by Sarah Sutton
For a moment, I felt bad about lying to her, for pulling on a phony smile to brush off her concern. That moment of guilt quickly washed away as a relieved look crossed her expression, and I knew I’d made the right choice.
I was freezing my butt off. And for what?
A stupid football game.
“This counts as one of our outings,” I grumbled to Donnie, but he probably couldn’t even hear me over the noise of the bleacher section cheering on the team. The Hallow High Devils—for a town that loved Halloween, that mascot was no surprise—led the game by over ten points in the last quarter, and yet whenever we got the ball, our side of the football field acted like we made the winning touchdown. By the end of the night, my eardrums would be goo.
“It doesn’t count,” Donnie replied to me. “Lucas isn’t here.”
“Uh, yes he is. He’s—” I pointed to the football field with all the players, “—down there. He’s present and accounted for, meaning this totally counts.”
Okay, so he wasn’t exactly accounted for. At least not the entire time. I had trouble finding his jersey number over the jolly giant standing in front of me, eclipsing my view.
Donnie glanced sideways at me. His black hair curled out from underneath his knit cap, his dark trench coat pulled up around his neck. “You used to love football games. You used to wear orange-and-black face paint like the players and cheer your boyfriend on. What happened to that girl?”
That girl had run out of paint and broken up with Lucas.
When Donnie had asked me to come to tonight’s football game, a part of me had wanted to come. Not that I’d ever admit that aloud. But it was the last football game of the season—the last football game of Lucas’s high school career. I didn’t want to be able to say that I’d missed one of the biggest nights in Lucas’s senior year.
And I really hated myself for caring, because I was about to turn into a human popsicle.
“It feels weird being here,” I told him, glancing around.
“I bet. You haven’t been to a game all season, have you?”
No, I hadn’t. Not even homecoming. “I only ever came to these things for Lucas.”
Again, I could feel Donnie looking sideways at me. This time, I kept my focus on the field, watching our orange-and-black team bob and weave through the blue-and-gray players. The football bounced somewhere in the mix, lost to me. “He told me he looks for you in the crowd every game.”
“You don’t have to tell me those things,” I said a little sharply, digging my fingers into my palms. The effect was somewhat lost through the barrier of my thin mittens. “It’s not…helpful.” The opposite, actually.
“Come on, Blaire.” He sighed, his breath fogging in the air. “This is ridiculous, you know. Why won’t you tell me what happened between you two? Maybe I can help.”
“Fine, you want to know what broke us up? Irreconcilable differences.”
“Please. You and Mr. Dreamy practically never fought. About anything serious, anyway. You two were head over heels for each other.”
“And doesn’t that sound unhealthy to you?” I demanded, my voice quivering as it rose. None of the people around us seemed to be listening, but I fought to control my volume. “Never fighting with someone?”
Donnie faced me fully, eyebrows pulled low on his eyes. “You know what’s unhealthy? This.” He gestured at me with both hands. “You. All of you. I’ve never seen you like this, Blaire. Never. And I’ve known you for a long time.”
I focused my stony gaze on everywhere but him. “You know October’s hard for me.” My words hardened. “Have you ever thought maybe I’m in a bad mood because of what time of the year it is?”
“I get it, I do. But your bad mood caused you to dump your boyfriend, who you were totally in love with up until the night you broke it off, so I’m just a little confused.”
I’d never wished more that I could be invisible. That Donnie couldn’t see me and I could be silent, to not have such questions hanging in the air, to not be called out in a way like this. Because even though I refused to look at him, I could still feel him looking at me, trying to probe out the truth.
There wasn’t an answer I could give him.
As the clock ticked down, a player with an orange jersey stepped over the line at the end of the field, causing the entire section of the bleachers to erupt in a colossal noise of applause and cheers. I flinched at the suddenness of it, pulling back as someone elbowed my side.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I told Donnie, making sure he wouldn’t follow me.
It was colder tonight, cold enough for goosebumps to raise underneath my thin jacket. It usually took Hallow a little while to cool down from our summers, but this year the chill settled faster. It’d be a cold Halloween this year. Kids’ costumes would be half obscured by their jackets and gloves, feebly trying to warm them. All the effort on their parents’ part to keep them best dressed would be in vain, since the cool fall breeze would win.
I sucked down deep breaths of air, crunching the dropped popcorn with the soles of my shoes. Lost in my thoughts, I took the corner of the bleachers too sharply and ran straight into someone. Someone small. Reeling back, I blinked hard. “Delia?”
Lucas’s little sister looked a lot like him, in a way. Her cheeks were a little rounder, but her eyes were the same. Both of theirs held the same curve, but Delia’s were hidden behind small pink glasses. The stadium lights reflected in them.
“Hi, Blaire,” she said with a small smile, one that hesitantly graced her lips. She held a packet of popcorn, a thick layer of orange cheese-salt sitting on the top. “They’re giving away free popcorn since the game’s almost over.”
I nodded, a bittersweet feeling working through me. I missed her almost as much as I missed Lucas. Almost. “Very cool. Looks like you’ve got a lot of salt there.”
“The lid broke on the shaker.”
Despite everything, my lips twitched. “Here.” I took the packet of popcorn from her and grabbed the edges at the top, giving it a good shake. “If you do this, some of the salt falls to the bottom.”
When I handed the popcorn back, her hesitant smile turned into something much more genuine, much more familiar. “Thanks.” She shook the bag a little bit, trying the new trick out. “I haven’t seen you in so long. You never come over anymore.”
“I’ve just been so busy lately.” Great, now I’m lying to children.
Delia shifted the bag of popcorn, not looking at me. “You know, Lucas is sad a lot at home. I think he misses you coming around too.”
A lick of pain flared up in my chest, and though I tried to shy away from it, it was unavoidable. I reached over and swiped a piece of her popcorn, wincing as a burst of salt coated my tongue. “I’m coming over tomorrow for your mom’s party. I’ll see both of you then.”
“Really?” It was almost comical how fast her head whipped up, her glasses falling low on her nose. “Mom didn’t tell me that. I’ll have to clean my room. She says I can’t have friends in there when it’s so messy, which is super lame. But I’ll definitely get it cleaned by tomorrow because we painted my room a few weeks ago and I want to show you.” Delia paused, as if aware she’d been speaking quickly. “If you want to see it.”
“Of course I want to see it,” I told her, nudging her shoulder. “But don’t tell me the color—I want to be surprised.”
Delia nodded, her hair bobbing in its ponytail. “Deal. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As she hurried off with a bounce to her step, the game buzzer sounded, loud and echoing in the night, signaling the game was over. From where I stood, I couldn’t see the scoreboard, but I knew from how loud the Hallow section cheered that we’d won.
The last game of the season. The last game of Lucas’s high school career.
The line for the bathroom was long, and I took my time washing my hands, enjoying the idea of Donnie waiting around trying to find me in the mass of people filtering towards their cars. He might’v
e been right; my bitter emotions were probably a little unhealthy. But at this moment, punishing him for saying it felt good.
Which was so wrong.
However, when I emerged from the bathroom, pulling back on my mittens, karma hit me in the face like a slap.
Lucas leaned on one of the stone benches by the edge of the football field’s fence. He held his shoulder pads by the collar, his black shirt hugging his torso tightly, leaving nothing to the imagination. The sweat in his hair made it curl slightly at the ends, appearing a lot darker than its normal chocolate color. He still wore his football pants, which hugged his thighs and hips snugly.
All the air vanished from my lungs.
But as my laser-focus on Lucas faded, I realized someone stood in front of him. Someone petite. Brunette. She had her back to me, so I couldn’t see who it was, but I did see when she touched his arm. The slow-motion movement tortured my brain. Five fingers on his skin for longer than five seconds. I couldn’t help but count.
Another girl stood in the mix of conversation. She had her cell phone out, poised as if taking a picture. No, she was taking a picture. Of the brunette and Lucas.
It was like I was watching this scene unfold outside of my body. I had zero reaction as the brunette turned to my direction, her face coming into full view. Hailey Moore.
She was a grade above me, in Lucas’s class, and on the cheer squad. Her uniform matched Lucas perfectly. A hot football player and pretty cheerleader couple.
Another fun fact about Hailey? She and Lucas had dated his sophomore and junior year. Which was fantastic.
Hailey flipped her hair over her shoulder before leaning into Lucas’s side, so close that not an inch separated them. She even put one of her hands on Lucas’s flat chest, taking any and every excuse to touch him.
And Lucas’s eyes shifted to the left and found mine.
You gave him up, I reminded myself, but my thoughts were quiet, as if I whispered in the dark. A shiver tore down my spine, and I wasn’t sure it was from the cold. You let him go.
I schooled my features into a mask of blankness, sure that not a trace of expression remained as I held Lucas’s gaze. But I couldn’t stand there, couldn’t watch some other girl touch him like I used to. If I did, I’d let myself remember how he smelled after a game, how his chest felt as I pressed my fingers there, how his smile widened to show his teeth just for me.
So I turned on my heel and walked away, balling my hands into fists so tight that my nails tried to cut through the material of my mittens.
“Blaire.” Lucas was there, at my side, his earthy scent following him. His hair matted along the skin at his temples, pressed down by the damp. Those blue eyes were crystalline, wide, and focused on me. “Bee, that wasn’t—”
I immediately threw a hand up, trying not to let him see my discomfort. Hearing him try to explain himself when he’d done nothing wrong made me feel icky, as well as being caught staring. Both cringe-inducing. “I thought it was sweet. Who knew you were so popular?”
“She wanted a picture,” he said, shaking his head a little, as if the mere idea was ludicrous. “She said she wanted to remember her senior year.”
“Yeah, right. Or she wanted the picture to post on her social media and make everyone think you’re a couple again.”
Lucas shifted his hold on his shoulder pads, looking straight into my eyes. “I don’t care what everyone thinks.”
I needed to get out of there before I said something stupid, because my body felt all kinds of traitorous. My heartbeat thumped unevenly inside my chest, my lungs decided they didn’t want oxygen, and fingers itched to reach out for him. Traitorous. You’d think the sight of a guy sweaty would be gross, but dang.
I took a deliberate step back from him. “I need to go find Donnie. He’s probably waiting for me.” Or he left without me, in which case, my punishing him totally backfired.
“I’m surprised you came tonight,” Lucas threw out quickly, following my retreat. As if he knew if he kept talking, I’d stay and listen. “You haven’t been to a game all season.”
With another step back, my back came dangerously close to pressing against the side of the bathroom outer wall. “I wasn’t going to miss your last game.”
Lucas advanced further. “Why not?”
“Because it’s important to you.” I curled my hands into fists. “And that’s what a friend would do, right?”
Ah, the f-word. A hail-Mary, a yellow flag on the play to make this game stop, if only for a moment. I couldn’t breathe, not with him so close, with the scent of memories clinging to his skin.
It didn’t do much to faze him, though. In fact, my words almost encouraged him to smile wider. “So it’s official, huh? I’m your friend.”
“Don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You miss me.” The words came out almost as a whisper as he drew nearer, the blue in his eyes heating until the color looked like silk. “I’d have to say the feeling’s mutual, Bee.”
My chest tightened as I gazed up at him, at the red lines around his neck from where his shoulder pads had rubbed at his skin. I wanted to reach out and trace my fingertips along the lines, to feel the heat of his skin in contrast to the cool October air. My memory proved a sweet sort of torture, giving me a shadow of a reminder of how his touch once felt, but not with enough clarity that left me satisfied. No, just enough of a memory to make me crazy.
“You should go catch up with Hailey,” I told him, words coming out petty. “Take her out for some coffee or something. Help her remember her senior year a little more clearly.”
Your insecurity is showing, my thoughts hissed.
Lucas remained quiet for a moment as he watched me, examining my expression, but I was almost positive my mask still rested in place. “Why don’t you and I get coffee?” he asked after a moment, taking a play from my book and ignoring what I’d said. “Celebrate the last win of the season.”
“Donnie’s looking for me.” My response came automatically, and I scoured the crowd behind him. “He’s—”
“Blaire.” And then five fingertips touched the smooth skin of my cheek, angling my face back to him. A faint touch, barely there, but even that had my heart skipping a beat. “Come with me?”
I didn’t know what did it. Maybe the fact that this was the closest we’d been since our breakup? The way his voice had angled upon the question, tinged with hope? Seeing him posing for a picture with his ex?
Whatever it was, it summoned a pressure to build in my throat, choking off the air, stinging at my eyes. “I can’t, Lucas.”
I expected him to look sad, disappointed, but he almost had a wistful sort of quality to his expression. Lucas pulled his hand away, taking a full step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. At Mom’s tea party.”
I wanted to ask him what an eighteen-year-old boy was going to be doing at a costume tea party, but this time I kept my mouth shut. Don’t prolong this more than you need to, my brain told me, trying to be helpful and logical. My heart didn’t want to listen. “Goodnight, Lucas.”
“Night, Bee,” he returned, and took a few more steps backward before he walked away.
As soon as he did turn around, though, a weight pressed down on my shoulders, sinking me into the ground. I couldn’t get the image of Hailey’s body against his out of my head. I couldn’t help but wonder that if I kept pushing him away, would I be pushing him into the arms of someone else? And if I did, would I be able to endure it?
The answer was obvious, clear, but not simple. Of course I’d endure it. I had no other choice.
If I were to write a letter to my dad, it’d go something like this:
Dear Dad Robert (no, not Dad, definitely not Dad),
Let’s be real for a second. You left me. Two months after Mom died, you dumped me with Gram and vanished from the face of the earth. I lost one parent, and then the other left me. You suck. There’s nothing more to say than that.
I wish you none of the best,
Blaire
A part of me wanted to write that letter anyway, send it to him without even reading the one he’d given me.
The day Dad had left, things had seemed normal. He was due to go back to work after he’d used up all his vacation time, and I remember he hadn’t been thrilled about it. Only a few days before he was supposed to go back, I’d caught him pulling clothes out of his dresser drawer. “Just reorganizing,” he’d said, not looking my way. “Go pack some of your things. We’re going to Gram’s tonight.”
It wasn’t unusual for us to stay at Gram’s. Dad had hated sleeping at the house, hardly ever stepping foot into his bedroom. We’d both packed our things and had gone to Gram’s apartment, and of course she’d welcomed us with open arms. Dad had slept on the couch while I’d slept in the guest room, the one that would soon become my permanent bedroom.
When I’d woken up the morning of Halloween, Dad was gone with only a note left behind to explain his absence. Blaire, you know I love you. I can’t be in Hallow anymore. I’m sorry. Three sentences. Fourteen words. And that was it.
When Mom had died, never in a thousand years had I thought I’d lose Dad too. Without her, it would’ve been him and me against the world. It should’ve been him and me against the world. We would’ve found our new normal eventually, if he’d given it time.
Something I’d never asked Gram, something I’d never said aloud, was why. Why hadn’t Dad taken me with him? I could understand the desire to escape Hallow, but he’d lost his wife—why would he willingly leave me behind? His only daughter. His only child. Me.
How could he just…leave me?
Gram had tried to get me to go to therapy, but I was fine. I’d come to terms with my mother’s death—my father’s abandonment—my new normal. Fine.
At least, until I’d gotten Dad’s letter on October 1st, and then everything had self-destructed.
