Ali & the Too Hot, Up-to-No Good, Very Beastly Boy: A Standalone Sweet YA Romance (Jackson High Series Book 1)

by M. L. Collins

  “I…I’m fine. It took me longer to find my…my, um…” My what? Tampon? Absolutely not. Lip gloss? He knew I didn’t wear any. “Pain medication. I’ve got a headache trying to evolve into a migraine like someone handed Wild Pikachu a thunder stone.”

  “You should have said something.” He pulled me into his chest and rubbed his big hand on my back. “Should I take you home?”

  I exhaled the breath I’d been holding for the last ten minutes—a new record for humankind. Or maybe a guilty conscience suspended time and it just felt that long.

  “That would probably be best,” I said, loading a second scoop of guilt on my guilt sundae. Stealing and lying. “I’m sorry about ruining your Friday night.”

  “Our Friday night.” He opened the door and helped me into the seat. “You didn’t ruin it. I’m fine with an early night since I’ve got to get up early tomorrow. Coach called an early morning practice to watch some film for Friday’s game.”

  Dax dropped me off and I proceeded to spend the next two hours driving myself crazy waiting until it was time to leave.

  I shut my eyes and imagined a world where high school football was a simple game kids played just for fun. One where football wasn’t the staple meal everyone dug into like a Thanksgiving feast. Where it wasn’t more important than water in a desert. One where you could slice open a vein and not bleed high school football.

  But when I opened my eyes, I was still in Texas.

  Tonight was my turn to drive the getaway car. Gaby’s host family had taken her to a rodeo in Del Rio, but all the other girls were gathered at Rowena’s for a “slumber party.” After everyone was in, I gripped the steering wheel with my sweaty palms and drove to the old drive in.

  “I hate this,” I said. “I hate having to sneak around. I hate lying to Dax. When I think about handing the playbook to those two goons my chest vibrates like a volcano ready to erupt.”

  “I’m right there with you,” Bhakti said, reaching out from the back seat to give my shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s get it over with, rescue the bunnies, and hope somehow they get caught.”

  “If we can’t figure out who it is, at the very least I want Karma to knock them on their butts,” Mari said.

  I stopped the car at the entrance. No one even bothered locking the place up anymore because teenagers always found a way in anyway.

  “I just want to say…thanks. Thanks for not letting me do this on my own.”

  “Giiirrrl, that’s sweet—but stop delaying.” Shani sent me a knowing look.

  Right. I was. The longer I stalled only dragged this whole ordeal out. I pressed on the gas and drove Milo in. The electricity had been shut off when it closed and the ginormous movie screen was tattered and torn. The lot, a dirt field with scattered patches of grass and weeds, looked like a graveyard and the steel speaker posts stood like row upon row of skeletons.

  I parked in spot P-7 as directed. After shutting off the car and the headlights, I reached under my seat and pulled out the playbook. Minutes ticked off like hours while we waited.

  “Maybe they chickened out,” Rowena said.

  “If it weren’t for the rabbits, that would be awesome,” Mari said.

  It was a lose-lose situation. Either we wouldn’t rescue the mascots or I’d carry the weight of guilt over stealing Dax’s playbook. Aaaand I was possibly helping another team beat our own team. Yay! Another school about to adopt the Ali Frost must die theme. That should be super fun.

  “Hey! I just thought of something!” Bhakti leaned up from the back seat. “We can eliminate all the teams that don’t make the playoffs.”

  “That still leaves about ten schools and fifty players per team,” I said. “Five hundred potential suspects.”

  “Yikes. Never mind.”

  The sound of tires crunching on gravel had us all sitting up and taking a collective breath before we got out of the car to wait. They parked their car next to the boarded up concession stand—too far away to read their license plate—and exited the car along with the rabbit cage. The slam of their doors reverberated down my spine.

  “Meet us at C-11!” one of them called.

  “C-11? What the heck?” Shani grumbled. “Now they’re yanking our chain.”

  “They’re keeping us from getting a good look at their tags,” Bhakti said.

  Together we walked up seven rows and over four spaces.

  “Anyone else feel like Ron and Harry in the game of wizard chess?”

  The goons walked across and then down until we stood facing each other. They wore masks. Figures. Freddy Krueger and an Orc.

  “Y’all are either butt ugly or complete cowards,” Shani said.

  “Or both,” I said. “Ugly and gutless.”

  “Shut it.” Krueger lifted the blanket on the cage, shining a flashlight on it. “Now let’s see the playbook.”

  My gut clenched over what I was about to do. I glanced over at the girls, shaking my head. “This is so wrong.”

  Mari grabbed my forearm. “We need to get the rabbits.”

  “You’re right. It’s just—” I didn’t want to do this.

  The Orc growled, shining his flashlight at the book in my hands. “We’re not falling for a fake one again. Read me the rattlesnake play so we know it’s real.”

  Oh, it was real. All too real. But I fanned through the book until I found it. “QB fakes a handoff to RB, side-laterals to the TE and—”

  “Not a fake. Now give us the rabbits,” Mari demanded in a voice so angry even I jumped.

  “Playbook,” Kruger held his beefy hand out for it.

  I extended my arm out, the playbook shaking like crazy in my trembling hand. Kruger wrapped his sausage-link fingers around it and pulled but I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t.

  “What was that?” Rowena whipped her head to the right over by the ticket office. “Did you guys hear something?”

  “Nothing!” The Orc said. “You’re hearing things.”

  “Or trying to delay so you can trick us again.” Kruger pulled harder on the playbook. “Let go!”

  “No! I can’t! I can’t do it!” I grabbed the playbook with both hands and pulled with everything I had. “I’m not giving it to you!”

  Kruger pulled harder and it slipped from my hands like a soup sandwich.

  “I’ve got the rabbits!” Mari yelled.

  “Let’s go.” Kruger jerked his head at Orc-face and turned, acting like he’d done no more than check out a book from the library.

  “Noooo! Give it back!” I jumped on his back, wrapped my arms around his thick neck, all while flailing my hand around trying to grab the playbook.

  Shani and Bhakti piled on too, trying to stop him. But he shook us off like a wet dog sheds water. The three of us landed hard, strewn about on the ground. By the time I got my breath back and struggled to sit up, all I could do was watch the goons toss the playbook in the trunk and pull out of the parking lot, their taillights disappearing quickly.

  I fell back with a groan and lay in the parking lot, run over by guilt.

  “Hey, we got Mr. and Ms. Jackalope back,” Mari said trying to be all silver-lining.

  “I’ve got to tell Dax,” I said. Only I really, really didn’t want to tell Dax.

  “This wasn’t your fault,” Shani said.

  “I still have to tell him.”

  I stared up at the night sky. Only a few stars glimmered down on me. Too many clouds. So, so different from the sky when I stargazed with Dax. Like without Dax my world was a darker place.

  24

  Hey, Universe, if You’re Listening…

  Ali

  On a Guilt Trip, Saturday/Sunday

  I hated myself. I was a big fat chicken. There had been plenty of time over the weekend when I could have told Dax about the playbook. Should have told Dax. Guilt collapsed that starry feeling I’d been floating on the last few weeks, leaving a giant sucking black hole in my chest.

  But I was afraid of losing what we had. Losing him.
/>
  I’d lost so many people in my life over the last year and a half. It seemed unfair I had to lose Dax too. Amazingly, once again, over something someone else had done. Mostly.

  Ugh. Yes, I had handed over the playbook, but I’d tried to get it back. Where the heck was the kid who’d set this whole thing up? Who’d agreed to hand over the playbook? Why did the universe think it was fair to put me in the wrong place at the wrong time and suck me into another mess? Heck, I hadn’t even recovered from the last one.

  I spent the weekend running worst-case-scenarios through my head. What if I told Dax? Just told him flat out what happened. He cared about me. At least he said he liked me. Would he listen calmly and see my side of the situation? Or would he blame me and walk away?

  Then of course there was that stupid expression about letting something you love go and if it was truly meant to be it will come back to you. Sounded easy, right? It wasn’t.

  First, because how do I let Dax go when all I wanted to do was throw my arms around him and never let him go?

  Second was the “it will come back to you” part. It’s possible that when he came back—if he came back—he’d be as angry as a longhorn steer on branding day. Anger aimed directly at me. Was it wrong of me to want to avoid that?

  Yes. Because nothing counted if I wasn’t honest.

  Which was why on Saturday morning I tried to girl-up and tell him. I took the easy way out and tried to do it over a text.

  Me: You there?

  Dax: For you, always.

  Me: There’s something I need to tell you…

  Dax: ?

  Me: …

  Dax: You know you can tell me anything, right?

  Me: Yeah, it’s just—

  Me:

  Me:

  Dax: Hey, you can trust me.

  Me:

  Dax: Ali?

  Me: …

  Dax: It’s okay. You know where to find me. ;) Tell me when you’re ready.

  Me: I… Yeah. Okay.

  Dax: Want to do something tonight?

  Me: I can’t. Plans with friends.

  Dax: Sunday?

  Me: Oh…I’ve got a calc test I need to study for.

  Dax: The downfall of dating a brainy girl.

  Me:

  Dax: You totally know I’m kidding, right?

  Me: Oh, yeah. Ha ha. See you Monday.

  See? I tried to do the right thing and tell him. FAIL. Yes, being busy the rest of the weekend was me avoiding having to face Dax. And my guilt. But I actually did have plans on Saturday night. My friends and I went dress shopping. Mari was attending the dance with Nathan Baker and the others were going stag. So if you’ve ever wondered about that eternal question, how many nerds does it take to shop for a dress? The answer is six.

  The calc test was real too, although I probably overdid the studying. Nothing like avoiding facing something to make a person super conscientious. I picked up my phone and hit the video record.

  “How did I get here? Everything is a tangled mess and each move I make only tightens the knots.” I blew out a breath and pushed my bangs out of my eyes. “Well, mission accomplished. I gave Dax’s playbook to a rival team. I didn’t want to. Not at all. But I didn’t know any other way to get the mascots back. I feel horrible, but I’d have felt worse if the bunnies had died. And Mari. Oh gosh, that might have broken Mari.

  “How did a case of mistaken identity get this messed up? I’d love five minutes alone with the person who started this whole cascade of awful. Who at Jackson would sell out the football team like that?”

  I stared silently into my phone while I thought about the football team and Dax. The more I thought about it, the easier I could breathe. I relaxed my white-knuckled grip and let the worry float away. Dax may not trust his own talent, but I did. Dad had nothing but praise for Dax’s ability. He’d said Dax was the full package: athletic, smart, great instincts, and a natural leader.

  “Here’s the plan,” I said into my phone. “I’ll try to tell Dax one more time. But if I lose my nerve again, it might not be that big of a deal. So we don’t know what team the goons play for, but Jackson’s football team is strong this year. Dax is one of the best quarterbacks in the state. Good enough that the playbook probably won’t make a bit of difference.”

  Pressing the circle at the bottom of my screen, I stopped recording. I hadn’t had much good luck the last year and a half. In fact, things had pretty much sucked. So it only seemed fair that something should finally go my way. I was due, darn it.

  I stabbed the record button with my thumb and looked into my screen.

  “Hey, universe, if you’re listening… How about the good guys win this time and the bad guys lose? And…could I— pretty, pretty please—end up with Dax DeLeon? Because I really like him. Seriously like. There’s something special about him. About…us. So, I’m just a girl, standing in front of the universe, asking you to not mess this up.”

  25

  A Win-Win for Us Both

  Dax

  Spirit Week, Monday Morning, “B” Day

  Happy Monday morning, Jackalopes! Our good news of the day: Mr. and Ms. Jackalope are back!

  Cool. Senior pranks were a rite of passage and sometimes impressive. Like two years ago when the guys from shop class put the car on the roof. Or last year when two girls on the physics club filled Principal Barstow’s office with Styrofoam peanuts. Stealing the bunnies though, not cool. It was pretty amazing that no one seemed to know who’d taken them. Normally gossip spread like a brushfire on a windy summer day around school. Like the gossip about the cops busting up Walker’s party Friday night. My phone lit up with texts within minutes of the sirens.

  Sitting in first period listening to the fall out—who got drinking tickets, who got suspended, and who got grounded for life—had me thanking my lucky stars Ali’s headache probably saved us from being thick in the middle of that mess.

  It’s spirit week! Pull out those crazy socks for tomorrow!

  Spirit week. I enjoyed the build up toward Friday night’s game, but the dress up days were not geared to guys. Take crazy sock day for example… Crazy sock day for a guy meant not wearing the same pair of socks two days in a row.

  Wacky hair Wednesday.

  Nope. Excluding Slick Baker who always had his head shaved in a mohawk for his punk band and maybe the handful of guys who’d dye their hair, just no.

  Charity Thursday. Bring those cans!

  Okay, guys could do that. We could donate cans for the food pantry or a dollar to fight cancer. But charity Thursday used to be pajama Thursday. Until two years ago when some guys from the lacrosse team came to school in their “pajamas” aka boxers—and only boxers.

  Don’t forget Friday is blue-out day or wear your sports team jersey. Show your school spirit for the pep rally!

  There you go. This was the day guys embraced. It was easy and you didn’t feel like a dweeb. Blue T-shirt or a favorite team jersey. Pro or high school; didn’t matter. Boom. Done.

  Let’s fill the stands this Friday night to cheer on our varsity football team as they take on the Travis Titans. Help them wrap up the season strong!

  “Dude, we’re already in the playoffs!” Jake slapped me on the back.

  “Don’t get cocky,” I said. “You know what Coach says: You get cocky; you get careless. I’m taking it one game at a time.”

  After the game, dance the night away at the winter dance. There will be a table outside of the cafeteria all week selling tickets. This year’s theme is “Wish Upon a Star.”

  Wish upon a star? I grinned as I thought of Ali and our first date under the stars. I pulled out my phone and stealth-texted her when Mrs. March’s back was turned.

  Me: See you at lunch?

  Ali: Sorry. Promised my friends I’d eat with them this week.

  Me: Gotcha. Pep rally on Friday?

  Ali: Can’t. Allergic.

  Me: Haha. But seriously.

  Ali: Serious. That much school spirit gives me
hives.

  Me: At least I’ll see you in bowling class. I’m pumped for our game Friday, but I’m also looking forward to the dance with you after.

  Ali: Dax…I need to tell you…that…

  I waited watching those three bouncing dots appear and disappear once, twice and a third time before disappearing. Was she trying to back out of the dance with me? Had she changed her mind? No lie, my chest felt like when I hit the ground hard after getting sacked.

  Me: ??

  Ali: I’m…wearing pants to the dance. Dresses aren’t my thing.

  I puffed out the breath that had been stuck trapped in my lungs.

  Me: You could wear a clown suit and I wouldn’t care.

  Ali: A clown suit, huh?

  Me: Okay, maybe not a clown suit, but your bowling shirt or your cut-off sweats. What I’m saying is I just like being with you.

  No response from Ali. Crap. I shouldn’t have added that last part. Yeah, too much. I probably freaked her out. I was figuring out what to text that might water it down when she responded.

  Ali: Me too. A lot.

  Boom went my heart. It felt like someone shot me with a paintball gun only instead of paint it was warm, gooey caramel.

  Friday afternoon’s pep rally was fun. It was pretty much the same as it was before each game. The cheerleaders cheered. The marching band played. The drum line got everyone lit up. So by the time our football team ran out onto the gym floor the whole student body went wild. Applause, whistles, hoots and hollers. The school spirit would carry us onto the field pumped up and ready to win.

  Ali had texted me good luck and I liked knowing she would be in the stands to watch. Plus along with her bowling teammates she’d said her dad was attending. Coach Frost in the bleachers watching was both exciting and nerve-wracking. Which was why I didn’t mention that to the rest of the team. I wasn’t kidding when I’d said he was a legend in the football world. No point in adding more stress to the team.