The Secrets We Keep

by Kimberly Blackadar

On the way to the car, Courtney tosses me the keys, and I drive to the movies. Ian sits in the back, mostly on his phone, making plans, but occasionally he leans forward and talks to us. He asks me a slew of questions, and even though he’s a hormone-controlled guy whose foremost goal is to have hot sex with my friend, I still like him.

  Thankfully, I know not to get too attached to Courtney’s love interests. She tends to go through boys like a cold sufferer with a box of tissues. Gross, I know, but it totally fits her.

  I find a parking space near the front door, and the three of us stroll up to the ticket window, chatting easily. Ian pays for us, and as we head toward the concessions, we meet up with two of his friends. Both of them are taller than Ian. One wears Duke paraphernalia; the other sports the Nike logo.

  The Duke fan steps forward and fist bumps Ian. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

  “Not much.” Ian answers. “This is Callie. And, well, you know Courtney.”

  “Yeah, yeah, how’s it going, Val-en-tine?” She rolls her eyes, but she gets it all the time. Guys say the lamest things to her because of her last name—especially on Cupid’s favorite holiday.

  Then the Duke fan looks at me. “I’m Tommy.” Then he gestures at his friend. “And this is Mark.”

  Mark offers a brief smile.

  I nod, manage a half-hearted “nice to meet you,” and we advance slowly in line. Tommy starts talking about basketball—some summer pick-up game on Saturdays. “Rex gets back on Wednesday. Kurt is out with his knee. But what about Ry? Will he ever show?”

  “Yeah, he’ll be there,” Ian answers.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I just texted him. He’s in.”

  “Really? What’s he doing tonight? Washing his hair? Knitting a sweater?” Mark laughs along with Tommy. “No, I know. He was, uh, out playing bingo with his grandma.”

  “Dude, don’t be such a—”

  “What?” Tommy baits Ian. “You can’t say it in front of your girlfriend.”

  “Listen, man, I can say whatever I want—especially to you, but I treat Courtney with respect,” Ian returns.

  “And that’s your first mistake,” Tommy returns with a chuckle.

  “Speaking of girlfriends, where’s yours?” Courtney chimes in.

  Tommy shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

  Oh, please tell me Courtney is not trying to set me up with one of these two guys. After all, Tommy represents everything I don’t want in a guy, and then there’s Muted Mark. We’ve been hanging out for ten minutes, and he has yet to utter his first word. I half-consider stepping on his toe, just to see if he’ll make a sound.

  “Even with Ry, we still need a fifth.” Tommy glances at Ian, then Mark. “You got any ideas?”

  “A fifth? A fifth of what?” Courtney asks. “Gin?”

  “No, Court,” I say. “They’re talking basketball. They need a fifth player.”

  Courtney eyes light up. “Then why don’t you play?”

  “Uh, I don’t think so.”

  Ian steps toward me. “Well, you’ll be there with Courtney anyway.” I consider his logic. “Why not play?”

  “Because…” I start.

  “Because she’s a girl,” Tommy finishes.

  Courtney’s eyes narrow. “So what if she’s a girl? She happens to be the best player on the team.”

  “Yeah, on a girls’ team,” Tommy taunts back.

  “Dude, do you gotta’ be such a—” Ian begins.

  “Would you like me to fill in the blank?” Courtney sasses back.

  Ian puts his hand on Courtney’s shoulder, silencing her, and then looks at me. “Callie, could you fill in tomorrow?” He slips in a soft smile. “Please?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Cool.” Ian turns back around and advances to the counter. While he orders popcorn and drinks, Tommy scrutinizes me. “What position do you play?”

  “Forward.”

  “Really? I bet I could outscore you two to one. Maybe three to one.”

  Courtney slides into our conversation. “I bet you couldn’t.”

  “Wanna’ wager on that, girlie?” Tommy returns.

  “Yeah, I do,” Courtney accepts. “How ’bout the loser throws a party and supplies the drinks—and I don’t mean Kool-Aid?”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re on.” Tommy shakes her hand.

  Then we all head toward the movie theater, but I lag behind. Courtney slows and keeps pace with me. “I don’t have that kind of money, Court.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll smoke him.”

  I look down. “I don’t know.”

  “Cal?”

  “What?”

  “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you gotta’ get over it. Crap happens, you know?”

  “Is that your idea of a pep talk?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s the best you have?”

  She shrugs. “Kinda’…”

  “Well, you kinda’ suck at it.”

  The corners of her mouth lift into a smile.

  “Why are you smiling?” I ask.

  “Because you’re being mean.” She swings an arm over my shoulders. “And I happen to like that side of you.”

  “I wish my mother felt the same way,” I mumble.

  “Mothers,” Courtney huffs.

  “Yeah, you can’t live with ’em...” I begin.

  “And you wouldn’t be alive without ’em,” she finishes.

  “Oh, crud,” I say. “I should have called her when I got here. My mom’s probably freaking out right now.”

  “Text her,” Courtney suggests as we walk into the darkened theater. Courtney finds Ian and slides next to him, and I sit at the end and message my mom. I glance down the row: Ian and Courtney are holding hands, sandwiched between three third wheels. My best friends always have boyfriends. But I have only had a few of them, and Mike was my first serious one—and the first guy to ever hurt me. As the previews flash on the screen, I glance at my watch: 11:55 P.M. Mike and I “officially” broke up six hours ago. Sure, it hurt, but it wasn’t why I left home.