by RH Tucker
“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 elbo
w 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?”
“Hey, maybe the whole traditional art gallery setting needs to be upgraded,” I say, mostly joking, as Jen laughs.
"No,” he groans. "We don't create art to be hocked like a piece of jewelry or a car. It's called art for a reason. It has meaning. And purpose. If people want to buy it fine, but I'm not about to have you," he points a finger at Lana, "showing off my work, trying to be some saleswoman."
For the most part, I agree with Micah, though he is much more of an artist's artist than I am. He loves to create and find the beauty and meaning in the work of others. While I love looking at other people's work, I've never gone in depth in trying to understand their reasons or meaning behind their work. I just know my own. If people want to interpret my work, that's fine. But I don't like to try and decipher others.
“I think you’re just jealous,” Lana says, regaining her playful attitude.
“Of what?”
“You don’t want your beautiful girlfriend to take all the attention away from your paintings.”
"Yep, that's it." He smiles, rolling his eyes, but she plants a kiss on his cheek anyway.
As she pulls away, she nods to something behind us. “Look,” she says in a loud whisper.
We all turn and see Carter walking down the hallway. I notice his sunglasses, something he doesn't usually wear. Jen nudges my side with an elbow, and when I turn to her, she wiggles her eyebrows. Trying to keep my cheeks from becoming red, I flash her a dirty look to stop.
“Did you guys hear?”
“You’re the one who always gets the juicy bits before lunch,” Jen says.
“Oh, my God.” She seems a little flustered, so I know this must be a good rumor. “It’s not just one. It’s, like, multiple things. First off, I guess he and Jeremy got in a fight during practice.” I look over at Jen. I remember Carter falling down, but there wasn’t any pushing or shoving. “I guess their bromance is kaput. But then, everyone’s saying half the team hates Carter now.”
“What? Why?” Even though we only talked a little bit, I find myself feeling defensive of him.
“He lied to them all. I guess he was making up stories about hooking up with girls.”
“Ew. What a sleaze,” Jen says.
“That’s not exactly true.” Micah jumps in. “Brittany came up to Taylor in English and asked if it was true. She heard her name was being thrown around.”
“And?” Lana looks at him.
“I guess Carter never hooked up with Sarah. Supposedly, he hasn’t hooked up with half the girls people say he did.”
“So, he just told everyone he did?” Jen asks.
“Well, no. Not exactly. He just let everyone think he did, without correcting them.”
“That’s one way to go about it.” Jen laughs.
I should feel a little irritated. Or even annoyed with the news. But I've gotten to know Carter, and he seems decent enough. He's usually always with his friends, so watching him walk down the hall alone, a pang of sympathy hits me. I feel the urge to check on him. I mean, he was kind enough to come and apologize to me, even when I told him off. If all his friends do hate him now, he's probably feeling pretty bad.
I start to gather my stuff when Jen looks over at me. "Where are you going?"
In all honesty, I don’t know, because I have no idea where Carter is headed. But I want to try and catch up with him.
"Nowhere." I look over, and she shoots me a look that says she knows. "Stop."
“What’s going on?” Lana asks.
“Ask Micah,” Jen says, giving him a smirk.
“Me?” He looks at her, then me, then at Lana. “How am I supposed to know?”
“You didn’t notice anything kind of funny last week when we were in the gym?” Jen looks at Micah, who looks heedless. “Ugh, never mind. Text me before lunch ends,” Jen says to me as I leave, knowing she’s going to tell them my embarrassing story of checking Carter out during his practice.
I head the direction I saw him walking, but as I go further along, I can take two pathways. One leads to the courtyard and the other leads to the student parking lot. He could've gone to the parking lot, maybe to try and ditch the rest of the day. If that's the case, I won't make it there before he leaves. So, I head to the courtyard.
As usual, it’s mostly empty when I get there. A few people are off to the side, sitting on one of the benches, eating their lunch. I see the large oak tree and a leg sticking out
behind it. When I get closer, I can see Carter sitting at the base of it. One knee propped up with his arm over it, he’s got the sunglasses on and seems to be looking up at the sky. With not much of a breeze, his hair stands up in its poof.
Getting closer, I notice he has earbuds plugged in. His foot taps along to the rhythm of whatever he's listening to. I don't know what I should do because I'm standing only a couple of feet away and he should see me, but he hasn't moved or said anything. I lean over and tap his shoulder.
“Oh,” he says a little louder than necessary, before pulling out the earbuds. “Hey, Emma.”
"Hey," I say, and he flashes a grin, revealing his dimple. "Sorry, I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
“No, not at all.” He motions for me to take a seat.
Sitting down, it feels different than last time. We planned to meet then. This time I just sought him out. He stares at me a moment, expecting me to say something, probably wondering what I’m doing here. I’m starting to wonder the same thing. That’s when I point to his phone.
"What are you listening to?"
He glances down at his phone and seems to get nervous. I'm not sure because the glasses are covering his eyes. "Oh, um, Empire of the Sun."
“Really?” My eyes jump to where his should be, but I only see my reflection in the lenses.
“Yeah.”
Maybe it’s because he seems nervous, but I start to feel more at ease. Enough so that I hold out my hand, asking for one of the earbuds. He smiles and gives it to me, and that’s when I hear the song; Walking on a Dream.
“That’s a good one.”
“Yeah.” He lifts his shoulders. “But I think my favorite is probably I’ll Be Around.”
“Really?”
