by RH Tucker
My first thought is about Sarah since it just happened. I think about telling her that I'm looked at as a player, with all this experience, but it's all fake. I decide not to though. First of all, that just makes me sound like a douche. And secondly, what if she really does have experience. That'd be a little embarrassing. Then I remember something else I think about from time to time, even though I try not to. Something only Matt knows.
BigBaller27: Okay…
BigBaller27: Everyone knows it's just my mom and me. That my dad left when I was little.
BigBaller27: What most people don't know, is it's because I walked in on him having sex with my babysitter when I was five. I was little and had no idea what was happening, so I told my mom. There was a huge argument that night and the next day he was gone. I haven't seen him since.
I stare down at my phone, nervous about hitting the send button. This is one of the most intimate details of my life I’m sharing with her. Letting out a breath, I hit send.
Chapter 14
Emma
Oh. My. God. I blink as I re-read the screen a few times. I’m instantly regretting thinking of this stupid game. Stupid Lana, with her stupid comment about sharing stupid secrets. It’s not that I feel weird about him sharing something so private with me. It’s the opposite. He’s trusting me. He’s sharing this part of his life with me, that almost no one else knows about. It’s in that moment that I know I have to meet him. But first I should apologize.
Emerald22: Oh God, I’m so sorry
BigBaller27: It's no big deal. I mean, I guess it was at the time, but u know
Emerald22: No, it is a big deal. I feel horrible
BigBaller27: Don’t. I don’t mind sharing that with you :) Plus, my mom is a great ‘father’ for me too
Emerald22: Thank u but I DO! I thought this would be a fun little thing, but it got super serious. And I have literally nothing as serious as that
BigBaller27: Well that’s a good thing
Emerald: No, I feel so stupid now. My secret is so dumb and inconsequential compared to yours
BigBaller27: Secrets are secrets :) what’s urs?
I bite my bottom lip as I type in my answer, feeling like it’s the lamest secret in the world now.
Emerald22: I have this tiny scar on the bottom of my chin. You can't really see it anymore, especially if I'm wearing make-up, but it's there. I got it when I was seven after falling off my bike. It needed three stitches, and all the boys made fun of me at school because of it :/
I wait patiently for him to laugh at me. Laugh at my horrible excuse of a secret, compared to the life-altering one he shared with me. When he replies, most of my nerves dissipate, and I smile.
BigBaller27: I would’ve beat up any boy who laughed at you ;)
Butterflies.
Emerald22: We should meet.
BigBaller27: Yes!
BigBaller27: When?
BigBaller27: Where?
BigBaller27: Sorry, was that too quick of a reply? >//<
I let out a little laugh at his embarrassed emoji and excitement, which gets me excited.
Emerald22: How about tomorrow? During lunch?
BigBaller27: Absolutely. Where?
I don’t want it to be in the cafeteria, with everyone around. In the quad could work, but then I’d have Jen, Micah, and Lana all looking over each other, waiting. Of course, I’ll tell them who he is, but I want this to be private first. Just for us.
Emerald22: How about the courtyard, near the front of the school. There’s that grassy area and that big oak tree?
BigBaller27: Perfect. How will I know who you are?
A smile creeps across my lips.
Emerald22: I’ll be wearing my Hogwarts Hufflepuff shirt, sitting under the oak tree.
BigBaller27: Um, hufflepuff???
Emerald22: U know, from Harry Potter?
BigBaller27: I’ve only seen the movies, and it’s been a while.
Emerald22: Ugh, you have so much to learn lol
BigBaller27: Can’t wait for you to teach me ;D
I can’t contain the smile on my face.
Emerald22: Fine. I’ll be wearing a Star Wars shirt. Better?
BigBaller27: Now that I can recognize.
Emerald22: Okay :)
BigBaller27: Okay
The nerves are building up in my stomach, and suddenly I have no idea what to talk about.
Emerald22: So… I guess I’ll see u tomorrow
BigBaller27: I guess you will ;)
It's just an emoji. I shouldn't read anything into it, but I can't help it. He was so excited by his response and ready to meet. And I’m ready to meet.
The night is restless, and I don't know how much sleep I get. It isn't much. Getting up in the morning, I throw on a pair of pants, my Chucks, and my Star Wars shirt. I can't contain the bounce in my step as I make my way out to Jen when she picks me up.
“Holy crap.” Jen looks at me grinning. “You look like it’s Christmas morning.”
“It’s gonna be a good day.”
“And why is that?” she asks, starting to drive.
“Oh, you know, the sun’s out. I think I know what I’m painting for the art show. And …” I pause to glance over at her and wait till she looks back at me.
“Yeah, and?”
“I’m meeting him today!” I let out a high-pitched scream, and Jen’s mouth drops open for a second before she starts screaming with me.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!”
“I know!” We can’t contain the laughter that starts between us.
“When?”
“Today at lunch.”
“Oh, I’m so gonna be spying on you!”
“No, Jen,” I say, but can’t keep the smile off my face. “I want to meet him privately first.”
“But I want to know who it is!” She pouts.
"You will, but I want to meet him alone first. This is … I don't know. This is special."
“What if he takes a friend?”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know? Did you ask him?”
“No, but I know he won’t. I know him. I’m sure he wants it to be just as special.”
“Oh, God.” She rolls her eyes. “Fine. But you better text me as soon as you two are done swooning into each other’s eyes.”
I nod to her but keep smiling as I look out through the window.
The entire day seems to drag. First period, second period, and so on. By fourth period, the class right before lunch, I seriously think time is standing still. I don't even remember what my teacher is talking about, as every two minutes my eyes jump to the clock on the wall, doing everything I can to will the time to move faster.
When the bell rings for lunch, every butterfly in the world seems to be residing in my stomach. My fingers tighten around the straps of my backpack as I make my way to the oak tree. Not many students eat their lunch in the courtyard, and as I get there, I'm relieved to see only a few kids sitting in the area.
Sitting under the tree, I begin to over-think how I should be sitting. Legs crossed? Legs under me? Maybe I shouldn't be sitting, and just be standing up waiting for him. Trying to calm myself down, I pull out my sketchbook and aimlessly start drawing.
Chapter 15
Carter
"I can't believe you're doing this," Matt mutters next to me as we walk down the hall.
I told him about it this morning when I saw him, and he seemed just as nervous as me.
“I know.” I glance around as we stop at the end of the hall. “Okay, bro. This is where I leave you.”
"Man." He curls his lip. "I can't believe you're not even telling me where you're meeting her."
“Dude, if this girl is even a tenth of a percent as real as she’s been acting, I don’t want to screw this up. Besides, you’re gonna see me right after lunch.”
"All right, fine." He raises a fist, and I hit his knuckles. "Good luck."
“Thanks.”
Looking behi
nd me to double check and make sure he's leaving, I watch him turn a corner, then I turn around and head towards the courtyard of the school. As I get there, I peek around. There are a few people eating lunch, a couple off to the side, but for the most part, it's pretty empty. Over to the left sits the large oak tree. A bowling ball of nerves abruptly drops in my stomach. My feet freeze. I mentally roll up my sleeves and force them to move. This is happening.
As I get closer, I can see someone sitting behind the tree. An arm moves, and it looks like a girl’s. Then she flips over a piece of paper.
Instead of going straight towards the tree, I walk to the side. I have to see this girl first to see if I know her. As I take a few more steps, she comes into focus, and my mouth drops open. I can't believe it. Sketching in a notebook, wearing a black Star Wars shirt, is Emma Sanchez. The same Star Wars shirt she was wearing when she bumped into me last week.
I do a double take. Then a triple take. No way. No-freaking-way. My mystery girl is Emma Sanchez. How in the world is this happening? I stay off in the distance a few more minutes, just watching her and trying to piece everything together, but there's nothing to piece together. It isn't some grand scheme. I texted the wrong number, which evidently was hers. She looks as pretty as she always does and it seems like she curled her hair a little. She's wearing some short pants again, only these are black. I watch her as she studies her sketchbook, her fingers waving over the paper with a pencil.
Of course, she doesn’t have a care in the world. She’s real. She’s probably the realest person I’ve ever known. And there she is waiting for a guy, me, but still enjoying her life.
I turn around and start to walk away, but I can't. Facing away from her, I peer over my shoulder just as she pulls out her cell phone. A small frown crosses her lips. She's waiting for him. For me. Damn it, what the hell did I do?
I can't just leave her. What kind of asshole would that make me? I know Sarah called me that last night, but she was mad that I didn't want to hook up with her. If I just bail on Emma, then I really am an asshole. A certified douchebag.
Facing her direction, every muscle in my body tenses. With every step I take, I get closer, and I have no freaking clue what to say. Hey, Emma. Guess what? I’m BigBaller27! Yeah right, she’ll flip her shit and scream at me. Or run away. Or both. But I have to say something. I can’t just stand her up.
I finally make it to the tree. She puts her phone away and goes back to sketching. I've moved so slowly because I'm nervous, she hasn't heard me. I lean against the tree and look down at her, seeing what she's drawing. It's a sketch of the courtyard, the fountain in the middle. There's a couple drawn off in the distance, and I look back up to see them still sitting there. It's loose but detailed at the same time. It's really good. Thinking of our messages, I remember she loves art class and painting. She said it probably brings her as much joy as I told her playing basketball brings me.
“Uh … hey, what’s up, Emma?” The words come out muffled.
Her head shoots up. At first, there's a hint of excitement and surprise. But it instantly vanishes as her eyes meet mine.
"Carter," she groans out, her eyes returning to her sketchbook. "What are you doing here?"
This is hopeless. She isn’t even giving it the possibility that Big Baller is me. She hates me.
“Oh, I was …” I look around, searching for a reason to give her. “I had to meet up with my coach.”
"Okay, then." She waves me off. "Go talk to your coach."
Trying to think of something else to say, I look back down at her sketchbook. “Whatchya got there? Is that a sketch?”
“Ding, ding,” she says, annoyed. “Looks like your problem-solving skills are as sharp as ever.”
She doesn’t hate me. She loathes me. “It’s good.”
“Whatever.” She shakes her head. “What do you want, Carter?”
I stand there, blinking, unable to think of anything. As the seconds tick by, I know if I tell her who I am it’ll be a complete disaster.
“Oh, what? Nothing.”
“Good, then you can leave.”
Chapter 16
Emma
What I thought was the most anticipated lunch of my entire life, was turning into a lousy dream. Where is he? It's been nearly ten minutes, and I haven't heard from him. I pulled out my sketchbook to try and distract myself when who shows up but Carter Dixon. Looking cocky, his light brown hair waves in the air. I don't know if he meant to sneak up on me or not, but he did. And now he's standing over me.
He's looking at me like he doesn't understand that I told him he could leave. I am waiting for someone after all. Not like I need to tell him that.
“You do understand English, right?”
“Um, what?”
I look back up at him. “I guess not. You said you had to meet your coach, and that you’re doing ‘nothing’ here, so you can leave. You know, put one foot in front of the other and walk away?”
“Oh.” He looks down at his feet with an embarrassed look.
I pull out my phone and frown at the time. Fifteen minutes. Where is he?
“You waiting for a friend?” he asks, watching me put my phone away.
“No. It’s none of your business.”
“I know.” He shrugs, still leaning against the tree.
“Don’t you have friends to go eat your lunch with? Or maybe some more cheerleaders to hook up with?”
I look up and see a stunned expression. It's not like I know what he does, but the rumors are out there. Everyone knows he hooked up with Sarah at homecoming, and ever since then, the rumors have spread further, with multiple names. But he seems hurt. His pained expression makes me look away, down at my sketchbook.
I’m not sure if he’s trying to change the subject, but he motions toward my drawing with his leg. “That’s really good.”
"I didn't ask," I answer, feeling guilty about the malice in my voice.
I can't help it. Carter is one of the most popular seniors in our class, who seemingly gets whatever he wants by flashing that smile. His basketball buddy, Jeremy, is disgusting. And sure, Matt seemed like a nice guy, but for all I know he's just as bad. Being the senior class president, I've heard a couple of girls call him President McHottie. With a nickname like that, I'm sure he has the same size ego as Carter.
But the thing that irks me the most is catching him checking me out from time to time. Not that it isn’t a little flattering to know I catch a guy’s attention, especially someone like Carter, but still. I may not be able to see them if they’re checking out my butt, but at least try to avert your gaze if you’re looking at my chest.
“Are you drawing that for a friend?” he asks.
Letting out an aggravated sigh, I close the sketchbook. “It doesn’t matter what I’m drawing, or if I’m drawing it for someone. But I am waiting for someone, so if you don’t mind please, it’d be great if you just move along.”
The hurt that flashed before is gone, replaced by a coy smile. “He must be special.”
The audacity of this guy. I mean, I know who I'm waiting for, but he doesn't. I could be waiting for Jen or another friend who's a girl. Or I could be gay. He doesn't know.
“Who said it was a ‘he’?”
His eyes pop open, and I can't help the small smile that slips my lips. "Oh … she?"
I shake my head, looking at the ground. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Not she. It’s a he. Now, would you please get out of here.”
He rolls his eyes with a smile but doesn’t move his feet. “Wow, he’s gonna have his hands full.”
“Oh my God.” I fold my arms across my chest. “You are such a jerk, you know that?”
There’s silence for a moment as I sit there. He mumbles something that sounds like sorry, but I can’t understand it. Plus, why would he act all hurt?
“What?”
“I said, I’m sorry.” Again, the candid look crosses his face.
“Why? For not leavin
g?”
“Jeez, I’m trying to be the better person here, Emma.” He sounds exasperated and shoves his hands in his pockets.
I scoff. “Better person? That’s a laugh. You’re just a dumb jock.”
"Well, I have the best grade in our history class, and I have a 3.95 GPA this year. So, no, I'm not dumb."
My eyes shoot up to meet his, a sudden honesty there. “You keep track of your GPA?”
“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, looking away. “I’m trying to get straight A’s this year.”
I pull out my cell phone again. Twenty minutes. A small pit of despair starts to form in my stomach. Had he shown up, taken a look at me and walked away? Oh no! What if he showed up while Carter's been here and didn't want to interrupt us, thinking we're … something.
“Carter.” My voice comes out softer and vulnerable. “Please, can you just leave?”
Hoping against hope that he at least has a heart, I wait for his feet to move. They don't. "You must really like this guy."
“And why would you say that?”
"Well, I mean, you're insulting me like crazy, and you keep urging me to get the hell out of here. But lunch is half over."
“Exactly, so you need to leave.”
"Yo!"
Someone yells, and my head spins around to see who it is. A guy runs across the courtyard, meeting up with his friends. My eyes find Carter's and he gives me a suspicious look. I can't keep the disappointment from spreading across my face.
“Guess that’s not him.”
“Carter, I’m starting to hate you more than I did before.”
“You seem like a very hateful person.” He chuckles.
“I’m not!” I argue, before letting out a sigh. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
