Burning Britely

by Deidre Huesmann

  Jeff did the math. “Seven years, eight months, twenty-two days.”

  “Right. Eight years.”

  “No, it’s—”

  She waved him off. “Whatever, weirdo. It rounds up to eight. That’s eight years of me knowing you best. Eight years of me watching you be such a grumpy kid trying to be a stuffy old man.” When he glared at her, she gave a lopsided grin. “It’s cute. I think. If we didn’t make such good friends, I’d have made a move on you myself.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered. His brain immediately dismissed the possibility, as it always had. Maya was great, of course, but they got along to the point that dating would be boring. She was right on the money about their friendship. “Maybe I should just scrap the whole thing.”

  “The article?”

  “Yeah.”

  “See, that’s your problem.”

  “What?”

  “You’re too smart, Jeffy. Everything comes easy to you. If it doesn’t, you get mopey and give up before you start.” Her grin turned conspiratorial. “Like these feelings you have for Braeden that you don’t want to admit.”

  Jeff’s shoulders tensed. His fingers flexed. “I don’t.”

  “Yeah, you do.” She tore the dry hamburger apart with her fingers and popped a piece into her mouth. “I figured it out three years ago.”

  “I didn’t know him three years ago.”

  “That you’re bi, you dork.” She made a face and pulled something out of her mouth. “Ugh, gross. Tendons.”

  Jeff said nothing. He just stared at her, wondering how she’d known so soon after he’d figured it out on his own.

  “I think,” she said. “You should hang out with Braeden and get to know him better.”

  Jeff shook his head. “What’s the point? He’s straight.”

  She smirked. “I thought you were a journalist?”

  He rubbed his mouth, then rubbed his hands on his jeans. She was right, to a point. He wanted to write something about Braeden. But she was also correct in her assessment of the article. His brand of humor was too cruel, would earn him more enemies than credibility. Even colleges would frown upon it. “This is the real reason you’re my friend, you know.”

  She gave a mock-salute. “I’ve always got your back, Captain Dorkasaurus. Just don’t kill any more emus.”

  “It was a goose.”

  She finished off her juice and vegetables before dumping the sad meat patty into the garbage. “So,” she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Does this mean we’re attending some after-school meets?”

  He took the draft of his report, shredded it into small bits, and dumped them in three different garbage cans on their way out of the cafeteria. In the corner of his eye, Brenda giggled with a group of her friends. The more he looked, the more he saw a resemblance to her older brother. In the shape of her eyes, her cheekbones, the subtle cleft to her chin. His nerves shocked to life, like someone had jump-started his emotions by waving Braeden’s attractive face in front of his mind’s eye.

  “No,” he said. “We just need to go to one.”

  * * * *

  Lowry High was unlike others in their funding. Where most high schools funneled their sports team money into football, Lowry High spent an inordinate amount on their track team. It reflected across the board. The football field, while maintained, hadn’t bought a new scoreboard in almost two decades. The paint lines were only reapplied after a heavy rain. The Lowry Hogs always had new uniforms, but they were understated, muted shades of the school colors: bright blue and bronze. The cheerleaders received better funding for brighter uniforms, making the Hogs look even sadder.

  In comparison, the track field was more than maintained—it was downright polished. The hurdles and pole-vaulting equipment was replaced every year. The team wore bright blue-and-bronze colors with bold, white printing proclaiming the school’s name. If the Hogs were practicing the same day of a track meet, some of the cheerleaders had no shame checking out the runners instead of encouraging their football players.

  Jeff and Maya stood at the crest of the hill overlooking the two fields. It was sad, really, he thought. The baseball and football teams shared a field. When the Hogs practiced their tackles and punts, they had to avoid the second and third plates of the baseball field in the corner. When the Lowry Orcas practiced swings and pitches, they had to try to avoid scuffing up the football field too badly. It was a delicate balance that the two teams failed to perform each year. As a result, the football and baseball jocks hated each other, yet nobody had a beef with the track team, as they weren’t a constant annoyance.

  Despite his vow to rewrite the story, Jeff’s brain began a new nastygram. Lowry High, where girls will spread their legs for the track team while the Hogs can do nothing but watch.

  Maya flicked the back of his head. “Stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Thinking mean things.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Liar.” She flicked his head again, and this time he slapped her hand away. “Look, if you want to even just be friends with this guy, you got to drop the bitterness. Braeden’s too nice for that.”

  Jeff recalled their instant messaging. “He doesn’t seem to mind it.”

  “Directed at him, maybe. If he knew what you really thought of Brenda, your feeble friendship would be over.”

  Jeff opened his mouth to argue, but a loud pop drew his eye to the track field. Members were running. The coach held a noisemaker in the air to simulate a starting gun. Braeden was easy to spot, at least four inches taller than the next tallest athlete. His powerful legs drove him forward, his long strides putting notable distance between him and the others. The number 7 was emblazoned on his jersey. Sweat coated his skin in a thin sheen.

  Closing his eyes, Jeff conceded. He couldn’t just rewrite the article. He’d have to learn to get along with Brenda, too.

  Then he stopped. “What’s the point? He made it clear that he’s straight, Maya.”

  She raised an eyebrow that was two shades darker than her hair. “Stop thinking about this as another one of your equations. Doing nice things plus talking to Braeden won’t necessarily equal hot, steamy make out sessions.”

  Jeff’s face warmed.

  “But,” she said with a tiny smile. “It might mean you have a friend who isn’t just me.”

  He rubbed his mouth. Lowered his eyes. “He’ll leave for college after this year.”

  “Says who?” When he stared blankly at her, Maya said, “Just because that’s your next step doesn’t mean it’s his next step. College isn’t for everyone.”

  “He’d have a scholarship,” he protested. “Not a full ride, maybe, but something good.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. And so what?” She pointed at herself. “I’m sure as hell not going. I hate homework as it is. And studying. And thinking too hard.”

  He loathed this subject. It made him itchy beneath his skin. “What would you do, then?”

  “Who knows?” She clasped her hands behind her back and stretched. “Work at the supermarket. Maybe learn a trade, paint some houses. Maybe even join the military.”

  Jeff looked away.

  “Or maybe nothing.” Her voice was too cheerful. Her words grated in his ears. “Taking a year off would be fun.”

  “You’re wasting your future.”

  “It’s my future to waste.” Her brown eyes flashed. “I know you hate wasted opportunities.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “So stop wasting this opportunity and go talk to him.” She pointed at Braeden, who had stopped sprinting and was speaking with the coach. To Jeff’s horror, Braeden glanced over, saw them, and immediately jogged in their direction. He hopped over the bench with their towels and water bottles before making the long lopes uphill.

  Jeff hissed. “Damn it, Maya!”

  She grinned.

  “Hey!” Braeden slowed to a stop, his grin even wider than Maya’s. Jeff noticed the bottom teeth were slightly crooked. An end
earing flaw. One Brenda lacked. Jeff’s heart thumped hard beside his sternum. “I can’t believe you read my mind.”

  Jeff shook himself slightly. Stop thinking about his damn teeth! “Huh?”

  “Back in class. I didn’t get a chance to finish the message.” At Jeff’s blank stare, Braeden tilted his head. Sweat beaded on his face and neck, though he didn’t seem out of breath. “I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out after my meet.”

  “He’d love to,” said Maya.

  Jeff elbowed her, gently.

  She elbowed him back. Hard. He winced.

  Braeden blinked a few times. Then shrugged. “So?”

  “So—oh.” Jeff self-consciously adjusted his glasses. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Why?”

  “Idiot,” muttered Maya beneath her breath.

  “Well, you said you wanted to meet my brother.” Braeden swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Mom would be cooler with it if I could honestly say we were friends, first.”

  “You have a brother? I didn’t know,” said Maya. “Is he cute?”

  Braeden smiled. To Jeff, it looked a touch uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, but I think most first-graders are.”

  Jeff smirked, and Maya flushed. “Oh. Of course,” she said.

  A notable tension left Braeden. “Me and a couple of the guys are going to hit up a fast food joint. If you wait just another half hour, we’ll be heading out.”

  Fast food. Money. Empty calories. Heart disease. “Never mind. Maybe next time.”

  Maya glared at him.

  Confused, Braeden said, “It’s on me, man.”

  “Maybe next time,” Jeff repeated. “Later.” He spun on his heel and walked off. Behind him, Maya stammered an apology to Braeden before catching up to him.

  “What was that about?” she said.

  “I didn’t feel like it.”

  “You were all about it two seconds ago.” Maya squinted at him, and it made his insides writhe. “It’s not like you’re a charity case.”

  “I have better things to spend my money on.” He quickened his pace.

  She jogged to keep up. Her backpack thudded audibly against her body. “It wasn’t a date, Jeff.”

  He scowled.

  “Other people were going to be there.” She paused, then huffed. “That’s it, isn’t it? You didn’t want other people there.”

  “Who cares,” he snapped. “I changed my mind. Free country. I’m allowed.”

  Maya grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and face her. Her gaze moved down those infernal five degrees, and her expression was deadly serious. “You had one simple task, Jeffy. Hang out with Braeden. Make a friend. And you can’t even do that.”

  He shook her loose and kept walking. Away from her, away from school, away from the very real presence of Braeden Britely.

  “Not everything is going to be as easy as Calculus, you know,” she shouted after him.

  Jeff said nothing, but her words ricocheted through him, rattling through his bones until they struck a deep-seated, tender target. His ego.

  Perhaps she was right. But this was one thing he could avoid, and he had to. He’d write the damn article without her help—and without getting emotionally attached to Braeden.

  Chapter Four

  Jeff did his best to avoid speaking to Braeden. It wasn’t difficult for the next three days—it was almost the weekend and they didn’t run in the same circles. Hell, their circles didn’t even overlap. All he had to do was ignore the messages Braeden sent during class. Jeff needed to double down on his priorities. Study. Make good grades. Accumulate extra credit. His extracurricular classes had built up just as good as attending after-school clubs, so he was perfectly fine with that. His social life didn’t suffer.

  Except Maya was curter with him. She didn’t call or stop by once over the weekend. That stung.

  On Monday, she breezed into AP Chemistry and gave him a warm smile. She smelled like chamomile. A new perfume? “Morning,” she said.

  He folded his arms. “Aren’t you supposed to be mad at me?”

  She sighed. “I can’t stay mad at you, Jeffy.” She sat down and opened her book. Sticky notes adorned the pages—proof of her studying. Funny for a girl who hated thinking so hard.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he admitted.

  Maya rested her chin in her hand. Bracelets jangled on her arm to a tinny tune. She glanced at him. “But I am sad for you.”

  He had nothing to say to that. So he said nothing.

  Her words haunted him, though, to the point he began to feel guilty for ignoring Braeden’s messages. Shortly after he logged on to the computer in the newspaper class a notification blinked at him from the taskbar. Why the hell doesn’t this guy give up?

  Before he could second-guess himself, he clicked on the flashing button.

  No1QuackVictim: you wanna go round up some screaming goats?

  Jeff stared at the screen. He shook his head, reread the question, and sat there, stumped. It took longer than he wanted to admit to come up with a response.

  JeffY: What?

  A chair squeaked in the back of the class. “Hang on,” he heard Braeden say. The voice sent tingles through his back, downward, to other places he didn’t really want that kind of attention on during school.

  No1QuackVictim: well you didn’t seem interested in basketball or riding bikes or hiking or eating or a movie so i figured id start expanding my horizons

  No1QuackVictim: gotta say man your hard to please i cant believe it took this long to find something you like but yeah well round up those goats no problem

  Jeff bit his tongue. Stifling … what? A laugh? A smile? A snort?

  This guy’s an odd goose for sure.

  He was determined not to get close to Braeden. He’d promised himself. So how was it one off-the-wall question drew him back in? Like Braeden was a river’s undercurrent and Jeff couldn’t escape his pull. Like a large magnet drawing a smaller magnet across a smooth marble surface. Like a star being sucked toward a black hole.

  Jeff typed an answer, deleted it, typed up another one, and deleted that. Nothing sounded right. Every excuse sounded lame.

  He could practically hear Maya’s suggestion to his dilemma. So don’t lie, you dorknut.

  Typical Maya. Even her theoretical person had to insult him a little.

  Finally, he had a reply that both squeezed his chest tight with guilt and provided a coiling, tense sort of release once he clicked send.

  JeffY: I’m sorry. I’m not good at making friends.

  It sounded so stupid and vapid, the more he read it. But what else was there to say?

  No1QuackVictim: i get it man trust me

  No1QuackVictim: so is that a go for goat roping?

  A wry smile tugged his lips.

  JeffY: A hike sounds better.

  No1QuackVictim: cool dealers choice let me know where and when

  No1QuackVictim: just not right after school cuz i got meets

  “Yeah,” Jeff murmured to himself. “No problem.”

  Even as he replied with a time and location, he wondered how he was supposed to protect himself from a guy like this. Each time Braeden talked to him, Jeff’s heart wanted to open—and he still wasn’t ready. He never would be.

  Not with rejection pre-wired into Braeden’s brain.

  * * * *

  Something about Braeden’s cavalier attitude pestered Jeff for the rest of the day. Gym class in particular was rough. He participated as expected, as he always did, even though jogging in circles around the gym made his glasses rub painfully against the bridge of his nose. It didn’t help that his eye, while yellow instead of purple now, was still tender from Brenda’s punch. At least they weren’t outside, where it was dumping rain.

  While taking a breather, Jeff studied his classmates. One of the girls was sweating profusely. She had enormous breasts and the undersides of them were damp. She was pretty, he decided. Nice proportions. Smooth skin. Rocked a natural afro. Symmetrical face.


  She was speaking to a guy who was also objectively attractive. He had some acne scars, but they didn’t take away from a startling pair of hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, and lashes any girl would kill for.

  Jeff wondered why, despite their acceptable perimeters, neither incited the same feelings as Braeden.

  Movement in his periphery alerted him. He looked to his right. Brenda stood there, a blue band pushing her curls out of her eyes, and those eyes were critical, judging. Jeff stared back. Despite the voices bouncing off the gymnasium walls, the space between them buzzed with silence.

  Her eyes narrowed. Studying him.

  Jeff’s mouth thinned.

  Another girl grabbed Brenda’s arm. The tension snapped like an overstressed rubber band. Brenda walked off with the girl to pair up for the next activity. Jeff remained rooted in place.

  What the hell was that all about?

  The teacher shouted his last name. Jeff shook his head, adjusted his glasses, and headed to the opposite side of the gym. He stood with the other outliers by the folded-in bleachers and waited for his rotation into the next game. He didn’t mind. Basketball had never interested him. It relied too much on arbitrary points and too little on individual skill. And those who were blessed with individual skill were leaned on too heavily. It was unbalanced.

  He wondered what had drawn Braeden to running track. It seemed so solitary. A social guy like him was usually more into team sports.

  Maybe he thought the same thing Jeff did—that there was more value in proving yourself.

  After school, he lingered on the school grounds with Maya. It was a rare day when all busses ran late, something to do with a union meeting. Rain still deluged the school, slickening the ground outside until grass and mud were almost indiscernible from each other and the uneven pavement collected puddles nearly two inches deep. They huddled with other waiting students inside the cafeteria, their eyes drifting to the windows, on the lookout for their ride. While they waited, he mentioned Braeden’s invite.

  Maya shot him a meaningful look. “Did you pick a place?”

  Jeff nodded, cast a sideways glance. A few tables away, Braeden and Brenda talked and laughed with their friends. Waiting, same as them, yet in a different, surreal world Jeff found alien and uncomfortable. “Copperfield Park has some good trails.”