The Bro Code

by Elizabeth A. Seibert

  Tweeeeeeeeet came the referee’s whistle, signaling halftime. Barely having broken a sweat, my jog to the halftime huddle felt easier than ever. After everyone had taken a few sips (or in Carter’s case, gulps) of water, my dad called us in.

  “Good job so far, nerds,” he said. “You scored early. That was nice, but I need you to do that two more times. And you must not, under any goddamn circumstances, let them score again. Maguire! Karvotsky! I’m switching you. Maguire, you’re back on offense, Karvotsky, you’re my new right-side defender.”

  My shoulder panged as Carter gave it a hard clap.

  Oh, thank God.

  Soon, I stood on the half-line between Carter and Austin, the way things were supposed to be. Ben waited across from me.

  “Look who’s back in the game,” he said. “What happened, Maguire? Did they think you could win if they switched your position around?” His laugh bounced off us. “Yeah, that’s going to work.”

  “They said the same thing about your dad’s condom,” I said. “Guess the birth certificate was their apology letter.”

  “Nick, that was beautiful,” said Austin.

  “Bitch,” said Ben.

  “There’s a big word,” Carter interjected. “That what your mom calls you?”

  Tweeeeeeet came the ref’s whistle. Carter kicked the ball to Austin and I cut forward, making me wide open when he passed it. Ben caught up, breathing heavily as I maneuvered around him, passing back to Austin. Ben didn’t leave me alone; he stayed right behind me, preventing me from getting open again. I checked to see that the referee wasn’t looking (though to be honest, he owed us one) and then gave Ben a sharp elbow to the ribs, hard enough to make him move, but not hard enough to do any damage. He backed off, though barely.

  My lungs thanked me for finally using them as I sprinted towards the goal, where Carter passed to me. After faking right, then left, then right again, I kicked it back to Carter. Carter took the shot. It hit the edge of the goal, right where the goalie was waiting for it, and bounced back. That was exactly what Carter had wanted it to do. With a slam loud enough our own goalie could have heard it, the ball bounced off my chest, seconds after I’d jumped for it. I punted it with my knee and heard the best sounds in the entire world: the swish of the ball against the net and the cheering of the crowd behind me.

  Carter and I had worked on that play a million and ten times.

  My arms fired into the air like I’d crossed the finish line in a marathon.

  “This is how we do it!” Austin shouted, throwing his arm around me, like maybe things were okay between us. “Yeah, buddy. All tied up.”

  The scouts jotted something on their clipboards. My dad gave me the approving nod I always get when I score a goal. Eliza smiled back at me. The universe felt small in the palm of my hand.

  The three of us walked back to the half-line, murmuring strategy and game plans. The referee answered a question from one of the scouts and Coach Dad called in a substitute for two of the midfielders. Ben Johnson had all the time in the world to egg us on.

  “Looked like you were showing off with that victory wave, Maguire,” he said. He scanned the spectators. “Who’s your girl?”

  “Now who’s being ridiculous,” Carter said, like I couldn’t possibly have had a kinda-sort-of-maybe-almost-hopefully-girlfriend in the crowd.

  “Shut up, Johnson,” said Austin. “Don’t be jealous that Nick can get some when you can’t, pal.”

  Carter laughed.

  As much as I appreciated Austin trying to help me, that comment made everything a lot worse.

  “So there is a girl.” Ben glanced to where Hannah, Eliza, and their friends waved at us. “Is it the little miss cheerleader?” He meant Hannah, who was shaking her gold and maroon cheerleading pompoms. “She looks like fun.” His eyes were glued to my face, which had lost all of its color. “If I had to bet, I’d say it’s blondie.” Carter grimaced. Apparently talking about Eliza was worse than talking about Hannah. “I dunno, Maguire, she looks like she could really put out—”

  Every muscle in my body tensed. I couldn’t help it. It was a reflex. And it was enough for Ben to realize he’d hit it right on the money.

  “Well done, Maguire. With those legs, I’d bet she’s a lot more flexible than little miss cheerleader. Although,” he paused, “she looks like she’d say ‘yes’ to any—”

  I didn’t let him finish that sentence.

  Right when my dad, the referee, the two scouts, my mom, Carter, and Eliza were all looking at me, I punched Ben squarely in the face. He doubled back, holding his jaw, and Carter jumped on him, pushing his face into the dirt.

  Something—someone—held me back before I could make it two-on-one.

  “Bro, he’s not worth it,” Austin said. “Don’t.” Austin had about twenty pounds on me, and there was no way I could twist out of his grip. Then, a different grip seized my arm, as Coach Dad dragged Carter and me towards the sideline.

  “Sit.” He pointed at a metal bench.

  Ben withered in the grass, blood gushing from his face. Our trusty sideline fans stared at the scene in horror. The scouts stood by the referee, waiting for a verdict. I couldn’t bear the look on Eliza’s face.

  My dad, L-W’s mid-seventies grandpa coach, and the referee huddled on the other sideline. The ref held up his hands as if he were being arrested, and L-W’s coach went berserk. His face puffed bright red, and he basically wheezed as he stammer-screamed at the referee.

  “Never in m-my forty years of-of coaching—”

  We missed the rest of it because my dad was heading back over. “You’re in luck.” He said. “The referee didn’t see it.”

  What?! How could he not have seen it? He was looking right at us!

  The referee was busy staving off legal threats from L-W’s coach, and a funny feeling struck me. Maybe, just maybe, that referee felt guilty about the time Ben had punched Carter in the face and he’d let it slide.

  “He didn’t see it,” my dad said warned, “but the scouts sure did. I’m going to see if I can undo any of your idiot damage with them, and you’d better pray it works. If I ever see anything like that from you girls again, you will be off this team faster than you can say ‘retribution.’”

  The ref blew his whistle. Austin and two sophomores somehow stole the ball from Ben, only for Austin to stumble over the ball and lose possession.

  The confused crowd began to cheer again, accepting that they would have no idea what happened. Nervous energy weakened my knees as I dreaded having to explain it later.

  “Ben Johnson is a goddamn tool.” Carter spat on the grass.

  “What a loser,” I said.

  “Thanks, Mags. Nice to know someone else cares about my sister as much as I do.”

  “No worries. I’ve known her as long as I’ve known you.”

  Carter nodded towards the scouts. “You know they were coming today?”

  “Nope. No one ever tells me anything.”

  Carter leaned onto his arms, trying to stay stretched for if we ever got put back in the game. “That’s probably why your dad put you on defense, you know.”

  “What?”

  “He knew he’d put you back on offense for the second half. Then the scouts would get to see you be a team player, and we’d suddenly not suck.”

  “We did not suck,” I said. “You scored, bro.”

  “Still. You know I’m right.”

  Goosebumps sprouted on my arms as the guilt set in. The entire time I’d been on defense, I had only cared about making myself look good in front of the scouts. I hadn’t been a team player at all—not like I needed to be.

  Especially not to Carter.

  Coach Dad put us back in for the nail-biting end of the game—apparently the scouts wanted to see more. I scored another goal with an assist from Carter and Austin to win the
game 3–2. The scouts even shook my hand afterwards, saying they would be in touch.

  “Atta boy, Nicky,” my dad said as the scouts packed up. “That was a hell of a game. Best I’ve ever seen you play.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Proud of you.” He patted my back, then went off to be congratulated by everyone’s parents.

  My dad.

  Just talked about his feelings.

  Carter and Austin hung with a group of girls near the unused bleachers. Because where else would they be?

  “Nick! You were awesome!” Hannah squeezed me in a hug.

  “Right cross could use some work,” said Eliza. Her yellow hair brushed my cheek as she gave me a hug too. She silently laughed into my chest and I melted.

  “Victory party at my house!” Jeff Karvotsky shouted. As it was a Friday night, we’d expected some kind of party, especially if we won.

  “Why not?” said Carter. “We have a lot to celebrate. You ladies want to come?” He turned to Hannah and Eliza. Mostly Hannah.

  “I’ll have to check my schedule . . .” said Hannah. Carter all but begged her to come after that.

  “You still grounded, superstar?” asked Eliza.

  “After absolutely demolishing L-W? Doubt it.” I’d have to double check with my mom, but I gathered that after that game my dad would throw me a bone.

  On the walk back to the locker room, Austin’s footsteps came up behind me. “Stop by before the party, Nick,” he said. “Don’t forget.”

  I kicked the ground in front of me like there was an imaginary soccer ball. Like I could possibly forget about that.

  RULE NUMBER 18

  A bro shalt not use the L word until his chick does. He shalt not even think it.

  I’m not superstitious. At all. When people say Friday the thirteenth, I think of a crappy movie where the blond girl dies first. I think that’s because my dad started showing me horror films when I was five, and he’d always point out the fake blood and clichéd plot lines. But as I got in my car to drive to Austin’s house, it started to pour, when the sky had been nothing but sunny all afternoon.

  It was hard not to see that as an omen.

  I strutted up to Austin’s front door at 8:15 p.m. As a general rule, I never get to Austin’s house on time. He runs fifteen minutes later than normal human beings, meaning my 8:15 is his 8:00.

  We’d discovered that Austin always runs precisely fifteen minutes late back in eighth grade when surprise birthday parties were still a thing. It was June 10, my fourteenth birthday, and Carter and Austin had gotten our friends together to surprise me. They told everyone to be at Carter’s house by 6:30 and they told me to get there at 6:45. I got there the same time as Austin, who was carrying a colorful net of balloons and a present wrapped in newspaper. I wasn’t very surprised when I walked into Carter’s dining room and everyone jumped out.

  The doorbell dinged and Austin answered it after about forty seconds, about how long it takes to save a COD game. He gave me a quick “’Sup, man?” and led me to the basement, a.k.a. his man cave. Austin’s house was bigger than mine, but still about half the size of Carter’s. Austin’s basement was a lot nicer than mine, though, seeing as he actually had one. He had a TV the size of a fluffed-up golden retriever, a foosball table, and a poker table with chairs around it. It wasn’t Carter’s A-lister movie theater basement, but it was a solid place to chill.

  Austin tossed me a root beer from a mini fridge and we sat at his empty card table, as if we were in some secret meeting. Although his well-lit basement wasn’t your typical drug dealer, mob boss hangout setting, it was not a bad place to hide a body.

  “I take it Carter doesn’t know?” Austin spoke first. “To get the obvious out of the way.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me to lie to him. The secret was out.

  “My nose isn’t broken, so no.”

  “Too bad, you could’ve used the plastic surgery.” Austin took a long sip of his root beer, with an even longer belch at the end. “How long have you two been getting cozy?”

  “A month, maybe.”

  “Damn, Maguire. Lying to your bro’s face for a month? Cold.”

  “Lay it on me,” I said. “Don’t hold back. Won’t be half as bad as when Carter finds out.”

  “Who else knows about you guys?”

  “Madison,” I said reluctantly.

  “Madison?” Austin clapped. “You must have some serious dirt on her, for her to not tell anyone.”

  You mean that she’s in love with Carter?

  Seriously, Nick. You’re screwing over all of your friends.

  I had to tell him.

  “She wanted my help with trying to date Carter.”

  “No way. I thought I was her second choice, after you.”

  “Apparently half of why she was with me was to get to Carter.”

  Austin grinned, his eyes shining through his thick glasses. “And now it’s my turn to be used. I’ll definitely take it. That girl . . .”

  If I hadn’t known him better, I’d have thought Austin was catching feelings. He cleared his throat.

  In the hour between the soccer game and my drive to Austin’s house, I’d been mentally preparing myself for this meeting. I’d predicted two possible outcomes:

  Worst-case scenario:

  Austin starts hating me.

  Austin tells Carter about my relationship with Eliza.

  Carter starts hating me.

  Best-case scenario:

  Austin and I are still bros.

  Austin tells Carter about my relationship with Eliza.

  Carter and I are still bros.

  It’d never crossed my mind that Austin might not tell Carter about Eliza and me. Austin was a bro to each of us, but this was too big for both of us to keep a secret, since Carter had specifically forbidden it.

  “You get that I have to tell him, right?”

  And there it was.

  The chair squeaked as I leaned back. I tipped the front two legs at a perfect 110-degree angle, showing Austin how it was done. Like a boss.

  “Can I tell him?” I asked. “I think it would be better if it came from me.”

  “That is an understatement,” he said. “That’s pretty much the only way you guys might still be able to stay friends.”

  “What I don’t get,” I said, “is why this is such a big deal to him. You dated her. Why won’t he let anyone else?”

  He took off his dark Yankees cap and threw it on the table, exposing his thick, black hair. Other than the cap smacking the table, the only sound in his house was the hum from the mini fridge. That wasn’t unusual; his parents were probably where my dad was: watching sports at Robert Maxin’s dad’s house.

  “He didn’t, actually. Carter was really mad about it. Eliza wanted to go out with me, and there wasn’t anything he could do that would change her mind, and he got used to the idea. He and I weren’t really that tight when I was dating her. I think that’s one of the reasons she and I eventually broke up. Well that and the fact that we both started liking other people, and I realized I’m not a relationship kind of guy. But the thing is, Nick, you’re going to have to choose between Carter and Eliza. When I dated her, he didn’t look at me the same. Not until we broke up, and now we’re besties again—before, it was like I wasn’t really there. It’s not inevitable, though there’s definitely a chance that if you date Eliza, you’ll lose Carter for a long time. Especially since you went behind his back.”

  “Carter still acts weird about your history with her, though. He won’t even acknowledge that you guys dated.”

  Austin fidgeted with his fingers over the table. “There’s a reason Carter wishes he could forget it. You don’t want to hear this, bro.”

  The root beer cooled my lips and I pressed the can against my chin, like it could be a buffer
between us. Like it could shield me from this conversation.

  “Now you have to tell me.”

  “Yeah.”

  A calmness filled the room, the way sometimes people know something bad is going to happen right before it does. I still wanted to know.

  “I,” Austin started, “ugh, this is hard.”

  “Can’t be as bad as when Jenny Martin dumped trash all over my car after we stuffed crickets in her locker, and you had to break the news to me.”

  “Worse,” he said, “I went too far with Eliza. In, like, the bad way.”

  “Too far, like . . .” blood rushed to my ears, drowning out the humming from the fridge. I had to focus to hear him.

  “No. Not all the way.”

  “In her pants, though?”

  “Yeah.”

  Words clumped in my throat, unable to escape. This was starting to sound familiar.

  “Remember that party they had two years ago? The one that the cops came to and Ms. O’Connor had to call all her favors in so Carter wouldn’t get in trouble?”

  I nodded.

  “It was during that. Jamal brought tequila. Eliza only took one shot, so I thought she was okay, but all of a sudden she wasn’t. She must’ve drunk something before that too.”

  The ceiling fan seemed to pulse, as lightheadedness came over me.

  I nodded.

  “Right,” said Austin. “Jamal told that dumb story about that one time at band camp, you know about the . . .” he made a crude gesture. “Then I joked about being a little dry down there myself, we’d never done anything like that before, and someone suggested she do something about my situation, and we went up to her room.”

  “That was two years ago? She was a freshman.”

  “I know.”

  “Geez.”

  “Carter found us up there. Eliza was in tears from doing something she didn’t really want to do, and to this day I don’t know why I didn’t stop. Carter swears she doesn’t remember it, but we couldn’t come back from that.”