by Ruby Vincent
“I never hurt you, Landon. I sat beside your bed in the nurse’s office and tried not to cry because it killed me that someone got to you and there was nothing I could do. That you would turn around and believe I was the bastard who attacked you—”
I broke off, trying to breathe, and Landon just stared at me.
“Make no mistake,” I whispered. “It was you who betrayed me. I’ve known only cruelty from Zach since that day in the woods. I never got the chance to build a friendship strong enough with Cole and Michael that they would trust me, but you... you were my first crush and my first kiss and you hurt me when I would have never let anyone hurt you.”
I jabbed his chest. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to push him back but he stumbled anyway. “You have a lot to make up for, Landon Foster, and you better fucking get to it before you lose me for good.”
With that, I turned and stomped out. I slammed the door as hard as I could on his shocked face.
“YOU OKAY?”
“I’m fine!” I slammed my trunk a bit harder than necessary.
Adam tilted his head. He was spread out on his bed, homework on his lap. “Want to try that again? Maybe the next time will be more convincing.”
I opened my trunk only to slam it again. “You know you boys are fucking infuriating!” I hated using the f-word but one talk with Landon and I lost count of how many times I said that hated word.
“Mom tells me that at least once a week.”
“Well, she’s a bloody saint for dealing with four of you!”
He chuckled. “Going British now? You are pissed. You’ll be cursing at me in Spanish next.” Adam heaved himself off the bed and came around to my side. “Want to talk about it?”
I threw myself back against the trunk, struggling with my need to rage and my want to talk to my best friend. In the end, I went with the latter and decided to call Jordan later. She was the best person for a rant session about golden-eyed jackasses. She dealt with her fair share of jerks as well.
“Landon isn’t just mad that he believed I was For All,” I said after taking a steadying breath. “I think he’s pissed he fell for me at all. Like Zeke was all some set up to trick him, but I truly had no clue he had feelings for me.”
Sighing, Adam sank onto the floor. “You guys hooked up?”
I lowered my head. I never told Adam this part of the story. “We kissed. Once. But it was life-changing, Adam. I don’t need to have kissed anyone else to know that. How can you kiss someone like that and then... do what he did?”
His fingers curled around mine. “This is not an excuse because there is none, but Landon’s dealt with a lot of stuff because of his sexuality. Middle schoolers can be vicious as hell. Especially ones that don’t think consequences apply to them.”
“You knew he was bi?”
Adam nodded. “But it wasn’t for me to tell.”
“No, I know that.” I dropped my head. “I just wish things had been different.”
He squeezed my hand. “They can be different now. You haven’t told me your plans for him. Are you going to give him a chance to apologize?”
“I expect him to apologize—repeatedly—but I don’t know what I’ll do with it. Not yet.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to decide right now.”
Adam stood and went back to his homework. I watched him with an odd feeling stirring inside of me.
I decided what I was going to do. I knew before I walked into that gym and speaking to Landon only solidified it, but he would never know. Not until it was done.
Knock. Knock.
I waved Adam down. “I’ll get it.”
Tanner stood on the other side of our door. “Hey. You busy?”
“I’m about to start my homework. Want to join us?”
He shook his head. “Nico said you were spouting your math stuff at the tryouts saying why I was doing so well. You’ve got this stuff figured and... I’ll start practice tomorrow with the Elites... so if you could...” Tanner trailed off, flushing deeply.
I smiled at him, deciding to save him some misery. “If my math skills can help, I’m happy to share.”
“Thanks, man. Let’s go.”
Darting back inside, I snagged my notebook and followed him out to the field. It wasn’t empty this time of day, but we grabbed a spot toward the back. The grass swallowed the seat of my pants as I got comfortable.
“Run through your drills,” I ordered. “Pretend our backpacks are the goal.”
“Got it.”
Tanner set our packs a few feet apart and began his drills. There was an intensity on his face that I wasn’t used to seeing. He ran through a footwork drill that I didn’t know how to critique—I wasn’t a coach—but when he got down to kicking, I put pen to paper.
“So?” he said after getting a few kicks in. “What do you think?”
“T, you’re really good.” I cupped my hand over my eyes to peer at him. “You’re only going to get better on the team.”
“But...” Sweat dripped down his forehead. His jersey clung to his skin, sticking like the remnants of summer heat that had yet to be chased away by an autumn chill.
“But,” I continued, “I did notice you’re great at getting height but kicking at a low angle doesn’t always work out.”
He blew out a breath. “The straight shot. My brothers said I needed to work on that too.”
“Try it out. I’ll tell you if I pick up on anything.”
Tanner practiced the shot over and over while my analytical mind whirled.
“You need to lock your ankle and kick with your foot at this degree.” I lifted my leg to show him but he looked at me like I was crazy.
“Stop talking in geometry, man. Just tell me what to do.”
“Hold on.” I peeled myself off the ground and reached for his ankle. I adjusted it the way I wanted. “You want it like this. To remember, think of it like you need to hit the ball with your laces. Try it.”
Tanner kicked and the ball shot through our backpacks like it had been wanting to do that the whole time.
I cheered and then made him do it again. We must have been talking, working, and calculating for a while before I finally noticed that we were attracting a crowd.
Tanner paused with his foot poised to strike when he realized I wasn’t speaking. He twisted around to see our audience. “What?”
“What are you guys doing?” one of the boys asked.
“We’re practicing.”
“What was that you were saying about how to do a bending shot?”
“You have to kick the ball at an angle,” I replied.
The boy looked around at his friends. “Do you guys want to practice with us?”
I recognized him. He was a C that Owen and Justin sometimes waved to when he passed by our table.
“Sure,” Tanner said. “I need a real goal.”
That was all it took for me to spend the rest of the afternoon talking angles and adjusting sweaty ankles. The boys were grateful and they clapped my back as they jogged off the field.
“Thanks, Zeke,” one of them said. “See you tomorrow.”
I blinked. Tomorrow? When did we make that plan?
Eventually, I dragged myself upstairs and started my homework. I had a lot on my plate, but soon, it would all come together.
TWO WEEKS PASSED IN a haze of schoolwork, studying, and training. I don’t think I ever worked harder in my life, but it was paying off. Months of summer exercise and putting it to the test with battles had resulted in a body that was leaner. My grades had always been good, but now Dr. O’Quinn openly smiled when she handed back my test and papers. I don’t know if she knew about the orientation disaster or if she thought my good grades were a reflection of her, but either way, I felt her pride.
“Excellent work as usual, Mr. Manning.”
I put down my pencil to accept my essay. “Thank you, Dr. O’Quinn.”
“I appreciated that you mapped out every step,” she continued. “T
he college you want to go to, the courses you’ll take, and the positions you’ll apply for. You have given your future career the attention and planning it deserves and I have no doubt you’ll go far.”
My cheeks warmed as they always did when she took to heaping praise on me in front of the class. Our networking assignment was to write a detailed essay on what we wanted to do when we were older and how we would get there. I wasn’t trying to be the teacher’s pet—the movies I watched said that was a bad thing. Even so, getting less than an A was not an option.
Our teacher moved on. “Adam, I was similarly impressed with your plans for your father’s company.”
She handed out the final paper seconds before the bell signaled the end of the day. I was the first one up and headed for the door.
“Whoa. Where are you going?” Adam stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“I have to go upstairs and then I’m going to the library.”
Nico pushed through us. “Again? But we can’t go in there. Why don’t we study together like we used to?”
I bit my lip. “I have one more library pass left. I battled for it. I have to use it.”
His face fell.
“But we can study after dinner,” I said quickly.
“Aren’t you going for a run after dinner?” Adam asked.
“I can push it back.” I inched toward the door. “After dinner?”
Nico nodded, his smile returning. “Cool.”
I waved as I hurried out the door. The stairwell was packed with guys tramping off to their sports classes and I needed to pick up the pace if I was going to have enough time to change and make it to mine.
I topped the final landing and paused before the doors of the Elite Wing. I had been careful about avoiding them on their dorm floor but that was easy when they were locked up in their rooms. There was no avoiding them now.
Slipping through the double doors, my eyes fixed on her class and I made a beeline for it. My hand closed over the knob when I heard—
“Hey! What are you doing here?!”
I threw it open and darted inside. Mrs. Peterson jumped. Her pen went flying.
“Mr. Manning? What on earth are you doing?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Peterson,” I said as Zach appeared in the window. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He narrowed his eyes when he met mine, but then they flicked up and noticed the teacher behind me. Just as quickly he left.
“Do you need something?”
“I was hoping to see the sign-up sheet for the Archimedean Club.”
“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Peterson had nothing but a smile for me. She was such a kind woman, working with an arrogant bunch of jackholes. “Are you going to join again this year? You’re eligible to join the team now.”
She reached into her desk and pulled out a piece of paper. I read it before answering her. “Yes, I’m going to join,” I replied as I honed in on one name. “I just need to know the spot I’ll have to battle for.”
She sighed. “I’m not a fan of academic clubs being a part of the battle system. As far as I see it, any student who wants to spend their free time furthering their education should be encouraged, but it’s not up to me.”
“It’s alright, Mrs. Peterson. I’m willing to work hard for what I want.”
“That is a great attitude.” She put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed. She had no qualms about touching me. “I look forward to being your teacher once again, Zeke.”
“Thank you.” I handed the sheet back to her. “One more thing...”
She peered at me over her glasses as she returned to her desk. “Yes.”
“What are the other clubs I can join? Fs are never eligible to put their names down, so they don’t put the sign-up sheets in our wing.”
“That’s true. Oh, but there are so many you would be perfect for.” She popped out of her seat. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
Eyes latched onto me when I stepped outside. Some curious, one delighted, and one hostile. Zach stepped in front of me, blocking me in the doorway.
“What do you think—”
“Mr. Fields.” I sensed Mrs. Peterson at my back. “Do you need something?”
His expression cleared so fast I thought I imagined his glare. “No, ma’am. Just saying hi to Zeke.”
“I see. Well, you better get on to wrestling practice.”
Zach inclined his head, the picture of respect. “Yes, ma’am.”
He loped off, shooting me one last look, and Hunter ran up to take his place. “Hey, Zeke. What are you doing here?”
“Just checking out the clubs, but I can’t talk right now. I have to get to basketball practice too.”
“Okay,” he said, but he stuck with us as Mrs. Peterson led me down the hall to a bulletin board. Almost every inch of the green butcher paper was covered by flyers, sheets, and decorations. The Academy offered way more clubs than I knew about, all with different requirements to sign up, and none that mentioned Fs.
“What do you think of the Future Leaders Club?” Mrs. Peterson suggested. “Or Key Club? With your math skills, you could easily be an engineer...”
I let her words fade in the background as I pulled out my notebook. I wrote the names of three clubs in the margins of my basketball math research.
“Thank you, Mrs. Peterson,” I said. “I have to get to class, but I’m going to look into all of this.” I backed away.
“Of course, Zeke. I hope to see you soon.”
I tossed Hunter a wave and then booked it to the gym. I slid onto the bleachers moments before Coach blew his whistle.
“Cutting it close, Zee,” Adam whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “I know you’re planning things with your insane mathematical efficiency, but you’re taking on a lot. Let me help.”
“Adam.” I kept my voice low as Coach launched into the drills for today. “Planning is over. It’s time to act and most of this I have to do myself, but trust me, you are helping.”
“But Z—”
“Moon! Manning!” We jerked at Coach’s bark. “Is there something you want to share with the rest of us?”
“No, Coach,” I said.
“Then shut it.”
We shut it and basketball practice got underway. After our game, I went back to the dorm to freshen up, grab my homework, and my last library pass. Tucked within the folds of my binder was my notebook and the next steps I would have to take.
The library was quieter than libraries tended to be when I walked in. The low murmur of voices flowed through the space like a soft hum most days, but today the place was almost empty.
Mrs. Durham gave me her customary pinched lip stare when I handed over my pass. She never spoke to me, but I got the feeling she would be happy when her world wasn’t being disturbed by F intruders.
I took my things to a table near the computer stations and pulled out my homework. I was halfway through my English assignment when the door flew open. Cole, Michael, and Landon breezed in on a wave of cologne. I knew because I parked myself directly in front of their usual table.
I looked up as they passed by and met Landon’s gaze— for all of two milliseconds before his jaw stiffened and he looked away. Cole pretended not to see me at all and Michael gave me a look I couldn’t decipher.
I dropped my eyes to my home screen as they took their seats, but every now and then, I’d glance up and look at Landon. The other boys had their backs to me, but him I could see clearly.
There was a fine stubble along his chin. Landon was always clean-shaven, hair perfectly styled, uniformed clean and ironed, so the presence of those tiny black hairs was having a strange effect on me.
He must have been rushing this morning—hurrying into his singlet to roll around on the mat. His muscles bulging as he put his arms around someone else and brought them down. Pressing down on me—I mean, them as he secured their wrists above their heads.
Landon absentmindedly rubbed his chin and I gulped. I couldn’t help thinki
ng what it would feel like to rub my hands against his cheek and feel the prickling sensation of his—
Suddenly, his eyes flicked up and he looked at me. I stiffened at being caught, but I fought the impulse to drop my gaze.
Landon’s eyes were steel gray like the sky before a storm. It was the perfect color for him. His face conveyed so many raging emotions as he met my eyes. I could see the battle was raging, I just didn’t know which side was winning.
I turned my head toward the stacks, and then looked back at him. Clearing my throat, I closed my textbook and rose from my seat.
I ran my fingers along the spines as I moved through the bookshelves. I did not stop until I reached the books at the very back. I did need a book that I couldn’t remember at that moment.
Was it for English or Networking? Did O’Quinn assign homework for Networking? What section am I in anyway?
My vision cleared to the sight of history tomes.
Wouldn’t hurt to check these out while I’ve still got a library pass. Maybe my next battles will be for that subject.
I reached for a comparative history book and a hand closed over my wrist.
“You should have told me.”
I held still, not daring to turn around. “I wanted to. I would have.”
“Your reasons for hiding it don’t make any sense. Why would you need to pretend to be a boy for your mother to let you go to school here?”
I decided on the simple version. “My mom is writing a book on female empowerment and unequal treatment between the sexes. Mom thought she and I could learn something from entering a separated school as a boy.”
“So this was a twisted experiment!” he hissed.
“It wasn’t—”
Landon spun me around and I stumbled, falling onto his chest. My nose buried in the folds of his blazer and his heady scent rosewood soap filled my nose and went straight to my head. My heart picked up speed. Landon must have felt the fluttering of my pulse in my wrist.
For fuck’s sake, Zela! Focus!
“Am I in her book too?” Landon continued, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having on me. “Is there a chapter on playing guys like fools? Huh? Or maybe—”
