All Pepped Up (Pepper Jones #2)

by Ali Dean

  “Pepper, I hear you’re quite the runner! I actually heard about you before Annie moved in and Jace started coming around. He’s very proud of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You two sure are the Brockton superstars! And with Jace going to UC next year, he’ll probably be starting quarterback as a freshman. People are going to just love having a local boy bring the team back.”

  Jace and I exchange glances. Yup, those are the expectations laid out for him. I never thought about how he deals with even worse pressure to perform well than I do. Football’s way more popular than running, after all.

  Annie shows up a few minutes later with bags of food.

  “Sorry I’m late! One of the girls on the dinner shift had something come up with her kids and needed me to cover for her for a couple hours after I finished the lunch shift.”

  I get the feeling she’s the kind of person who is always late and always with an excuse.

  Jace stands up to meet her in the kitchen and help with the bags.

  “I’m glad you could make it, Pepper! Do you like Thai food? I got a mix of different things so hopefully there’s something here you like. You aren’t on any special diet for running, are you?”

  I shake my head. “No, I love Thai food. Sounds great.”

  Why does this woman rub me the wrong way? Get over it, Pepper! I yell at myself. Jace has. You can too.

  While we put the food out, Annie asks Jace about his baseball game yesterday. I’m surprised when he tells her that he went to the Rockies game with Wesley and Jim. Isn’t Wesley Jamison a sore subject?

  But Annie’s response has me second-guessing all my assumptions. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Jace. It’s great to hear the three of you are spending time together.”

  Huh? Okay, so she’s not bitter that Jim got another girl pregnant while she was pregnant with Jace. Weird. Jace better not think I’d be okay with that.

  When we sit down to eat, Annie turns her attention to me. Unsurprisingly, she asks me questions about running.

  She looks better than when I saw her a couple of months ago. There aren’t dark circles under her eyes, and she’s gained a little weight. Her teeth aren’t all that great, and her skin is more wrinkled than it should be at her age. But there’s no doubt she was a beauty back in the day. And she still has Jace’s striking eyes (they will always be Jace’s in my mind, even if he got them from her) and dark, wavy hair. If it wasn’t for years of addiction, she’d be stunning.

  We sit around talking for a couple of hours before saying goodbye. When I leave, it’s not so much anger I feel toward the woman, but pity. She’s all nerves. And insecure. It’s strange to meet a 40-year-old woman who doesn’t seem comfortable in her own skin. Maybe she’ll settle down once she gets used to sobriety.

  But what surprises me the most is that she doesn’t seem to have an ounce of backbone. Sure, she’s trying to make up for abandoning her son and it’s appropriate for her to act apologetic, but I get the impression she never stands up for herself. And that just jars me because Jace isn’t like that one bit.

  As we drive home it occurs to me that maybe Jace’s protective nature is at play here. He’s always been like that toward me, even though I think I can handle myself just fine. Is Jace trying to save his mother? I sure hope not, because that’s not a burden he should have to carry.

  Chapter 13

  Coach Tom pulls me over to talk after practice later that week. I knew I couldn’t avoid this conversation much longer.

  “Have you thought about your goals for the season?” he asks. We’re sitting in the bleachers by the softball field, and I watch my teammates stretch on the other side of the field.

  “Not really,” I admit. “What do you think my goals should be?”

  He shakes his head. “You know that’s not how I like to do this, Pepper. First, you tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll let you know if I think those goals are reasonable. Then we talk about a plan for the season.”

  I sigh. “I know. I just don’t want to have any goals this season. Is that an option?”

  “Why don’t you want to have any goals? You’ve always been a goal-oriented athlete, Pepper.”

  “I just want to have fun. I want to enjoy it. Everyone else seems to have expectations for me. Do I really need to put more on myself?”

  “Goals aren’t expectations, Pepper. You know that.”

  He’s right. Maybe if I can focus on a goal, I can forget about other people’s expectations.

  “Okay, how about winning the 2-mile at State?”

  Coach nods in approval. “That’s a great goal. You placed second last year in 10:45. And how about the mile? You’ve doubled with those two events the past two years.”

  “Can I just focus on the 2-mile and relays? I’ll probably be in two relays this year, right?”

  “I can put you in three events max at State. So, if you do the 4 x 800 and the DMR, the 2-mile will be your only individual race.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Okay. But why don’t we put you in the mile at Districts then? You can shoot for first at that meet.”

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  “What about times? We can’t control who your competition is, but the beauty of track is that we can shoot for some time goals.”

  “You said I ran 10:45 last year?”

  “Yes, that’s your PR in the 2-mile. And it’s 5:02 in the mile.” PR means personal record in running lingo.

  “How about 10:40 in the 2-mile and breaking five in the mile?”

  “The State meet record is 10:36.”

  “Fine! I’ll try to get that, then.”

  Why does this feel like a negotiation?

  Coach shakes his head. “Look, Pepper, what’s going on? You’re doing well in practice. You ran some great splits on the relays. I don’t understand why you’re so reluctant to talk about your racing plan for the season. We normally would have had this conversation weeks ago.”

  Ignoring his question, I ask the one I really don’t want to hear the answer to. “What about Nationals? Should I be thinking about that?”

  “Only if you want.” Coach goes on to explain that there are two major national meets, and when and where they take place. But I zone out after I hear the words “only if you want.” I don’t want to train for Nationals. Just the thought of it exhausts me. And if Coach isn’t pushing it, then I’m not going for it.

  “Judging by the look on your face, I’m guessing you don’t want to put Nationals on the racing agenda this season.”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, then let’s talk about the plan for the next eight weeks leading to State.”

  Eight weeks? It seems so short. I guess I’ve wasted a lot of time already. Coach talks me through the meet schedule, and writes down what events I’ll plan to do at each one. I’m only half-listening.

  What if I can’t even win at State?

  I head back to the locker room instead of rejoining the team to stretch. They’ll be disappointed I’m not going for Nationals.

  The tennis team is leaving when I head into the girls’ locker room. Lisa gives me a tight smile while Andrea and Kayla make themselves comfortable on the bench by my locker.

  “What are you up to tonight, Pepper?” Kayla asks.

  “Uh, homework?” It’s Wednesday night. What else would I be doing?

  “You should come hang out at Lou’s with us,” she says.

  “Well, my Gran usually expects Jace and me for dinner…” Although she doesn’t mind when I change plans on occasion. Usually for something related to running or a class project. But Lou’s does have the best pizza in town.

  “No problem. We’ll invite the guys too,” Andrea says happily. She reminds me of Zoe sometimes. Always so… cheerful.

  I shrug. “Sure, why not? I’ll just take a quick shower here then. Jace can give me a ride when he gets done with practice.”

  “They might not be done for a bit, so we’ll wait on you outside,
” Kayla says before standing up. Lisa and Andrea follow her out the door and I shake my head, uncertain about being included with their group. They weren’t so bad on Saturday night. I had fun, actually. Sighing, I strip down and wrap myself in a towel on my way to the showers.

  Dorothy Sandoval stands in front of the only open shower stall wearing a tennis skirt and a sports bra. Her arms are crossed over her chest and the pursed lips tell me she isn’t blocking my path by accident.

  “What’s up, Dorothy?” I ask tentatively. Dorothy runs on the cross country team in the fall, but plays tennis in the spring. She idolizes the Barbies and constantly gossips about them. We’re teammates during cross season, but not exactly friends. I don’t think any of the girls on the cross team are considered friendship-eligible by Dorothy’s standards.

  “So, you have new friends now, I see?” she asks bitterly.

  I roll my eyes and try to squeeze past her. I’ve never been a big Dorothy fan, but I don’t mind tolerating her. She’s been fairly nice to me in the past because of my friendship with Jace. But now that I’m becoming friends with the same girls she’s wanted to be friends with for the past four years, all pretense of cordiality has gone out the window. This petty jealousy is not something I want to deal with.

  Dorothy moves to the side, forcing me to look her in the eye. “How’s tennis going, Dorothy?” Maybe diversion will work.

  “Kayla and I are on a doubles team together.”

  “Oh, that’s great.”

  “But they never invite me to Lou’s. Now that you’re dating Jace Wilder, you’re suddenly good enough to be their friend, is that it?”

  “Good enough? You know I don’t care about that.”

  “Maybe you’ve changed.”

  “No. I hang out with Jace’s friends more now that we’re together, that’s all. If you want to come to Lou’s with us you can.” Not that I want to hang out with Dorothy, but maybe inviting her will get her off my back. Who cares if Kayla gets pissed I included someone in their exclusive group?

  “I don’t need your pity invite, Pepper.” She knocks my shoulder as she brushes past me and I have to cover my mouth to contain my laughter.

  I really hope that girl gets over her social climbing obsession when she leaves high school. It’s just sad.

  Thirty minutes later I’m sitting at a large circular booth at Lou’s with the Barbies and a pitcher of beer. “So, how come they didn’t card you guys?”

  “My uncle owns Lou’s,” Kayla says. “You didn’t know that?”

  I shake my head and grab a stick of garlic bread. Apparently Kayla didn’t get the Italian genes with her blonde hair and blue eyes.

  I suppose if I was a Barbie-wannabe like Dorothy that would be good information to know.

  “That was her cousin who took our order,” Lisa tells me.

  “She has some fiiiiine cousins,” Andrea says with a giggle.

  I smile. The waiter was hot, no question. Dark hair, olive skin. It was probably the similarities to Jace that had me looking him over. Normally I wouldn’t look twice at a guy in his twenties.

  “What the hell is Dorothy Sandoval doing here with them?” Lisa asks darkly.

  We turn our heads to the entrance and watch Dorothy slide into a booth next to Madeline, Serena, and Emma.

  My heart rate picks up. This can’t be good.

  Kayla sends a warning look in their direction. It would probably make most girls squirm, at the very least, but Madeline ignores her. She bats her eyelashes at Kayla’s cousin, and he leans over the table to get a better look at her cleavage.

  I had no intention of drinking beer tonight, but it suddenly looks very appetizing. And I don’t even like beer. I pour myself a full pint and chug down half of it in one go.

  The pizzas arrive just before the guys join us. Jace raises his eyebrows at me in question when he sees me drinking beer.

  He slides in next to me. “You don’t have to drink beer, you know?”

  I glare at him. “Of course I know that, Jace.” What? Does he think I’ve changed too, like Dorothy suggested? “I’m not a peer pressure victim, don’t worry.” I’m just trying to cope with the anxiety of seeing two girls who seem out to get me sitting together twenty feet away.

  Jace slides his arm around me. “Don’t be mad at me.” He kisses the top of my head and I sink into him. “How was practice?” he asks.

  I stiffen, remembering the conversation with Coach. I came here to avoid thinking about track. “Fine.”

  Jace turns to look at me, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. His phone alerts him to an incoming text message at the same time that I feel a buzz from mine in my back pocket.

  Unlocking my phone, I open a picture text from an unknown number. It’s a couple making out on the hood of a Jeep. Ryan’s Jeep. The girl sits on the hood, her arms around his neck, and Ryan’s hands are under her shirt, on her hips. Frowning, I peer closer. It’s a brunette, and definitely not Lisa. The message below says, Cheaters.

  My eyes bug out when I recognize the purple Converse sneakers wrapped around Ryan’s waist.

  “What the fuck?” Jace growls.

  When I glance up, everyone is staring at their phones. Except for Lisa, who is staring at me. Her face is beet red, and she looks like she’s going to claw my eyes out. I look around for Ryan, to help me explain, but he must still be at practice.

  “That picture, it must be from a long time ago,” I say quickly.

  Jace’s hands are clenching and unclenching on the table. I put my hand on top of his, trying to soothe him, but he yanks his fist away.

  “I think Madeline sent it,” I say quietly. Lisa shoots out of her seat, ready to bolt.

  Kayla grabs her arm and pulls her back down. “Don’t. You’re just giving her what she wants.”

  “I swear, you guys. This photo is from months ago,” I try to explain.

  “Why the hell would someone bother taking a photo of the two of you back then? And why save it? That doesn’t make a whole lot of fucking sense, Pepper,” Lisa growls at me. She’s right. It’s super weird.

  “I have no idea.” That’s all I can say. It’s really creepy that someone was watching us during that private moment. It was at the park by the high school, and we thought we were alone.

  Our phones beep simultaneously and I swallow hard before looking at the message.

  It’s in the hallway by the locker rooms and we’re wearing running clothes. Ryan’s head is leaning down to kiss my neck. Jace’s favorite place to kiss. Before I can try to explain, Jace grabs my hand and pulls me roughly out of the booth. It’s all I can do to keep up with him as he barrels through the restaurant. I refuse to look at Madeline’s table, but I notice other kids from Brockton Public gawking at us.

  He pushes me roughly up against the back of his Jeep, away from the prying eyes at the restaurant. His green eyes are ablaze and I can feel his chest rising and falling against mine.

  “Pepper,” he says with a croak. The pain in his voice cuts into me. I shake my head back and forth. No, Jace. You can’t believe it.

  “When were those photos taken?”

  “In the fall, Jace. Before we were together,” I spill the words out.

  The tension in his face, in his stance, relaxes considerably. “Has anyone touched you besides me since we’ve been together?” he asks in a softer voice.

  “No. I hardly even talk to Ryan. That time at my apartment is the only time I’ve really talked to him for more than a minute since we broke up.”

  Jace’s body sags into mine and he brushes his thumb along my cheekbone. “I believe you.” He presses his mouth roughly to mine, as if trying to show me through a kiss that he trusts me.

  When he breaks away, he leans his forehead against mine. “I trust you, Pep, you know I do. And I know there are people trying to come between us. It’s just really hard for me to think rationally when I see…” He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes. “I can’t look at those fucking photos again. Delete th
em from my phone. Please.”

  “I will,” I whisper, slipping the phone out of his pocket and putting it in mine.

  A car door slams and Jace turns around quickly to see Ryan jogging toward us. “I take it you got the messages too?” I ask when I see the confusion and distress in his eyes.

  “Yeah,” he quickly glances to Jace. “You know those are from months ago, right? Before you guys” – he gestures between us – “got together.”

  “I know, man. But I still don’t want to fucking look at you right now. Sorry. You might want to head inside and talk to your girlfriend.” Jace’s voice has returned to a controlled, unemotional tone, but I know it’s taking a lot for him to rein it in. He knows Ryan didn’t do anything wrong, but he’s never been especially rational when it comes to me.

  Jace’s grip on the steering wheel on the drive home tells me he’s still shaken. He turns up the radio, blocking out any conversation.

  When we turn onto a street out of town, I look over at Jace. “Where are we going?” I’m nearly shouting over the music.

  “I’m taking you out to dinner. You didn’t get a chance to eat.”

  Jace brings us to a little pub in Alpine, a small neighboring town. He doesn’t want to deal with running into anyone from Brockton.

  We order burgers, and eat in comfortable silence, sitting side by side in the booth. He steals my fries, and I let him.

  When we’re both stuffed and leaning back in our seats, I tell Jace, “I have a feeling this is only the beginning.”

  He takes my hand and rubs small circles on the palm. “You’re probably right. But we’ve got something that they don’t understand. Yeah, it pisses me off to see those photos, but I trust you, Pep. I know you.”

  I squeeze his hand. His voice wavers a little, and I wonder how true those words are. If pushed hard enough, can that trust be broken?

  He raises our hands to his lips and gives my knuckles a hard kiss. “I wish I could take back a lot of the stupid shit I did before,” he says.

  That would be nice.