All Pepped Up (Pepper Jones #2)

by Ali Dean

  I avoid his question. “She’s probably the one who sent those photos. You know that, right?”

  He nods.

  “I guess she’s doing Madeline’s dirty work. Trying to tell me worse things will come if I don’t just break up with you.” Rolling my eyes, I turn to my locker to get my books. He’s scrutinizing me and I don’t want him to know how much her words worried me.

  “Let me handle her.” His voice is gentle but stern.

  “Who? Madeline or Dorothy?”

  “Both. I thought I’d sent Madeline a pretty clear message already, but apparently not,” he says tightly.

  “Don’t do anything yet, Jace. Kayla’s already planning to mess with Dorothy, and I don’t want to turn this into a bigger thing than it is.” I don’t want to think about how crazy it could get if Jace gets involved. He’s never handled things subtly. Talk about disturbing our peaceful happy place.

  He narrows his eyes. “I’ll talk to Kayla. Maybe it’s best if the girls handle it for now.”

  I kiss him lightly on the lips for agreeing with me.

  “Wes is throwing a party on Saturday. Will you be up for it after your meet? The meet’s up in the mountains, right? You might not get back until late.”

  “I can come by,” I tell him. He takes my hand as we walk toward class.

  “He wants you there. It’s going to be a big one. But if you’re exhausted, it’s no problem. I’ll come by to hang out with you.”

  “Hang out?” I flutter my eyelashes, remembering the way Saturday night ended.

  “Or something…” he says with a sexy smirk.

  “That’s not going to help motivate me to go to Wes’s, Jace.”

  We pause in front of my classroom.

  “You know it means a lot to Wes that you’re friends with him again. I feel pretty shitty that you guys stopped hanging for so long because of me,” Jace confesses.

  “Well, it’s not like Wes didn’t play a part. He dropped me. I wasn’t even put in a position of having to choose.”

  Jace’s eyes darken and his forehead creases at my remark.

  I tilt me head at his disturbed expression. “You know I would have chosen you, if it came to it,” I tease.

  “Not a joking matter, Pep.” Holding my chin, he kisses me on the head and pats my butt before nudging me into class.

  ***

  This time when we arrive at the track meet, I don’t feel nervous. In fact, I don’t feel much at all about racing the 2-mile today. I’m rather indifferent. Apathetic.

  Because the meet’s far away, we travel as a team in a school bus. I do my homework on the way there while most of my teammates fall back to sleep. I like getting assignments out of the way so I can spend more time with Jace on the weekends. Although he has actually been doing his homework with me more often these days. It’s an odd time to start caring about school, given that he’s about to graduate and already has a college athletic scholarship. I wonder if Annie being around has anything to do with it.

  The clouds in the sky threaten rain as Zoe and I warm up for the 2-mile. I usually race my best in cooler weather like this. Maybe my lack of nervousness will help me race better. I’m trying to stay positive, but there’s an icky feeling brewing about this race that I can’t ignore.

  The tennis team isn’t playing here, so at least I don’t have to worry about my spikes getting stolen.

  The 2-mile is one of the first races of the day. Ryan’s racing it as well, and he and Charlie jog up next to us during our warm up run. As Charlie and Zoe chat about something, Ryan says quietly, “Hey, I haven’t had a chance to thank you for talking to Lisa.”

  “Oh, she told you about that?”

  “She didn’t say much about your conversation, but she hasn’t questioned me about the photos since.”

  “You know, Ryan, I was hoping maybe we could start hanging out and being friends more, but I have a feeling we won’t be able to get away with that now. At least not for a little while.”

  I glance at him from the corner of my eye, curious for his reaction. He flashes a dimpled smile, telling me he’s happy I’m hoping we can be closer again in the future. Even if we have to put it on hold for now. I think that my relationship with Jace is strong enough to withstand Ryan and me being friends, but it’s not worth the gossip that will inevitably follow in light of the recent photo texts.

  “I’d like that, Pepper,” he says. “I’ve missed you. As a friend, I mean,” he quickly clarifies.

  We pass Coach, who calls Zoe and me over while the boys continue on their warm-up run.

  “You remember Kendra Smith?” Coach asks me.

  “The name sounds familiar. Didn’t she win State?” The State cross meet was a bit of a disaster race for me this past fall, but I managed to get by just enough to qualify for the next big race – Regionals – thanks to Jenny who gave up her qualifying spot.

  “Yup. Great runner. She usually runs a sound race. I saw she’s seeded right behind you today in the 2-mile. It’d be smart to just settle in with her and let her set the pace.”

  I like the sound of that. I won’t have to think about much.

  “Unless she’s really off pace, then you’ll probably need to run your own race. I don’t think there will be anyone else for you to run with.”

  Coach moves on to talk to Zoe about her race. Zoe is trying to qualify for State too, but she’ll be a ways behind me. She qualified last year and I bet she’ll do it again, but it’s not as much of a sure thing as it is for me.

  As we approach the start line, Zoe points out Kendra Smith. I recognize her from cross country. She has the same body type as me – a little taller than most distance runners and long legs. We both have long brown hair pulled back in ponytails. Her school colors are purple and her running spikes, socks and hairband match the uniform.

  She smiles hesitantly my way when she catches me eyeing her.

  I return her smile, slightly embarrassed. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to her after the race. Maybe I’ll even thank her for setting the pace for me. If she sets a good pace, that is. Actually, if I beat her, that would be sort of obnoxious.

  The first lap is slow – too slow – and I debate whether to take off on my own. I’m behind Kendra and a girl with really short hair who looks familiar from cross season. The race is 8 laps, so I figure I’ll hold off another lap or two and see if I get too antsy.

  It doesn’t even seem like I’m racing. It’s slightly faster than my jogging pace, but not by much. There are five of us in the front pack, and I know Zoe is with us by the cheering from our teammates.

  They call out our splits when we finish the first mile. We’re definitely on pace to hit the state qualifying time, but if we don’t pick it up, this might end up being the slowest 2-mile I’ve raced since freshman year.

  Kendra’s coach yells at her and her teammate to follow through with a “negative split”, meaning the second half of the race is faster than the first.

  I’m only paying attention to the girl with short hair in front of me, and I don’t notice that Kendra is pulling ahead until her teammate passes me. Before I can pass the girl with short hair, who isn’t changing pace, Zoe passes me on the tail of the purple uniform, following Kendra and her teammate’s lead.

  Although I barely feel like I’ve been in a race up until this point, I hardly have the energy to catch up to the quicker pace. I should keep pushing forward past Zoe and move in on Kendra’s heel – or pass her – but I’m suddenly feeling exhausted.

  It’s all I can do to hang on with Zoe.

  Last race, I didn’t feel tired but I couldn’t go any faster. That was a new sensation. Now, it’s time to go faster, and I’m exhausted. It’s not necessarily a new sensation – fatigue in the middle of a race – but it’s inexplicable. I’ve barely put forth any effort. Why does it feel like I’ve just run the first half of the 2-mile like it’s a one-mile race?

  I trudge ahead, barely paying attention to our splits as we round each la
p, and ignoring Coach as he tells me to move ahead on the last turn. It’s the sense of nervous energy in the group that reminds me I only have one lap to bring it home.

  Kendra surges forward, and her teammate and Zoe fall behind, with me still on their tail. It’s now or never.

  I know I have to go with Kendra. It’s what’s expected of me. But my body protests. It doesn’t want to feel the burn that comes with digging deeper and running faster. My legs are on cruise control, and I realize it’s not so much my body that’s fatigued, but my competitive spirit.

  When the realization hits, it tears through me and rips me wide open. For the first time I can remember, I don’t have a desire to win. I’m fine finishing right where I am.

  Zoe and Kendra’s teammate battle it out on the final stretch and I simply stay behind them. I watch Zoe edge out the other girl, and a small happiness for her victory washes over the deep sorrow I feel for a loss I can’t explain.

  I want to run off and be alone. I need to mourn whatever piece of me just disappeared. Will it ever come back?

  But I don’t want to act like a sore loser. Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe I’m only being dramatic over a bad race. I remember Jace’s words – that all athletes have bad days – but this is something different. I feel it deep in my bones. Usually after a bad race I’m ready for a comeback. I want to race again as soon as possible. Right now, I dread the next track meet.

  The funny thing is that it’s a lot easier to congratulate people when they beat you. I’d never realized it before. I’m able to approach Kendra without feeling like I’m rubbing it in her face that I beat her. She’s a sweet girl – though I can tell she’s exercising all her willpower not to ask me what happened to me on the track. I wouldn’t know what to tell her anyway. I’m not sick or injured.

  Coach is preoccupied watching the boys’ 2-mile, and Zoe puts her warm-down on hold to cheer for Charlie. It allows me the opportunity I was hoping for to jog by myself for a few minutes. By the time Zoe catches up with me, the pain that ripped through me as I finished the race has dulled to a mild sadness. And a slight panic. Running is at the core of my identity. Without a desire to compete, who am I?

  “I’m having an identity crisis,” I confess to Zoe.

  “How so?”

  “I don’t enjoy racing anymore. And even worse, I don’t think I even care about winning.”

  Uncharacteristically, Zoe doesn’t respond right away. “Do you still like running?” she asks after a moment.

  “I love running,” I don’t hesitate to tell her.

  “I think you just need a break, Pepper. Don’t freak out. Just take some time off from racing. It’s not such a big deal.”

  “I can’t just quit. What will I say?” I want to get angry at her. Tell her she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like. But that’s not fair.

  “It wouldn’t be quitting. Unless you wanted to be done. Do you want that?”

  “No.” My tone is harsher than I intend, but the idea of never racing again cuts deep. In a way, it’s comforting to know there’s still some fire in me.

  “Then just take the rest of track season off. Coach will let you train with us still, I’m sure, even if you don’t race.”

  That idea is tempting, but it doesn’t sit well. It feels like giving up.

  “Maybe I can just do relays.”

  “Yeah! That’s a really good idea,” Zoe exclaims. And she’s off talking about who might be on the 4 x 800 and DMR teams at State, and who the main competition will be.

  I feel better with this new plan formed, but I’m not sure it’s resolved my identity crisis. I’ve only put it on hold for a little longer. In the meantime, how am I supposed to reclaim my competitive spirit?

  Chapter 17

  When the bus returns to school, I hurry to the locker room and take a shower in record time. I’m excited to get to Wes’s place and see Jace. I want to talk to him about what happened on the track today, and tell him about my new plan for the season. I’m curious what he’ll think.

  I’ve invited my friends to the party, but they’re getting a bite to eat first and changing at home. Jace left his Jeep in the parking lot for me so I can drive myself to Wes’s place.

  I hear the party before I even turn onto Wes’s street. Isn’t anyone worried that the neighbors will call the cops? Although Wes’s parents throw parties sometimes, so maybe the neighbors assume it’s them and don’t want to ruffle their feathers.

  Just as Wes promised, there’s a free spot in his driveway for me to park. I wander through the house, looking for Jace. A few faces are familiar from school, but some of them look older, like they might be UC students.

  Twenty minutes later, I’ve made two rounds through the house and still no Jace. I check my phone again, but he hasn’t responded to my text. Frowning, I make my way to the porch outside, for the second time, and take a soda from the cooler. It’s a cool night, and there aren’t many people outside.

  I lean my hip against the porch railing and watch a group of guys leave the pool house. Two of them are taller than the others, and I recognize them as Brockton Public basketball players. As they draw closer, I make out their glassy eyes. They probably weren’t having a book club meeting in the pool house. I glance away, toward a couple flirting on the other side of the porch.

  A moment later, an arm settles around my back and squeezes my shoulder. “Pepper Jones!”

  I glance up and stiffen when I recognize the owner of the arm around me.

  “It’s Wolfe,” he says with a grin. “Remember me?”

  Gulping another sip of soda to hide my reaction, I nod. I wouldn’t forget a name like that. It’s comical how fitting it is. Not only are his features hard – with a buzz cut that shows off a scar on his forehead – but Jace told me to stay clear of him. Even his grin has a dangerous tinge to it.

  I try to duck away but he tightens his hold. “Hey Rex!” he calls to his friend, who’s headed back inside. Rex turns around. “Look who I found!”

  Rex checks me out as he walks back our way. “Oh yeah, you were around here awhile back when we came by.” Rex points at me as he asks Wolfe, “She was the one Wilder and Wes were all, like, protective about, right?”

  “Yeah, she’s Wilder’s girl now. Aren’t you?” Wolfe asks.

  I finally draw the courage to take his hand and move it off my shoulder. “Yes,” I say firmly. These guys make me nervous, but I don’t want them to know that.

  When Jace decided to stop dealing drugs, Wolfe and Rex gave him a hard time. Jace doesn’t talk about it much, but my understanding is that Jace had a connection to some dealer in Denver, and Wolfe and Rex distributed the drugs. Jace and Wes were like the middlemen. When they quit dealing, Wolfe and Rex were angry they got cut out of the whole arrangement. Apparently the dealer in Denver was a gang member and decided to move his fellow gangsters to Brockton to do the distributing.

  Are they still holding a grudge against Jace? And what does that mean for me? I look around, wishing I was inside with the crowds. My eyes sweep over to the basketball players, who are standing beside a couple of other guys who came from the pool house. The others look to be college-aged, like Rex and Wolfe. I glance toward the door inside, but the group is surrounding me, and there’s no easy escape.

  “Why are you all alone out here?” Wolfe asks, quickly closing the space I tried to put between us. “Did you have a fight with Jace?”

  “Maybe Wesley made a move on her, Wolfe, and there’s trouble in love triangle paradise,” Rex says.

  Gritting my teeth, I keep my mouth shut. No sense encouraging these idiots.

  One of their buddies speaks up. “I bet we have something that would make her feel better.”

  “Yeah, a soda isn’t going to help you, sweetheart,” another says, commenting on the Coke gripped in my hand.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the basketball players say something to each other before one of them turns and hurries inside.


  “Why don’t we bring her to the pool house to cheer her up?” Rex asks with a laugh. He sways to the side, and his buddy holds him up when he stumbles.

  I make a move to get away, but Wolfe swings an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. Tightly.

  My eyes widen in shock. They are keeping me here against my will. Under Wes’s roof, with Jace somewhere nearby. Of course, what better way to piss off Jace and Wes? My stomach churns, fearing how far they’ll take this.

  It’s obvious all the guys are messed up. On what, exactly, I wouldn’t know.

  “Let me go,” I grit out.

  “You don’t want to go back to the party,” Wolfe coos in my ear. I flinch with disgust. “Wilder’s probably with another girl. Didn’t we see him going upstairs with that hot brunette chick earlier?” he asks his buddies.

  My stomach rolls. They’re just messing with you, I remind myself.

  The next thing I know, we’re moving toward the pool house. I’m fighting, but my feet keep moving in the wrong direction. Arms are around me, so to anyone watching it looks like they are supporting me. They would just think I’m another drunk girl, stumbling around. I’m not fighting harder because I can’t believe this is really happening. Blood is rushing to my head and the voices around me are muffled.

  The pool house is only feet away and my vision starts to blur. A small part of my brain seems to be screaming that this is not the time to lose it, that I need to be alert. But a dizziness takes over and I can’t fight it. Black dots dance in front of me at the same time that Wolfe opens the pool house door. In the midst of the fear coursing through me, I think I hear loud angry voices behind me, and approaching footsteps. The arms holding me up jerk away and my knees buckle.

  A moment later, I’m on the ground, puking in the grass by the pool house. The sound of grunts and thumps surround me. Glancing into the darkness, I make out several guys brawling by the edge of the pool. I blink rapidly.

  Jace. He’s straddled Wolfe and is pounding him. Behind them, Connor punches Rex in the jaw, and Rex stumbles backward into the pool with a giant splash. Connor spins around, looking for his next victim. Blood runs down his nose.