Kids called Old Devil’s Bridge the bridge to nowhere since the road ended up at a dead end at a long-ago abandoned oil rig. There were no street lights or nearby neighborhoods, so it was also a popular make-out spot. Rumored to be. I had no actual knowledge about that.
“No other car or truck yet,” Rowena said. “You guys, I’m so scared I might pee myself.”
“I’m nervous too,” Bhakti said. “It feels like there’s a hummingbird flying around in my chest.”
“Stay calm, everyone.” Shani gave me a nod. “Ali, go over the plan again, so we’re all straight.”
“Right. Gaby, you hand over the playbook at the same time I grab the rabbit cage.”
“Got it,” Gaby said.
“Ro and Shani, you two memorize the make, model and plates of their vehicle.”
Rowena and Shani fist bumped.
“Bhakti and Mari are going to get a good look at their faces so we can identify them and turn them in.”
“They’re still not here. Maybe they won’t show up.” Mari glanced back at the bridge. “Whoa, wait. They’re here. Standing on the bridge. It’s pretty dark, but I think I see the cage with them.”
“No car? No truck?” Bhakti shook her head. “No license plate. Our plan is already messed up.”
“You guys don’t have to do this,” I said. “I can—”
“Shut up, Ali,” Shani said. “We’re doing this. We’re all doing this together.”
We exited the van and walked in a line toward the figures on the bridge. When we got in range to see their faces our plan took another hit.
“Dang it,” Rowena whispered. “Ski masks. There goes identifying the goons.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered back. “We’ll still walk away with the rabbits. That’s all we really need.”
We stopped ten feet away from them.
“Hey,” Goon #1 said. “You were supposed to come alone.”
“Yeah, I ignored that.” I shrugged. “Now, are we doing this, or what? We don’t have all night to stand around and chit chat.”
“Hand over the playbook.” Goon #2 held out his beefy hand. “Then you’ll get the stupid rabbits.”
Gaby stepped forward, about to hand over the playbook, when I grabbed her and pulled her back.
“First, shine a light on the cage so we can see the rabbits.” I crossed my arms over my chest trying to look tough and steely-eyed but it also hid my shaking hands.
One of them clicked on a small flashlight and aimed it at the cage while the other lifted the sheet up for us to see.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Mari said. “You two jerks are lucky they’re okay.”
“Zip it,” Goon #1 growled. “Now let me see the playbook.”
“No.” I shook my head. “We hand off at the same time.”
“Whatever. Just give it to us already.” He picked up the cage by the two side handles and waited.
Gaby and I stepped forward. I wrapped both of my hands as tight as I could around the handle on top of the cage and gave Gaby a nod. She handed over the playbook at the same time I grabbed the cage and pulled.
The cage didn’t budge. It went nowhere. Duh. If the huge, hulking goon wasn’t ready to let go—it wasn’t going anywhere.
“Do you think we’re stupid?” my goon said, holding tight to the cage while Gaby’s goon flipped through the playbook.
“Yes,” I said.
“What the hell?” the other goon snarled. Seriously, it was a snarl. “You guys must think we’re stupid. Or did you think this was funny? You’re going to regret this.”
The guy ripped the cage from my hands and the two took off into some scrub pines. Then before we could follow, engines coughed to life and two dirt bikes, one with the rabbit cage perched precariously on the handle bars, shot past us and disappeared in a cloud of dirt.
“What is their problem?” Shani stood with her hands on her hips staring into the darkness they’d ridden off into. “Why did those jerks get so pissy?”
Bhakti picked the playbook up off the ground and leafed through it with the light of her phone. “Because Gaby’s from Argentina—where football is—”
“Soccer! Lo sabia! I knew that! I knew that! Que soy una idiota.” Gaby held both hands to her head and groaned. “I was so fired up, I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.”
Soccer. Right. I hadn’t even thought of that.
“Complete utter failure,” Rowena grumbled.
“We found out Mr. and Ms. Jackalope are alive,” Mari said. “That’s a good thing.”
You know what sounded like a good thing right now?
Flying to Argentina and escaping this whole stupid, idiotic mess.
19
Bowling Doesn’t Have Cheerleaders
Dax
Bowling Class, Friday Nov 8, 8:10 a.m.
The more I got to know Ali the more I liked her. I hoped she felt the same way about me. Sometimes I wasn’t sure. Most of the time we spent together was relaxed and comfortable, but there were a few times when Ali acted uneasy. Nervous even.
It could have been because we did this whole thing backwards. Were together—pretending at least—before we got to know each other. Before we both decided it was the real thing. Or it could be because being with me put her in the spotlight. I understood that. After everything she went through at her last school, knowing how cruel some kids could be, I got how that would make her anxious. My hope was that her nervousness would smooth out and disappear when she realized that it wasn’t going to happen again. Not on my watch.
Today was “A” day, which meant bowling class with Ali. Between my football schedule and Ali’s bowling schedule this class was some of our best time together.
“All right, Dax,” Ali said after picking up her spare. “Your turn. See if you can beat that, hotshot.”
“Oh, I’ll try.” I hardly ever beat her and I didn’t care. It was a fun competition though. It didn’t hurt that Ali gave me tips on bowling form and technique. Thanks to her, my game was improving. I took my position on the apron and rolled. Sometimes I was lucky and sheer power made up for my lack of technique. This was one of those times. “Strike. How do you like that?”
“I bow to your bowling skills. You won this round.” Ali stood to take her turn, adjusting her ball in her grip. She was halfway through her five-step roll when Paige interrupted.
“Looks like we’ll be competing against each other, Frosty.”
Ali’s hand jerked on the release and she threw the first gutter ball I’d seen her roll.
“Oh, no! Did I mess you up? My bad.” Paige didn’t look sorry at all. She looked…like someone who held a good poker hand.
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s talking about the winter dance. Someone nominated you for Ms. Jackalope.” Ali looked horrified at that. Which would have made me laugh if I didn’t understand why she hated being the center of attention. I could kick myself for not thinking to mention it on the bus ride here so Paige wasn’t the one to give her the news.
“Why would they do that?” Ali shook her head.
“Right?” Gwen snorted. “I guess dating Dax was your ticket to fame.”
No. I knew why kids would nominate her. Now that everyone had finally noticed her, they could see how smart, pretty, talented, and nice she was.
“Good luck, Ali.” Paige wore a cool, confident smile in the next lane. “I mean it’s all good fun. Remember when we were crowned last year, Dax?”
Ali jumped up from her chair. “I’m going—um, to say hello to Mr. J. I’ll be back.”
This was the third time Ali had left our lane today. Pretty sure Ali’s breaks were the only thing keeping her from dropping a bowling ball on Paige’s foot to shut her up.
“Old news,” I said, picking up my ball to take my turn and block Paige out. My first roll resulted in a 7-10 split. I missed a spare on my second roll by only knocking down the 7 pin.
“Hey, Dax, is this Ali’s phone?” Paige asked
. “Found it on the ground. I guess she dropped it.”
“Yeah, it’s hers.” I took it and slid it into the side pocket on Ali’s backpack.
“You should let her down gently,” Paige said. “She doesn’t have a shot at Ms. Jackalope and I’d hate for her to get her hopes up.”
“I’ll get right on that.” Night and day these two. I chuckled imagining the look on Ali’s face if she won. Probably the same face she’d make if a big fat hairy spider dropped in front of her.
Ali returned, sliding into the chair next to me and checking out my score. “Tut, tut, Mr. DeLeon. Tell your bowling coach you need work on your spares.”
“My coach is busy with her own bowling game,” I said. “Speaking of, I wish I could make it to watch your competition today but there’s no way with the regional playoff game tomorrow.”
“I understand. No big deal.” Ali shrugged.
“Bowling competitions? I didn’t even know they had those.” Gwen’s face scrunched up like she’d caught a whiff of skunk. “It’s not like it’s an actual sport. I mean, they don’t even have cheerleaders.”
“It’s a sport.” I threw a glance over at Paige and Gwen before turning back to Ali. “Ali happens to be one of the top five players in the state of Texas. She’s made the all-state team two years in a row, and even set a record for highest three-game score in a meet.”
Ali blinked at me in surprise. “How did you even know that?”
“Your dad bragged a little the last time I dropped you off.” I was glad he had, otherwise I might not have known. Ali sure didn’t mention it. “I was dang impressed, so I did some research.”
“But it’s bowling,” Paige said. “Who actually cares?”
“I care. And it turns out some schools offer scholarships to the top bowlers.” I’d come a long way from not knowing we even had a bowling team.
Ali smiled at me and there went that tug in my chest again.
“What I was trying to say before we were interrupted”—I turned my back on Paige and Gwen, hoping they’d take the hint—“was we’ve got a bye week next week so I can make it to your meet next Friday.”
Ali’s eyes went wide before she sent me a tentative smile. “I’d like that.”
On the ride back to school, Ali and I sat together—something we’d started right after we became a “couple”—in the seat behind the bus driver.
“So, Ali, about Mr. and Ms. Jackalope…”
“What?” Ali jumped like I’d popped a balloon next to her, taking her by surprise. “I don’t know anything about them. Are they still missing? Do you know who took them? Or… I mean… What about them?”
“I have no idea who took them. I’m talking about the nomination for Mr. and Ms. Jackalope for the dance,” I clarified.
“Oh, right. That. What about it?”
“I wanted to give you a heads up. Every nominee has to make a short video about why they should be crowned.”
She frowned at me. “What if I don’t want to be crowned?”
“It’s just for fun. That’s all.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Fun and school spirit. Speaking of fun and school spirit, are you still coming to the game tomorrow night?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. Will you wait for me after the game?”
“So Paige can see us together. Sure.”
“No. For me.”
Friday’s game was almost a repeat of the week before. First half we were clicking. Everything worked. My passes were dead-on accurate, our receivers looked like they had glue on their hands, and our defense worked overtime keeping the other team from scoring.
It only took one blip in the third quarter to land me in quicksand. It was the bomb pass to TJ that sent a twinge through my shoulder. Not bad, but enough to start a chain reaction. A flash of doubt led to a hesitation. That hesitation—even just a fraction of a second—threw off my timing. No interception this time, but the momentum swung to the other team.
“DeLeon, come off!” Coach Devlin called from the sidelines. “Murph, you’re in.”
Murph. Our back-up quarterback.
I jogged off the field to the sidelines, “Coach—”
“Murph needs some playing time.” He tucked his clipboard under his arm. “Take a breather. Clear your head. You’ll be back in fourth quarter.”
Clear my head. Oh, yeah. I needed to clear my head of the rabbit hole of negative thinking.
Embrace the suck and move on. One bad possession. One bad throw. That’s all it was. Focus on the now. On what I could control. My thoughts. Positive thoughts. I’d find my receivers and throw. Stay focused on the moment. Receivers, throw. Receivers, throw. No hesitation. I’d trust my accuracy and my receiver’s talent.
I went back in for the fourth quarter with the score tied. Maybe Coach was trying to prop up my confidence because he called mostly rushing plays. We easily scored one rushing touchdown, scored on a fumble recovery, and capped it off with a field goal to win the game.
Everyone was pretty stoked in the locker room after the game. Laughing and bragging. I knew I had nothing to brag about. I stood feeling like an imposter who’d snuck onto the field. Coach had pulled me out of the game. That hadn’t happened to me since I was a sophomore.
“You heading to the lake?” TJ asked.
“Maybe.” I didn’t want to commit before I ran it by Ali. Hanging out with Paige and her friends probably wasn’t on Ali’s top one million things she’d like to do list. “Ali and I are going to grab something to eat first.”
“Come on, DeLeon.” Josh leaned on TJ’s shoulder. “We need you there, man, to celebrate the win.”
“Pretty sure you can handle it without me.” I gave him my serious captain of the football team look. “In case I don’t make it, don’t do anything stupid.”
Turned out, Ali was okay with the bonfire at the lake. On the condition that we bailed when her Paige-limit had been reached. Worked for me.
In no time we were sitting around a roaring bonfire, on a downed river oak, with our bag of burgers and fries between us. It was cool watching Ali get along with my friends. TJ and Grady, my closest friends, accepted her easily into our circle.
Most of the kids did. With a few exceptions.
“Gosh, Frost, we’ve never had a bowler infiltrate our bonfire before.” Paige’s eyes glittered across the fire.
Infiltrate. Like Ali was the enemy.
Turned out, I reached my Paige-limit before Ali did.
I stood, pulling Ali up with me, and gave TJ a nod before heading to my truck. Sure, we could have put up with Paige, but why bother? Ali could hold her own, but I wasn’t going to sit and watch Paige treat her like her own personal tackling dummy.
20
Front Porch Sitting
Dax
I drove us to Ali’s house from the bonfire since it was pretty late. I pulled up at the curb in front of her house and shut off the engine.
“Okay if we sit on your porch for a bit?” I glanced at her house, seeing the glow of light in the family room. Overprotective dad alert. “If we stay in my truck, your dad might think—”
“He totally might.” She grinned across at my predicament. “Say no more. Front porch it is.”
“I do not want to get on your dad’s bad side.”
She laughed as she sat on the swing, her feet up, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her chin on her knees. “Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot from guys.”
“Your dad sort of walks on water in the football world.” I sat, angling my back against the arm so I could see Ali’s face and pushed off with one foot, sending us into a gentle swing. “Do you think he’ll go back to coaching?”
“I hope so.”
“As the daughter of a coach, I’m guessing you practically grew up on the sidelines and know football as well as I do.”
“I know a few things about football,” she said.
“What did you think of the game tonight?” I asked. “Honest opinio
n.”
“I’m not sure what you’re looking for here… Personally, when it comes to my bowling, I like when my dad or Coach gives it to me straight.” She sent me a guarded glance. “Platitudes and praise? Or the straight deal?”
“Straight deal,” I said. “I can take it.”
“Okay. Well, I thought you had an excellent first half. Some amazing passes. I can see why the scouts are interested.” She sucked in a breath and looked directly in my eyes. “Your third quarter was shaky. You seemed to lose your rhythm. I don’t know—you looked tentative. Something was off. It created an opening for their defense which made you rush your passes and miss your receivers.”
I turned my head, staring off into the darkness and it got quiet between us with only the sound of a screech owl and soft rustling leaves to break the silence. I sliced a hand through my hair and huffed out a breath.
“Hey…” she started, reaching out and touching the back of my hand lightly.
“Yep.” I nodded and looked back at her, a half smile sliding over my face. “I was hoping Coach Frost’s daughter would give it to me straight and you did. I stunk on ice in the second half.”
“You didn’t stink.” She wrapped her hand around mine with a squeeze. “What happened in the third quarter?”
“I don’t know. Overthinking. Negative thoughts. Second guessing. Pick one,” I said, running my free hand across the back of my neck. “I’ve created my own boogey man and I can’t shake him.”
“Have you tried working with a sports psychologist?” She shrugged. “A lot of high school athletes do now.”
“Yeah. I’ve got techniques to depressurize.” Ways to stop negative thinking. To let go of a bad play and move on. “It’s just lately they don’t always work.”
“I’m going to go Nana Frost on you. When I had a problem I couldn’t solve, she used to ask me one question and it helped me put things in perspective.” She sat up, one knee still curled under her but she’d dropped her other leg down to tangle with mine. “What’s the worst that could happen if you don’t find a solution?”
Ali & the Too Hot, Up-to-No Good, Very Beastly Boy: A Standalone Sweet YA Romance (Jackson High Series Book 1) Page 11
