“JC and I…we haven’t exactly been close for…awhile,” I say.
“Can you tell me more about that?”
No. No, I can’t.
8
SEPTEMBER
Eight Months Before
JC and I are in charge of the ring-toss booth. The Football Carnival is the biggest event of the school year at Broadmeadow. The senior football players and cheerleaders are each charged with running a booth, while the underclassmen have to do the crappy jobs like serve popcorn and funnel cakes and clean up after the pony rides. For three days in mid-September, the football field is transformed into a blinking, glowing cacophony of carnival sights and smells. It brings in a load of cash for the football and cheerleading programs; I’ve heard Grandpa talking about it.
“Step right up and try your luck, folks! Five rings for a buck. What a steal! Look at these prizes…Step right up. Step right up!” Whoever decided to give JC a bullhorn should be strung up by his toenails.
“Sit down, would ya? I think you’re scaring all the customers away,” I say, pulling on his football jersey.
“Slow day,” JC says, sitting down next to me and turning off the bullhorn.
“It’ll pick up tonight. It always does,” I say, juggling a few rings in the air.
“What booth is Marnie at?” JC asks.
“Face-painting,” I say.
“What do you say? Should we go over and get Spider-Man makeovers like we used to when we were little? Might drum up a few visitors to the old ring-toss booth,” he says, nudging me.
“You’re a dork, JC.”
He laughs and leaps over the edge of the booth. “I’m headed to get some lemonade from Jeannie…You want some?”
“I’m good,” I say, stifling a yawn. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes behind my sunglasses.
“Hey, Mister Ring-Toss Man, can I get ten rings, please?” Marnie’s voice wakes me up.
“Only ten? It might take you longer than that, miss,” I say, getting out of my chair.
Marnie holds out two dollar bills and waits for her ten rings. I hold them just out of her reach. She pulls my jersey and gives me a long kiss on the lips, pulling the rings out of my hand at the same time.
“No one will win any stuffed animals for me, so I have to play all the games by myself,” she says, faking a pout.
“What about your boyfriend?” I wink at her.
“Don’t have one,” she says, winking back and flipping her navy-blue cheerleader skirt up a little bit.
Marnie tosses her rings and doesn’t come anywhere close to ringing a bottle. I hand her a tiny stuffed flamingo anyway.
“That’s cheating,” she says, holding the fuzzy pink bird to her cheek.
“Ten rings with no win is an automatic prize. I just made up that rule,” I say. “Consider it a gift.”
She leans over the edge of the booth and pulls on my jersey again. “I may have to think of a way to repay you for the gift,” she says quietly, raising her eyebrows and kissing me again. “I think I’ll name him Pinky Pete,” she says, pushing my chest and walking away.
Her cheerleader skirt sways back and forth on her hips. She throws me a look over her shoulder, and all I can do is smile at her.
JC comes back about a half hour later, sweaty and holding two cups of lemonade. He flops down in the chair inside the booth.
“What took you so long?” I ask. “We had a hundred customers come through here while you were off doing who knows what.”
“Did you really?”
“Jeez, you’re gullible. Really, though, where’ve you been?”
JC says nothing, but downs both cups of lemonade and then leans back in his chair. “I was a little busy,” he says, smiling.
“Oh my god. Seriously? Again?”
JC just laughs.
“Is that all you guys do or what?”
“I don’t kiss and tell,” he says, the smile still on his face. “Come on, don’t be such a prude. It’s not like you and Marnie aren’t—”
“We’re not.” I cut him off.
“Oh,” JC says, his smile fading.
It’s not that we don’t want to. Well, it’s not like I don’t want to. Marnie’s so hard to figure out. She’s all over me one minute and then disappears for days at a time. I know it’s because she’s busy with cheerleading and our schedules don’t always match up, but it’s frustrating as hell. There are stretches of three, sometimes four, days in a row that I hear the pebbles on my window and we sneak out. It’s always the same story: “I don’t want to be alone,” she’ll say. One night last week we got caught in a rainstorm and had to run into the bathhouse until the lightning died down. We were so close that night. But after that, I didn’t see her or even talk to her for five days.
Grandpa comes over to our booth around four. “Take an hour break, boys,” he says. “It’ll pick up tonight. Get yourself something to eat, and come back ready to work at five. Sound good?”
“Sounds good, Coach Franklin,” JC says, saluting my grandfather.
JC and I lock up the money box and jump over the side of the booth. We wander over to the food booths and debate the merits of corn dogs versus giant turkey legs for dinner.
“Where are you applying for next year? Have you thought about it?” JC asks, settling down with his giant, drippy turkey leg.
“I’ve thought about it. My dad went to Oceanside…I think I’ll apply there and maybe some other places.”
The truth is that the only place I want to be is Oceanside. It’s where my dad went. It’s where he met my mom. Most of the stories I remember my dad telling revolved around the classes he took at Oceanside or the friends he met there. I think he’d be proud if I went there too. Like I’m following in his footsteps or something. I don’t know. I can’t explain all of that to JC without sounding like an assbucket, so I brush it off.
“Where are you applying?” I ask him. “As if I don’t already know.”
JC turns to look at me. “UConn,” we say in unison.
“There’s only one place for me,” he says.
“Aren’t you applying anywhere else, though? Closer to home?” I ask.
“Aww…are you going to miss me, shitmittens? I’ll be home at Thanksgiving,” JC says, whacking me in the forehead with his turkey leg.
“Oceanside has a decent basketball team,” I say, wiping turkey juice from my brow with my T-shirt. “Maybe I can make it as a walk-on or something.”
“A walk-on? Are you kidding me? Man, you’re going to have scouts all over you this winter. Just wait. They’ll be offering you scholarships left and right. I can’t wait for basketball season,” JC says.
“Yeah, why in the hell did we join the football team anyway? Neither of us ever gets to play,” I say.
JC looks at me and shrugs. “Cheerleaders?”
I laugh. “Hey, let’s get our home jerseys out of the truck for tonight before we forget. Grandpa wants us to wear them, remember?”
We head toward the student parking lot and notice a small crowd of football players and cheerleaders gathered around a black Jeep. I can hear Ace Quinn’s big mouth all the way across the lot.
“…Dad said I could have any car on the lot. This one just called my name, though,” he is saying, patting the hood of the Jeep. “We had the gun rack installed, and I picked it up this morning,” he adds, running his hands over the two-gun harness attached to the roll bar near the backseat.
JC and I wander over to the crowd. “What’s going on, party people?” JC asks, exchanging high fives with some of the other players.
“Quinn’s dad got him a Jeep,” one of the safeties says.
“As congratulations. I was offered a football scholarship,” Ace says, pulling a rag from his back pocket and running it over that gun rack.
“Oh yeah? Cool. Where?” JC says.
“ECC,” Ace says, jutting his chin out a little bit.
“Easthaven Community College?” I say, smiling.
&nbs
p; Ace looks up at me. “Yeah. I’m not going there. But my dad was so excited about the scholarship that he bought me the Jeep. Wonder what he’ll do when I get into Texas.”
“Hook ’em Horns! Right, Ace?” one of the underclassmen yells, punching Ace in the bicep.
“Yeah. Hook ’em Horns,” Ace says slowly, still staring at me.
I check my watch and see that we only have a few minutes to get back to our booths. I poke JC in the side and motion to the football field. We start walking back, and the rest of the team follows.
“Hey, North. Come back. I want to show you something,” Ace says as the crowd disperses.
“I really gotta get back, Ace. We only have an hour,” I say, backing up.
“It’ll only take a minute. Come on,” Ace says, a wide smile pulling on his cheeks.
“I don’t have time right now,” I say, still backing up.
He slams the door to his Jeep and takes three heavy steps until he’s directly in front of me. I stop moving. “You can go back in a minute,” he says, pinching the front of my football jersey. The smile has disappeared, and I can see his jaw tensing.
Ace heads back toward the Jeep. I can tell by the way he’s strutting that he knows I’m going to follow him. I do, my insides buzzing.
“It’s almost hunting season, Samantha,” he says, running the rag over the gun harness again. “Next month. Ducks and deer. You hunt, North?”
“No,” I say, swallowing hard.
“You know what’s the hardest thing about hunting? Of course you don’t because you don’t hunt. What kind of pussy doesn’t hunt?”
I don’t answer him.
“The hardest thing about hunting is sneaking up on your prey. You’ve got to be real quiet, you know? Lull them into thinking you’re not even watching…you’re not even there. But if you play your cards right, if you know just when to make your move…” Ace pounds his right fist into his left palm. “Pow. They don’t even know what hit ’em.”
I stare at Ace. He stares at me. His top lip curls and his nostrils flare.
“We gotta get back. Coach Franklin—”
“You mean dear old Grampy? I’m pretty sure he’ll wait for his star QB.”
I want to turn and run back to JC. Away from this parking lot.
“You got a problem with ECC, Samantha?” he says.
“No, I—”
“That’s what I thought. The next time you make me look like a fool in front of the team, you’re going to be breathing through your asshole,” he says, poking a finger into my chest.
“I didn’t say anything,” I say, trying to back up.
He pinches my jersey again. “I’m not going to warn you again. Watch yourself,” he says. “You remember what I’m capable of?”
“But I didn’t—”
“Do I have to spell it out for you? I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius. You make me look stupid, I will fuck you up. You tried it once when we were twelve, and do you remember what happened to you then? Do you understand now, Samantha?”
“I didn’t even say anything…” I begin.
“Sam! Your grandpa is looking for you.” Marnie is jogging through the parking lot.
“Hey, Marnie!” Ace’s smile returns, and he stops pulling on my jersey. “I was just showing Sam the new Jeep.”
Marnie smiles and gives Ace a quick hug. “You going to bring me to school one day this week?”
“If it’s okay with your boyfriend,” Ace says. His eye twitches just slightly, but his smile doesn’t waver.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Marnie says, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze.
Ace’s eyes settle on me, and he raises an eyebrow.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning,” he says to her.
She gives him a high five. “We’d better get back. It’s almost five.” She tugs on my hand, pulling me back toward the carnival.
We take a few hurried steps through the parking lot. “It’s so nice to see the two of you getting along, finally,” Marnie says.
I just look at her.
“Ace has been so supersweet this year. I mean, he’s always been one of my best friends, but since school started, it’s been different. We tell each other everything,” she says, standing on her tiptoes and kissing my cheek.
9
OCTOBER
Seven Months Before
“How’d you do on that calculus exam?” JC leans against my locker before first period.
“I have it right here. Take a look,” I say, handing it to him and looking over the heads in the hallway for Marnie. She said she’d meet me here. She mentioned something about her mom taking her out for doughnuts this morning. Otherwise, I would have picked her up in my truck and brought her to school. This morning, it was just me and JC.
“Calculus, man. I really blew it,” JC says, handing me back my A+ test paper. The buzzer sounds, and kids scatter into their homerooms. I still haven’t seen Marnie.
I try to bite back my disappointment, but it’s no use. I am disappointed. I really wanted to see her this morning.
When the five-minute warning buzzer for first period sounds, JC and I go our separate ways. I head toward the gym (What sucks more than PE first period of the day? Nothing.) and JC heads to a science lab.
“Catch you later,” JC says, slapping me on the back. He’s barely awake.
I try to stand on my tiptoes and peer over all the heads in the hallway. Where is Marnie? Why haven’t I seen her yet? I pull my phone out of my pocket and surreptitiously send her a forbidden text.
Where RU?
I walk down the main hall on my way to PE, and I see Ace and Marnie walking toward me from the direction of the main office. Marnie has her hand around Ace’s forearm. They are laughing together. My stomach burns.
“Marnie!” I call.
She drops her arm and waves to me. “Hi, Sam!” Ace noticeably grimaces.
“I thought we were meeting this morning,” I say, grabbing for her hand and trying not to look at Ace.
“My mom and I ran into Ace at the doughnut shop. He offered to give me a ride. We’re a little bit late. We just checked in at the office,” she says, her smile wide.
“Why were you late?”
“Too many doughnuts, I guess.” Marnie laughs.
“Yeah, too many doughnuts,” Ace says, and they both laugh together.
“I was waiting for you,” I say, attempting to keep the whine out of my voice and failing miserably.
“I’m sorry. But I’m here now, right?” Marnie says and stands on her tiptoes for a kiss. I give her one right on the lips in front of Ace.
“Bye, Marn. I’m glad I ran into you this morning,” Ace says.
“Thanks for the ride.” She giggles.
Ace turns and walks down the hall, never acknowledging me at all.
“Funny that Ace was at the same doughnut shop as you, don’t you think?” I say to Marnie.
“Yeah. Lucky too. I didn’t have to ride with my mom.”
“I don’t really like you riding with Ace.” Ever since Ace got his Jeep, Marnie rides with him at least once a week, usually more.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Sam. You can’t tell me who I can and can’t ride to school with,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I thought you guys were getting along now. Ace never says anything bad about you.” She pulls her hand from mine.
I stop walking. “Not to you he doesn’t. You don’t know what he’s like when no one is around,” I say.
Marnie stops walking too, and stares at me. “I don’t even know what that means, Sam. You aren’t making any sense.”
I grit my teeth. “I have PE right now. I have to go the other way,” I say, pointing over my shoulder toward the gym.
“Then I guess I’ll see you,” she says, her eyes narrowing. She turns on her heel and walks away.
“Yeah. I’ll see you,” I say to her back. I watch her for a minute, her hips swinging and her curl
s bouncing against her back.
I don’t know how to make it clear. She can’t see it. No one sees it but me, and I know I sound like a pussy whenever I try to explain.
I check the schedule outside the boys’ locker room. Weight training this week. I take back what I said earlier about PE in the morning. Weight training first thing in the morning is so much worse. I look down the list of guys in the class with me.
Ace Quinn.
Of course.
So far, today sucks.
I dress quickly in the locker room in my wrinkled green PE shorts and Broadmeadow tank top and head for the weight room. Ace is already there with a bunch of other football players. They all laugh loudly when I walk in.
Coach Paul blows a whistle, and everyone quiets down a bit. “Seniors, here you are. Weight training. You’ve all done it. I don’t need to repeat myself. Partner up and start lifting. Don’t make me get up,” he says, settling himself behind a desk with a magazine.
“Partners?” Ace taps me on the shoulder.
“Are you kidding me?” I say.
“Nah, come on. If Marnie’s going to be your girlfriend, maybe we ought to make an effort,” he says, making air quotes around the word “girlfriend.”
I stare at him. He looks serious. I look around the weight room. Everyone else has partnered up and spread out among the weight benches. Ace and I seem to be the only two left without partners. I think about Marnie. She seemed so pissed off in the hallway just now.
“Quinn and North! What are you doing over there, the Texas two-step? Get moving!” Coach Paul shouts from the desk.
“What do you say?” Ace asks.
I stare at him for longer than I’m comfortable, but I can’t look away. What’s he hiding underneath that blank face? We’re in the gym, surrounded by other people. Coaches. Football players. Surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to say something to me here.
“Did you enjoy your doughnut date?” I say, my voice low and shaking.
Ace blinks and his face changes. “Last time I checked, she didn’t have a Property of Sam tattoo on her ass,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “We’re friends, North. I think you’re going to have to get used to that.”
Until I Break Page 6
