by Elle Casey
“Track doesn’t get shit either. It’s football, basketball, sometimes baseball … the sports that pay big money on the outside professionally.”
“What about soccer?”
“Not there yet.”
I chewed on my bottom lip as I considered what he was saying. “So you guys, the future possible professional athlete golden boys … you help the coach get a slick ride … and you get what?” I glanced over to the door that I knew led to his garage. “You get cars too?”
“Hell no. No one would risk being that obvious. They can’t give us gifts, but they can take us out to dinner, buy us ‘equipment’…,” he used the finger quotes again, “… warm-ups, shoes for playing in, under armor, that kind of stuff. You should see my closet. It’s loaded with shit I probably shouldn’t have.”
“So what’s the point?” I asked, folding my arms over my book on top of the table.
“What do you mean what’s the point?”
“Why are we even talking about this?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You wanted to dive into the homework and I was telling you there’s no point. I’m going to pass anyway. Or not.” He looked out the window into his backyard. “It doesn’t really matter at this point, anyway, does it?”
“Are we talking about the prison thing again?” His self-defeatist attitude was getting really annoying.
“Yeah. Sorry to be so boring about it.” He glared back at me.
“Okay, so let’s assume you’re found guilty.”
“I will be.” His nostrils flared.
“Whatever. So what does that mean? You have to be in prison for what … twenty years?”
“Minimum twenty-five.”
“So? You’ll only be a little old when you get out.”
“Forty-three.”
“See? You could get married and start having kids then. But you’ll need a job and you won’t get one as a football player. And since you’ll need to work in the future, you have to make sure your grades don’t suck.”
“You really are living in a fantasy world,” he said, sounding kind of bitter.
“Maybe.” I stared him down.
“Not maybe. Definitely. It’s hopeless.”
“I made you an email account,” I blurted out, no longer able to take the stare-down contest and horrible words floating out there in the air between us.
Prison. Future. Hopeless.
“What?”
Leaning down, I grabbed my iPad from inside my backpack and put it out on the table. “I actually made you a playlist of songs, but I wasn’t sure how to get it to you off my cloud account.” I kept talking to fill the weird silence. “We aren’t friends on Facebook, and I didn’t have your email address, so I just opened you up a new account and put a link to the playlist in a message.”
I turned the iPad on and slide it over so he could see the screen.
He stared at the glass as different windows popped up at my command. I leaned in close enough that I could smell him again; not on purpose, but I didn’t lean back either.
“I haven’t been online since everything happened. My dad wouldn’t let me, and the cops took my phone and computer.”
I paused to look at him. “Am I breaking some kind of rule here, letting you see this?”
“No. He just told me he preferred I didn’t look, and he’s been so upset I didn’t want to make it worse by giving him a hard time about it.” Jason turned his head to face me, our noses just inches apart. “Is it bad? What they’re saying about me?”
I shrugged and leaned back a little, trying to play my rapid pulse-rate and his horrible question off like they were no big deal.
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t pay much attention to that stuff. People are assholes.” I pressed the link to get to the Google mail sign-in page. Things were getting too intense. I felt like the room was shrinking, having him that close.
“Your user name is here,” I pointed to the screen, “and your password is constantgardener99.” My face pinked up a bit at that small admission that I appreciated him noticing me. I prayed silently that he wouldn’t put two and two together and come up with four, i.e, desperate neighbor girl hungry for attention.
He signed in and clicked on the link in the message I sent without saying a word. It brought him to the playlist that automatically started playing. It shuffled the order so that the first one to come on wasn’t the first one I’d put there.
A slow smile spread across Jason’s face.
“You like?” I asked, smiling too, maybe a little embarrassed. Making a playlist suddenly seemed so … intimate.
He started bobbing his head. “What is it? Have I heard this before?”
“It’s Return of the Mack by Mack Morrison. From the nineties. Lots of gems from that decade.”
“It’s kind of hard not to dance to,” he said. “Brittney always said I was a terrible dancer.”
“Bitch.” The word popped out before I could stop it.
He laughed and a huge grin lit up his face, erasing all the those sad creases that had settled in before. “You said it.” He stood up and started moving around the kitchen. “Check this out. Can you believe she didn’t like it?”
I hooked my arm over the back of the chair as I watched his stiff body movements qwerk and jerk him over the floor.
“Oh my. Maybe instead of saying ‘bitch’ I should have said ‘starkly honest’.”
He pointed at me. “Get on your feet. No fair judging unless you’re ready to share your moves too.” He clapped his hands and raised his arms above his head and did some kind of weird attempt at a hip swivel.
I got up and rolled my eyes as I let the rhythm take me. “This is how you dance.” I moved my legs, feet, and hips in carefully-crafted, awesome synchronicity for a few seconds before waving a finger in his direction. “I don’t know what that is you’re doing over there.”
“This is cutting a rug, busting a move, getting on my gliiiide,” he said, dancing over in my direction.
“You look like you’re having a seizure.” I giggled as his head dropped back and his eyes rolled up into his head.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and spinning me in a circle. “Dancing With the Stars, here we come.”
I was laughing and sweating within seconds, spinning this way and that, trying not to fall or get stepped on. Jason’s feet were everywhere, way too big for his own good.
“Ow!” I yelped, getting my big toe smashed for about the fifth time.
“Watch those giant toes of yours, lady. You’re throwing off my groove.” He attempted to do a spin and tripped, barely rescuing himself from a face plant by doing some sort of improvised push-up against the counter.
The song faded out and the next one in the shuffle order came on. I swallowed hard as the words started up.
We both stood there swaying and listening to the words, Hootie and the Blowfish talking about how old Hootie only wants to be with this girl who comes from a different world than he does.
Ack! What was I thinking when I made this thing!
“I love Hootie,” Jason said, making a lame attempt at dancing to the rhythm. He either didn’t notice the lyrics or was being a prince pretending like he didn’t.
“Yeah. Me too.” I was going to say something else to try and shift the subject away from the song, but the doorbell rang and did it for me, thank all that is holy.
“You get it,” Jason said.
“Me?” I pointed at my chest.
“Yeah. If I get it they take a million pictures.” He walked over the front window and pushed the blinds down to peek in between them. “It’s Bobby.”
I rushed to the door and pulled it open, or tried to anyway. There were two locks Jason had to lean over my shoulder to un-do before it would work. My whole body went warm with the scent that filled my nose.
“Hello, kids,” Bobby said, a huge grin on his face. “Can Jason play?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I GRABBED BOBBY BY THE
front of his shirt and dragged him into the foyer before shutting the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey, man,” Jason said holding up a hand for some sort of high five.
Bobby failed miserably, slapping his hand around with a loose wrist, never making a solid connection.
“Just came to hang out, see what’s what. Get the answers to our upcoming chemistry exam.” He winked at me. He was completely unashamed of his attempts at cheating his way through that class.
Jason laughed when Bobby’s ears perked up at the next song.
“Rico Suave? Seriously? Are we going old-school today?” He started doing some kind of flamenco move on his way into the middle of the living room.
“Please stop,” I said, “before you hurt yourself.” I leaned on the wood frame that surrounded the entrance to the room.
“You guys hungry?” Jason asked, moving down the hallway towards the kitchen.
“No, I’m on a diet,” Bobby said. “But I’ll watch you guys eat.” He danced his way down the hall behind Jason, and I took up the rear.
Bobby sat down at the table and I joined him. We both watched Jason go to the fridge and start pulling things out, putting them on the counter.
“Are you expecting guests?” Bobby asked as the items piled up.
“Nope. Just you guys.”
Six ham and cheese sandwiches and a giant bowl of potato chips joined us at the table before Jason sat down with three big glasses and two liters of soda.
“Uhhh, what part of diet did you not understand?” Bobby said, cracking off half of a chip and nibbling on it.
“These are for me,” Jason said, taking five of the sandwiches and putting them on a paper towel in front of him. He pushed the one remaining sandwich on a plate towards me.
I ate a chip and looked first at Bobby and then at Jason and back to Bobby again. Everything was too weird, all of us sitting at the table, acting like it was totally normal to eat after-school snacks together. If Jason hadn’t murdered the coach, none of us would be here. It was so, so wrong of me to have a glimmer of happiness over the tragedy, but I did. It was awful.
Bobby put his overly-understanding face on. “So. You killed the coach, eh?”
I kicked him under the table.
“Ow!” He glared at me.
Jason’s jaw clenched, and I wasn’t sure he was going to answer at all, but then he did and it was actually worse than the question, something I wouldn’t have guessed could be possible.
“Yep. I killed the coach. And I’m really sorry that he died, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.” He took a huge bite of his sandwich, pretty much leaving just the crust behind.
“Everyone wants to know why you did it.” Bobby leaned his face down really close to the table. His eyes darted to the window and the back door. “They’re speculating.”
“Let ‘em,” Jason said, starting on his second sandwich. He kept staring at his plate, like he was planning his next move with his lunch. Something way more important than discussing his crime against humanity, or so it seemed.
I wanted to pretend like this was a normal conversation and eat my sandwich too, but I’d lost my appetite. Nothing about this could have been called normal. Not the conversation, not me and Bobby being here, not the way I was feeling, and not Jason acting like it was all okay.
“Just stop!” I said, way too loudly.
Both of them looked at me.
“Sorry. That was loud. I just … want to not dwell on the awful part of this.”
“That’s all there is,” Bobby said. “Unless I’m missing something.” He looked from Jason to me.
“Nope. It’s all pretty much awful soul-destroying shit.” Jason shoved about ten chips into his mouth at once.
“It’s not completely hopeless, come on.” I was practically pleading at this point. “Jason, you’re alive, and you did something terrible, but I know it was a mistake. I know it was.”
Jason put down his third sandwich and stared at me. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“She’s kind of the hopeless romantic type,” Bobby said, like he was commiserating with Jason.
I smacked both of them on their arms.
“Shut up, I am not. I’m just logical. Logic says you did not wake up the day of that game and decide you were going to kill the coach, goddammit!”
“Oooph. That’s a commandment broken right there,” Bobby said.
“You’re right,” Jason said, saving Bobby from getting slapped again. “I didn’t wake up and think that.”
“See?” I looked at Bobby and Jason, back and forth, a smile lighting up my face. Hope was practically exploding from my chest. “It wasn’t pre-meditated, it wasn’t planned, it wasn’t part of who Jason is!”
“But he did it,” Bobby said in a small, sad voice. “So I guess it is now.”
I lost my happy right there. Boom. Gone. My heart became a black hole sucking in all the misery around me and filling me with it.
“Listen,” said Jason, “I don’t want you guys getting into a fight over this, okay? It’s a done deal, whether we want it to be or not. I killed the ass… the coach and nothing is going to change that. Not all the wishing or second-guessing or hopeless romantic whatever in the world.” He shoved another handful of chips into his mouth and stood up. “I’m going to go upstairs and work-out.”
“That’s my cue to leave,” I said, standing and gathering up my stuff into my bag.
“But I just got here,” Bobby whined, looking up at us.
“Yeah, and you got everyone all depressed, so come on.” I nudged his shoulder. “Now you have to leave.”
Bobby stood and hung his head. “I’m sorry for being a party pooper. I promise I won’t rain on your love-parade ever again.”
If Jason hadn’t been standing right there, I would have clocked Bobby good, but since Jason was there watching, I just laughed it off. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Come on. We have tons of physics homework to get done and I don’t understand any of it.”
Bobby argued about whether he was going to help me as we made our way to the front door. I was glad for the distraction, so I let him roll with it.
“See you soon, maybe?” Jason asked me, his hand poised on the door handle.
“Tomorrow for sure,” I said, sending him an apology with my eyes. I wasn’t even sure what I was apologizing for; I just wanted his day to not suck as much as it did right then.
“Cool. See ya.” He undid the locks and pulled the door open, remaining behind it as we went across the threshold.
When we stepped out onto the front porch and the door closed behind us, Bobby leaned towards me, whispering in my ear. “Now I see why you keep coming over here.”
A spark lit up my heart. “You can see it too? That he’s hiding something?”
“No. He’s seriously hot, and now he’s single and available too.”
I pinched Bobby really hard on the back as he tried to escape me by running down the front porch stairs.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
SATURDAY STARTED OUT AWESOME, SUN shining everywhere, birds chirping, and a weather forecast that said we wouldn’t be seeing any clouds or rain for days. I danced around my room, thinking of all the fun things I could do. That lasted all of ten seconds as it came to me that Jason had woken up to the same weather but probably wasn’t dancing around his room or happy about all the things he could do. Because he couldn’t do any of them.
My parents explained that technically he could leave his house and do things, but the press had other plans for Jason, should he ever show his face outside his door. And kids at school were still talking about how he’d get seriously injured or worse if he ever showed up where they were. That pretty much left out any place worth going in our town. No mall, no movies, no hanging out downtown, no zoo, no library, no bookstore, no nothing.
An idea began to form in my mind, but I had to be sure Jason didn’t have other plans first. I texted his dad.
What is Jason doing today?
A few minutes later I got a response. This is Jason. Working out. That’s it.
Feel like company?
My nerves got the better of me when it took him a long time to answer. I was ready to type or not when his answer came back.
Sure. If u dont have smthng better to do.
I thought about what I’d be doing today if Jason were his regular, non-murdering self and ignoring me like he’d always done before. I’d probably call Bobby and we’d drive around, maybe see a movie, or possibly go to the mall. My twiggy buddy wasn’t much for outdoorsy things, and I was too unmotivated to come up with anything more interesting, usually.
My fingers were shaking a tiny bit as I typed out my response.
C u at lunch.
As I pounded down the stairs, my plan came together. If Jason couldn’t go out, I’d do what I could to simulate being out. At least until his fame died down a little. Having a plan of sorts gave me hope, and hope felt like pure drugs at that point.
“What are you so energetic about this early on a Saturday morning?” my mom asked from her spot at the table.
“We usually don’t see you before noon on the weekends,” my father added.
“I have to do a lot of homework.” I poured myself some cereal and joined them.
“Check her for a fever, Marjorie.”
“Ha, ha, very funny.” I didn’t even look at him, worried he’d see in my eyes that I was lying about the whole homework thing. “I’m feeling fine.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with a certain boy who lives down the street does it?” my mother asked.
“God, Mom …” I stood up with my bowl and ate at the sink, using every bit of acting power I had in me to keep the truth from my face.
“Sorry. I was just asking.”
“Are you planning on going over there?” my father asked.
The thing I’d been trying to avoid was happening; all eyes were on me, my parents no longer paying any attention to their sudoku puzzles or crosswords.
“I was thinking about it.” Munch, munch, munch, I sure do love this healthy cereal! “We have this monster physics final and Jason’s pretty good at that stuff.” That part wasn’t a lie. He was pretty good at it. I’d seen his tests when the teacher passed them back from the front of the classroom. Normally the exam papers that went all the way to the back row had low grades on them, but I’d never seen Jason get less than a B, at least in that subject.
