SWAY (Part 1)

by Jennifer Davis

  “What? Why not?” Ryan appealed.

  “Well, I still have another year of high school, but I want to concentrate on getting my undergrad work finished as quickly as possible.”

  “What’s your hurry, dear?” Valerie asked. I imagined she was hoping I would announce that I had a terminal illness.

  “I want to go to medical school.”

  “Oh, you want to be a doctor,” she beamed, falsely advertising excitement for me. “What is your specialty going to be?”

  “Psychiatry.” I looked right at her when I said it.

  “Oh,” she gasped, placing her hand against her chest. “I’m sorry, dear. I thought you were going to medical school to become a real doctor.”

  “That’s okay.” I winked at her, insinuating that she and I would keep her faux pas between us. Ryan grinned slightly, but John’s eyes were about to bug out of his head.

  Valerie forced a smile, not amused. “I think what you want to do is commendable. It takes a special person to want to surround themselves with suicidal people all day,” she said, then took a drink of her wine.

  “I agree. Both of my parents are psychiatrists. Neither one of them have lost a patient in twenty-eight years of practicing. With the right therapy and drug regimen, if needed, suicide can be prevented in many cases of those considering it. And not every person under the care of a psychiatrist is suicidal, by the way.”

  “That is really fantastic,” Valerie forced out through gritted teeth, moving her attention slowly away from me to Bart.

  “Can I get you anything, Bart?” she asked sweetly, plastic smile on her lips. Bart was obviously uncomfortable, understanding now that Ryan and I were more than friends, and that Valerie wasn’t thrilled about it.

  “Uh…no, thank you. I…uh—I imagine I should get down to business here.” Bart nervously fumbled through his papers before presenting his offer in what I thought was probably record time. Ryan was gracious and promised to consider it carefully, but I was sure the other offers were comparable. There was only so much they could legally promise him.

  The moment Bart finished I was ready to leave. I offered to help clean up, annoying Valerie further. She didn’t want me to be courteous or well mannered. She wanted me to be what she imagined me as—unsuitable for her son.

  After he saw Bart out, Ryan asked me to go on downstairs without him. “Please don’t say anything to her,” I begged him. “Just let it go. I don’t want to cause an argument between the two of you.”

  “She needs to be set straight.”

  “Just come with me,” I asked nicely. “Please. If you say something to her, she’ll think she got to me. It’ll piss her off more if we ignore her.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes and reluctantly gave in, mumbling something about psychology.

  Downstairs, he plopped down on the couch, sighed, and held his arms out for me. I snuggled against his chest and closed my eyes.

  “I’m sorry about the way she acted,” Ryan said softly.

  “I had fair warning. She wasn’t that bad actually.” I imagined there would be more to come, that I hadn’t seen a fraction of her potential yet. I would definitely be getting a heavy dose if I stuck around.

  “I think it threw her when Bart knew who you were,” Ryan laughed. “She looked so mad.”

  “That was a little funny,” I admitted.

  “You held your own with her though. That was even funnier.”

  “I hope John’s not upset with me. I wasn’t sure—the look on his face.” I hoped I hadn’t embarrassed him or made him think badly of me.

  “No way. He loves you,” Ryan sang. That made one of the Mullins men. I wanted to be two for two.

  I contemplated whether I should, but I had to ask. “So your mom’s, like, what? Twenty-five?”

  “No,” he snickered. “But I think she likes to think so sometimes.”

  “So?” I was awaiting the announcement of her real age.

  “She’s thirty-eight. My dad’s ten years older than she is. They met when she was eighteen and dating someone else. She dumped that guy to marry my dad. I think she picked him because he’d just become famous for winning a high profile case for some chemical company, making him a multi-millionaire.”

  “Huh.” I found that interesting. It seemed that ole Val was possibly the kind of girl she was trying to make me out to be. I didn’t get the feeling she was too interested in John now that he was a do-gooder, fighting for the rights of the unfortunate and socially unsophisticated.

  “That’s enough about them,” Ryan said, leaning my head back so he could kiss me. When we stopped, I groaned. It was late and we had school in the morning.

  “I need to go home,” I reluctantly reminded him.

  “Stay,” he said, softly brushing his fingers across the back of my hand.

  “I can’t. I don’t have a shirt I can wear to school.” Nothing that would pass the dress code anyway. Bikini tops and tanks weren’t exactly allowed.

  “You can wear one of mine.”

  “That wouldn’t start any rumors at all, would it?”

  “Everybody already knows we’re dating. So what if you show up in one of my shirts?”

  I wanted to laugh at just how clueless he was. “You don’t fully understand the convoluted mind of a jealous teenage girl at all, do you?” I stared at him in wonder. Ryan had no idea what would happen if I wore his clothes to school.

  “Guess not,” he frowned.

  “Let me explain it to you. If I showed up wearing one of your shirts in the morning, I imagine there would be about two hundred angry girls dying to push me into traffic. Not to mention all the glaring, whispering, and falsely accusing me of being a dirty slut, because that’s what dirty sluts do. They take a piece of clothing from their conquests to advertise to everyone who they’ve recently given it up to.”

  Ryan laughed. I wasn’t sure if it was the thought of me being a dirty slut that was so funny or how one t-shirt could cause such a ridiculous scandal.

  “Well, I can’t have people thinking you’re a dirty slut.” He grinned, amused by the insight. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Thank You. But…” I wrinkled my nose. “Could I still have a shirt to take with me?” I asked, smiling sheepishly at him.

  “Well, that depends,” he stated, amusement in his voice.

  “On what?”

  “What you’re going to do with it?”

  “Wear it to bed,” I revealed shyly.

  Ryan released a raspy grin. “Lucky shirt.”

  He took my hand and walked me to his closet. “Which one do you want?” he asked, sliding the hangers down the rod, examining each shirt briefly.

  “The one you’re wearing,” I confessed quietly.

  Ryan suspended his search and turned to look at me. “It smells like you,” I mumbled, then chewed on the corner of my mouth, hopeful he wouldn’t think I was being lame.

  Ryan pulled the shirt from his body. My heart beat wildly, making me nervous and queasy. I had seen Ryan without a shirt before, and I had been alone with him before, but the combination of the two was making it hard for me to breathe.

  Unsteadily, I crept toward him, dropping my eyes from his to the shirt as I took it away from him.

  “Thank you,” I muttered. Ryan was silent; his eyes so concentrated on me that I couldn’t explain the way it was making me feel. I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his chest, releasing my breath against his skin. The one I drew in was full of his scent.

  I turned my face to the side so our skin was touching and smoothly slid my arms around his waist, hearing his heart race in his chest. Ryan put one of his arms around me and moved my hair to the side with the other, stroking my face with the back of his fingers. I felt so calm and safe with him. Maybe I would stay. The way I felt, I thought it would be worth the consequences of wearing his clothes to school. Before I could make the choice, Ryan kissed my cheek, and whispered, “I should get you home,” in my hair before releasing m
e.

  ***

  Tuesday, I drove myself to school. We both had games and things to do afterwards. He and John were having dinner with another college representative after his game and I desperately needed to do my laundry.

  I got my clothes washed and put away, dusted and vacuumed my room and caught up with Lindsay. She and Shawn were still dating, and unlike Ryan and me, they’d only waited about five hours until they “got it on” as she put it.

  When I told her we hadn’t, she rolled her eyes and told me she hoped she would still be young enough to be interested in hearing about it when we finally slept together.

  20

  Ryan hugged me as soon as he came through the door. “I really missed you yesterday,” he said, as if the revelation surprised him.

  “I really missed you, too. How did dinner go last night?”

  “It was fine.”

  “What’d they say?”

  “The usual,” he said quickly, then changed the subject. “I want to show you something.” One of his hands was behind his back, his mouth sporting a cheesy grin.

  “What is it?”

  “You made the paper, Reynolds.”

  It took a second for that to sink into my brain. Ryan held in front of me a section of the paper, folded over, displaying a photo of me pitching. I looked at him, my face contorted. “Why am I in The Banner? I didn’t give anyone permission to do this.” I swiped the article from Ryan’s hands, pacing, flailing it around without looking at it again.

  “Don’t I have to give them permission to print my picture?” Ryan looked a little disappointed by my reaction. “No, they don’t have to have your permission…” He shook his head. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

  I ignored that. “How did they even get this picture?” I looked at him as if he knew and had to tell me. He was in the paper enough. He should know how this happened.

  “They could have gotten it from anywhere. Someone in the stands, the yearbook staff photographer, a scout. The coaches could have submitted it—who knows?” He shrugged.

  “Ryan,” I whined. I felt bad for semi-freaking out. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to me. “I’m sorry. I’m just uncomfortable with being singled out like this. If the rest of the team had been included or even just one more person from the team—” I stopped mid-thought. “Did you read it?”

  Ryan smiled coolly, calming me slightly. “I did read it, and you’re not the only player from Hurst they mentioned, so don’t worry. They definitely didn’t single you out.” He took the paper away from me and quickly kissed my forehead. “Come on, let’s get going.”

  ***

  “What’s up, super couple?” A bitter voice snapped as Ryan and I walked down the crowded main hallway toward my locker.

  “Better get to class super couple. You don’t want to keep everyone waiting.” I heard, along with murmured heckling and snotty laughter.

  “Is that meant for us?” I asked, glancing around, trying to find someone else they could be talking about.

  “Ignore it,” Ryan instructed, taking my hand, but it was sort of hard to ignore the groans and simulated puke sounds that followed us all the way to my locker. I was used to the general dirty looks, but seriously. Pretending to vomit at the sight of me with Ryan was a new, hostile low.

  I was digging in my locker for my Spanish book when I heard Kristy Prince behind me. “I now know who I’d have to screw to get my picture in the paper.”

  I whipped around, but Ryan was already correcting her before I could get my mouth open. “She didn’t sleep with anyone for that article. She earned it by doing the work.”

  Kristy smirked. “You’re going to tell me that this one,” she pointed at me, “being plastered, almost life size, over the front page of the sports section this morning had nothing to do with you?”

  “I don’t control what the sports writers put in the paper, Kristy.”

  She laughed. “Well, you’re what they write about most, so why wouldn’t they snatch up the weak accomplishment of your flavor of the month and turn it into front page news?”

  “She’s not—that’s not—,” Ryan paused, exhaling hard. I could tell she was getting under his skin. “It’s not a weak accomplishment. She broke a record—” “She broke a record that was set last year,” Kristy interrupted, her tone vicious and impatient. “I got in at Duke,” she bellowed, “which was completely ignored, along with Missy’s partial scholarship to Ohio State—” Ryan cut her off. “That’s enough,” he said firmly.

  “Oh, but there’s so much more,” she broadcast, fiercely glaring at him.

  “It’s done,” Ryan said plainly, turned his back to Kristy and faced me. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just jealous.” He smiled, and for a moment, I tuned out Kristy’s voice, still ranting behind us.

  “There were other records broken, too. But what I accomplished is more important! And you know why it was ignored in favor of what Annie did! It’s because I’m not screwing you! Because I’m not giving it up to the guy who’s most likely to get me noticed.”

  A blinding rage ignited inside me as she went on. An anger so raw, it had to have come from primal instincts I had no idea dwelled within me.

  “I guess I need to let you get in my panties, too, so somebody will acknowledge my college acceptance. Lord knows it wouldn’t be hard to persuade you, Ryan, with your reputation. Should be even easier now that you’re slummin’ it with her.”

  Ryan felt it coming. “Annie,” he said warily.

  “That’s it!” I screamed, throwing my book down.

  “Annie. Don’t!” Ryan’s voice urged before I lunged at her.

  The next thing I knew, I was kicking and screaming in Ryan’s arms, clutching two handfuls of Kristy Prince’s bleach blond hair. We were surrounded by a crowd of onlookers, cheering while Kristy shouted profanities at me.

  A teacher and one of the Vice Principals took Kristy and me to the office. Ryan tried to come, but they wouldn’t let him.

  “She attacked me!” Kristy proclaimed as we were escorted into Principal Patton’s office.

  “Have a seat, Ms. Prince,” he instructed. She and I sat in chairs across from his desk.

  “Now,” he said, lacing his fingers together, resting the clump his hands formed against his desk and leaned toward us.

  “Ms. Reynolds, please explain what happened.”

  “Why are you asking her? Don’t you see what she did to me?” Kristy squawked, whirling her hands around in front of her crumpled clothes and matted hair.

  “You’ll have a turn to speak,” he said, giving her a look that meant she needed to be quiet.

  He nodded to me. “Continue.”

  “Kristy approached me this morning about an article in The Banner—” “And then she attacked me like some crazed mountain lion,” Kristy blurted, cutting me off, patting her hands around her head, feeling for bald spots.

  It was so hard for me to keep from laughing. The adrenaline that had been so powerful that it forced to me almost completely black out when I was fighting with her was wearing off and somehow I felt sublimely peaceful. I didn’t care if I got three days. I didn’t care if I had to sit out three games. I didn’t care if they called my parents to pick me up. I didn’t care because I knew that from now on Kristy Prince would never again provoke me.

  “There has to be a reason for Ms. Reynolds’s actions, Ms. Prince.”

  “There is. She’s an insane freak show,” Kristy growled.

  Principal Patton sucked in a deep breath and noisily blew it out, cutting his eyes to Kristy. “Ms. Prince, straight A students who’ve never been in trouble before don’t just attack other students without cause, and if you can’t be quiet while Ms. Reynolds reveals that cause then you can wait outside my office and I’ll deal with you individually.”

  “Fine,” Kristy barked.

  “Continue. Again. Ms. Reynolds.”

  “Kristy accused me of sleeping with Ryan Mullins to get my
picture in the paper, which isn’t true.”

  Kristy scoffed, rolling her eyes. “And then she offered herself up to him so that—and I quote—someone would acknowledge that she got in at Duke. Unquote.”

  “Is that true, Ms. Prince?

  “You had to be there—for the whole conversation.”

  “What conversation? I said exactly two words to you while you ranted at, and argued with, and then threw yourself at Ryan.”

  Kristy glared at me until Principal Patton’s question drew her attention away.

  “Do you want to file a complaint, Ms. Prince?”

  She ground her teeth and fidgeted a moment. “No. Just forget it,” she grudgingly told him. “Let Ms. Perfect go back to class.”

  “I think that’s a good idea Ms. Prince. You’ll be saving yourself a suspension as well by letting this go. I am advising both of you to keep a safe distance from one another, because next time…” he trailed off ominously. “Now get to class.”

  I was expecting some sort of punishment. I hadn’t realized that going to the principal’s office would be like small claims court. That we could settle on our own terms. But then again a little hair pulling isn’t exactly a big-time offense.

  Ryan got me out of my third period class. I was glad. I wanted to see him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, looking me over, making sure I wasn’t damaged.

  “I’m fine.” I smiled.

  “I can’t believe you were fighting,” he said through a grin.

  “I’m not sure that qualifies as an actual fight. No blood, no bruises, no missing teeth.”

  “If I hadn’t been standing there you would have definitely bloodied something on her.”

  I shrugged.

  “What happened in the office? They obviously didn’t suspend you.”

  “Nothing. Kristy wanted to let it go and Principal Patton agreed.”

  Ryan laughed, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you.” He took my hand and as we strolled down the hall toward the back doors, something hit me.

  “Who’s the other player that was mentioned in the article?”

  “You seemed so put off by being in the paper that I didn’t want to say anything.”