Wishful Thinking (6 page)

She shook her head, “Figures, being called fat is a compliment to you. Guys suck.”
 

When we came up to the corner of two streets she asked which way and I pointed towards my house about six houses down. Dang I didn’t even get a good run in before having my lights knocked out. As we continued our slow two-step to my house she kept looking over her shoulder again and again.
 

“Someone following us?” I asked.
 

“Your parents are going to be pissed about this,” she said, turning her head to look forward again.
 

“Pissed about what?"

"That welt on your head, it messes up the whole pretty boy skater thing you got going on. In another hour or so it’s going to look even uglier.”

On my forehead was another lump to match the one on the back of my head. “Damn how many times did you hit me?”

She halted, reached up and touched the back of my head.
 

“Ow, that hurts!” I twisted my head away from her hand, aggravating my queasiness.
 

“Stop being a baby,” she said continuing to press against the knot. I was starting to think Claudia was a bitch. “That feels pretty nasty, you might want to … I don’t know make sure you don’t have a concussion or something. Your parents are gonna freak when they see."

“My house is right there. I think I can manage from here."

“Are you sure?" she asked but was already pulling her arm away.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, see you at school.” Without a second glance she took off running again. My head hurt too much to give it much thought, but something was off about that chick. I watched her run until she reached the end of my street and turned left and disappeared down Alameda Blvd.
 

Sunshine began peeking through Fallen Oaks morning fog and sleepiness hit me. Maybe I’d blow off first period and sleep in.
 

My dad was tooling around our kitchen when I came in. He poured himself a cup of coffee before cozying up at the table in the breakfast nook with a Daily Sun. I walked over and grabbed an orange juice from the fridge. I leaned against the counter and took a sip.
 

“How was your run?” Dad asked shaking out the paper. I gave him my requisite shoulder shrug and he gave me his typical “use your words,” response.
 

“You going to the office today?”

My dad put his paper down and took a sip of his coffee and looked at me. His eyes focused on the lump on my forehead. “Does it hurt?"

“What do you think?” I snapped. I was still bitter about his accusation last night that I broke into his desk. And seriously, why do parents always ask stupid questions. Are they clueless? I mean if I’m smoking a cigarette is it necessary to ask if I smoke, duh, isn’t it obvious?
 

 
He put down his cup next to his paper and came over to me.

"I think if you don’t tell me what happened someone will lose his driving privileges for a week."

I rolled my eyes, couldn’t help it, I hated when dad acted all fatherlike it wasn’t him.
 

"Well …"
 

"What, do you want like a blow by blow or something? I went running tripped and fell and bumped my head." I left out the part where a girl handed my ass to me on a platter.

"It looks pretty nasty, maybe we should go to the hospital and have it looked at."

I finished my glass of juice and placed my cup on the counter behind me. I was a bit woozy and I think the orange juice was going to come back up but, "I’m fine."

"All right, you better put some ice on it at least.” Dad retook his seat and went back to reading the paper. I stared at him a minute longer before heading upstairs to my room.
 

✩

By third period I wished I’d stayed home all day. Besides having trouble keeping my eyes open and focused, I had a killer headache. I was also getting sick of everyone asking the same question, “Dude what happened to your face” or some variant of that. The lump looked a putrid yellow and hurt to even brush a finger across.
 

Only one person didn’t ask about my bruise, or stare, or make fun of it, and that was Claudia. Of course maybe she would have but she wasn’t there. She missed debate and I hadn’t noticed her in the halls. By lunchtime questions died down, jokes and rumors persevered, and my headache reached retch intensity.
 

Dean sat at our usual picnic table outside the cafeteria munching on a slice of pizza and laughing. Summer was there too, sandwiched between Dean and Emily laughing and playing with her soda straw. I plopped my bag down and took a seat across the table from her.
 

"Hey babe," Summer said, "how do you feel?"

"Do you have any aspirin," I asked.
 

Summer reached in her bag, "I have Midol."

I held out my hand. "Does it get rid of headaches?"

"Yeah but—"

“Give it here.”

Dean eyed me. “You should see the nurse that looks pretty bad, and you look like shit.”

"I’m fine," I said grabbing Summer’s pills and swallowing them down without water. Summer offered me her soda and I took a swig, "Thanks." I placed my arms on the table and rested my head on top of my arms. "I’m so tired," I mumbled to the table.
 

"I think you should go to the nurse," Dean said again.

"I’m not going anywhere I’m fine."

"Tell me what happened," Emily said.
 

Summer nudged her, "Leave him be," and reached across the table to squeeze my hand.
 

"You shouldn’t go to practice," Dean said.
 

I closed my eyes, "I might not."

There was a jab to my shoulder followed by, "Is that ugliness gonna keep you from going out this weekend?” Nate’s voice asked.

I kept my head down and mumbled, "No," into my jacket sleeve.
 

Nate asked, "Have any of you seen Kyle?"
 

Dean and Summer both said no. Emily said nothing. Nate jabbed me again.
 

"What," I moaned getting annoyed.
 

“Have you seen Kyle?"

“No.”

Nate kicked the table, “Damn.”

“Why does he owe you money, or something?” Dean asked.

Nate slammed a fist on the table, “Lousy back stabber."

"Do we even want to know?” came Emily’s voice.

Nate eyed her again and snarled. “We had a deal and that son of a bitch cheated or didn’t you notice Claudia isn’t with me?"

Claudia’s name sent a chill down my spine. I’d failed to tell my friends the real way I received the bruise across the side of my face. They all believed it was from a rogue barbell during a workout. Sure it made me look clumsy and stupid, but that was far better than admitting a girl did it.
 

“You two are a thing now?" Dean asked filling his mouth with his last bite of pizza.
 

I looked up at Nate, “What’d you bet him? His firstborn?”

“Or that when his sister turned legal he’d let you have her?” Summer added.
 

Nate tried to give us a scathing look, “You guys talk as if I only do repugnant—”

“Stop there. You are the very definition of repugnant,” Emily cut in.
 

Nate pointed a finger at her, opened his mouth then shook his head and turned to me. “Since he liked her I thought I’d make it interesting, give him a shot … but I didn’t think he actually had one.”

“You’re an insufferable …” Emily closed her mouth and whispered something to Summer.
 

Nate ignored her and sat down next to me, “Dude, it’s really hard to talk to you with that ugly thing looking at me.” Nate poked my bruise, "Does it hurt?"

I punched his shoulder, “What the fuck man."

“That really is ugly."

“I don’t know I think it’s an improvement over what was there before," Dean said.
 

“Oh shit,” Nate said turning to look at Dean, “did Dean make a funny?”

“Stop picking on him, he’s hurt," Summer said smiling stupidly at me.
 

It’s sweet that girls want to come to your defense and all, but it’s never good to do it around your friends. Like baby talk, it should be kept to happening when there isn’t a sign of another guy for fifty miles. No guy wants to be called out in front of his friends for his girlfriend calling him snookums, next thing you know people will be checking her purse for your balls.
 

“I hate to interrupt the male bonding but there’s Kyle." Emily pointed over Nate and my’s shoulders across the lawn to another table where Kyle was sitting with Edmond and Mitch from basketball.
 

Nate turned and looked in the direction Emily pointed, “What the hell is he doing over there.” Nate got up.
 

“Now you have to go find out don’t you?” Dean asked.
 

Everyone was staring at Kyle. He must have felt all our eyes on him because he looked over and waved, said something to Edmond and Mitch before getting up and walking towards us. Nate jumped up and met him halfway and the two started a fervent conversation involving a lot of hand flailing and chest jabbing.
 

After a few minutes they were both laughing and walking back over towards us.
 

“Who do you think won?" Dean said.

“My money is on Kyle, if she’s not an idiot that is," Emily answered.
 

“Hey guys," Kyle said when he reached the table.

“Cavorting with the enemy?" I asked.
 

Kyle winked. “Can’t help I’m on rugby and basketball cuz I’m that good." Kyle leaned against the head of our table arms crossed over his chest. “Nate can I stay at your house tonight?"

“Sure whatever," Nate said retaking the spot to my right.
 

“Thanks man, I can’t handle another night with my grandmamma visiting. I love her but damn the woman complains. If I have to hear about her aching feet, or prescription prices again I’ll lose it.”

Kyle looked at me, “Damn James that looks terrible, what’d you do? You should put a steak on it."

“I wasn’t paying attention during my workout," I said laying my head back down on my arms.
 

Kyle bobbed his head, “At least there’s no game Saturday. No way coach would let you play looking like that."

Emily stood up, “Leslie wants to show us the new uniforms," she said to Summer.

"Please tell me the skirts are shorter,” Nate said. He started spinning an empty soda can on the table, “You guys need to look better, be more distracting. Am I right?” he said and elbowed me. Good thing my head was achy so I didn’t jump to the bait.

“It’s not for cheer dumb-ass," Emily said giving Summer a let’s go look.
 

“Duty calls gotta go.” Summer got up and walked around the table to me. She leaned down and gave me a kiss on my cheek, her breasts rubbed against my shoulder as she did. She whispered in my ear, "I’ll take care of you later," and squeezed my thigh with her hand.
 

“Bye guys." Summer and Emily waved before walking off together. Summer looked back blew me a kiss and winked. Maybe this shiner on my face wasn’t such a bad thing if it made Summer forget she was mad at me.

“All right," Kyle said sitting down across from me, "We’ve got a problem."

Everyone gave Kyle their attention.
 

“What?” we all asked.
 

“I didn’t want to go home after practice yesterday, you know cuz of grandmamma, so I went to Yanni’s Yogurt shop. Nate shut-up some guys like yogurt doesn’t make them gay, anyway I saw Summer’s mom there."

“Yeah so," I said. Hoping he wasn’t about to say Summer was there to with Trevor.
 

“Damn that thing is ugly," Kyle said nodding his head and looking away, "I saw her mom making out with a chick and not just any chick but one of the trainers from my gym."

“No shit? Was it Joann?" Nate asked looking a bit repulsed.

“Nah, man Michelle.

Now Nate was smiling. "That’s hot, super hot."

"Right," Kyle said smiling along.
 

"Does Summer know," Dean asked before I could.
 

I’d only met Summer’s mom a hand full of times and she was nice enough. Definite MILF material, but Summer didn’t talk about her a whole lot and she never mentioned anything like her mom being a lesbian then again why would she.
 

“Damn, you think her dad knows?”
 

“Do you think he’d care? Come on you know he has to have a piece on the side.” Nate turned to me, “Good luck with that.”

"What do you mean?" I sat up.
 

“Her dad’s a senator, running on an anti-gay platform, this gets out … career over."

“I don’t care about Mr. Marshall’s career,” I said.
 

Nate shrugged and stood up, "I gotta get to class, you coming," he said to Kyle.

"Yeah." They both left leaving me and Dean alone.
 

Dean collected up his things and strapped his bag over his shoulder. "We better go too."

I dragged myself up from my seat and started walking with him, "You’re lucky," I said.

“Oh yeah, why’s that?"

“Because you have a normal family."
 

By last period, my headache was gone and when final bell rang I bolted from class and headed straight for Rugby practice. My eye would get me the bench, which was good. Even though my headache was gone I was in no mood to run or tackle. Although my brain could have used the stretch of mind-numbing exercise, I was till chewing on my dad’s accusation.
 

Just inside the gymnasium coach Renly was standing, blocking the locker room. I thought he was there for me but he didn’t say a thing when I approached just grunted and pointed towards the bleachers where half of the rugby team was already seated. I sat down next to Dean. After the last few players arrived Coach joined us.
 

Coach made a head count and wrote something on his clipboard. He locked the door to the locker room stairwell and headed over to us. What in the world was going on?