Students of the Game (5 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

BRYCE

I remember watching cartoons as a kid, the ones about superheroes, mostly. Batman was always my favorite. I’ve never really been into comic books, but man, I loved that cartoon. Now that I’m older I understand what’s so appealing about having two different aliases. One moment Bruce Wayne can just be a guy, not having to worry about saving the world, or maybe even bringing home a state championship. But when he becomes the Batman, he can just be anything, because it’s not really him. I mean, the part about doing what’s right is, but he’s hiding behind a mask. He’s putting on a show, giving people exactly what they want, and getting all the glory in the end. I just don’t know which alias to envy more.

“Bryce? Missy is here!” My mom calls up the stairs. I reluctantly flick off the TV, throw on my mask, and make my way downstairs. It’s Friday night and I’m wondering where she’s going to drag me tonight. I’m praying that it’s not some random party being held for the sake of getting drunk. Those evenings haven’t ever ended well over the last couple of years, as my girlfriend always ends up drinking way too much, and gets pissed when I won’t sleep with her.

“Hey.” I greet Missy at my front entry way and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Let me just get my jacket and keys.” I start to reach up to the peg rack near the door but she stops me.

“I was thinking we could just hang out here tonight. Maybe watch a movie or something.” Missy slides her jacket off, revealing a very low cut sweater.

From my height I get a perfect view of the little bow at the center of her red bra. I pull
my eyes away and look back to her face. “Yeah, alright,” I agree, but then instantly regret it. I know she’s wearing that red bra for a reason. A reason I don’t want, at least not with her.

“Your mom said they were on their way out.” Missy leans up on her tippy toes and whispers in my ear, “So, with your parent’s gone, we’ll have the whole house to ourselves.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Don’t do it, Bryce.

  Missy walks past me and starts to climb the stairs. My Boston Terrier,
Unitas trots up after her, with me taking up the rear. When we get to my room, Missy scoots him out and shuts the door. “Sorry,” she rolls her eyes. “It’s just creepy having him in here, like he’s watching us or something.”

I run my fingers through my hair, not caring if it looks stupid when I pull my hand way.
“It’s fine, Missy.”

I flick the TV back on, toss down the remote, and sit on the bed. Missy comes over and plops down next to me.

“So what do you want to do?” she asks, but doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Instead she starts kissing me, lightly brushing her lips below my ear, then moving more forcefully down along my jaw. She finishes by swooping back and giving my earlobe a slight tug with her teeth, causing me to groan. Missy’s not going to play fair tonight. She knows that drives me crazy. I turn her chin up towards my mouth and kiss her, letting what’s in my pants take control over me.

She slides her body back to the headboard of my bed, and I get on top of her. We kiss heavily, and I feel Missy grab the hem of my shirt. Soon after that, she rakes it up over my head. She looks at my bare chest wit
h hunger, a hunger which seems only to feed me. I yank off her sweater exposing that damn red bra, and wanting to see what’s underneath I take that off too.

When it gets to the point where I start to slide Missy’s jeans off, I see the matching
panties, and they become a bright red stop sign. Like always, I picture her as someone else, and then like always, I push Missy away because she’s not. I don’t care how hungry she is, like always…I let her starve.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JOY

The sunlight through my blinds wakes me before the usual persistent nag of my alarm can do the honors. I’m warm in my cloud cover of blankets, but I need to be at the Library for eight o’clock. I sigh, like I do every Saturday. On a day when most of North Tide’s student body is indulging in a rare late morning slumber, I have to get up.

Rolling out of bed, I throw on jeans and a black long sleeved tee. Gathering my hair into a ponytail, without bothering to run a brush through it, I then make my way downstairs for some breakfast. My mom is sitting at the bar reading the newspaper. Does anyone else even get the paper anymore? Considering how easy it is to get news online, I wonder if it’s more in tribute to my dad who was big on having the actual physical matter at hand.

“Hey, Mom,” I grab a bowl and start to pour myself some granola.

“Good morning, Joy. What’s on the agenda for this weekend?” she inquires.

“Well, you will be happy to know that Bryce is coming by tomorrow. I’m going to give it another try.” I leave out the reason behind it was to piss off Missy.

“Good, honey. I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart. I’d hate for you to miss out on a good opportunity.”

“Opportunity to what, become BFF’s again? Highly unlikely, Mom.” I shove a spoon full of cereal into my mouth.

“You said it, not me!” She holds up her hands in defense. “I meant you might actually
learn
something, besides just getting the credit.”

“Yeah, I guess you
’re right.” I agree with her just to be able to drop the subject all together. I finish my breakfast, give mom a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek and grab my keys.

Outside the early
morning air is even cooler than it has been and I curse myself for yet again forgetting another layer of clothing. Glancing up at the trees I realize how lucky New Englanders are, being able to experience each season with such intensity. The turning of the leaves creates such a magnificent fall in Southeastern Massachusetts and by the time school starts, I long for the ochre and crimson hues. A watercolor of foliage becomes the old maples and oaks that line our streets, and are accentuated by the dullness of reoccurring gray skies. The beauty of it all makes the loss of warm weather a lot more bearable. As I drive to work, I inspect the branches. The leaves are already starting to regress, and with the next heavy wind, there won’t be any color of life left for them to cling to.

I opt to park my Jetta on the street, instead of the lot in back, and jog up the steps to the library. I look up to the sky and silently greet my dad. This has become a habit over the years and is something I really don’t have the heart to stop it. Upon entering, I check in with Bernice. She’s been the librarian since my dad died, and I consider her practically,
a second mom. She is in her mid-fifties and has a bohemian look about her. A fondness for flowing tunics and skirts, flatter her large frame. Underneath those however, she has an even larger heart.

For the next hour I settle into my usual routine of filing books, enjoying the quite time in the mostly vacant library. I’m standing at a rolling cart reading the synopsis of a novel that caught my eye, when I feel someone approach. Looking up, I do a double take realizing that Carver Halsey is standing before me, and my heart suddenly feels the need for a defibrillator.

“Carver, what are you doing here?” I ask, dumbfounded.

He just shrugs then smiles, “Checking out the selection.”

Yes, I do believe I’m officially going into cardiac arrest at this point, and can’t think of anything remotely intelligent to say in response. I must be dreaming that he’s actually here right now. I’m tempted to pinch myself, but can’t figure out how to do it without making it obvious.

Carver’s hair looks freshly washed and he’s wearing a vintage fitting sw
eater and jeans. A brown hound’s tooth scarf is draped loosely around his neck. I think about my choice of attire this morning and frown, suddenly wishing I had opted for something more stylish.

“I thought I’d follow your suggestion and it was a good one,” Carver smiles. “I’m finding things I like.”

Breathe, Joy. Breathe.

“You can thank my dad for that. He was always looking to improve the collection of this branch,” I say, and it actually comes out sounding normal. Though I’m pretty sure my mouth, (not to mention my brain) is full of marbles.

“Was? He doesn’t work here anymore?”

“No…uh… he died actually.”

There is a brief moment of awkward silence as I try to think of what to say next. Thankfully, Bernice happens to come up behind Carver. “Oh, Joy. There you are I was wondering if you could-” Bernice stops in mid-sentence when Carver turns around to face her. She checks him out quickly and doesn’t a good job at hiding her approval. “Oh, hello there!” she says, enthusiastically.

I clear my throat a little, trying to remember if I
ever mentioned my crush to her and if so praying that she won’t remember. “Bernice this is my…friend…”

   
“Carver. Nice to meet you,” he finishes for me, and gives Bernice a little hand shake.

   
Bernice looks as if she might start hyperventilating. “Joy, if you’d like to take your break now, feel free. Maybe grab a coffee with your friend or something? You can finish this when you get back.”

Ugh, she is such an instigator.

Carver looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. Not wanting to be drilled by Bernice for the next hour about this mysterious super-model that is Carver Halsey, I agree to coffee. 

Awkwardly, we walk side by side in silence to the exit. I shiver slightly as we step outside, more from nerves than the cool morning air. Carver reaches up and removes his scarf. He playfully throws it over my shoulders. “Just don’t forget to give it back. It’s my favorite,” he jokes.

I wrap it around my neck twice and secure it with a loose knot, inhaling his scent from the soft material. The scarf bears the essence of something spicy; a potpourri of Carver’s cologne, the outdoors, and the natural smell of his body. Its headiness hits me, and I feel something hatch and take flight deep within my stomach.

“You didn’t have to do this you know…get coffee with me.” I sneak a gla
nce at him.

“I know that, but you wanted to.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I didn’t say anything when it was suggested. You made the decision yourself.”

Oh damn. He’s right
.

“Are you always so convoluted?” I ask, intending it to be a joke, but Carver actually looks a little offended. “I didn’t mean that as an insult…” I mentally zip my lips shut.

We walk the rest of the way up the street in silence. Café Jamocha, a small independent coffee shop that offers a variety of caffeinated specialties, pastries and sandwiches, is open and inviting. Despite the delicious smell of fresh baked goodness, I’m too nervous to eat, so I order a latte. Carver gets a coffee and pays for both our beverages. He leads me to a small table in back, away from the windows. The café is empty, save for a couple elderly men nursing their lonely cups of joe, and I find myself liking the intimate atmosphere.

Carver sits across from me facing the front windows, and confidently leans back in his chair. He crosses his left leg over the right and relaxes his han
ds in his lap. I hunch over my Styrofoam cup and nervously dig at its exterior with my fingernails, leaving tiny gouges of half-moons imprinted in the sides.

“So, you were saying back at the library that your dad passed away, I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?” Carver asks.

Leaving out my friendship with Bryce, I begin to explain to him about my father’s death. How he was struck by a drunk driver walking to his car from a library a few towns over and died on the spot. The fact that my dad went to Brown and eventually got a medical degree, but a few years out decided his passion was somewhere else, so he got a masters in Library Science instead. How we would spend time reading together after the library closed, or he’d help me look up information on whatever topic I was interested in at the moment. I tell him how I feel like I owe it to his legacy to succeed academically. I mock in a fatherly tone, “He used to say, ‘No one can take away your education, Joy.’”

“Well, I’m sure he would be very proud of you, but he sounds like the type of dad who wouldn’t push you a
s hard as you are pushing yourself.” Carver pauses a moment and looks out the window of the café. “My parents…Well, my dad…was very controlling growing up. He’s a cop.”

I’m pretty sure I see a slight wince as the words come out of his mouth, but he continues on. “As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize that I’m the one in charge of my own life. I don’t have to do something just because someone wants me too, or because I feel I should…I do what I want, for me.”

Carver leans forward and picks up his coffee. He takes a sip then rests his elbows down on the heavily varnished table top before he continues, “So, if there is any lesson to be learned from what I’m telling you, it would be this; to do things for you, yourself, and no one else, and don’t forget to take the time to have some fun.” He finishes by throwing me his adorable lop sided smile.

I take in every single thing he saying, thinking about the last ten years of my life, and the response I finally muster is, “I’ve guess I’ve been
doing
for everyone else for so long, that I don’t think I know how.”

“Maybe you just need someone to show you.” He catches my eye doesn’t look away until the bell over the door, signals it’s opening, and steals his attention. A small group of teenagers enter whom I don’t immediately recognize.

Carver nervously taps the table with his fingers. “We should go.” He stands and quickly chucks what’s left of his coffee into a nearby receptacle. Turning back to me, he says, “I’m embarrassed to tell you this, but I don’t have a library card. Can you hook me up with one?”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

Really, Joy? That’s the best you can come up with?

As he walks past me, he runs his fingers through the fringe of his scarf still wrapped around my neck.

   When I get home that afternoon, I see that my mom’s car is gone and I’m happy to have some time to myself. Saturdays are usually big work days for her. I make a turkey
sandwich then make my way upstairs with a paperback from the library, tucked under my arm. I start to walk past the open door to Devon’s room, and see him crouched over his desk. Deciding to delay my alone time for a few minutes, I knock lightly on the door frame and enter.

“Hey,
Dev…What are you doing?” I sit down on the end of his bed.

“Hey,” he replies without allowing his focusing to break away from his work. “I’m trying to hack this game for a kid from school. If I can, he’ll give me
fifty bucks.”

I look at his computer set up. It makes my fairly new, slim laptop look like child’s play. His workspace is covered with a large flat screen monitor, sleek black tower and keyboard, and a mixture of tangled USB cables.  

I laugh, “Does mom know that you do this kind of stuff?”

“Yeah, she said as long as I don’t cause the FBI to kick in the front door, she’s happy.”

I know that he’s a good kid and wouldn’t be stupid enough to get into trouble anyway.

   
“Do you ever think about Dad, Dev?”

The question catches him by surprise and he stops working, swinging his rolling chair around to face me. “Yeah, of course I do. I don’t really remember much of him. Mostly, I just go by the stories you and mom tell me. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s just something someone mentioned to me today. It made me wonder if Dad would be proud of us…if he was still here.”

“
I think so, Joy. I mean, you’re like top of your class. How could that not make him happy?”

“Yeah, how could it not,” I say, slightly put out.

Devon looks confused, thinking that what he said, would have been what I wanted to hear, but decides for a subject change on us again. “So what happened the other day with Colton? I take it he’s not coming back here again?”

“Actually, we are going to give it another shot tomorrow,” I answer, purposely avoiding his first question.

“Oh, that’s cool. He seems like an alright guy.”

“Yeah…well…” I say letting my voice trail off. What I don’t add is,
people aren’t always what they seem.