The Bad Boy and the Tomboy

by Nicole Nwosu

  Lucas and Joey joined the conversation, Joey pushing aside one of the boys on the couch. Cedric gestured to the other boy. He looked familiar. He probably went to our school. “That’s Christian. Another of the twins’ brothers. Basically, my own. They’re always at our house.”

  “Are all your cousins on your dad’s side boys?” I froze when Lucas and Joey said yes at the same time.

  “You two have got to stop doing that, geez,” Ivan said. “You’re freaking Macy out.”

  “Twins run in the Cahill family,” Peter mumbled, glancing over at Sam.

  Ivan’s phone rang in his pocket and he pulled it out to answer it. When he raised his voice everyone’s eyes fell to him. “That was Mum. It’s time for lunch.”

  Caleb was devouring his plate beside me and it took everything in my will to not eat the same way. Instead, I focused on the fake elevator music in the air as adults spoke and kids ran around. Mrs. Cahill, in a nice white dress, stood next to Phillip. He took presents from people, grinning adorably and thanking them. I turned to Cedric. “When you said this was like a formal ball, I really didn’t believe you.”

  “My family always kind of overdoes it when it comes to parties,” Cedric explained. “It’s a surprise that they used the backyard instead of renting out a ballroom. Doesn’t stop people from acting like we’re a royal family from the 1800s.”

  Sam showed up at our table, grabbing a drink from a waiter’s tray and downing the glass in one go. “It’s more like a way for their daddies dearest to network.” Phillip ran over to him. “You all right, buddy? You having fun?”

  Phillip nodded excitedly. “I want cake.”

  “Wait.” Natasha stopped Phillip. “How much cake have you had? Phil.”

  “It’s my birthday.” Phillip turned to me. “Can we play soccer later?”

  Sam squeezed his cousin’s shoulders. “Football.” He shook his cousin playfully by his shoulders, making Phillip burst into laughter. “We say football.”

  “Macy, can we play football later?” Phillip’s excitement had me agree to his question. He pulled Sam down to tell him something and the smile fell from Sam’s face.

  Sam bent to his cousin’s level, suddenly sad, and I had a good idea that what they had spoken about involved Sam’s family. “I wish everyone was here too. Go back to your mum. Eat loads of cake.”

  Cedric tapped me on the hand. “Are you up for dancing or you want to go inside?”

  “Inside.”

  I grabbed my plate, following him. Not many people were inside the large house as we walked through and up the big set of stairs near the front. “You’d better not forget me,” Cedric said. “When you go off to university.”

  “Ced, I haven’t even picked one yet,” I said. “Besides, it’s impossible to forget you. I can’t forget the guy who almost blew up one of our chem labs last year.”

  “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “Sometimes chemicals come together and release toxic gases?”

  “Mace.” He stepped forward to open his room door, then pulled me toward him and kissed me. As I kissed him back, the plate in my other hand almost slipped my mind. I set it on one of his dressers and he shut his door. “Believe what you want. I didn’t blow it up.”

  “I said almost.” Falling backward on his bed, I hit the soft duvet, and then his lips were pressed against my own once again. And as the kiss grew deeper, I was reminded that we’d done this multiple times, mostly in his car, and it had never been this intense before.

  My heart raced faster when he took off his blazer and tossed it to the floor. And just as I realized what might happen next, the door opened. Cedric got off me, scowling at one of his cousins—Christian, who was standing at the threshold.

  “Chris, get out,” Cedric said.

  His cousin was quick to close the door behind him. Cedric leaned his head back against the wall, his face scrunching up in a cute way. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay.” Rugby posters hung on the walls, and there were pictures on his desk of his team. I picked up one with a lot of people in it, noticing the number of boys in one picture. “Is this your entire family?”

  Cedric walked over. “Yeah, the Cahill side.”

  “So many boys.”

  “Four uncles and no aunts on Dad’s side. Bethany was the only girl.”

  “The only girl?” I repeated in surprise. “Wow.”

  Cedric pointed at a person in the photograph. “That was her.”

  The girl in the photograph stood between Sam and Ivan. She was pretty, with straight, long, brown hair and a captivating grin identical to Sam’s.

  “My dad’s the eldest. He and my uncle James, Sam’s father, run the company that Ivan is going to take over.”

  “Ivan?” My eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

  “Years of battle between giving it to him and some of my family members, but it was decided he was the right man for the job if it came down to him.”

  “That’s a lot of responsibility.” I put the frame down. “I’ll be back. I need to head to the bathroom.”

  After closing the door behind me, I moved along the hallway. When I turned a corner, I almost bumped into someone’s chest, their hands on my arms the only things stabilizing me. “Always so damn clumsy,” he said.

  “What are you doing?” Sam’s focus went over my shoulder. “Diana.”

  She was heading over with a group of her friends and Sam backed us against the wall, putting an arm up to block the side of my face.

  “Just pretend we’re busy,” he mumbled in my ear. I swallowed hard, nervous about the feeling of his other hand on my waist bringing me in close, moving to the middle of my back.

  Out of instinct I took a deep breath and that didn’t help. Sam smelled good. The chatter quieted as Diana and her friends disappeared. “She’s gone.” I hoped he couldn’t hear my rapid heartbeat as it thudded in my ears.

  As if I was on fire, Sam yanked his hands off me and fixed his shirt. He looked everywhere but at me, and I didn’t blame him. His natural confidence was shaken, and he ran a hand through his hair, mumbling, “Thanks.”

  He walked away from me, heading back down the stairs.

  12

  Didn’t Get the Memo

  The following Sunday evening, Cedric took a left in his car, heading in the direction of my house when I said, “You fell four times!”

  Yesterday’s party seemed successful judging by Phillip’s cheery mood, and I hadn’t spoken to Sam since what happened in the hallway yesterday. Cedric and I were coming home from an afternoon of skating, and bantered about the race we’d had on the ice rink.

  “You pushed me!” he said. “Besides, you kept making other people fall too.”

  “They were in the way. We were racing—it’s not my fault you’re a sore loser.”

  “Instead you blaze past them and not look back to see them fall?”

  “They obviously didn’t get the memo,” I muttered as he pulled up in front of my house.

  “We’ve got company,” Cedric said. I turned to see Justin’s head by the window, an irritated expression clouding his face.

  Why did he look so mad? My heart dropped at the realization of what day it was. It was Sunday. We were supposed to go get the game today. “I should go.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  I agreed, kissing him once before exiting the car. When I got inside, I found my brother in the basement, his fingers aggressively clicking the buttons on a controller as he played a game.

  The game.

  Crap. “Justin—”

  “I don’t care,” he said, eyes on the screen.

  “I lost track of time.”

  “I don’t care,” he repeated.

  “Don’t be immature.”

  “I’m immature?” He paused the game and stood u
p to face me. “We’ve been waiting to play this for the longest time. We literally had a countdown and you decided that a date with your boyfriend is better?” He scoffed. “The Macy I knew wouldn’t do shit like this. You’re acting like it’s not a big deal.”

  “Because it’s not. We can play it right now. Dude, there’s no way you can actually be this high-strung about it.”

  “Don’t start acting like you suddenly know who I am outside that camera of yours. I’m not going to chill out.”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  “You didn’t show up.”

  “And I showed up now.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What? Justin, I’m sorry I didn’t get the game with you and that I wasn’t here to play it. Honestly, it completely slipped my mind.”

  “Of course, it slipped your mind,” he muttered. “I didn’t think you starting to date would turn you into such a bitch.”

  I took a step back at his bitter tone. “Justin.”

  “Leave. I don’t want to fucking talk to you.” He sat back down on the couch, grabbing the controller again.

  He meant it. When I reached my room, I took out my phone, my fingers hovering over Andrew’s contact then Jasmine’s contact before retracting. They were out together. Without thinking, I pressed a different name.

  “Hazel?” Sam answered. “I’m surprised you called.” I opened my mouth to give him a typical response but couldn’t get the words out, tears blurring my vision. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” He hung up and as fast he ended the call, he was calling again, this time to video chat. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” After he hung up, I changed, trying not to let my emotions get the best of me as I pulled on sweats. I made my way outside, turning on the porch lights and sitting on the front steps to wait. Sam’s car pulled into the driveway a few minutes later.

  “I’m certain you broke a few laws while driving,” I mumbled when he walked toward me and pulled me up. And without any warning, I was engulfed in his strong arms, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.

  “You’re probably the first person I’ve hugged besides my aunt since I’ve gotten here.” He was just trying to cheer me up but I laughed anyway. “There’s that weird laugh I’ve grown accustomed to . . . unfortunately.” I slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “And there’s the Hazel I know.”

  “Why do you call me Hazel?”

  “Your eyes.”

  I knitted my eyebrows in confusion. “They’re brown.”

  He sighed. “When you’re happy, they get lighter. Almost hazel. Especially when you’re laughing. Now, what happened?”

  As I recounted what had happened, Sam listened intently. “You and Justin are obviously very close. He didn’t mean what he said when he called you that.”

  “He still said it.”

  “He didn’t mean it,” Sam repeated. “You made a promise and you broke it. That’s what’s bothering him—because he wants to spend time with you before you leave. Especially since you have a boyfriend now and postsecondary coming up. I think he’s just scared. It’s clear that you Andersons aren’t big fans of change.”

  “It’s been like that since our mom died,” I confessed with a heavy heart. “We’re actually going to see our grandmother, her mom, over spring break for the first time in years.”

  “I think your mum would be happy with the way you two turned out.” Tears blurred my vision once again and I was quick to wipe them away. Sam’s eyes widened as he reached out to do it for me hastily. “No, no. Hazel eyes only!” He paused. “Why did you call me?”

  “You’d tell me what I needed to hear and not what I wanted to hear,” I admitted, pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my head. “Where were you coming from?”

  “Caleb’s. He doesn’t live far from you. He was going off about an alien theory he’d read in a book. If anything, you kind of saved me.” He smiled. “What would you have done? Call him a dumbegg?”

  “Can you not make fun of me?”

  “You’re asking to be made fun of by saying dumbegg.”

  His relentless joking was an attempt to make me feel better and it was working. “Why are you like this with me?”

  “It’s fun,” he teased.

  “Why? Didn’t have enough fun flirting with the girls today?”

  “Didn’t do much flirting today.”

  “It’s because you don’t have the motorcycle, right?” I teased.

  “I don’t need the motorcycle to get girls.”

  “Really?” I taunted him, my mood lifting at our banter. “I have yet to see this motorcycle. It’s not snowing anymore. You’re slacking on the bad-boy persona, Sam.”

  “I’m glad you’re feeling much better.” He took the two strings of my sweater and yanked on them. I groaned, loosening my hood as he laughed yet again.

  “What’s up with you and Justin?” Dad asked the following Monday after school, standing at the threshold of my door. “You guys aren’t speaking?”

  “He’s mad at me,” I admitted, closing my laptop. Dad knew about the game—Justin and I had been speaking about it every time we had dinner. But last night when my brother didn’t say a word at the dinner table and breezed right by me when he came from the rec center after playing basketball with his friends, it was obvious what he was doing.

  My dad disappeared and there was a brief murmur of chatter from Justin’s room before my brother was pulled into my room. “I’m going to leave,” Dad said. “When I come back, if you two still aren’t talking then I’ll get involved. Do we want me involved?”

  Justin and I both grumbled no, and Dad seemed satisfied by our response, closing my door behind him. My brother’s head hung low. “I never meant what I said when I called you a bitch. It was the last thing I would ever say to you.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I should have been there when I said I would be,” I admitted. He sat down next to me on the bed. “We were looking forward to the game for months. But do you really think I have no idea who you are? Outside of”—I wiggled my camera hanging around my neck—“this?”

  “You do,” he insisted. “I don’t know. I just think you’re not going to when you’re gone.”

  “Nothing is going to change between us,” I promised. “Believe it or not, that’s one of the only things that’s stayed constant since Mom and Dad mentioned they were having another kid. Am I supposed to forget my brother who likes basketball more than the next guy? Or that you hate cheese-flavored chips because the color reminds you of when you threw up on your eleventh birthday when you had too much cake?” His face grimaced at the memory. “I love you, Patrick.”

  I pulled him into a hug, which he returned. “I love you, too, Sandy.”

  “Now, the game?” My brother pulled me out of my room, excitement in his eyes as he explained the levels he had played through last night.

  Jon Ming, Andrew, and I stood at my locker on Tuesday between the first and second periods. I rushed to put my books in my bag as Jon Ming told us about how he was in the process of teaching himself Tagalog. Down the hallway, Sam leaned against a locker, a girl talking to him.

  “Hey,” Cedric said when he approached us.

  “Hey.” My eyebrows furrowed when Sam started doing exactly what I thought he’d do when he leaned toward the girl and kissed her. The kiss didn’t last long because a teacher broke them apart.

  “Not surprised,” Cedric muttered as Sam, who started to get in an argument with the teacher, was handed a pink slip. Sam sneered as he took it and the teacher walked away. Sam waved in our direction, then made his way down the hallway.

  “Shit,” Andrew breathed. “I’ve got to ask Sam about calculus.”

  Irritation flashed in Cedric’s eyes but Andrew didn’t notice. “Oh, and I saw him at the rec center th
e other day and Mace, you’re right. He’s sick at soccer.” Jon Ming hummed in agreement.

  The two headed off to find Sam and I turned to Cedric, who was clearly annoyed by all the talk about his cousin. That was when I noticed the bruises on his arm. “What happened?”

  Cedric pulled his arm away from my hold. “It was a tough rugby practice yesterday. Don’t worry, Mace.” He kissed me. “I’ll see you later.”

  He walked away as Jasmine approached me, ready to walk to class together. Just then, a group of girls passed by. Ivy, one of Beatrice’s close friends, eyed me up and down before turning her nose up at me. “Was that from Beatrice? Is she still harboring some idea that Sam and I are a thing?”

  “Probably,” Jasmine grumbled. “Ignore them and her. She’s mad because he doesn’t want her anymore.”

  “If Sam could do us all a favor and not get us involved in what happens when he can’t keep it in his pants, that’d be great,” I muttered, the image of him and the girl kissing moments ago still replaying in my head.

  The ball soared into the air and hit the back of the net with ease. Brandon cursed under his breath from his position in the net but gave me a high five nevertheless. As I managed to score on the rest of my teammates during the scrimmage, Coach wasn’t focused on the play. Instead, he spoke to Sam, who was sitting on the bleachers.

  Whenever Sam watched practice, he’d make little comments afterward to me. The occasional “You should’ve passed it to so-and-so, they were open” or “I know you could have done that play better.”

  Talking to Coach was a first. I lingered behind at the end of practice, ready to play one-on-one with Sam. “What were you talking to Coach about?” I asked as he put on his cleats.

  “He said he’s seen me around here and asked why I wasn’t on the team. Said if I wanted to play, he would give me a shot.”

  “Are you going to think about it?” Sam didn’t answer me. “When was the last time you played soccer with a team?”

  “Probably about two years ago.”