by RH Tucker
He shoots Matt a look and then looks back at me. “Oh, well at least one person knew the truth.”
“What the hell you talking about, McCormick?” Someone says behind me.
“Carter Dixon, Mr. Playboy of our senior class, is nothing but a liar. He never hooked up with Sarah at homecoming. They fingered each other a bit and then got caught.”
“You’re such an asshole,” I mutter.
I'm not mad at the secret being let out, even if it is embarrassing. I'm more upset at Jeremy and how he's acting.
“So, tell us, Carter?” He flashes a cocky grin. “How much of what happened with Alicia Thompson is true? And how about Hillary Grayson? Oh, and what about—”
“Shut up, Jeremy!” Matt yells.
The silence fills the locker, and I take a long breath. Everyone's staring at me, and it's right now that I have a moment of clarity. Why the hell did I let the rumors take over my life? Why have I been so obsessed with wanting to be looked at as Mr. Cool? Who cares if I hooked up, had sex with, or even just made out with one girl or a dozen? What the hell did it mean? Nothing, in the grand scheme of things.
I stare back at Jeremy, his smug smile still in place. “Fine. You know what, you’re right. I didn’t bang Sarah at homecoming. Me and Hill just exchanged numbers. And all I did with Alicia was make out with her. Who the hell cares?”
"I do. Not only are you our captain, but you're also my friend."
I let out a loud, incredulous scoff. “Friend? Are shitting me? What kind of friend asks another friend if it’s okay if they hook up with an ex?”
“She wasn’t an ex. You didn’t even have sex.”
“It doesn’t matter! I’d have never done that to you. Go after a girl you had just gone out with.” A thought hits me. One I should ignore, but I don’t. “Oh, and by the way, she was probably just hooking up with you to make me jealous.”
“Fuck you. I could get any girl I want. Including those two you kept eyeing during practice.”
And just like that, I snap. Even if he doesn’t say her name, he’s talking about Emma. About trying to get with her. I lose it and launch myself at him, my fist nailing the side of his cheek.
Before anyone can move, he throws a punch, hitting me under the left eye. A couple more punches are thrown before everyone swarms, getting between us. We both yell more expletives at one another, swinging wildly.
“Hey! Hey!” A whistle blows, followed by more shouting.
When the dust settles, Matt is standing in front of me, with Franco and a couple of others. Lucas is in front of Jeremy and the rest of the team. Between our two groups stands Coach Hallinan.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
“Nothing,” Jeremy mutters, but Coach looks at me, making Jeremy give me an even angrier look.
“Yeah, nothing.” I scowl back at him.
“Well, this better be the last nothing that I have to separate. Get your guys shit together by tomorrow, or else this nothing will turn into something. Like suspensions."
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, still staring at Jeremy.
As everyone changes and starts leaving the locker room, I let everyone clear out before going. I catch a some of the glances from the guys, as I walk to the parking lot. Some are staring at me like I'm a liar, while others look at me like I'm pathetic. I feel like both. And I can only imagine what the rumors are going to be once we get back to school.
Chapter 26
Emma
As we go over the layout of how the gallery will be set up, Jen keeps making remarks about Carter, who she says keeps looking over at me. Then she goes on about Franco and how hot he is. Especially since he isn’t wearing a jersey.
She also makes it a point to tell me she's already heard from three different people about rumors going around about Carter and me. Specifically, how Carter Dixon is now going out with the ‘art girl', Emma. I try to tell her it's nothing, but she continues to give me suspicious looks, unsure if I'm being honest with her. I keep shushing her while we're in the gym, hoping none of the basketball players, especially Carter, hear her. Thankfully, Micah seems to be oblivious to all of it.
Jen's so sure I'm keeping the truth from her, she brings it up again after we go to the movies.
“Come on, Emma, spill the beans already,” she whines, as we walk out of the theatre.
"Jen, there's nothing to spill. I told you in the gym; we walked to class after lunch."
“See, you said that,” she says as we walk to a Starbucks next to the theatre. “But, I was thinking about that. You didn’t tell us you were meeting him for lunch. And you spent the entire lunch together, going over homework? This is Carter we’re talking about.”
“I know who we’re talking about. He’s actually really smart. Did you know he’s got nearly a 4.0 GPA?”
"Really? So, he's hot and smart. That's a plus." I roll my eyes as she laughs. "What? You can't tell me you didn't think that while going over homework.” She makes air quotes with her fingers.
“Why is it so unbelievable that’s all we were doing? Don’t you think I’d tell you if it was something else.”
“You would, and to be honest, I don’t think it’s unbelievable. Going over homework is such an Emma thing.” She smirks. “But I saw him looking at us when we were in the gym. He was definitely checking you out.”
She takes a step forward to the barista behind the counter, and I think back to lunch and the gym. Why in the world would Carter be checking me out? Yes, he seemed to be flirting a little during lunch, but it's Carter. That's what he does. Plus, it's not like I was dressed in anything special. Not like him, half-naked and sweaty—No, Emma. Stop that.
“And you weren’t too subtle where your eyes were going either,” she adds.
"What?" My voice is about three octaves higher than usual. I guess she did notice.
She steps out of the way, smiling at me while I order my drink. After I order, I make my way over to the table she’s at.
"Hey, no judgments. I was checking him out too. But, Franco?" She closes her eyes, and I don't have to imagine very hard to know what she's thinking. "I always thought it's the football players that were fit. I should've figured basketball players look just as fine all hot and sweaty."
“Yeah.” I giggle. “Must be the cardio.”
I mean my comment in all sincerity, but of course, leave it to Jen to make an innuendo out of it. “Yeah, they must have some good stamina.”
"Jen." I scoff at her when the barista calls our names and she goes to gets our drinks.
As she walks away, my phone goes off.
BigBaller27: How’s ur weekend starting?
Emerald22: So far so good. Just went to the movies.
BigBaller27: Nice.
I’m not sure how or what to respond. Ever since the stand-up, we haven’t texted very much. And when we have, it’s been quick and not really in depth.
“Who’s that?” Jen asks, setting my passion iced tea in front of me.
“Oh, no one.” I switch my phone off.
Sitting in front of me, she gives me a suspicious look. “Emma?”
“What?”
“Did you get Carter’s number?”
“Of course not.” I look at her like she’s crazy. “That wasn’t Carter.”
“Then who was it?”
"Jen, I don't need to tell you every single person that texts me."
“That’s true, but you usually do. So, it begs the question; Who was that?”
“It’s no one.”
She gasps. “No way.”
I clench my phone tightly. "What?"
“Emma, you cannot be serious. You are not texting that bastard still.” I look down at my phone, defeated. “That guy is such a scumbag. Why would you text him still?”
“I don’t know. He’s nice, Jen. I know he didn’t show up that day, but there’s got to be more to the story than him just not showing up. There must be a reason. I want to know why.”
“Then
tell him to tell you.”
“He already said he couldn’t.”
“That’s lame. Give me your phone.”
“No. Why?”
"Because I'll tell him to tell you what happened that day or he can go to hell."
"Yeah, I'm sure that would go over very well." She stares at me, holding out her hand. "What? Are you serious? No way."
“Emma, that’s the only way this is going to end.”
On the one hand, I believe her. And if this is nothing more than two friends, I do want to know. But on the other hand, if I come across super rude, then he might never text me again. Do I really want that to happen?
“Hold on.” I hold up a finger and switch my phone back on.
Emerald22: Hey, my friend wants to talk to u
“What are you doing?” Jen asks.
“I’m letting him know that you’re gonna be texting, not me.”
BigBaller27: Ok???
I nervously stare at my phone as I hand it to her. Something devious and wicked comes across her face. It’s almost like a smile, but at the same time, it’s sinister. Jen’s been my best friend for years, so I know how angry she can get if someone pisses her off. I also know the lengths she’ll go to when she has someone’s back. Her fingers work quickly, as she starts typing her message. Once she’s done, I watch her reading over her message before she hits send.
“There.” She hands the phone back to me. “I changed my mind. I just told him off.”
I can't reach for it fast enough, wondering exactly what she wrote. My eyes pop open, and my mouth drops as I read it. I also can't help but feel a little warm inside, as her words that are full of malice for him are nothing but endearing towards me.
Emerald22: You've got some nerve! My bff is the best person ever! She's sweet and kind and a terrific person. I can't believe she's giving u another chance to even talk to her. I'm firmly against it. You're an asshole. Grade A! If u two ever do meet, be prepared for a swift kick to the nuts because I'll be spying on her and when she meets u, I'll be there. Jerks like u don't deserve someone as great as her. Peace out, bitch!
I want to laugh and cry at the same time, while she beams proudly. "Thanks," I whisper. Then my phone dings.
BigBaller27: Wow. I totally deserved that. Like I said, I can't tell u why I wasn't there, but I PROMISE, one day you'll know. For what it's worth, I KNOW ur a great person. And to have a friend as loyal as that also proves it. I know Emerald isn't your real name, but I imagine you're as precious as one and u have friends who protect you like a treasure. And yes, I am relieved and grateful and honored to get a second chance to even speak with u
It's the first meaningful text I've received since before the day we were supposed to meet, and even though I'm trying not to get emotional, I feel tears prick the back of my eyes. Jen sees my reaction and grabs my phone.
“Okay.” She curls a lip, rolling her eyes. “As far as replies go, that one isn’t bad.”
I smile and take another sip of my drink.
Chapter 27
Carter
The weekend goes by excruciatingly slowly. After the fallout from practice, I receive a lovely text message from Emma’s friend, who I’m sure is Jen. It’s justified, of course, but getting hit in the face with the truth stings.
I didn’t want to reply with some flippant comment. I screwed up and wanted her to know how sorry I felt. But admitting that was the exact game plan I was trying to avoid. I’m trying to get her to forget Baller and start thinking about Carter. So even though I don’t want to send it, knowing it might make her fall for Texting Me again, I’m happy to be honest with her.
We have a game over the weekend and we tank. No, tank is putting it mildly. We implode.
Our team is more than divided. We're shattered. Almost everyone despises me for lying. The only ones that try to just play the game are Matt, Lucas, and Franco. And Lucas and Franco surprised me because they've been friends with Jeremy longer than anyone.
“Dude.” Lucas came up to me right before the game. “That shit Jeremy pulled? It’s stupid. I don’t care who you’re hooking up with or not hooking up with. I just want to play ball.”
“Thanks.”
But of course, that's the only bright spot. Jeremy took control, running the floor even though Lucas is our point guard. Jeremy called out the plays Coach called in, and every chance someone got they passed him the ball. By half-time, we're down twenty points and Coach is beside himself. It doesn't get any better in the second half, and we end up losing the game by thirty points.
Getting to the locker room, after the game, Coach Hallinan just looks around at all of us. He shakes his head, wanting to say something, but finding no words. You know when your parents tell you that they aren’t mad, they’re just disappointed, and somehow that makes it worse? That’s how we all feel, as he walks out of the locker room without even a word.
Other than that, I hide in my room over the weekend, hoping I can avoid my mom and the black eye that's formed under my left eye. I do so successfully for the rest of Saturday, but on Sunday, I wake up and head out to the kitchen, looking for some for breakfast. Mom is already there, pouring some coffee.
"Good morning," she says, as she puts the pot back over the burner. "I'm headed to the office for some overtime, but I thought later we could—" she gasps as she turns around. "Carter, what happened?"
“What?” Still groggy, I don’t know what she’s talking about. But as she stares at my face, I remember. “Oh, nothing.”
“Did that happen at the game yesterday?”
“No,” I answer, opening the fridge.
“Well?” Her voice is stern, and I know I’m not going to get away with not answering her.
“It happened at practice Friday.”
"You got into a fight with a teammate?"
My mom and I usually keep a pretty open relationship. She knows most of the important stuff that’s going on at school, and she knows Jeremy too. Explaining that he’s the one that punched me means I’ll have to explain the quagmire about all the rumors. We talk about a lot of stuff, but I don’t make it a point to tell her what girls I like, make out with, or the rumors that go further than that.
“No,” I lie. “I caught an elbow on the court.”
She eyes me suspiciously, taking a sip of her coffee. Nodding, she examines my face a little closer, before going to the table.
“Okay, put some ice on it though.”
“I will.”
"So how are the games, anyway? I'm sorry I haven't been able to make it to any this season."
“It’s okay.” I finally grab a box of Pop-Tarts from the cupboard. “And the games, well, they could be better. We have to win our next two division games to make the playoffs. Not sure if it’s gonna happen.”
"You guys can do it. You were so close last year." I take a bite of the pastry, as I head back to my room. "Don't stay in bed all day," she calls out, and I mumble back to her that I won't. Of course, that's precisely what I do.
Monday rolls around, and I make sure to take a pair of sunglasses with me. I'll hear enough gasps from everyone during class, so I want to limit them as much as possible when I'm outside.
I still haven't texted Emma since Friday night. I don't know what to say to her. I want it to be casual, but how can I just be casual after the last thing I told her. I just want her to see me, Carter, and not start to like Baller again. Which leaves me with another problem. How the hell am I going to try and talk to her when I'm at school? I've already used the homework excuse, so what else can approach her with?
By the time lunch rolls around, I've forgotten about the fight. That is until it smacks me in the face.
"What are you doing, Dixon?" Jeremy says, as he gets to the lunch table I'm sitting at. I look up, see the bruise on his face, and three of our teammates standing with him.
“Eating lunch?”
“This table is reserved.” He folds his arms across his chest.
“By who
?”
“Friends who don’t lie to one another.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I’m serious.” They all just stand there, looking down at me, scowls on each of their faces.
“Forget this.” I get up, grabbing my bag. “You know, you should’ve said this table is reserved for dickheads.”
My words come out louder than I mean for them to, and a hush falls over nearby tables in the cafeteria. Eyes stay on me as I make my way out, Matt and Lucas walking over to me.
“Yo, where you going?” Matt says.
“Evidently, Jeremy got the lunch table in the divorce.”
“What?” Lucas asks.
“I’ll talk to you guys later.” They each give me a confused look, as I turn around and continue walking.
I pass by the quad and look over where I see Emma sitting with her friends. There is a small urge to go over and talk to her, though I have no clue what to say. And since I have no clue, I decide I shouldn’t and just keep walking. The only other place I can think of going is somewhere I know there won’t be many people. And someplace that will still remind me of her.
Chapter 28
Emma
“That’s not how art galleries work,” Micah says to Lana, as she takes a drink of his soda.
They've been going back and forth since the start of lunch about the upcoming art show our class is holding on Friday. I plan on finishing both the waterfall piece and the abstract piece today, so all I need to worry about is finishing Heartbreak by the time the show rolls around.
"But it'd be perfect," Lana continues. "You all put up your pieces and then there's a model, or some hostess or something, and she points out what materials were used and how much the painting costs."
“Emma.” Micah looks to me for help. “Would you please tell her?”
