by Sarah Mello
“Give him a break, Wins. He’s had everything taken away from him.”
“Oh, please. Losing your Lambos and moving into a sizable home in the valleys isn’t exactly walking through the trenches. He’s a privileged kid to his core. They will bounce back and move back to the hillside, and when they do, his victim act isn’t going to hold up.”
“Isn’t he, though? A victim?”
“Who cares? He’s not your project, Sonny. You can’t fix him.”
“I can love him,” I said loudly, jerking my hands down toward the ground.
Winston nodded. “Can he love you?”
Suddenly, the locker-room door swung open and distant chatter began filling the empty space. “Take five,” Coach T shouted as the basketball players piled in.
I jumped to my feet. “What do we do?” I asked, bouncing on my sneakers and looking side to side.
Winston grabbed my hands and did the same. “You’re the smart one!”
I grabbed Winston’s arm and pulled him around the corner, into one of the dewy showers.
“Remind me to burn these entirely,” Winston whispered as he looked at his shoes in disgust.
“You are always getting us into these situations,” I hissed under my breath as I slapped his chest. “If it weren’t for you insisting we go through Jacob’s phone—we wouldn’t even be in here!”
Winston’s mouth opened. “Oh, really, manila-envelope girl?”
“Harrison! Got a minute?” Dean asked.
I placed my pointer finger over my mouth as I looked into Winston’s eyes, my nerves filling the shower like steam.
“I saw you and Norah hugging in the hallway yesterday. What was that all about?”
“You spying on me, Ballinger?” Jacob asked.
“Just wondering what you’re doing hugging a girl you hardly know,” said Dean. “Seems a little odd.”
“I hug a lot of people,” Jacob said.
“That didn’t seem like your average, everyday hug. It looked more like an embrace.”
“You aren’t jealous, are you, Dean?” said Jacob. “I mean, after all, you did dump her like a bad habit in front of everyone at the dance. You couldn’t possibly be threatened by a little physical contact between Norah and I.”
“Not threatened. Just suspicious. Seems to me like you and Norah are hiding something.”
“And what exactly do you think we’re hiding?”
“You tell me,” Dean replied.
“Cut the shit, Ballinger. You don’t like me because I’m getting to know Sonny. It has nothing to do with Norah. Leave her out of it.”
“You don’t know Sonny.”
“I know you broke her,” Jacob replied. “I know that she can do far better than a guy like you.”
“There is no one better for Sonny than me,” Dean said.
“Yet.”
“Look, what do you want from me? I’ll make sure you start if you stay away from her. I can do that for you,” Dean said. “I’ll do that for you if you do that for me.”
There was a long moment of silence as I held my breath.
“I can’t do that,” Jacob replied. “And I’ll earn that on my own, captain.”
Winston looked over at me, his eyes wide. If there was one thing Dean didn’t like, just one thing, it was someone not respecting his home-court advantage.
“Ouch!” Jacob yelled as he lay sprawled across his couch.
I placed a bag of frozen peas on Jacob’s ankle. “Sorry.”
“Had I known you planned on coming over to torture me—I wouldn’t have opened the door.” Jacob shifted his body, wincing.
“There was no way I wasn’t going to come check on you after practice today.”
He propped himself up against the arm of the couch and sighed. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Really?” I reached into my back pocket and opened our text thread. “Do I need to read these? You told me you were dying.”
“They worked,” he said, rubbing his calf. “You came.”
I nodded. “Well, I’m sorry you didn’t have a good experience.”
“Dean’s pretty skilled,” he replied. “I couldn’t guard him for shit.”
“Maybe he didn’t get the brotherhood memo,” I said.
Jacob crossed his arms. “I don’t think he did.” He paused. “You two still working on your friendship?”
“I guess so.”
“I see,” he replied.
“I know you don’t like him.”
Jacob repositioned the peas. “I don’t necessarily dislike him. I just think you deserve better.”
“And what makes you so sure I deserve better?” I asked. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I deserve nothing more than everything I already have.”
“That’s not fair to say,” he replied.
“And why’s that?”
“Because if you paint that picture, then no guy would be able to come along and give you the world. That’s simply cruel to deprive said man of such a thing.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want the world.”
“I’m almost positive you don’t have a choice,” he said. “Girls like you get it.”
My eyes became heavy as I stared into his. “Does it, um, does it still hurt?” I asked, attempting to break eye contact. I moved the peas and pressed down on his swollen ankle.
“A little.”
“If it’s still swollen like this tomorrow, then you should have the athletic trainer look at it again,” I said, still mindlessly poking around on his foot.
“I will.” He reached down to touch it, grazing my hand along the way. He slowly ran his fingers up and down on my fingers. I watched for a moment and then glanced up at him.
“So . . . have you and Norah had a chance to hit things off?” I asked.
Jacob slowly removed his hand and leaned back. “Uh . . . yeah. She’s . . . sweet.”
I planned to ask him about the hug. About his inconsistencies and wavering story. I wanted to know why he claimed to like Norah, yet chose to spend all his time with me. But something about the way he looked at me made me believe he wasn’t capable of lying, even though I knew he was. And that’s the scary thing about those guys—they make you forget what you know and do as you feel.
“I should go,” I told him. “It’s getting late.”
“Or,” he said, clearing his throat. “Or you could stay and watch Netflix with me.”
I looked at my watch. “No. I should probably go work on this paper. I’m a little behind.”
“Behind?” Jacob leaned over and grabbed the remote control from a beautifully carved end table. “Come on. You have months to work on that paper. Take a little break.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled.
“I’ll even let you pick the movie. And if you knew how much I love movies, you’d understand how big of an offer that actually is.”
I jerked the remote from his hands. “If we’re going to watch Netflix, we’re going to start a new series, not watch a movie.”
“No way.” Jacob held up his hands. “I can’t commit to one more series right now. I’m still midway through three other shows.”
“You know—it should be illegal to casually watch a series. If you aren’t a binger, you aren’t a true Netflixer.”
“Fine,” he said. “Make it a good one.”
I began scrolling through the numerous options on Jacob’s enormous TV screen. Finally, I landed on a series, and we lay down on opposite ends of the couch. Jacob tossed me a throw blanket, and I cuddled up into a ball.
“Thanks.”
“Sure,” he said with a tired smile.
Perhaps the disgraced are embroiled in scandals because it’s all they know. And maybe that’s how all scandals begin. Or maybe, in more regrettable situations, because the innocent forget to close their blinds.
12
Sonny’s scandal
How can you tell when someone’s fallen in love? Is it a physical change? Do they wear it on their slee
ve or carry it in their smile? Maybe it’s in the way they walk? I imagine you’d carry yourself quite differently if you had a reason to. I like to think it’s all in the hints. The subtle laughs. The good-smelling cologne. The new dress. Perhaps everyone has their ways of showing they’ve fallen. Some lay it on you a little at a time, while others lay behind you.
I slowly opened my eyes to the sound of an alarm so soothing it could put anyone to sleep. As I attempted to become aware of my whereabouts, I noticed an arm hanging over my left shoulder. I carefully turned my head around, not yet able to shake off the grogginess.
Somehow Jacob managed to maneuver his way behind me on the couch. His hoodie was off. The throw blankets were bundled up in wads, the Netflix screen was asking if we were still watching, and Jacob’s scent was overpowering.
My heart began to race as I realized where I was. I abruptly jumped up from the sofa. “Oh my God!” I grabbed my cell phone from the coffee table.
Jacob jumped up shortly thereafter.
“My mom has called me seventeen times,” I said in a hoarse voice.
“What time is it?” Jacob looked around the living room in a fog.
“Eight forty-five,” I struggled to say. My heart sunk underneath the couch cushions.
We exchanged a look of shock. At Westcott, being late—or missing a day of school and breaking your perfect-attendance record—was more frowned upon than receiving a B on an assignment.
“Can you turn off my alarm?” Jacob scuffled to gather himself; his eyes struggled to stay open.
“Oh, and by alarm, I’m assuming you’re referring to this lullaby?” I slammed his cell phone onto the couch. “What kind of alarm is this?”
“Whoa, take it easy.” He put his hoodie back on.
“Why is your alarm set so late?” I asked.
“I must have hit the wrong numbers,” he replied. “Calm down.”
“Hit the wrong numbers?” I tossed blankets all around the room in search of my shoes.
Jacob kneeled down beside me and grabbed me by my shoulders with an unyielding hold. “Sonny, take a deep breath,” he said. “Let’s just get to school. You can call your mom back on the way.” He glanced down at my shirt. “But first you need to change.”
“I don’t have time!”
“Sonny, you can’t walk into school late wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday.”
I combed my fingers through my messy hair. “I’ve never been late to school before.”
“Well, you’re already late,” he said. “What’s ten more minutes?” He led me upstairs into his parents’ room. As the door creaked open, a gust of cold air brushed by my feet. I slowly walked inside, unsure I belonged in such a grandiose space. The walls were the prettiest shade of green. The California king bed sat on top of a fluffy white rug, and the all-white bedding paired nicely with the rustic white furniture. Above the bed hung a crystal chandelier.
Jacob opened the closet door, and the Chanel slapped me in the face. “Pick something.”
I walked into the massive closet, nonchalantly brushing my fingers against the rows of expensive designer garments. It was a far cry from my mother’s collection of workday attire. I turned my head to the right, noticing a mass collection of brooches sitting on a shelf. “These are beautiful,” I said, admiring each one. Suddenly, I wasn’t in such a rush.
“Her pins?” he asked.
I twisted them in the air, giving each a good look before carefully putting them back into their place on the shelf. “Did you know that brooches weren’t always used for a fashion statement? They were originally made out of thorns and were used for practical reasons—like to secure loincloths. But they were eventually made from metals. Usually they were worn to show status and wealth . . . so every time I see someone wearing one, which isn’t often, I assume they are wildly privileged. They’re so—eclectic and cool,” I rambled on.
“Fascinating.” Jacob checked the time. “Hurry up and pick something!”
“Your mom won’t mind?” I asked.
“She won’t notice. She travels for work fifty percent of the year. We’ll put it back.”
I nodded, quickly grabbing the cheapest shirt I saw.
Jacob stood in the doorway.
“Do I have to ask?” I glared at him.
He pursed his lips and turned around to face the bedroom. “Just hurry.”
I finished getting dressed, and we headed toward the steps, briefly stopping by Jacob’s room for a fresh hoodie. He took last night’s off and changed into the new sweatshirt as we raced down the stairs. I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with hypocrisy as I watched. His back muscles bulged as he put his arms inside.
“I’ll drive us,” he said. “You can grab your car later.”
We hopped into Jacob’s Jeep and sped toward school.
“How did this happen?” I asked in agony, attempting to fix my smudged makeup.
“Somewhere between episode three and seven we must have fallen asleep.”
“Not before you managed to cuddle up behind me?” I looked at him pointedly.
“No idea how that happened,” he replied. “I planned on waking you around ten last night. I didn’t plan on falling asleep myself. I’m sorry.”
I glanced down at my phone.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m texting my mom to tell her I’m all right.”
“I’ll explain everything to her,” he said. “I’ll take full responsibility.”
“My mom doesn’t need an explanation. She’s been through much worse than her daughter falling asleep at a guy’s house.” I paused. “I’m more worried about my dad finding out I’m not at school.”
“Has he texted you?”
“Not yet,” I replied, staring down at the multiple missed calls from Dean. “Where is your dad?”
“He’s out of town until Saturday.” Jacob sped through a yellow light.
I locked my phone, then shifted my weight around in my seat as we pulled into the school parking lot.
Jacob put the car in park and faced his body toward me. “Hey,” he said. “It’s just a tardy.”
“A tardy is unacceptable at Westcott, Jacob. I had to suffer through the flu last year during exams just so I didn’t miss any days. My only comfort came from Mr. Foster sliding the trash can beside my desk. Oh, and Paul rubbing my back from the desk behind me, though I’m pretty positive he was just trying to unsnap my bra.”
“Paul? That creepy, touchy-feely kid that sweats a lot?
“Yeah,” I replied. “And I let him. That’s how sick I was.”
“Brutal.” Jacob rubbed his eyes. “Look, just say you had an emergency. I’ll say I overslept. Stick to that. Everything’s fine.”
Jacob and I jumped out of the car and ran toward the side entrance to the school. As we approached the steps, my knees began to shake, and I barely made it down each one.
We approached the double doors, and Jacob held one open for me. “You go first,” he said, pushing against the top of the glass.
I looked up at him, unsure of the last time I’d felt so terrified and good at once. “I’ll see you later.”
I took a step forward, preparing to sign in at the office and then plow down the hallways in record speed.
“Sonny,” Jacob said, grabbing me by my arm and yanking me back in front of him.
He pulled me closer and wrapped his hands around my neck, his thumbs on my cheeks. He stared into my eyes, leaned down, and kissed me.
Suddenly, everything changed. The daunting tardy that hung over my head seemed to disappear, my shaky knees buckled for entirely new reasons, and all of the suspicions I had about Jacob floated away. In that moment, everything felt perfect.
Jacob pulled back, his lips slowly leaving mine. He put his forehead against my forehead and looked down at my face. “See you later.”
“Where were you?” JC sat down across from me in the cafeteria. “I didn’t see you in first. Did something ha
ppen?”
Winston joined in.
“I had an emergency,” I recited, rubbing my lips with my fingers in a daze.
“What is up with you?” JC asked.
“Nothing,” I said, hoping to bury the topic. “I’m fine.”
“You might be able to pull the cashmere sweater over JC’s eyes,” said Winston, “but you’re not going to have much luck with me. I recognize those jeans from a mile away. They’re your only pair of dark-washed, slightly faded designer jeans. You wore them yesterday, and I know you aren’t a repeat offender. You didn’t go home last night, did you?” Winston stopped midway through opening a bag of M&M’s and waited for my reply.
“You know, maybe you should pursue fashion instead of music,” I said.
JC leaned in. “Don’t tell me it was Dean.”
“No,” Winston said, staring into my eyes. “I know the ‘I spent the night with Dean’ look. It’s a little bit more shameful.”
“Jacob?” JC asked.
I ignored his question and arranged the items on my lunch tray.
“Seriously, Sonny?” JC said. “You got your first tardy over Harrison? You know if you get more than one tardy you’ll be written up, right?”
“Yes, I’m aware, thank you.” I quickly tucked my hair behind my ears. “It wasn’t on purpose, okay? Jacob and I were watching Netflix, and we both fell asleep. I’ve been so exhausted from all of this extracurricular drama. Plus, my schoolwork and paper have been relentless. The second I allowed myself to relax I just conked out.”
They gave me blank stares.
“Nothing else happened,” I said, emphasizing each word individually.
“Damn.” Winston continued eating.
I took out my notebook. “Just drop it, okay? I don’t need word getting around that we showed up late together.”
“Don’t you think you’ve tackled bigger rumors than sleeping with the new guy?” JC asked.
“Would you shut up?” I looked side to side to see if anyone was listening. “Nobody slept with anyone.”
The vibe in the lunchroom was particularly tense on that day. Or perhaps it was just me. But everyone’s shadow became a specter, and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
