Secret Life (RVHS Secrets) (3 page)

Chapter
4

To be honest, I didn’t mind helping Amy at the games. Not
that I loved soccer or anything, but it did let me hang with her and watch what
was going on in the crowds. And, you know, cute boys in soccer shorts are
always a plus.

In the locker room, Coach gave a little pep talk. His office
had an outside door and he’d let us in after the guys were dressed. Amy had
confiscated his desk where I helped her put together the stats binders.
Actually, Amy put binders together. I tried to put them together, but then
she’d take them apart, change everything and put them back together again.
Every time I gave up she asked me why I wasn’t helping. Like I said, I was
easily distracted by cute soccer boys in shorts. Either way I was useless, but
I guess that wasn’t the point.

As I watched her sort through another page of statistics,
the weirdest thing happened. I’d never been aware of him before. I’d always
been aware of Amy being aware of him, but I couldn’t have told you if Chris
Kent was still in the county or not, let alone the room.
Until
tonight.
I could feel him on the far side of guys circled up. It might
just have been my paranoia that I’d slip to Amy about the tutoring, but I
knew
he was there—I could sense that
focus he kept reined except when he was on the field.

Hopefully that was it. I’d crossed into Soccer World and
aggression was just rolling off him.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and turned enough to study
him. I should have been more surprised to find him watching me too, but I
wasn’t. It made sense. We were in this stupid secret double-life-tutor-thing.
Trapped.
I’d seen a hint of him at the library that—if he
wasn’t the best actor in the RV—had me wondering if maybe there was a small,
little something under the good looks and charm.

I started to wave, but realized that would be exactly what
he didn’t want me to do. I didn’t want that either. I didn’t want the whole
look-at-us-we-know-each-other-suddenly-and-you-can-all-start-wondering-if-I’m-hooking-up-with-him
thing. Instead I gave him one of those little smiles you give someone when you
don’t want everyone else to notice. Only, he didn’t notice either. And that’s
when I realized it wasn’t me he was watching. It was Amy.

Of course
it was
Amy. He’d all but told me he was crazy about her. Why would he be watching me?
I knew what he saw when he looked at me.
Especially next to
her.

My heart was already racing and I had to find an
inner-window quick. If I had a panic attack twice in one day—even a little
one—I’d have to admit it to my mom and then I’d be right back where I started.

Nightly sessions with Dr. Meadows
discussing my emotional hierarchy.

Calm
.
Breathe.
Calm
.
I closed my eyes and pictured my “true self” (those air quotes belong to said
Dr. Meadows).

Right before I’d left my room tonight, I’d played my trick
on myself. I took my contacts out and stood back from my mirror. That was how
people saw me. No one would look closely enough to see the monstrous flaws I
noticed. To the whole world I was blurry—I held on to that, comforted.

And Chris Kent sure as hell was not going to put me back in
full time therapy. Part time was more than enough,
thankyouverymuch
.

An anger I hadn’t felt before washed over me. I grabbed onto
it like a lifeboat, hoping it wasn’t going under more quickly than I was. I was
angry at him for not noticing me and angry at Amy for being so noticeable and
angry at myself for being angry about both those things.

I started to look again, but why bother? There was nothing
there I wanted. And, any misconceptions I’d gotten about the school’s biggest
player were not going to help me focus. I checked my hand as it came up to rest
over my crazed heartbeat.

That’s all that mattered, getting that crazed part gone.

“I’ll be right back.”

I caught Amy’s eye as I tried to ease out of the locker room
office into the hall so she’d know everything was all good. Focus. It was all about
focus.
And The Rules.

Rule 1: Don’t put yourself in situations that might trigger
attacks.

Rule 1A: If you’re in them and can’t chill, get out.

I was getting out, and fast, because there was no way I was
letting an ass like Chris Kent drag me under. If there was ever a boy worth
drowning for, it wasn’t him.

God, this sucked. Even guys I wasn’t interested in—scratch
that—a guy I couldn’t even stand was able to bring this on.

The air was cooler, not to mention fresher, in the hall. It
smelled less like boy, more like institutional sanitizer and old-building-
ness
. I gasped in the old-building-sanitized air, focusing.

At the older section of school I leaned against the lockers,
twisting to one side to fit between locks.
Stop
the comparisons and focus.

I forced myself to back away from the comparison I
knew
Chris was doing.
Tried
not to follow where that path led.
Maybe he could see everything wrong
with me. Maybe he can see the monster I am.

I grasped at something good.
Something
positive and likable.

I loved my hands. They’re small and delicate. When I was
little someone told me I had concert pianist's hands.

Raising them to eye level, I studied them, memorized them.
Long, slender fingers.
Small-boned.
Delicate wrists.
Perfect manicure.

I have great hands.

Remembering that—and knowing I saw the worst in
myself—helped. As my mom always said, it wasn’t all about me. No one was
looking at me.

I stifled a sick laugh. And that was the problem today,
wasn’t it? No one was looking at me. Jared had walked right by, new girl firmly
in tow, and not seen me. And now, the last guy I’d ever want looking at me
wasn’t, and I flipped.

Maybe this no-meds thing wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped
it would.

Part of me missed them.
Missed the daily
little pill that made emotions just dull enough to get through the day.
That slowed down the attacks enough to spot that emotional escape hatch. That
allowed me to not worry and believe all the things my doctor and mother told
me.
That I was fine.
That I was
normal.
That I was pretty.

They allowed me to date and socialize. Hell, they allowed me
to leave the house.

My hands stilled and my heart slowed. It was just a rough
day. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow would be easier. Not a problem. No
problem at all.

I pulled my
Sugar’d
Whine gloss
out of my pocket and slid it on.
Then a second coat just to
be safe.

Through the locker room door I could hear the masculine war
shouts start as I snuck back into the office in time to help Amy carry her
paperwork down to the field. She was all business as she signed in the refs and
the other team. That girl was almost as bad as the boys.

It blew my mind how seriously these guys took soccer. It
wasn’t like it could save their lives or anything. It was just a bunch of hot
guys chasing a ball around.
Fun to watch, but stupid to live
for.

Amy checked her watch and jotted notes as the refs did
whatever the heck refs do. The whole time she mumbled about Luke’s position as
co-captain and his superior-loyalty standards.

Behind us, the stands were full. People already cheered and
shouted at the rival team’s fans. A mountain of green and blue rose in a wave
over the bleachers as people rushed to their feet when the teams took the
field. Excitement vibrated everywhere. The air shook with an energy that was almost
a rush.

This was why I loved the games. The crowd overwhelmed to the
point you could get lost in it. It reminded me of a church revival I’d seen on
a late night movie. Everyone focused on the same thing, positive, fixated. No
one stood out as anything but a member, even if they didn’t have the grass
beneath their feet and legs that ate up the field like a deranged lawn mower.

And then, because this day had been one trial after another,
I saw him…I mean
them
.
Jared and the blonde.
She was tucked against him and
bubbling up happiness in a way that made me want to be sick right there in
front of the entire school.

He’d chosen her over me. He’d chosen to leave me—a supposed
good thing—knowing he’d be moving on to the next girl. Probably already had
her
picked out since I’d heard they’d been at
Jovi’s
two days after
The
Talk.

He smiled down at her, nodding as she said something and
then looked up toward the field, his gaze stopping on me for the first time in
two weeks.

Something was there. I’m not sure what, but something. A
friendship he knew was lost?
Pity?
Sympathy?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t something I had any interest in.
I spun back toward the field and focused on the game as a whistle
blew,
the calming scratch
scratch
scratch
of Amy scribbling notes in her blue binder beside
me.

For the first time today, I didn’t let it overwhelm me. I
didn’t let
him
control me without
even trying.

“So, you know what’s going on over there?” I asked, trying
to think about anything but the happy couple.

Amy nodded as she noted something else, her gaze never
leaving the players. I wondered how she did it.
Stayed so
focused.
There was her guy—her very attractive guy—out there running
around on those long legs, carrying those great shoulders, acting all
aggressively manly on the field, and she was counting things like SOG and
offsides
. Whatever the hell those were.

But that was Amy. She had it all together. She made it look
so easy.

The game went on and on, lots of guys running around doing
their pushing and sprinting and kicking stuff. I couldn’t seem to work up the
same level of excitement Amy did about winning. But it was great to sit next to
her as she jumped up and down and waved to Luke as he jogged off the field.

The only thing I could really think was
thank God this day was finally over.
I tried to recall another that
had been this long, but besides the first few days at Camp
Osheen
,
I hadn’t had a day like this one in forever.

I think it must have had at least seven extra hours.

As soon as I got the go-ahead from Amy to take off, I was
heading home to my room and never coming out again.

“Rachel!” Amy’s voice carried down from the top of the hill
where her fingers wove through the chain link fence that circled the field—a
high school version of a death match ring. “We’re going to
Jovi’s
.
You’re coming, right?”

I really, really, really,
really
didn’t want to. I wanted to go home. My head hurt. I felt
like crying from emotional exhaustion. I needed to be alone. But there she was,
ignoring Luke as he stood behind her smiling at me like he didn’t mind sharing
her. What could I say?

“Sure.” I mean, how much worse could it get?

~*~

Every time you say the words
how much worse could it get
you’re opening a portal for mass chaos
on an unimaginably epic scale. Even if you just say them in your head. Proving
that the universe can hear inside your head…ponder that puppy.

Jovi’s
, the former peaceful
retreat of the dynamic duo—otherwise known as me and Amy—had somehow become the
local hangout for the soccer team that night.

OK, not the whole soccer team, but enough of them that it
didn’t feel like home. It made me itchy having them all there.

I sat facing the door across from Amy, which meant when Luke
came in, I noticed the Plus One immediately. I pasted a smile on my face and
did my best to look like this was not a bad set up waiting to happen as Ben
Harrison slid into the booth next to me.

“Hey, Ladies.”
Luke leaned in and
kissed Amy’s temple as she blushed at the show of affection.

And then the snuggling began. I guess it wasn’t really
snuggling, but she fit so perfectly under the arm he tossed over her shoulder
that it was hard for it to look like anything else.
A warmth
rushed through me. Seeing her that happy made
me
happy.

There was a reassurance in it that grounded me.

“So,
Jovi’s
?”
Ben glanced around, his standard grin in place. “It has a certain charm, but
who are all these guys milling about?”

Luke laughed as another pair of freshman red-shirted players
walked by.

Yeah,
I thought.
My question exactly.

Amy glanced around, her vision finally Luke-clearing. “Looks
like half the soccer team is here.”

“That’s what happens when the popular guys decide to take
over our little dive.” I tried to say it lightly, like I was 100% joking. I may
have even pulled it off because no one shot me a look.

Ben and Luke both laughed. Actually, neither of them
probably realized they were two of the It Boys. There was something vaguely
charming about that.

“Great, male underclassmen flock to us.” Ben glanced across
the table at Luke.
“Lucky us, huh?”

“I don’t need a flock…any flock.” Luke stared down at Amy.

Amy stared back up at Luke.

There was an eternity of silence before Ben
finally—thankfully—cleared his throat bringing the couple back to the planet
the rest of us live on.