Students of the Game (13 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Monday morning after my little homecoming dance fiasco, I arrive to school early in hopes to avoid as much of the student body as possible. I feel as if I’ve done something wrong, and I’m sneaking around behind everyone’s back. As I approach my locker, someone is there waiting for me. It’s Missy, there to remind me that I did in fact, do something wrong. I had a feeling some sort of confrontation with her was coming, and I might as well get it over with first thing. I sigh, “Missy.”

“Joy,” she snaps. As I come within a few feet of her she gets up close to my face. “I know all about your little secret,” she smirks. “I’m not stupid. I recognized you in that picture.”

“What are you talking about?” I look around and notice a few students have started to trickle in and taken an interest in our little scene.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re not an idiot…that freaking picture of you and Bryce!”

That stupid old picture posted on Bryce’s Facebook page?
“Missy…”

“You think you can magically steal him away, because you were friends when you were babies? We have real
history
, if you know what I mean. Do you really think he’d be interested in someone like you?”

Her words sting, but I recover quickly knowing she’s got it wrong. I get right up in her face. “Someone like me? You know what, Missy? You are so full of shit.” My tightly clenched fists do nothing to prevent my body from shaking, as the sudden overdose of adrenaline pumps through my system.

“Am I?” she laughs. “I’m not the one sitting alone at games, or getting wasted and throwing myself at him in front of the whole school. So pathetic! He’s too good for you…too special. Why do you think he ditched you in the first place?”

“You don’t know anything about me! Get out of face!” I shove past Missy, bumping her with my shoulder, which gets an arousal out of the small crowd that has now formed.

Blinking back the sting of tears, I escape to the bathroom. I lock myself in a stall and lean against the door as if trying to reinforce the already secured lock. Why would Bryce even be interested in her? Are they really that much a like? I’ve heard so many rumors about him over the years, about how conceited he is, or that he’s a testosterone fueled jerk. After spending so much time alone with him, I was really starting to think he wasn’t any of those things, that he was still the same boy I once knew. Yet, the type of people he calls friends are the same ones that call Farah names when she walks down the hall, and shove Seth around for kicks. Was everything just an act when we were together, so he could use me to keep his precious scholarship? Does he call up Missy when he leaves my house, so they can laugh about how pathetic they both think I am?

As much as I want to stay and make this depressing pink bathroom my home, I collect myself and walk to homeroom. I glance to the back where Bryce always sits. He’s already there, and when I meet his eyes, he quickly looks away.  Nick Burton, one of the guys that Bryce is sitting with makes a joke about my amazing dance moves, more than loud enough for me to hear. Feeling humiliated, I look straight ahead and can’t tell if Bryce responds or not.

Somehow I make it through the first half of the day, rather robotically, focusing on schoolwork. Seth won’t even look at me, and I still haven’t seen Carver, though I don’t have to wait too long. The bell rings after what feels like the quickest math class I have ever experienced and Carver is waiting for me when I exit the room. He watches a few students walk past then falls into step with me, sliding his arm through mine. “Well apparently you made it home alright.”

“I did.”

“And, that thing with you humping Colton?” He raises his eyebrows, nonplussed.

“I was just trying to get your attention.” I admit, like a child taking a scolding.

Caver sighs and stops abruptly, causing a freshman boy to almost slam into his back, but he doesn’t even notice. “Joy, you had my attention from the moment you stepped into that gym. You looked amazing by the way…well, until you started puking.” He turns to me and adds, “I’m not happy about Colton driving you home, though.”

“It’s OK,” I sigh. “It was fine. He doesn’t drink.”

Carver smirks. “Is that what he told you?” He starts to laugh, and suddenly I’m confused. “Man, that guy is so full of it. Did he somehow forget to mention that party where he got totally wasted?”

The shocked look on my face must be enough to answer his question, because he continues on. “Oh, believe me, it’s true. I was there. Colton was doing keg stands like the best of them, with the entire football team. He
was so drunk, he started shouting to the heavens that he was in love with you!”

I feel my stomach tighten up into a knot the size of a melon and the familiar hot tears of humiliation start to make their return, burning my eyes. Carver reaches up and wipes one away. “Hey, don’t cry. It’s OK. I didn’t want to tell you that, but I just want you to know what he’s really like.”

“I know what he’s like,” I say angrily, thinking about my run in with Missy. “And you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to be tutoring him anymore.”

“Glad to hear it. Now I have you all to myself.” Carver puts his arm around me as the bell rings. “I’ll walk you to class.”

Feeling comforted by Carver’s words, I finally get the nerve to ask the question that’s been bothering me. “So, why didn’t you just ask me to the dance, if you wanted me to go?”

“I‘m sorry,” he says, and offers a shy smile. “I didn’t really know what was going on between us. Like, if we were a couple or whatever…we never really talked about that.”

He wants me to be his girlfriend!
“So, you want to be a couple?” I smile back.

He responds by leaning down and grabbing the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss similar to our first. This time however, it’s the middle of the day, in the center of a crowded North Tide hallway. And there are more than just empty cars to bear witness.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

BRYCE

I have to run into the bathroom because I honestly think I’m going to puke. He kissed her. He kissed Joy,
my
Joy
. I know for a fact, this is to get back at me and I can’t stay silent anymore. I’m not entirely sure what his game is yet, but man, I’m going to be watching every single move Carver makes.

I’m leaning over the sink when he enters, a tight little smirk still set on his face. We make eye contact in the mirror, and his smile turns into a full blown grin. “Look who it is…I was just thinking about you.” He starts to walk over to me, as a small dude nervously finishes his piss, then exits quickly, without washing his hands. The bell has already rung, but I don’t care if I’m late for my next period. There’s less of a chance getting caught kicking his ass if everyone else is in class.

“If you touch her, I will kill you.”

“Oh, I plan on it, Colton,” he replies arrogantly. “I plan on licking every single inch of her. I’ve already gotten a taste, and trust me, she’s delicious.”

I slam him hard up against bathroom wall and it’s eerily familiar of our bout freshman year. Though this time, we’re not encompassed by pink and notably his head hits the tile much, much harder.

Carver laughs. “Come on now, don’t be jealous. It’s not my fault you never had the balls
to get in her pants.”

I pull back my fist and as I’m about to release it into his face, when I remember somewhere in the back of my mind, that if I get into a fight it could jeopardize my scholarship. My hand drops like lead to my side.

“What’s the matter, have a change of heart?” He raises his eyebrows. “You wanna be friends again? I should have known you’d be a lover not a fighter.”

He knows.

Caver knows about the scholarship. He wants me to kick his ass. He wants me to lose it, that what this whole thing is about.

“Fuck you. You’re not worth it.” I spit out.

Carver laughs. “Apparently Joy isn’t either then, but I beg to differ. I think I may actually like her. I have to say at first I thought she was just another geek…but those pouty lips and puppy dog eyes? Man, don’t even get me started on what she’s got hiding under those clothes.” He starts to back away from me and laughs, smoothing his hair into place. “You know she likes me…like
really
likes me. I bet I make her wet just by looking at her.”

I can’t stand to hear him talk about Joy like she’s his own personal pleasure toy. I’m about to say screw the scholarship and rearrange his pretty face, when a teacher pops his head into the bathroom, checking for straggle
rs. He tells us to get to class, seemingly unaware of the bitter showdown that’s now taking place.

CHAPTER THIRTY-
TWO

JOY

Football season comes to an end as November does. I hear something about the Sea Hounds winning the championship, but trying to avoid all things Bryce Colton, I don’t pay too much attention to the victory talk. In fact, I don’t pay much attention to anything at all. I spend every weekend with Carver. We do everything from movie dates, to (all ages) rock shows, and amazing make out sessions that always go a bit further. I’m assuming Farah has been going to party with her mystery boyfriend whom she still has not made the effort of introducing, because we never make plans anymore. I get so consumed by my relationship with Carver, that I almost miss the deadline for Brown. That becomes a wake-up call for me and after I submit my very last application, I make the decision to slow things down with him. It’s not that I don’t like him, I mean…
god
…those eyes. I’m just at a point where I need a little breathing room to get myself mentally prepared for my final semester of high school. So one night at the end of Christmas Vacation, Carver invites me to dinner. I decide it’s the perfect time to talk to him.

“Don’t get your hopes up, I didn’t cook…I thought we could just get take out.” Carver says to me as I’m entering his kitchen, in the process of talking off my winter coat and gloves.

I smile as I notice he’s taken the time to set the table with candles and all. This is definitely a pleasant alternative to going out to eat. “Gee, you really know how to woo a girl,” I say, half-jokingly.

“That’s my goal.” Carver pulls me into a kiss that could permanently stop time, and I
wonder if we’ll even get to eat dinner before we make it to dessert. Then somehow I remember that I wanted to talk to him.

“Carver…” I regrettably push him back. “I kind of wanted to talk to you.”

A passive look spreads across his face. “OK, Joy. Sure,” he says softly. Carver tucks his hair behind his ears as he blows out the candles.

We walk silently to the living room and sit down. He faces me, and leans his head into his hand, propped up on the back of the couch.

I take a breath, “You know I really like you-”

Carver interrupts me, “Joy, is this about sex? You know we can wait. You don’t feel like I’ve been pressuring you, do you?” he asks sweetly and grabs my hand.

Suddenly I’m picturing sex with Carver and my brain no longer wants to have this conversation. “What? No. I…I just need to have a little more time to myself, you know? We do spend quite a bit of it together. Don’t you ever need a break from me?”

He takes a
moment for my words to sink in then brings his other hand down on top, so they’re both holding mine. “Joy, I could never get sick of spending time with you, but if that’s what you want, it’s OK,” he smiles.

I nod and feel my shoulders relax, glad that the conversation went well. Carver suggests that maybe I should just head home and we could do a rain check on dinner, since we didn’t order anything, anyway.

I slide my coat back on and he guides me to the door, offering a farewell with a delicate kiss on the forehead. As I’m walking down the stairs to my car, I realize just how wrong everyone is about this boy. He’s been given such a bad rapport throughout high school, and I feel awful that the student body never gave him a chance. Shivering, I dig in my bag for my keys and realize I left my gloves in Carver’s apartment. I briskly jog back up the steps and knock lightly, but he doesn’t answer. Turning the knob slowly, I find that it’s unlocked and don’t think Carver will mind if I just run in to grab them.

I enter the kitchen, locate the gloves, then in the process of
picking them up, I pause in mid-air.  I hear Carver’s voice coming from the direction of his bedroom and walk quietly to the edge of the kitchen to listen.

“You’re such a fucking fuck-up!”
I hear a loud, sudden pop, that I’m pretty sure is Carver hand punching a wall. “
You can’t do anything right!”
Another pop, another one for the wall. I glance over at the snake, silently slithering about his glass case, and using his example, I slip equally as silent out the door.

On the drive home, I decide not to mention the scene I witnessed to anyone. I’m not going to lie, it was a little unsettling, but part of me hurts for Carver. All that pressure from his father seems to have had a long term effect on him over the years. Now, when something goes wrong, he just punishes himself. He needs to understand that there is a great guy inside of him. I’ve been a witness to that, too. I start to wonder if spending less time together is really a good idea after all. Maybe if I’m around more I can be as influential on him about changing his ways, as he has been with me. Then I remember how I almost missed the Brown deadline because I let myself be consumed by him. Relationships aren’t supposed to feel suffocating. I need this break for me.
I’m doing for me.
And if anyone can understand that, it would have to be Carver.