Students of the Game (15 page)

Bryce starts to laugh and I slap him on the shoulder. “Oh, please…who was your first? She couldn’t have been that much cooler.”

He looks at me a moment, then his eyes fall to the ground, before opening his mouth to speak.

Is he blushing?

Suddenly, my mom comes around the side of the house and sees us sitting, my car still unfinished. “Bryce, honey, I thought you had to be at work soon?” she yells as she’s loading up her car with her own work paraphernalia.

Whatever he was going to say is quickly pushed aside when he checks his phone for the time. “Crap! Joy, I don’t have time to finish this today. By the time I get out of work it will be dark.” He jumps up and starts collecting his tools.

“But we have school tomorrow!”

Hastily tossing his stuff in the back of his Jeep he says, “I’ll pick you up.”

“What? No…it’s cool. I’ll call Farah.”

“Nah, don’t put her out. It’s my fault, I insist.”

Every time we argue I feel like I get weaker and weaker, giving in more easily. I agree to it without further dispute. I start to hand him back his photo but he puts his hand up. “Keep it. I didn’t see that one in your mom’s shoebox.” Bryce quickly jumps into his Jeep, pulls into reverse and backs up towards me. He sticks his head out the window and yells, “Happy Birthday, Joy!” before gunning it down the driveway.

“See you in the morning, Bryce,” I call, but he’s already halfway down the street.

CHAPTER THIRTY-
SIX

“You should have seen the look on everyone’s faces when you jumped out of that Jeep this morning!” This is how Farah greets me Monday at lunch, excitedly slamming her tray down, causing her orange to roll halfway across the table.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah,
I pretty much expected that. Nothing goes unnoticed in this school.”
Especially the fact that Carver is absent today.
I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or not as I picture that menacing nightstick and the threats from Carver’s dad.

“Well, considering your track record this year…” she jokes and I stick my tongue out at her.

“Aren’t you hot?” I ask, noticing the baggy sweater she’s sporting, cinched with a belt and leggings underneath. It’s a rather warm day for the beginning of April and I’m actually in a t-shirt and denim capris.

Farah shrugs it off by saying she’s a slave to fashion.
While we are still the only ones at the table, she asks, “So what is up with you two, anyway?”

“Nothing, I guess we’re sort of friends again,” I confess, “can’t say the same about Seth though.” I look over towards the table that Seth has moved to since our fight last semester. He now sits with a couple guys from his math class, and some juniors I recognize, but can’t remember their names.

“I have talked to him you know,” Farah says, in a sympathetic tone. “I understand where he’s coming from, getting picked on or whatever by those guys, just for being himself. I trust
your judgment on Bryce, but Seth? He’s like you,” she smiles. “He’s really quite stubborn. I don’t know what it will take to get him to come around.”

“Have you told him about M
ystery Man?” I ask, then throw in, “Whom, I still haven’t met.”

Farah laughs at the moniker
then frowns as she decides on how to respond. “Yeah, he knows. Maybe things would be different for us if he would just admit to me how he feels. It’s like he lacks the confidence to think he’s good enough for me.”

“How would telling you make a difference?”

“Well, then I would know that he’s putting his heart on the line…Like, taking the risk to win my own heart, completely.”

A few other classmates join us and we leave the conversation where it’s at. On the way out of the cafeteria, we toss our lunch remains in the garbage bins, and Farah’s appears mostly untouched. She turns to me. “So, Joy? Y
ou want to meet the mystery man…and his name happens to be Derek by the way…then why don’t you come down to Providence with me this Friday?”

Farah tells me her sister is on Spring Break and this fact results in an array of parties to cho
ose from. After what happened at Carver’s this past weekend and our mini heart-to-heart at lunch, I’m jonesing for some quality girl time, so I agree.

“
Whoo hoo! You are going to have a freaking blast!” Farah yells, interrupting my thoughts, and causing those in close proximity to turn and see who’s putting on a show.

“Totally,” I agree, somewhat half-heartedly. We part ways, with Farah happily skipping
down the art wing.

            
Farah has to stay after school to edit some pictures for Yearbook, so I’m left with the option of taking the bus home with Devon, or catching a ride with Bryce. Choosing the lesser of two evils, I choose Bryce. I catch up with him after final bell, and we walk down the hall in step. I feel like the stares coming from other students could singe holes right through my skin, they are that intense. When we pass the gym, Missy is hanging around near the door talking with two other girls. I assume she’s waiting for Bryce, but he keeps on walking past her without a second glace. I look back at her and all three of them are looking in our direction, laughing.

“Um, did you need to talk to Missy about something? I can wait outside…” I say slowing down, pointing in her general direction.

“Nope,” is all he says and doesn’t break his stride, I have to jog a few steps to catch back up.

Bryce roars out of the parking lot and flips the stereo on. A classic rock song I recognize has just started, and Bryce cranks it up, starting to sing along. I give him a funny look that only caus
es him to smile and sing louder, not to mention, more out of tune.

“What? Is my voice that bad?” he jokes.

“No, I just didn’t think you listened to this kind of music.”

“Why because I play football?” he says sarcastically but still smiling.

I smile to myself and lower my window, letting the breeze blow loose strands of hair about my face. We ride the rest of the way enjoying the music, and the warm weightless feeling of leaving the school and all its drama behind for the rest of the day.

When we arrive at my house, my mom’s car is there, so I don’t ask Bryce to stop at the mailbox. That little metal carrier pigeon, is soon to be delivering my fate about Brown. I expect
it any day now. “I’ll be back,” I say to Bryce, as I jump out of the car. “Gotta go check something.” I take off running towards the house.

I open the door and my heart is beating fast, a mixture of the quick burst of exertion and anxiety. I pause a moment to catch my breath.

“Joy? Is that you?” my mom calls excitedly, as soon as I enter. “It’s here!”

I run to the kitchen. She’s standing at the bar, and presents me with a bulky envelope that I know is good news. Ripping it open, I pretty much maul the envelope in the process.

Dear Miss. Anderson,

      Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you that you have been admitted….

I don’t even read t
he rest. I just start screaming, which in turn, causes my mom to start screaming too. I run around the side of the bar, with the letter flapping like a victory flag. We are in the middle of a big embrace when Bryce comes bolting through the door, with a fearful look on his face, “Is everything alright? I heard-”

“I got in, Bryce!” I exclaim, pulling away from my mom. I run towards him, letter still in hand. “I got in! I got in to Brown!”

Euphorically, I jump up and Bryce catches me in a hug. I wrap my legs around his waist as he hugs me back. The small part of me that is not entirely consumed with happiness, realizes that I’m in an intimate embrace with Bryce Colton right now. My eyes briefly flicker to his, questioning his reaction, but the only feeling I can gauge is his happiness for me.

“That’s awesome! Congrats, Joy. Let me see.” He puts me back on my feet. I hand him the letter and we both walk back to the kitchen. Bryce looks over the letter and makes a big deal
about it, reading portions of it out loud to us. We are all chattering with excitement when Devon comes in from the school bus.

“Hey, what
’s with all the commotion guys?” he asks, looking left out.

I laugh, and give him a big hug and kiss on the cheek, and show him the letter.

My mom takes out a pitcher and starts to mix up a packet of pink lemonade to celebrate. I’m pretty sure it’s an unintentional beverage choice, but it makes me think of the day my dad died, and how it was just the four of us here when we found out. It’s not a melancholy feeling that the drink invokes, in fact it makes me believe that part of him is here with me joining in the celebration. I smile and raise my glass towards the air in toast.

CHAPTER THIRTY-
SEVEN

BRYCE

Do you ever get an urge to do something that’s so strong, that it consumes you completely, and you’re pretty sure you’ll die if you don’t do it?

Yeah well, take my word for it, you won’t.

I’m sitting at the breakfast bar absentmindedly chatting with Devon, watching Joy lean over her acceptance letter, with her mom at her side. It’s so awesome to see her finally able to relax, knowing her fate. She smiles down at the paper when her mom points to something printed at the bottom, and I just can’t stop thinking about how much I want to kiss her. I could just get up right now, walk over to her, and pull her towards me. I bet her lips feel softer than every s
ingle one of my mom’s damn rose-petals, put together.

As if feeling my gaze on her, she suddenly looks up. Our eyes meet while her mom continues to talk. In that moment, I go from feeling the utmost happiness for my old friend, to the sad realization that with this letter, comes the official announcement that it’s over.

I’m losing…no…I’ve already lost. She’ll be at Brown and I’ll be in Virginia. It would be pointless to tell her how I feel because of that, and I know now, I’ll never have the chance to win her back.

“What do you think, Bryce?” Devon’s voice brings me back.

I turn towards him, unlocking my eyes from Joy as she starts to resume her part of the conversation with her mom. “Sorry, about what Dev?”

Devon looks at Joy, then back at me and rolls his eyes. “Forget it, lover-boy. I have homework to do.” He jumps up and puts his glass in the sink.

Is it that obvious?
I feel heat rise up the back of my neck and sneak a glance at Joy, but she’s so absorbed in conversation, that I don’t think she heard Devon’s remark.

I make my way b
ack outside to finish Joy’s brake pads, and a short time later she comes out to join me. I’m finishing up, and now with no reason to stay, I wish I had done the work a little slower.

“Hey, you’re all done?” she asks, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

“Yeah, sorry, it ended up being such a process.”

“It’s OK, really. I appreciate it and I’m glad you’re here to celebrate. It was kind of like old times.”

I smile at the thought. “Yeah, I guess.”

She clears her throat and chews at her lower lip a moment before adding, “I’m glad you came over yesterday. We both know how stubborn I can be. I wouldn’t have taken the initiative to do it first, and I’m glad we’re friends again.”

Joy reaches up and gently wipes a smear of grease off my forehead that I didn’t know was there. It’s a simple gesture, not meant to be anything more than helpful, but the delicate touch of her tiny fingers feels wrongly sensual to me. I mentally shake my head and acknowledge the truth.

Friends.
I should be happy to hear that word. I’ve been hoping to for so long, but all it does is make me feel like I have barbed wire mauling at my heart.

    
That’s all we’ll ever be.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

JOY

If there’s one thing I can’t lie to myself about anymore it’s Carver. Our relationship makes me think of throwing that damn spiral with Bryce’s foam football. It felt amazing at first and maybe it wasn’t perfect, but I gave it my all. Unfortunately, its downward decline was inevitable, and took a huge bounce in the wrong direction before coming to a final halt. I know I need to face him again. I can’t just ignore what happened and use my birthday, or friends, as an outlet. Whatever is inside Carver, I already tried to ignore once and look where it got me. Maybe I thought I could fix it, but I now know I can’t. He’s too broken to be put back together by me alone.

The next day, Carver is back in school and somehow I manage to avoid him all day. I start to wonder if it’s his doing, more than mine. As if he knows by hiding, I’ll be so freaked out that he’ll have the upper hand. By the time the final bell rings I feel like Carver’s tactic may have indeed worked. I head quickly to my locker but even with my eyes and ears open, I still jump slightly and manage to drop my backpack, when he comes up behind me.

“When were you going to tell me?” Carver demands.

I slowly turn to face him. The yellow in Carver’s hazel eyes is glowing, ignited in fury. “Tell you what? I don’t have anything to say to you.” I respond with equal intensity. I feel my heart start to pound at the closeness of his proximity.

“About Colton driving you to school,” he states angrily.

What the hell?
Did he somehow forget what happened Friday night? Does he really think this relationship is still exactly that?

I decide to play it safe and humor him.
“It was just one day. My brakes were bad,” I admit with a shrug. It’s technically not a lie.

Carver presses me firmly against the lockers. “I don’t care. I don’t want you hanging around with him,” he whispers angrily.

I push him off and slide away from the lockers so I’m no longer penned in. “Are you serious Carver?
We…
” I point to what little amount of space is between us. “…are not a
‘we’
anymore. So I don’t think you have a say.”  I explain slowly, trying to remain calm.

Carver grabs my wrist tightly and pulls me towards him, caressing my cheek. “Baby, look…I get that your mad about Friday night. I’m sorry. You looked so beautiful, I just got carried away. It won’t happen again,” he coos.

His touch is an infestation of maggots wriggling across my skin. I turn my face away in disgust and yank my hand free from his grasp. Looking around to see if anyone is a witness to this little altercation, the halls are mysteriously quiet, and I start to feel uneasy. “I’m not your
baby
, Carver.” I take a deep breath and pray my voice doesn’t give away my fear as I add, “This relationship…if you can even call it that…it over.” I quickly bend down, pick up my backpack and retrieve the wadded up scarf that I shoved inside this morning. Forcing it into his hands, I start to make my escape. I need to get out to the parking lot in the presence of others, fast.

Carver starts to shake his head wildly and in the way only he is capable, his emotions change as quickly as the slam of a locker. “Joy, please don’t say that,” he begs. “I’m sorry. You know how jealous I can be. I just don’t like to share.” Carver throws in a lopsided smile as if this will still have some magical effect on me.
He still thinks this is about Bryce.

“Yeah, well…I’m not one of your possessions,” I say, glancing at the scarf. Then taking a wide route around, I leave him and don’t look back.