Sidekick
Sidekick
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2015 Natalie Whipple
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, printing, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author, except for use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Diane Dalton
Cover Design by Melissa Williams Design
Cover image Shutterstock
Author Photo by Michelle D. Argyle
For Kiersten, who sees me as so much more
than a sidekick and makes sure I know it.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Something’s up with Garret. I know this because he sits perfectly still next to me when usually he’s in constant motion. His eyes say he’s somewhere far away from this party and all the people celebrating his winning catch. No one else will notice, but I’m his best friend. It’s kind of my job.
I elbow him. “What’s up?”
He startles, as if he honestly forgot where he was. “Nothing, man. Just tired.”
I don’t believe him, but before I can ask anything else Mercedes shows up. She glances at me and waves. “Hey, Russ, mind if I steal him for a while?”
“What if I said no?”
She laughs and sits on his lap, attaching her face to his. That would be my cue to find another seat, because the last thing I want to see up close is Garret making out with his girlfriend. It’s bad enough that I’ve had to endure so many of them over the years while never having one myself.
I grab a beer from the counter and crack it open. I don’t really like the stuff—especially when it’s cheap crap like this—but you can’t be a school athlete without at least looking like you drink. Especially after smashing your rivals at Homecoming. But nothing seems right tonight. No post-game high. Nothing. This party is like déjà vu, and I get the feeling my whole senior year will be the same. Football games, parties, girls, school. Rinse and repeat.
Out of nowhere, Garret pushes Mercedes off him and says something to her. I can’t tell what it is over the blaring music, but she gives him that I’m-trying-to-be-the-understanding-girlfriend smile. Then she hugs him, and he pulls away.
I get it now. Garret’s getting restless. It’s always the same pattern: Garret gets swarmed by girls, he picks one, dates her, gets bored, and breaks her heart. We’ve now hit the “I’m bored out of my mind” phase. I give her a week, which means I must prepare. Since I am his best friend, every single girl campaigning to be the next trophy on Garret Taylor’s arm will suddenly want to be
my
friend.
Garret comes over and leans on the counter with me, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “This is boring.”
“You haven’t had enough to drink, then.”
He laughs. “That’s boring, too. Let’s get outta here.”
“Sure.” I only came because I’d look lame if I didn’t. It was cool when these keggers were put on by the seniors and I was a sophomore or junior popular enough to get invited. Now? I could live without them, especially when they’re at Dallas Green’s house. Quarterback or not, he’s a total douche and it shows, right down to the obnoxious rap music and expensive sports car.
We get in Garr’s truck, and I ask, “What about Mercedes?”
“She’s getting a ride with Holly.”
I nod. “So what’re we doing?”
He shrugs. “You hungry?”
“Always.”
“Parker’s?”
“Of course.” Parker’s Drive-In is our place, and I mean that in the manliest way possible. Old Man Parker puts bacon grease in the burger meat, so the whole place smells like a giant slab of pig fat. There’s nothing better in the world than this homage to bacon.
Parker’s is always open, so when we pull up at midnight there are still a couple of people sitting in the bright red booths. When Garret opens the door, the cashier, Buck Parker, smiles wide. He’s the oldest of the four Parker boys. The whole family works there, and most of them are proud of it. I guess I would be too if I’d won awards for Best Drive-in Food. This place is one of the few reasons anyone comes to Clovis. The other two are family and farmers markets.
I’d never tell a soul, but sometimes I wish I could work here, even for one day, just to see how they create their burger masterpieces.
“Awesome catch, Garr!” Buck says. “If you don’t make the news, I’ll be shocked.”
Garret shakes his head, using that oh-I’m-not-so-great smile all the girls fall for. “It was just a lucky catch. Russ did all the legwork.”
I shove my hands in my pockets, trying not to be annoyed at Buck for overlooking me and my eighty-nine yards running tonight. But yards run don’t matter when you aren’t the one with the ball in the end zone. At least Garret acknowledges me. I do appreciate that.
“Way to go, Russ.” Buck glances at me with an over-compensating grin. Praise means nothing when it’s forced, so I can’t bring myself to answer. “What’ll you boys have?”
We both get two bacon burgers with a side of chili fries. Garret gets Coke, but I go for Sprite because Coke tastes maybe one degree better than beer.
We dig in, and I try not to moan over the crunchy bacon goodness. At Parker’s they chop up the bacon and make a full-on patty to go on top of the hamburger. So every single bite is full of bacon, bacon-flavored hamburger, and sharp cheddar. I have no choice but to forgive Buck for overlooking me. I bow to their burger genius.
About halfway through the second burger, Garret turns green.
“You okay, man?”
“Nature calls.” He lets one go right there, and I nearly heave. He’s always had a talent for the silent-but-deadly. “More like demands.”
He rushes for the bathroom. I figure, based on years of unfortunate experience, that I have a while before he gets back. So I settle in with my edible shrine to bacon and watch the car lights on Shaw Avenue. I live in California, but it’s not like the rest of the world imagines it. Clovis is nowhere near Hollywood or San Francisco. We’re somewhere in the middle, surrounded by a lot orange trees. If we want to get real classy, we head to the nearest hub of fine culture—Fresno. Yup. Fresno.
My phone buzzes; it’s my little sister, Izzy. I pretend I don’t like her for social reasons, but in actuality she might be my best friend besides Garret.
Home soon? Missing the marathon.
Maybe. Have to catch up later
.
Izzy has a thing for anime. Okay, more like an obsession. I think she might honestly believe she’s Japanese. She and her friends have these anime all-nighters to binge-watch entire seasons in one sitting. I’ve been known to attend, but they’ve all signed in blood that they’ll never tell. Somehow, I’ve made it almost all the way through high school without anyone finding out—not even Garret—and I intend to keep it that way.
The bell on the door rings. I look up, and I’m surprised by what I see. It’s a girl. Parker’s is not known for attracting females with its bacon-fat-in-all-things policy, especially girls like this. She wears a tight, worn T-shirt and baggy pajama bottoms. Her blond hair’s piled on her head in a messy bun. She’s thin and tall, like a volleyball player, but with a killer rack. I look down when she glances my way, embarrassed that I’m already fantasizing about her in a bikini.
