by Dell, T. J.
“Bre-ent” Jennifer sidled up to where they were standing. “Twice in one week, are you following me?” She put one slinky manicured hand on his forearm. Alyssa wasn’t jealous, but she did have an urge to break each of those fingers.
Brent took a discreet half-step backwards slipping one arm around Alyssa until his hand settled possessively low on her hip. “Jenny. Good game wasn’t it?”
“It was a good game. Pete really pulled us out of the fire with that last play.” Jenn paused clearly expecting some kind of reaction—anything to feed her rumor habit. She didn’t get one. Brent stared at her for a few long moments and then smiled slightly when she walked away.
“How do you do that?” Alyssa twisted around to look at him.
“What did I do?”
“You always know exactly what to say or I guess what not to say. I would have been furious with her. I would have mentioned Pete’s fumble at the very least.”
Brent sighed. He seemed to be sighing at her a lot lately. “It isn’t what I’m doing Lyssa. It is something I’m not doing. I’m not that guy. I don’t need to take someone else down to feel better about myself. And it matters exactly zero to me what that sad pathetic girl thinks.”
Alyssa’s jaw dropped open. She was very sure that she’d been insulted, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Oh that’s sweet, they are gonna kiss!” A girl’s voice sounded out from the sea of teenagers and half the heads in the room focused on where Alyssa looked to be twisted in Brent’s embrace.
She gave him a pleading look, and he rolled his eyes at her. The eye rolling thing was getting pretty popular too. “Show’s over guys—get your own girl.” He called out with a good natured smile and led Alyssa out a door into the back yard.
Someone Alyssa thought might be in her English class was standing by a cooler and he handed her a beer. Brent waved his off.
“Since when do you drink beer?” Brent muttered as they walked on.
“I drink.” She was beginning to wish they’d gone straight home after the game.
“Sure wine at thanksgiving, champagne at new years. But you hate beer.”
“I only have one when I come to these things. It is easier that way.” They had come to a stop at the fence. Even in the dark she could see disappointment in his eyes. He sighed deeply and then swept her in front of him so her back was pressed to the fence post. His face lowered to an inch from hers and one hand slipped down her arm until he wrapped it around her hand still holding the beer can. Anyone in the yard would be able to see a couple making out in the shadows. He tipped their hands and the beer can sideways spilling its contents into the grass.
“There.” He whispered as he straightened up.
“Head’s up!” A football came spiraling towards them; Brent turned just in time to make the catch. Some of the guys from the team were playing a game of drunken catch. Brent joined them while Alyssa curled up in the grass, holding her empty can, with the other girlfriends.
Beth sat down with her. “So, Brent Carter huh? What’s up with that?”
“Oh you know—it umm just happened.” Alyssa hedged.
“Okay.” Beth nodded her head. “I gotta say—I never really got you and Pete. Brent’s cool though. I used to have kind of a crush on him you know… in the eighth grade. But hey, no worries. Tommy asked me to the homecoming dance.”
Alyssa wasn’t super surprised. Tommy and Beth were kind of a no brainer. At parties he was always bringing her drinks, and during the games she cheered the loudest when he had the ball. “That’s great Beth. You guys will have a lot of fun.” Beth chattered on about Tommy for a few minutes, but Alyssa was having trouble focusing on the conversation. Eventually Beth wandered off to find someone else to talk to.
At the end of the night Brent walked her to her door. “Thanks I appreciated this.” She said.
Brent’s forehead wrinkled up, and he shook his head. “This is usually when the girl tells me thanks I had fun.”
“Fine. I had fun.” Alyssa flashed her date-smile at him.
“No you didn’t Lyssa. Is there a cheer competition tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Should I be there?”
“You never come to my cheer meets.”
Brent rolled his eyes. “Would Pete have been there?”
“Nope. You are off the hook.”
“Kay. Let’s do something after then. Just the two of us?”
Alyssa nodded and walked through the door. That would be good, she thought. Mixing Brent in with her school life was throwing off her balance. How could she have known it would be this way? People liked her! Half the girls at the party tonight wanted to be her! So why when she let Brent see that girl did she feel as though she’d been found lacking? Where everyone else saw a happy popular pretty cheerleader he seemed to see nothing. She went to bed thinking that maybe she should have had that beer.
Chapter Six
Saturday afternoon Alyssa was in a bit of a rush to get home. All the other girls were going out for pizza to celebrate their win. Alyssa usually would have been happy to join them. Beth wanted to go shopping—she still needed a dress for the dance, and maybe they could hang out at her house after. None of that held any interest for her.
As quickly as she could, Alyssa shed her cheer uniform, scrubbed the glitter from her face, and pulled on more comfortable clothes. Just as she was tugging a green sweater over her head, her phone buzzed. It was Brent.
“Hey, you wanna take a walk with me? It’s warmer today than it has been, could be the last good day.”
“Okay, sure. Meet you out front in ten?”
“Kay.”
“I thought you wanted to take a walk?” Alyssa was surprised to see Brent’s car pulled up to the curb in front of her house.
“I wanted to go down to the pond. Those trees still have their leaves.” Brent held up his camera bag as part of his explanation. The pond was almost big enough to qualify as a lake. It was a very popular gathering place in warm weather, but they would most likely have the area to themselves in October.
And they did. Brent’s car was alone in the parking lot when they started trekking around the edge of the pond to the strip of trees growing at the far end. They walked quietly, and it seemed that the week’s stress hadn’t affected their relationship too badly. Alyssa still felt more comfortable with Brent than anywhere else in the world. He began snapping photos the closer they got to the trees.
They were pretty enough. Still half full of colorful leaves and the pond was icy smooth providing a mirror effect. Alyssa lagged back watching her friend work. She never would have thought twice about the beauty in front of her if not for Brent. She knew without a doubt there would be another photo on her wall soon. When they crossed into the tree line Brent began aiming his camera up into the trees. Above them the afternoon sun was winking in and out from behind branches. It was truly beautiful. Alyssa stood for awhile admiring a view she never would have noticed alone.
“I can’t wait to see them. You are a total artist about this stuff.”
“Thanks.” Brent barely nodded slightly in her direction as he continued on.
Alyssa wasn’t insulted though. He was just like this when he got behind a camera. Completely absorbed. No, she wasn’t insulted—maybe a little jealous though. It must be nice to have something that makes you happy that way. Something that consumes all your concentration—an escape from the every day. Maybe she should get a hobby. Not that she had time for one.
As warm as it was, October hadn’t completely surrendered and the air bit at Alyssa’s skin. Looking around for something to distract her from the weather, her eyes rested on something dirty but glossy at the edge of the path. Someone had abandoned a couple of water bottles on the trail, and further down Alyssa picked up an empty trail mix bag. Alyssa followed along behind Brent picking up the stray bit of litter for another 45 or so minutes. By the time he was ready to head back Alyssa was holding the hem of her sweater
out creating a net to carry her findings.
Back in the parking lot Alyssa emptied her arms into a trash can. Behind her she heard she shutter of Brent’s camera clicking. “Thinking of branching off into garbage?” She asked him when she turned to find the camera trained on her.
“No. Just practicing.”
Alyssa tilted her head, puzzled.
“I have a living art project coming up in my photography class and I’m not too good at people pictures. I was thinking of cheating and using a series exploring the changing of the seasons.” He waved towards the trees. “But that’s a cop out. I know Mr. Arnold will call me out on it.”
“So it has to be a picture of a person?”
“Or an animal and it has to be a series of photos.” Brent packed his camera away and switched it for a football in the trunk of his car. Tossing the ball back and forth between them, they headed back to the open field while the talked. Brent wasn’t the athlete Alyssa was, but he didn’t mind throwing the ball around. “Actually I was hoping you might do me a favor—would you be my subject?”
“Like pose for the camera?” Alyssa stuck her best cheerleader pose, and sparkled her cheeriest smile at him.
“Nah, that doesn’t seem very organic.” He quirked a smile at her. “Just let me tote my camera around with us for a couple of weeks. “Should be pretty easy. You always photograph really well.
“Because I’m so pretty?”
Brent shook his head; laughing, he reached back and threw the ball deep.
Alyssa got too close the edge of the water, and her feet flew out from under her, kicking up a shower of mud. She was scrambling out of the icy brown water when Brent reached her.
“I’m so sorry Lyssa—are you okay?” There was real concern on his face, but he couldn’t help snickering a little when he saw her mud splattered face.
“Just peachy! This water is freezing!” She wasn’t really as mad as she sounded. “But I got the ball.” She held out the football (also sloppy with mud) as she crawled back to the solid ground.
“Congratulations, you just won the Carter/Maddow sports challenge.” Brent quipped, helping her to her feet.
“You must mean Maddow/Carter.” Her words shook because her teeth were beginning to chatter.
“Come on champ. Let’s get you dried off.” They both headed back to the car laughing.
Brent pulled clean sweatpants and a tee shirt from the gym bag in his trunk. And, like the gentleman he was, he turned his back while Alyssa changed behind the car. There wasn’t much they could do about her wet hair, but Brent turned the heat on full blast the whole drive home.
“I really am sorry Lyssa. I hope you don’t get sick.” Brent was shouting so Alyssa would hear him through the closed bathroom door and over the sound of water spraying. Alyssa was taking a hot shower and Brent had just finished putting her muddy clothes in the washer.
“Don’t worry about it. That ‘getting sick from cold weather’ bit is an old wives tale—mom’s a doctor remember?” Alyssa yelled back to him.
“Kay. I’m gonna run home and grab my laptop. I’ll come back and we can watch the hockey game together.”
Chapter Seven
“Pop?” Alyssa shouted as she walked through her grandfather’s door with Brent right behind her.
Most Sundays Alyssa drove over to the retirement home to visit with her grandfather. Pop complained a lot about having to live with ‘all those old geezers’, but she suspected he was happier now than when he’d been in his house all alone. When she was younger her dad brought her to visit on weekends. Sometimes he still joined her, but more often than not he stayed home. Alyssa’s Dad and Pop didn’t always get along super well. When her dad made his excuses Alyssa would often call Brent.
Pop loved Brent. Because Brent could, sometimes, beat him at chess. That was a good enough reason all by itself to bring Brent. Alyssa loved her Pop, but she was terrible at chess. Pop used to go easy on her, but now that she was older she had to take her lumps like a grown up. Chess is super hard. This day was one of those days when her dad wasn’t interested in visiting and Brent cheerfully agreed to join her.
Stoneybrook retirement community was very pretty. All the buildings were surrounded by well manicured lawns and gardens—and all those lawns and gardens were filled with pretty ornamental benches. Alyssa often wondered if this was because old people liked walks, even though they needed to rest every ten feet. Over the years Pop had been in several rooms. It seemed that every year or two he would have heart troubles and be moved to a different room on a different floor with more nurses. All the rooms were really nice though. And there were pretty common rooms on every floor. On Wednesdays Pop was in a Wii bowling league that met in his common room. His team was in second place.
Alyssa and Brent took awhile to reach Pop’s room. Every corner or alcove they passed on their way to Pop’s room was crammed with fancy old fashioned chairs and sofas. Sometimes those sofas would be filled with familiar faces. Weekly visits made Alyssa a very popular person at Stoneybrook. Charles at the nurse’s station wanted to know if she thought the Flyers had a chance this season. Of course they did! Mrs. Sloan stopped her to show off pictures from her grandson’s wedding, and Mr. Petry needed help with his neck tie.
“Thanks Miss Alyssa, I gotta look my best tonight. Gotta date with Sofia you know!”
Mr. Petry ate dinner with Sofia Bunch every Sunday night, and every Sunday night he was brimming with excitement. Alyssa thought this was the sweetest thing she’d ever seen, and anyway she could tie a tie pretty well. Brent hung back a little today. His camera clicked away making Alyssa a little nervous.
Eventually they reached Pop’s room. The brass plaque beside the number 718 read: Alistair Maddow. Like always the door itself was open and the sounds of a baseball game could be heard in the hallway. Pop liked ESPN Classic and he didn’t like his hearing aid.
“Pop?”
“I hear you!” The TV in the sitting area clicked off, and Pop appeared from around a corner. “You’re late today.”
“Sorry.” Alyssa mostly disregarded his animosity—Pop was only cranky on the outside. Walking over to him, she hugged him lightly and kissed his wrinkled cheek.
“Good to see you Lyssa. Steven.” Pop’s eyes clouded over when he reached out to shake hands with Brent. Steven was Alyssa’s father’s name.
“Pop, this is Brent.” Alyssa corrected him gently. “You remember Brent.” It was only lately that he’d been getting confused, and most days he was as sharp as ever. It made her heartsick to see him this way. When she was younger Pop had taken her fishing, taught her to play ball, and how to throw a punch better than any boy she’d ever met. Now, sometimes, he seemed so old.
“Of course I remember.” His voice was sharp. “You look different boy.”
“I’m sure I do, sir. I’m not wearing my glasses.” Brent agreed easily. As if he hadn’t been to visit several times since getting contacts. And as if the absence of those glasses could suddenly make him lose three inches of height, and gain twenty pounds—not to mention age him thirty years. “How’s your bowling game?”
“You should see these old geezers trying to bowl on that TV. Terrible.” Pop’s face lit up proudly. “Bowled a 274 last week. Never did so well at the real thing.”
“Congratulations.” Brent lowered himself into a chair and gestured to the chess board that always sat at the ready on a small table. “Would you care for a game?”
Brent and Pop played chess for a little over an hour. Alyssa curled up in an easy chair to watch. All the while the three of them chatted. Pop asked Alyssa about school, and cheerleading. They spent a good bit of time dissecting the Flyers game from the day before. Pop thought they’d played sloppy and were lucky that St. Louis played sloppier. Alyssa was inclined to agree. Brent figured a win was a win, but he was concentrating too hard on the board in front of him to mention it.
When the game was over—Pop crushed Brent—it was just about time for Pop to
go down to dinner.
“Well played Mr. Maddow. I will have to practice before I visit again.” Brent picked his camera bag up.
Pop snorted. “How old are you now, boy?”
“I was eighteen last month sir.”
“Well then you’re a man now, bout time you started calling me Al. You take care of my girl here now—promise?”
“Yes sir.” Brent shook his hand.
“I don’t need taking care of Pop.” Embarrassed, Alyssa chided him. “See you next week, okay?” With a hug and a kiss the two friends left him to get ready for his dinner.
“Sorry about that.” Alyssa said when they’d reached the hall.
“About what?” Brent wrinkled his face, confused. “I like your grandfather, Lyssa. But I am starting to think he must have been letting me win sometimes. I really got my butt handed to me today.”
Alyssa snorted—a lot like her Pop had. “No, way. Pop doesn’t believe in letting people win. If he did I wouldn’t mind playing so much.”
Going to school was easier the following week. Alyssa had her car back, so there wasn’t any reason for Brent to be mixing with her school life; the weekend had really helped her restore that much needed balance to her life. At lunch on Monday Beth was full of news about the dress she’d bought on Saturday, and about how she was glad it was blue because blue was Tommy’s favorite color. The table of cheerleaders erupted into discussion of dress colors, styles, and prices.
“What is Brent’s favorite color?” Jennifer asked sweetly the seat next to Alyssa.
“Brent likes green.” Alyssa was getting very tired of Jennifer.
“Oh, my dress is green you know.” Jennifer mentioned casually—although her casualness was betrayed by the catty look in her eyes. Jennifer was going to the dance with John, or Jake, or James—Alyssa was pretty sure it was some J name.
