by JK Cooper
Different kinds of nightmares plagued her now.
She overheard some students comparing schedules, groaning over their classes or what teachers they got.
Crap, I guess I need to find out my schedule eventually. Tomorrow, she told herself. This was enough for today.
“Junior?” Sean asked.
Whoever said ignoring an annoying guy would make him go away was full of it.
“Senior,” Shelby said.
“Ah, well don’t be too embarrassed talking to me. I’m only a junior.”
Maybe he wasn’t annoying the more she looked at him. Her apprehension stayed at bay . . . mostly.
“Gymnastics tryouts?” Sean asked.
“Yeah. You?”
“Me? No, not a gymnast. Track and field.”
“Right, the shoes. Makes sense.” That gave her another excuse to look down and see his legs. Wait, was she actually checking him out? For real? She hadn’t done that in a while.
“From what I just saw, looks like you could do great at hurdles,” Sean said with a gleam in his eyes. He was cute-ish, Shelby supposed. “That was quite a leap. Any interest in trying out? They’re holding late tryouts tomorrow.”
“I sort of just made the gymnastics team. Or, I think I did. Listen, I need to get to the parking lot. My dad will be here soon to get me.”
“I can give you a lift if you want. Where do you live?”
Shelby started walking toward the parking lot. “No, thanks, though. Grant is probably already here and waiting.”
Sean walked beside her, keeping up. “Grant? I thought you said your dad—”
“Grant is my dad.”
“You call him by his first name?”
“Only when he isn’t listening to me or I’m mad at him.”
“Or when you’re trying to scare a guy off?”
Oops.
There was an awkward silence.
“So, the parking lot?” Sean asked.
“Yep,” Shelby said, a slight annoyance escaping into her answer. “Look, Sean, it was great to meet you and all but—”
“The parent-student parking lot is the other way.” Sean pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. He had a “silly-new-girl” look on his face. He was cute, actually, she decided, if slightly annoying. Forgivable.
“Oh.”
“You were headed to the teacher parking lot.”
“I’m not used to a school being big enough for two parking lots, I guess.”
She turned around and started heading the opposite way. So did Sean.
“It’s okay,” Sean said. “The high school isn’t that big, actually. It’s just the way it was built, I guess. Gotta keep the know-it-all parents away from the high-and-mighty teachers, ya know? Where are you from?”
What was it with all the questions today? Was a new student that rare or did she just scream “charity case”?
“East a bit.”
“Like, East Coast?”
“Sort of.”
Sean frowned playfully and bobbed his head. “Okay, playing mysterious. That’s cool, I guess. What brings you to Lamesborough, Texas?”
“Lamesborough?”
Sean harrumphed. “Local slang for Lansborough. You’ll catch on.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Everyone knows everything, and everything about everyone. Small town, ya know?”
“What’s up with this Chelsea chick?”
“Chelsea Gittrik?”
“I guess.”
Sean harrumphed again. “What was it like meeting Her Highness?”
“And her two lap dogs? It was quite the welcome.”
“Yeah . . . sorry about that, Sean said, running a hand through his hair. It barely hung low enough to touch his perfectly bushy eyebrows. “See, Chelsea’s dad is the mayor of Lansborough, and she thinks that makes her above everyone, as if she were actually the mayor. She rubs just about everyone wrong, especially if she sees you as competition.”
“Competition?”
“I heard you did some crazy acrobatics during tryouts and nearly had Coach Anders ask you to marry him.”
“What?” She stopped walking. A maintenance worker in an orange shirt with some kind of logo was adjusting a sprinkler head about ten feet away.
“News travels fast. Small town, remember? Everyone and everything. Don’t worry, I suspect what she told me came out of jealousy.”
Shelby remembered Chelsea’s envious stare. “You seem to understand her,” she said a little heatedly. Was that a hint of your own jealousy, Shelby? Seriously? She tightened the hoodie’s sleeves around her waist.
“Yeah, unfortunately.” He smiled, showcasing perfectly straight teeth. Shelby caught a whiff of his cologne in the breeze, and it made her think of cool ocean spray.
“Wait, why was she talking to you? You’re not her boyfriend, are you?” Crap, that’s all I need, more reasons for her to hate me. But, no, Chelsea said her boyfriend’s name was Kale, right?
“Uh, no,” Sean said. “That would be just so wrong. Hey listen, a few of us are going to hang out tomorrow night. Wanna come with?”
Panic started pulling on her fringes, clawing its way in. “I’m not sure.”
“Don’t worry, Her Highness won’t be there. I don’t hang out with my sister.”
“Chelsea is your sister?”
“I didn’t mention that?” Sean said with a teasing smile.
“Nope. Funny, that.”
“I wanted you to give me a fair shot.”
They walked for a few moments in silence. Shelby kicked a rock across the grass.
“Soccer now, huh?”
“Your dad’s really the mayor?” Shelby asked, ignoring his small jeer.
“Uh huh. Don’t hold it against me.”
“I don’t think I know local politics well enough to hold it against you.”
“No one does, it seems,” Sean said. “He’s won uncontested the last three races.”
“Why wouldn’t anyone else run?”
Sean shrugged, kicking the same rock she had. “People grumble but don’t care enough, I guess. The last contested race was more of a family feud with each side having their dirty laundry aired out in equal fashion. Small town.”
“Right, everyone and everything.”
They arrived at the parking lot where a few guys in leather jackets surrounded an old Trans Am, some kind of 80’s hair metal screaming from the car’s speakers. Shelby saw the old familiar Blazer pulling in.
“So, can I call you about tomorrow?” Sean asked. He wasn’t nervous at all. That confidence was either endearing or alarming.
“I don’t have a phone yet,” Shelby said. “Still getting settled.”
Sean held up his hands. “Hey, no problem. You don’t want to give me your number. It’s cool.”
“No, Sean, it’s not that.”
“I’m just teasing you. If you want to come just meet here at eight tomorrow night. It’ll be fun.”
“How many people? What are you going to do?”
“Just a few friends, guys and girls. As far as what we’ll do, probably just go down to the corner of Main and State and watch the stoplight change.”
“I, uh . . .”
Sean clapped and laughed a little too loudly. “We’re not that small-town, Shelby. You really believed me.”
“Did not.”
“Yes, you did!”
She did.
“Okay, just kidding with you,” Sean said. “We’ll probably just hang out, talk, get some ice cream or something. It’ll be a cool way for you to meet a few people that aren’t the whorey trinity.”
Shelby blushed, and the Blazer’s horn honked.
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that term today,” Shelby said. “You call your own sister that?”
“No worse than she calls me,” Sean said. “Who do you think started that little nickname?” Sean winked. “We’re the perfect Lansborough family.” This last bit he said w
ith a false smile and mock gusto.
“Your dad?” she asked.
“It was almost his campaign slogan. So, you gonna come?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Thanks for the invite.”
“You better go before Grant honks again. Eight o’clock tomorrow, right here. See ya then.”
Sean turned and jogged off, presumably to his own car. Shelby tried and failed not to notice those calves that bunched up into solid rocks as he ran. Maybe she would go.
Maybe.
As she walked to the Blazer, dodging other students and weaving between parked cars, something changed. A feeling wafted over her, something that made her weak in the knees. The same from before? What’s wrong with me today? It was different than her normal anxiety around boys, much different. A calmness seemed to reach out to her, coaxed her into its arms. An Oasis, she again thought. A strange desire welled up inside her, and her lower lip quivered. She felt vulnerable, and yet, safe.
But the feeling wasn’t just safety. It was more, so much more. The seeds of longing sprouted within it, a longing of such hopeless intensity that she suddenly felt as if her whole life she had been lost and was now abruptly, permanently, found. Home.
Maybe it scared her because of the warmth that spread through her, all the way to her fingertips and toes, or because of the depth of serenity that threatened to wipe away that deeply rooted anxiety of life. Whatever it was, she knew only this for sure: it scared her.
What scared her just as much was the alien poet that seemingly invaded her brain during these episodes. Not cool.
She threw open the Blazer’s door, nearly hurdling into the passenger seat.
Her dad turned to her with a smile. “Hey, Shel. How did—”
“Go, please. Just go.”
By the way, I know what you are.
“Dad.” She didn’t know how to start.
We might have a problem? Some random girl told me she knows what I am? Oh, and by the way, I had a halfway normal conversation with a guy. Alone. Sort of alone.
“What’s up, Shelby?”
She could hear the concern is his voice. She could always talk to him. Maybe not about her hair or what celebrity just got dumped, but about real stuff.
“Shel?” he pressed.
“You know how when you’re on your period and—”
“Nope,” her dad said. “Nope, silence is okay after all.”
Shelby smiled.
“Oh,” her dad said. “I get it. Your way of telling me to butt out.”
“Gymnastics was good,” she said. “Sorry, just a weird first day. I slayed the springboard.”
Grant’s face contorted. “Slayed? You mean ‘slew’?”
“Yep, springs and all. You’d have been proud.”
Grant raised his eyebrows. “Do tell.”
Kale Copeland walked toward the locker room from the football field, streaks of sweat and grass stains alike covering his practice jersey. He held his helmet under his right arm.
“Hey, man, you know my momma said you can come back, right?” Bubba came up hustling to Kale’s side. His friend had loosened the laces of his football pads and they jostled freely atop Bubba’s girth. “She’s making more fried chicken tonight and figuring since the only person who spent more time with their hands on my rump besides her is you, she said to invite you back. Course she was usually beatin’ my little butt with her hands.”
Kale snickered. “Your butt isn’t little, Bubba. I’m surprised the football makes it passed your butt into my hands. You know I almost lose it half the time?”
“Man, shut up,” Bubba said, shoving Kale.
“And I’m not going to help your momma spank you, either.”
“Man, she ain’t tried that in a long time. I’m too quick now.”
For a large, very large, young man, Bubba was indeed quick. “I’ll give you that,” Kale said. “But you’re missing those blocks, bro. Anton is spinning right by you.”
“You fast, too, Kale. You need help scramblin’ is all. Just trying to help you out.”
“Uh-huh. Why did your mom invite me back? Aren’t you tough enough to feed?”
“She gives me my own pan of chicken, you both split the second. Fair is fair.”
The phone in Kale’s bag beeped.
“So?” Bubba asked. “Am I telling my momma you comin’ or what? Or you too busy with your pom-pom push-ups?”
Kale took out his phone and swiped the screen with his thumb. “I just got a text from my dad. Apparently we’re having a new family over for dinner tonight.”
“Who’s that?”
“No clue.”
“Man, don’t be breakin’ my momma’s heart, now. I know she’s not a big-wig-money-thug or nothin’, and we don’t have the fancy place on the hill like you guys, but she still has her pride.”
Kale smiled, and he kicked a tall patch of weeds. “All right, I’ll come. I think I can show up late for this dinner party.”
“Your people do think it’s cool to be fashionably late, right?”
“My people?”
“I ain’t stutter.”
“You’re my people, Bubba.”
“Darn straight, son, and don’t you forget it.”
“I might if Anton keeps getting by you in practice.”
“Pshhh please, boy. That fool, I gotta help his ego is all.”
Kale raised his eyebrows. “How about helping your quarterback?”
“Like I said, you can handle it,” Bubba said with a loud slap on Kale’s shoulder pads. “As long as you stop daydreaming in the middle of plays.”
“Hi, Kale!”
The new voice drew out his name playfully. Both boys looked to the left and saw Chelsea waving and looking like something out of a magazine, flanked by Amanda and Trish. As Chelsea bobbed toward Kale, her bombshell-blonde hair bounced perfectly on her slender shoulders and a syrupy smile plastered her heavily made-up face. Her long eyelashes were so thick with mascara, they could slay mosquitos when she blinked. And blink she did as she approached, long and slow.
I wonder if she uses shoe polish as mascara, Kale mused to himself.
“Now, don’t spoil your dinner by having dessert first,” Bubba said, eyeing the trio. “Triple delight. Mmm-mmm.”
“Shut up,” Kale said.
“Better get all the lovin’ you can before them scouts take you to some fancy college. How many scholarship offers you got now?” Bubba laughed his raucous guffaw that sounded like welcoming thunder. “Normally I’d say going off to college with a girlfriend already at your hip is like bringing a sack lunch to a gourmet buffet, but mmm this is different.”
“Get out of here,” Kale said.
“Six o’clock. And remember, you break my momma’s heart, I break you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Bubba backed into the locker room door, and, while raising his eyebrows at Chelsea, gave Kale a very feminine wave goodbye in his rugged football gear that looked so wrong on so many levels.
“Thanks, that just gave me nightmares for a month,” Kale said.
Bubba’s laugh echoed in the locker room as he disappeared behind the door.
Kale sighed and turned back toward Chelsea and her disciples.
“Hey, ya’ll,” he said, purposely not addressing Chelsea directly.
“Sooo, I was thinking,” Chelsea started, drawing closer and walking her fingers up his arm, “that tomorrow night you could take me to the Rushing Brook, and, after a romantic dinner, you could ask me an important question.” She squeezed his left bicep twice as she said “important question.”
“Um, what would that be?” Kale said, trying to swallow his sigh. Amanda and Trish looked conspiratorially at each other and snickered.
Chelsea laughed with forced light-heartedness in its overtones.
“School starts in less than two weeks, Kale, and homecoming is only a month later. We’ll need time to prepare and plan the perfect day. Amanda and Trish have already starte
d polling the important people in the school. We’re sure to be voted king and queen.”
“Oh, uh . . . the Rushing Brook. That’s a pretty expensive place, right?”
Chelsea laughed again, that loud, fake laugh. It fit her, Kale thought.
“Don’t worry,” Chelsea said. “Daddy knows the owner.” She tousled his hair, barely able to reach the top of his 6’3” frame. On her tippy toes, she whispered into his ear, “It’ll be a good deal. I promise.”
“Ya know, that does sound pretty good,” he said, gently taking Chelsea’s hand off him, which she deftly turned into holding his hand with fingers interlocked. Kale glanced down in embarrassment and had to admit he was impressed in a strange way by how sly she could be.
“But—”
“But?” Chelsea said, backing up. The look of warning across her face could have made a tiger think twice. “There’s a ‘but’?”
As if on cue, Amanda’s and Trish’s expressions matched Chelsea’s.
“No, not really,” Kale said, back pedaling. “Just, I’m not sure I’m free tomorrow night. I’ll text you, okay?”
“Kale Copeland, is there something you’re not telling me? Is there someone else?”
She’s about to enter banshee mode, he thought. Careful.
“Beast mode” was just a little too kind of a description for what happened when Chelsea did not get her way. “Banshee mode” seemed a lot more apt. That’s what her brother always called it. Kale had seen it only once, and he never wanted to see it again.
“No, it’s not that at all,” he said as reassuringly as he could. “It’s just, I might have already made plans. For you and me, of course.”
Chelsea visibly relaxed, as did her two reflections.
“Oh, I should have known you would have taken the initiative,” she said softly. “I like that in a man.” She leaned in to him, resting her head on his arm, and sighed contentedly. The wind blew her blonde hair so it tickled his nose.
“Ohmigosh! Trish, do you see this?” Amanda squealed. “Ohmigosh!”
Trish already had her phone out. “Totally Instagramming it. Right. Now! The perfect picture. So, so perfect.”
“Wait,” Kale said.
“Too late,” Trish said, her fingers working her smartphone faster than Kale could blink.
“Oh, look!” Amanda said, scrunching her perfectly waxed eyebrows up to a peak. “Already twenty-three likes!” She brought her hand to her chest. “You’re both so perfect.”
