Surviving Adam Meade

by Shannon Klare

  “They have bagels!” Adam said, meeting me beside the urn. He held a plate of food and grabbed one from the middle. “Cinnamon is my favorite,” he said, taking a big whiff.

  I grabbed a disposable cup from the stack and pressed the release button on the urn. It sputtered but refused to give me caffeine. That was okay. There was another urn of …

  DECAF?

  “No. No. Nooooo.”

  I tried the first urn again, but nothing came out. Panicked, I shook the urn and pushed the button again.

  Adam’s hand rested on my shoulder, and I spun, sending him and his bagels backward. One glance at me, and he tucked his plate to his chest.

  “Your face is red,” he said. “Why?”

  “Coffee,” I whispered, pointing at the urn. “There isn’t any. Why isn’t there coffee?!”

  Adam glanced around the room like he was seeking the quickest escape route. When his eyes settled on the main entrance, he handed me his plate. “Hold these.”

  “Bagels don’t replace coffee,” I argued.

  “I realize that.”

  He shook the plate, and I took it. He took a step back. “Don’t eat them. They’re mine. I’ll be right back.”

  “But … coffee…”

  “I’ll be right back,” he repeated.

  He ignored my protest and walked out of the room, leaving me standing beside the empty coffee urn with a cloudy mind and a plate full of bagels. When he returned, I’d stolen one.

  “That’s my cinnamon bagel!” he said.

  “And you’re right, it’s delicious.”

  He narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand from behind his back. Tight in his grasp was a portable cup with a lid on it. “Well, I was going to give you this,” he answered, “but I don’t know if you deserve it now.”

  “Adam,” I said, trying to keep my composure, “give me the coffee or I’ll throw your bagels on the ground.”

  “Not the bagels!”

  I shifted the plate so the bagels slid to the rim. “Please don’t make me do this. It’ll hurt you and me both.”

  “But they’re innocent bystanders.”

  “A girl has to do what a girl has to do.”

  He rolled his eyes and handed me the cup. “Fine,” he agreed. “Rain on my parade.”

  “Gladly.” I sipped the caffeine and relished its bitter taste. It wasn’t Starbucks, but it was strong enough to shake my exhaustion.

  “I sent you a Facebook request,” he said, watching me as I raised the cup again. “You okay with us going public?”

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  I grinned and pulled my phone from the pocket of my hoodie. Adam’s request was accepted in less than two seconds, and Riley texted me in less than five.

  “They know,” I said, flashing him the text.

  “Good. Let them.”

  * * *

  The noonday sun hung high in the sky by the time we reached campus and Jordan-Hare Stadium. My dad and Adam had meetings scheduled all afternoon. They met the coaches outside the stadium, and I pivoted, passing the field where the neon run had been the night before.

  The Student Center wasn’t far. I found an empty table on the patio and worked on makeup homework while I waited. Case called me halfway through a math assignment. I welcomed the distraction.

  “Didn’t think you got up this early on the weekends,” I said.

  “Mom made me mow. I didn’t have a choice.”

  I chuckled and closed my book. “She driving you crazy?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “I’ve taken out three loads of trash, helped pull the fall decorations from the attic, and was forced to be the taste tester for something she called eggplant lasagna. When you coming home? I need you here to distract her.”

  “We fly out tomorrow,” I replied. “Think our plane lands around two.”

  “Can’t wait.” He paused, and I heard a door close. “How’s the trip with Meade? Saw you two were official. Thanks for texting me and letting me know. I see how I rank on your need-to-know list.”

  “It was early,” I said. “I was doing you a favor by letting you sleep in.”

  “I sleep like the dead. A text wouldn’t have woken me. You know that.”

  “My bad.”

  “Yeah, your bad,” he said. “So, what happened? How did this go from a football trip to a Claire-and-Adam-get-together trip? Does Dad know? And what was with that picture of you two covered in paint?”

  “Dad doesn’t know it’s official. He knows we went out last night, but he doesn’t know the specifics. This is still a football trip. The pair of them are at the stadium right now. What was your last question?”

  “I thought you were going to watch him,” Case replied.

  “That wasn’t a question,” I answered. He sighed, and I relaxed into my chair. “I can feel you judging me from North Carolina. Unless you want me judging your social life, get your nose out of mine.”

  “You can do what you want, Claire, but I’m the one who has to watch you mope around the house when it doesn’t work out. I’m also the one on a team with him. I don’t want to feel obligated to throat-punch him if he breaks you. Pretty sure that would be a morale crusher.”

  “I’m a big girl,” I said. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll pick myself off the ground like I did the last time. It’ll suck, but I can survive Adam. I survived Seth, didn’t I?”

  “Have you heard from Seth?”

  “Have you heard from him?” I replied. Case hesitated. I knew the answer before he admitted it. “Did he call you last night?” I asked, my stomach churning.

  “Yeah,” Case answered.

  I sighed and squeezed the bridge of my nose. A headache lurked behind my temple, the consequence of too little sleep and too much stress.

  “Does Adam know you two planned on going to Auburn together?” Case continued.

  I paled and nausea rose in my throat. That was something only the pair of us knew. Seth and I had agreed on Auburn. We wanted to stay together, experience college together, but things changed. I changed. Now my allegiance to Auburn lay solely with my grandpa’s love of it—my love of it. Seth was out of the picture.

  “Because I’m assuming he doesn’t know,” Case continued.

  “He doesn’t.”

  “Then you need to tell him before he finds out. Seth still plans on going there. At least according to the drunken ramblings I got last night. That has the potential to make things a little messy, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “If the situation was reversed, I’d want to know.”

  “Then tell him,” Case repeated.

  I nodded and glanced at the stadium again. Adam needed to know, but not now—not when we’d bridged the space between us and were finally on the same page.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Tell Adam,” Case answered.

  “I will.”

  15

  I’m Here

  “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “Because I didn’t,” I grumbled.

  My duffel hit the bed and I turned. Case stood in my doorway, his arms crossed as he surveyed me. My nerves were already on edge from trying to figure out how to tell Adam. I didn’t need Case worsening the situation.

  “I couldn’t do it,” I said. “Not when we had a plane ride ahead of us. If Adam got pissed, there’d be nowhere to go. We’d be stuck together, high above the ground. Do you know how awkward that would be?”

  “Claire.” Case raked a hand over his face and shook his head. “I can’t with you right now.”

  “Don’t get mad at me,” I said. “I should be mad at you for talking to my ex.”

  “Seth was my friend before he was your ex. Besides, I was asleep when he called. What’s your excuse?”

  “I was asleep, too,” I answered.

  “You can’t steal my excuse.”

  “But it was the same for both of us.”

  Case pivoted and st
epped into the hallway. “This has disaster written all over it,” he grumbled. “I want no part of it. Seth’s number is getting blocked. Keep whatever goes on between you and Adam far away from me.”

  “Case.”

  His door closed with a slam, and I flung myself onto the bed, my eyes finding the ceiling as if the answers were etched in the paint. Secrets weren’t the way to start a relationship, but neither were complications.

  * * *

  Almost two weeks later, guilt weighed my conscience. I couldn’t carry on while my past gnawed at my future. I had to say something; I had to be honest and hope the truth wouldn’t root itself between Adam and me.

  I worked on game stats, my breath catching as the clock wound down to zero. Rain cascaded in a veil of mist that saturated the turf. Our linemen placed gloved hands to the ground.

  “Red, forty-eight. Red, forty-eight. Set. Hut.”

  Adam received the snap and shuffled backward, his eyes darting side to side as his best friend sprinted down the field. Tate was closing the gap to the end zone, but he was too covered by the defense to make a completion. There was no way Adam could get the ball there without it being intercepted.

  To the left, a defensive tackle broke the line and charged at him. Adam moved out of the pocket, handing the ball to a running back, who pivoted and slid through a small gap in the defense. He sprinted downfield, bypassing players that tried to catch him. By the time Tate’s coverage got to the other side of the field, it was too late. Our player was already in the end zone.

  Excitement crackled through the air, amplified when special teams took the field and sealed our win, but the victory wasn’t as sweet. Until I could get my head on the present, everything would be tainted.

  The stands emptied, and arms wrapped around me in a hug. My mom stood behind me with a huge foam finger and every piece of Pader High clothing she could find.

  “Where’s your dad?” she asked, releasing me as she scanned the sidelines.

  “On the field.”

  She latched on to my arm as we navigated the crowd. Adam stood in the end zone, his helmet tucked under his arm as soaked strands of hair clung to his forehead. My dad stood beside him, smiling as they talked with people decked in collegiate gear.

  “UNC would like you to visit as soon as possible,” one of the guys said. We stopped a few feet over to give them privacy, but their conversation was easily overheard.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” interjected another guy, wearing a crimson-and-white polo. “Alabama grabbed last year’s national championship. We’re on track to win again.”

  “You’re playing LSU Saturday,” the UNC coach pointed out. “They’ll knock you off number one.”

  “Worry about your own game,” Alabama’s coach replied. He looked at Adam again, smiling beneath his umbrella. “I heard you recently visited one of our rivals. Come back to Alabama. You won’t be disappointed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The coach patted Adam on the shoulder, and I waited, smiling despite the knot in my throat. I didn’t want to wreck his happiness, but I was worried.

  “Hi, dear,” Wanda said, greeting me as my mom stepped away to talk to Riley’s parents. Wanda wore a poncho, but her face was sallow beneath the hood’s yellow vinyl. Her icy fingers wrapped around my forearm. I covered them and glanced at Adam. He remained in conversation with the UNC scout.

  “More colleges?” she asked, her gaze following mine.

  “UNC,” I said. “Alabama was there a little bit ago, but they’re gone now. I think Adam was interested.”

  She stumbled backward, her thin fingers becoming limp as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. I caught her before she hit the ground.

  “Adam!”

  People crowded around as I slumped to the ground beneath Wanda’s weight.

  “Wanda,” I said, fear holding my heart as Adam screamed to let him through. “Wanda? Wanda.”

  * * *

  I hated hospitals.

  The smell of antiseptic carried through miles of halls, the dull citrus smell marred by the stench of stale cafeteria food. The walls were white, their monotonous decor broken only by the occasional poster. Each room beeped from machines inside. The repetitive sound of heart monitors was disrupted only by nurses and doctors as they entered and exited the rooms.

  My experience with hospitals was limited, but every visit was the same. Put on a smile, act like everything is okay, and leave wondering if that was good-bye. In a place filled with lifelines, the only thing I could think about was death. I felt awful for being like that, especially now.

  I bought a water from the vending machine and crossed the tiled floor. Visiting hours were over. They’d been over since we arrived with the ambulance, but Adam asked me to stay. He was too torn up to leave alone, so my parents sought a hotel in Charlotte while we waited for news.

  Nurses sat behind their station, filling out charts and typing on the computer. They gave me a nod of acknowledgment as I turned toward Wanda’s room. Adam stood outside the door, talking to the doctor. I slowed, trying to decide whether to wait in the waiting room or carry on.

  “We’ll check her in the morning,” the doctor said, a folder in his hand. “Once we get a scan, we’ll know.”

  Adam nodded and pushed a hand through his hair. His eyes met mine as the doctor stepped away. He had changed into street clothes as soon as Wanda was admitted, but he was the same scared guy who’d rushed to the sidelines with his grandma in his arms.

  “How is she?” I asked.

  “Worse than she’s been,” he answered. He paused, shaking his head. “She has leukemia, Claire.”

  Dread flooded my veins.

  “We found out right after school started.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He shifted the weight on his feet and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes on the floor. “She’s been on chemo, but it’s been rougher on her than the cancer. Right now, they want to do a scan. If it has spread too far, we have to decide if—”

  A V creased the space between his brows, and his eyes burned red, brimming with tears that spilled over his cheeks in a steady stream.

  “Claire, she’s the only family I have. What am I supposed to do?”

  I wrapped him in a hug as he crumbled outside Wanda’s hospital room. I didn’t have the answers. I couldn’t do anything but try and hold together pieces that splintered off and crashed to the floor.

  Adam pulled away, swiping his hands under his eyes. “I need to pull myself together,” he said, his voice wracked with emotion. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” I answered.

  My phone buzzed, and he blew a steady breath. When I handed him the water, he twisted the cap and took a long swig. I glanced at my phone, my mom’s name crossing the screen.

  “You should go,” he said as he closed the bottle.

  “I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He handed me the water, but I shook my head. “I’ll call you first thing in the morning and let you know if anything’s changed,” he said, grabbing my hand as we found the elevator. “Can you call Tate for me? My phone is dead, but he’ll want to know what’s going on.”

  “You can use my phone.”

  Adam shook his head. “I don’t want to rehash everything that’s happened tonight. Just tell him I’m fine and to focus on this week’s game. I don’t want to come back to a team that’s forgotten how to block and a receiver who doesn’t remember the plays. This is my last year to get to state. We’re bringing that trophy home one way or the other.”

  “Football can wait,” I answered.

  “Just because I’m here doesn’t mean the world stopped spinning.”

  We entered the elevator, and the doors slid shut. Adam tugged me to him, his hands finding the small of my back. He looked exhausted as he lowered his forehead to mine and let out a ragged sigh.

  “I’m here if you need me,” I told him. “Just call. I�
��ll be here as fast as a car will take me.”

  “I will.” He kissed me as the elevator jolted to a stop and slid open to the main floor.

  We walked to the exit, pausing to let the security guard know Adam would be right back. Once we stepped into the cool October night, my parents greeted us.

  “We’ll be back in the morning,” my dad said. “Try to get some sleep between now and then. Okay? Getting overly exhausted won’t help anyone.”

  “Yes, sir.” Adam nodded. My mom pulled him in for a hug. Once she released him, he reached for me. “I’ll text you later,” he said, his arms strong around my waist.

  “Let me know if anything changes,” I answered, nestling against his chest and hugging him tight. “You’re not alone. Remember that.”

  “I know. See you tomorrow, Collins.”

  “Good night, Meade.”

  16

  Fate

  Terminal.

  Worries about Seth, worries about college, everything paled in comparison to Wanda’s eight-letter diagnosis. The doctors gave her until June and said they would do everything in their power to postpone the inevitable. Wanda was ready to fight. She would always fight.

  “Thought you were headed to Charlotte,” my mom said, glancing at me from the kitchen.

  “Thought you were headed to the game,” I answered.

  I paused in our living room and searched for my sunglasses. I had told Adam I would stop by the hospital on my way to the game, but it was too bright to make the trip without them.

  “Have you seen my sunglasses?” I asked, staring at my mom as she straightened her bedazzled jersey. “I thought I left them in here.”

  “Check your room.”

  I found them beside my laptop, where my Alabama application was still visible on the screen. The application was halfway completed, and I felt like I was cheating on Auburn by even entertaining the idea.

  “Claire!” my mom called from the kitchen. “You’ve got something in the mail!”

  I slid the sunglasses over my hair and took the stairs two at a time. My mom was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the island.