them a few moments of chaos before calling both
teams to order.

“I’m going to read off the practice teams. Fall in behind
your captain.
Blue team.”
He pulled a sheet of paper
from the back of his clipboard and read down a list, the team a commingling of
veterans to newbie.
Seniors down to the smallest freshman.

“Everyone else, fall in behind Kent. You’re the green team.”

The guys rushed to stand behind their captain, snatching
practice jerseys as they went. Over the box’s lid, I met Luke’s eye. He pulled
a green jersey from the box marked “large” and ambled over to where his team
collected behind Chris.

Was I the only one who thought that was going to be a
horrible idea? I don’t mean bad like a second piece of pie on Thanksgiving bad.
I mean bad like holding an aluminum pipe over your head in a lightning storm
bad
.

The guys all whipped off their shirts and pulled on their
new scrimmage team colors. The backs didn’t even have numbers for me to use for
statistics. With the way the budget was, they were lucky to have the plain
Hanes.

Beside me, Coach kept an eye on the teams, noting who showed
good spirits and where the mumbling came from. Tossing his clipboard on the
table more negligently than normal, he motioned me over.

“Whalen, walk with me.” Before I could ask why, Coach
started toward the bleachers running the length of the Home Team side. “Do you
see any problems arising from how I split the teams?”

Okay, so I wasn’t the only one worried.

On the field Chris glared at Luke every so often from where
he chatted with some other teammates. Luke, for his part, kept his back to his
captain, but already had his own group around him.

“No, sir.”

Coach lifted a foot to the first bleacher and leaned on that
leg, careless but focused.

“Whalen, if I was looking for some little snot that would
kowtow and tell me I’d put together perfect teams, I would have kept that
miniature cheerleader wannabe that asked for the job before Kent showed up with
you.”

I glanced over again, only this time Chris had a smirk glued
in place as he watched Coach try to pull information from me. I’d promised to
be on his side. I’d sworn it. But wouldn’t being honest with Coach be the best
way to be on Chris’s side?

“I don’t know most of the guys yet, Coach.”

“But?”

I thought about my own team, the one that probably wouldn’t
notice I was missing until their points suffered. Taking a deep breath, I
shifted to face the bleachers so only Coach could see me.

“Luke and Chris might be a problem. They’re fighting for the
same spot.”

“Is that the only thing they’re fighting for, Whalen?”

“Sir?”

He looked down at me, his former athlete’s stature making
him insanely intimidating—even for Coach. I suddenly didn’t wonder why the guys
trembled when he scowled in their direction.

“Nothing, Whalen.
As long as you
can tell me that’s the only thing those two are fighting over.”

For a flash, as he cocked an eyebrow at me, I thought he
might know what had happened this morning. Perhaps he’d seen something in the
hall or overheard the argument I had with both or either of the guys. But, just
like I’d told Luke, it wasn’t what it appeared to be. I doubted Coach would
believe me anymore than Luke did.

“I can’t see them fighting over anything else.”

He shook his head, and I had a sudden fear I’d let him down.

“If you say so, Whalen.”
He handed
me a stopwatch and studied the guys milling about in their new colors. “Don’t
forget, you’re part of this team now, too.”

Tryouts dragged. Spurts of brilliant play interwoven with a
lot of sub-par confusion. Chris and Luke kept their numbers close. Coach kept
them off the field at the same time.

Throughout the morning, Coach would call me over to note a
rating system in the binder only he seemed to understand. By the end of the
session, the sun heated the field like an iron skillet over an open flame. The
guys were looking like dish rags that had been used, wrung out, and then set on
fire.

When Coach blew the final whistle, I guessed several of the
guys had no plans on returning that evening. Most were willing to only try so
hard or endure so much humiliation in pursuit of one of those coveted slots.
They all knew that a varsity letter wasn’t a sure thing and an evening at a
friend’s pool was probably starting to look pretty darn good.

“Men, I’ll see you at seven. Good practice.” Coach made his
way to the table, opening the binders and jotting notes for the first time. I
hid my shock at his ability to use a pencil.

 
“Whalen, stick
around a minute while the guys clean up.”

He ran through the stats from the last few days, while I
held the day’s numbers and made notes about each team member.

“Coach, you didn’t rank Chris or Luke.”

He pushed his hand through his hair, making the thin ends
stand straight up.

“I’m thinking you don’t need any more information than you
already have. It’s been a long enough day for you already.”

I knew I should have
argued,
should
have told him again there wasn’t anything going on. But instead, I thanked him
and headed toward my locker, glad to be able to catch a ride with Chris so I
could have lunch at home and just
veg
out.

Nearing the walkway to the back door, I paused as Chris came
out, his hand resting on Cheryl’s lower back as he steered her toward the
parking lot. He glanced my way and gave a little half-shrug as if to say, “
what
was I supposed to do?”

Part of me wished he’d just say that out loud so I could
answer, “Drive me home.”

She must have realized how close we were getting to a scene,
because she didn’t even make eye contact as they went by. Just stuck her nose a
little higher in the air and led Chris past me.

I was nearing A Point. I had no idea what would happen when
I reached said Point, but I doubted it would be good. I understood Chris had
goals I didn’t fit into, but leaving me stranded at school this morning was too
much. I considered mentioning that to him next time I saw him.

“Hey. Looks like you need a ride.” Luke stood a couple feet
away, holding the door open and looking as though he wasn’t sure how much more
he could get away with saying.

Plus, you know, that whole wordless-searching-look thing.

“Do you just stand around waiting to make humiliating
comments?”

He let go of the door and strolled toward me, his expression
softening as he neared. Each step brought him closer, each word echoing around
in my head as they lined up with the ones Rachel had said.

“Amy, I’m sorry I said some of those things this morning.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t think he treats you second rate.” He shifted
back, taking a step away as if he realized he’d come too close. Even then he
towered over me, making me feel small and less sure with his height alone.

“Can we not talk about this?” I knew I should be angrier
with Luke for butting in where he wasn’t wanted, but all of my ire was focused
in Chris’s driving-away direction.

“Grab your bag. I can wait here.” Behind him, the door
opened and a bunch of the senior guys strutted out, kicking a ball between
them. Didn’t they ever get tired of synthetic leather covered air? Luke leaned
against the fence, comfortable to be on the outside looking in.

“Hi, Amy,” Ben called as they neared. “Sorry you couldn’t
make it to the party yesterday. Chris said you had a lot going on, but it looks
like you saved all your energy for that run.” He slapped me on the back as he
passed. “Nice job.”