Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance

by Christina Clark

  “Yeah, he's been here the whole time,” I informed Allison, dragging another hut into empty patch of land with my mouse.

  “Unbelievable. Have you been there this whole time? Thought you bailed out on our study group 'cause you had a thing you couldn't get out of. Was this the 'thing'?!”

  “Oh. You were serious about that? My bad. Well, yeah – in my defense, Miles and I made plans to play Age of Empires III together on its release date months ago. We're already a day late – it came out yesterday.”

  “Yeah, Al. Cut him some slack. We're just honoring our plans. It's called 'common courtesy'.”

  “Whatever. You guys are fools, and I'm wiping my hands clean of you. I'll have you know there are people out there who actually appreciate my study guides and actually want my excellent tutoring skills.” Allison shoved her study guide aside and sat up to stretch. “I'll just study on my own later – I'm too hungry to concentrate.”

  My bedroom door swung open. Mrs. Bautista, our Chief Housekeeper for over 15 years, appeared at the doorway. She carried a large tray of grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, baked potatoes with sour cream and chives, caramel fudge brownies, and two large jugs of blue Gatorade. Allison took the tray from her and set it down on my bed.

  “Thanks, Mrs. B.”

  “Oh my goodness. Thank you so much – this looks so good. You're a godsend, Mrs. Bautista,” said Allison gratefully, stuffing a brownie in her mouth.

  “Always a pleasure,” said Mrs. Bautista in her usual bubbly voice. The woman never failed to brighten up a room with just her laugh. “I know you kids get hungry after school from studying so hard all day.”

  I could feel Allison's damning look on the back of my neck.

  “Of course, Mrs. Bautista. We study so hard. Miles, especially.”

  “Now, if I'm not mistaken – someone's got a birthday coming up next month. I'll be sure to make you my six-cheese spaghetti and meatballs that you love so much. And I'll whip up a red velvet cake for you to take home to your family.”

  “Aw, that sounds amazing, Mrs. Bautista! Thank you so much for remembering, but you really don't have to go through all that trouble for me –”

  “Nonsense. I insist.”

  “Well, alright. Thanks, Mrs. Bautista. You're the best!” Allison wrapped an arm around the woman's large waist. “So, how are Michelle and Dante?”

  “Oh, they're doing just wonderful!” I could hear Mrs. Bautista flushing with pride at the mention of her kids. “Michelle is starting elementary school soon, and Dante's on his first year at college – he's a Hotel Restaurant Management major. I'm very proud of them – my only wish is that their father could be around to see how good they're doing now, but they're with my sister, so they're in excellent hands.”

  “That's so good to hear,” said Allison earnestly as she twisted off the cap of her Gatorade. “I can't imagine what it's like to have to spend so much time away from my family. Michelle and Dante are lucky to have a mom that works as hard as you do. And to put up with all that crap from von Weber Senior.”

  “That's sweet, Allison. I knew there was a reason I've always liked you. You know, you and Miles have always been –”

  “Not that again, Mrs. B. It's never gonna happen.”

  “I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm going to have to agree with Miles.” Allison winked at Mrs. Bautista, nudging her on the side. “Besides, Miles has his eye on a completely new girl now.”

  “Is that so?” Mrs. Bautista returned her wink. “And who is this special lady?”

  “Daisy Clarke. She's a real nice girl, too. Plus, she's really pretty, super smart, and an all-around respectable girl.”

  “Really? Why, that's great news!”

  “Isn't it?”

  “You guys make it sound like I've only been dating King Kong's slutty daughters up to this point.”

  “Well...” said both of them in unison behind my back before breaking out in a fit of giggles.

  “Alright, you kids have fun,” said Mrs. Bautista, heading for the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Will do, Mrs. Bautista.”

  “Thanks again, Mrs. B.”

  “So, you wanna get in on this, or what?” Allison called out from behind me. “None of this food's staying on the plate for long – fair warning.”

  “Alright,” I spoke into my microphone. “Yo, Big Rob, I'm gonna take a break.”

  “Cool, cool. My mom's been yelling my name for the last five minutes, anyway. Peace.”

  I saved my game progress and joined Allison on the foot of my bed. As Allison started working on her second baked potato, I grabbed myself a hot toasted sandwich. I scarfed down the cheesy sandwich in four bites, mulling the thoughts circling in my head.

  “So you think Daisy's a good girl?”

  “I do.” Allison beamed at me, wiggling her eyebrows in turns. “Why? You've never cared about what I thought about the other girls you've dated.”

  “Yeah, yeah, shut up. I don't really know if we have anything in common. What if shit gets awkward tomorrow night?”

  “Oh my goodness. Can it be true? Is Miles von Weber actually getting nervous before a date?”

  “You're a tool,” I snapped, flinging a pillow at her. Allison caught it in midair without flinching. The stupid grin on her face only grew wider. “I'm serious. Maybe you're right. Daisy's a nice girl – I don't want to say something to offend her, or do anything to screw up the night.”

  “And you're a nice guy,” said Allison. She dropped the smile on her face, her voice turning serious. “Don't sweat it. Daisy's a big girl – she can make her own decisions. There's a reason she agreed in the first place – and, she hasn't even called to cancel yet, so I think you're in the clear.”

  “True. I still can't believe I've never noticed her before. Good thing she put that skinny-ass thug in his place. That waste of space deserved every little bit of that humiliation.”

  “You mean Malcolm Radley?”

  “Malcolm Radley?” I repeated as I reached for a brownie. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “You're kidding me right? We went to school with that kid before Stonewall. He tried to get everyone to call him M.R., but everyone just called him Malcolm Ugly? I mean, that's super lame, but then again, we were 9.”

  “Holy shit. That's Malcolm Ugly?”

  Malcolm was this runt of a kid that got bullied all the time back in elementary school. He was always smaller than the other kids, with his growth spurt delayed until some time in high school. He was a little prick, too – always trying to start fights with bigger kids, overcompensating for his size.

  I never really knew the kid, but I distinctly remember walking in on him in the bathroom one time while he was in the middle of getting his balls duct-taped up his ass. The kids at Marigold Heights were fucking brutal. I ran out and grabbed the nearest teacher as soon as I could, but the damage was done. The poor kid had to undergo hours of surgery to graft the skin that came off with the tape. That was pretty much the last I ever heard of him again. I didn't even realize he was going to Stonewall. The dude looked different, but time obviously hadn't made him any less of a dick.

  “Yup, that's him.”

  “Jesus. He was an annoying little cunt – once a cunt, always a cunt, I guess.”

  “I wouldn't say that. What he did to Derek was unforgivable, but I'd say he's more misunderstood, than anything.”

  “And why do you say that?”

  “Oh, I don't know.” Allison shrugged behind her Gatorade bottle. “My mom told me he's had it rough. Malcolm's mom left him with his alcoholic dad the minute he was born. His dad blamed him for his mother leaving, and would throw him around relentlessly. Hookers and random women were in and out his house every other day. The nurse at school started getting suspicious about all his bruises and broken bones. His neighbors would also find him running around naked, hungry, and crying while his dad left him alone for days on end. CPS was called, but my understanding
was that nothing was done until his dad beat him so bad, he was sent to the hospital and had to be on life support. After he recovered, he moved in with his grandmother, and he was home-schooled until high school.”

  “Wow.” My throat turned scratchy and dry just listening to that horrific story. “That's fucking terrible. Poor dude.”

  “Yeah, well. Life is better to some of us than most – you of all people should know that.”

  Knowing she was right, I kept my mouth wired shut. I hated it when Allison put me in my place. But at the same time, I was grateful, and loved her for it. She was definitely one of the good ones – she knew just how to see past the bad, and always managed to find the good in everyone. Apparently, even assholes like Malcolm Radley.

  Allison picked up her bag from the floor. She took out a red velvet pouch, where she stored her tarot cards. I stroked my chin as I watched her take out her deck and tuck her legs under her.

  “Whoa. Is Madame Alizon back in business already?”

  “Shut up. I haven't done my readings this month. I've only got time for a quickie.”

  I resisted the urge to snort at her – for a smart girl, she was way too into these hippie-fortune-teller-new-age bullshit.

  “My bad. By all means – you do your thing.”

  As Allison shuffled her cards, she mouthed a question silently to herself. She took three cards from the deck and laid them face-up on my bed. The first tarot card was “The Sun.” Her second card was “The Ace of Swords.” But the moment she revealed the last card, the color drained from her face.

  “'Ten of Swords',” I read aloud as I cranked my neck to the side.

  “It's – it's upright.”

  “And that means...?”

  Allison kicked out her legs and leaped off my bed abruptly. She brought her fist to her mouth and attempted to bite her nails. In her daze, she seemed to forget the glittery plastic claws she glued onto her fingers. She withdrew her hand at once and started shoveling her tarot cards back into her pouch. Throwing it back into her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and started towards the door.

  “Sorry, Miles – I have to go.”

  “What? Is this seriously because of that stupid card? You're joking –”

  “No. Sorry. I'll see you at school tomorrow.”

  Before I could argue with Allison any further, she left my room in a rush, slamming the door behind her.

  Shaking my head, I reached for another brownie. It was weird seeing Allison so freaked out about some dumb cards, but I was sure whatever it was, she'd get over it in no time. It wasn't like Allison to dwell on things. Best to just leave shit alone.

  Chapter Six: Daisy

  The rainbow string lights and the dancing bulbs on the fair attractions made the Winfield Boardwalk glow. Whimsical, old-timey carnival music filled the streets, teeming with bustling crowds and fascinating street performers. Gleeful screams and whooshing wind from thrilling rides heightened the lively atmosphere around me.

  As my eyes roamed free, they settled on the gorgeous merry-go-round coming up on my left. The double-decker carousel roof was built and intricately painted like the top of a conch shell. In place of horses, seahorses and different kinds of colorful fish and shell-studded chariots were fastened in place with striped poles. The scenery panels were painted with portraits of underwater scenery, complete with bubbles and sea fairies.

  There was something magical about being a five-year-old. Imagine that – mounting one of those horses for roughly three minutes of pure bliss. For almost three minutes, you just hung onto one of those poles, pretending to be this magnificent horseman – or in this case, an underwater warrior – with not a care in the world. I couldn't even remember the last time I truly let myself enjoy something wholeheartedly.

  The last time I had a “spa day” with Mom, I spent the entire duration of our mud mask and seaweed body wraps wondering if our bi-monthly “Girls' Day” was hurting our budget. Mom then reminded me that I was her plus-one, and that I wasn't even paying to get in there. So naturally, I spent the rest of the time stressing about when Mom and Dad were finally going to start looking for a house of their own, so they could start paying mortgage. Which, of course, spiraled to me wondering when the heck they were ever going to pay off their future mortgage in full. Hopefully, with my scholarship on the way, they'd be able to start worrying about themselves. With Ethan unable to keep a job for more than two months at a time, it wasn't making things any easier for them. As much as I loved Ethan, he needed to get his shit together and grow up.

  “Remind me why we're waiting again?”

  Honey's surly voice ripped me back to reality. She cast a withering look my way, brushing the leg of a hanging plush giraffe with the back of her hand. I pulled my eyes away from the mesmerizing merry-go-round.

  “I know. It's silly,” I admitted, scratching the back of my head. “Miles texted me five minutes ago – he says he's already here. I just didn't want to seem like an Eager Beaver who showed up half an hour early. Let's just hang back for a few minutes, if you don't mind?”

  “I guess. Why are you trying so hard to impress this guy, anyway?” Honey pressed me, raising one of her angled purple brows. “You're not wearing your glasses, you've got your hair done, and you've actually got more than just your lip gloss on. I mean, you look great, but what gives? Don't tell me you actually like the dude.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  Well, no – Honey was right. I'd been on a couple of dates before, but I never bothered to show up in anything more than what I was already wearing that morning. All in all, I'd spent about two whole hours just trying to put my whole look together. I leafed through a couple of Seventeen magazines until I found a doable top-knot and a step-by-step eyebrow shaping and eyeliner routine. It looked like my closet had thrown up on the floor as I searched for the perfect outfit. Ultimately, I settled on a short white summer dress with thin, crisscrossing straps, and a pair of ballet flats.

  When I met up with Honey earlier tonight, I felt relieved when I saw her. Honey had dressed up for tonight, too. She left her orange beanie at home to show off her new multi-layered “scene” hair, with the top half dyed bright purple. Her make-up still lay in its usual thickness, which covered the bumpy acne on her cheeks and forehead, but all the skulls on her face and ears had been replaced with purple gemstones. She looked really cute in her Hello Kitty tank top, leather shorts, and fishnet stockings. But as I stood there judging her, the relief quickly transformed to a mix of guilt and regret.

  “Whatever. I'm just tired of walking around here, getting feasted on by all these mosquitoes. It's all gross and sticky out here. I hate being around people.”

  “Can you stop being so negative for one second? You should have just said no when I asked if you wanted to come with tonight.”

  “Whatever.”

  “You're gonna be cool, right? I mean, I'd really appreciate it if you could tone it down a little and not say anything wei – um –”

  “Weird?” Honey challenged me, her plum-purple lips pouting. “That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?”

  I shrunk back, slapping myself internally at the slip of my tongue.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's the nerves; it's like I've come down with bitch-itis. Thank you for coming with me tonight. I don't think I could do this without your support.”

  Honey uncrossed her arms slowly. The scathing look on her face changed like the flick of a switch. She smiled at me sweetly, motioning to the funnel cake vendor.

  “Come on. Let's get a mega-size funnel cake to share before we go looking for them. My treat.”

  “Mmm. Not gonna say no to that.”

  Honey put our order in and paid the vendor before excusing herself to go to the bathroom. I waited by the side of the booth as the vendor tossed the chunks of dough into the deep fryer. As the frying dough crackled pleasantly behind me, I watched as Honey sidled through the crowd towards the row of blue po
rtable toilets.

  Honey was my best friend, but she could be a lot to take sometimes. We met in the fifth grade. I saw her coloring a page of The Magic School Bus, and I was immediately intrigued. We became fast friends – with our parents at work all the time, it wouldn't be a stretch to say we spent more time together than we did with our own families. Honey's parents were loaded – they were multimillionaires who owned a chain of swanky clothing plazas and department stores in China. They were barely ever home when she was younger, and instead, left Honey in the care of a stern caretaker named Ms. Li.

  As I got older, people started asking me if I noticed anything strange about Honey. Ever since we were kids, I knew that Honey had a lying problem. They started out as little stretches of truths, but gradually evolved to full-blown lies. She would even lie about the most trivial things, like what she had for dinner the night before.

  I didn't know what was prompting any of her habitual lying, but I wasn't aware of the gravity of her problem until our last year of middle school. Over the summer, Honey had apparently met a college guy from another state, who knocked her up. For almost half a year, I watched her belly steadily grow. But when she started refusing my company for any doctor's appointments or baby shopping, I started getting suspicious. She clung onto this one sonogram that she showed everyone at school, but for some reason, the name had been blurred out. Two weeks later, I walked in on her stuffing her belly with balled up clothes. That was the day shit got real.

  Honey disappeared for three weeks, with her parents stowing her away at some kind of Christian camp. When she came back to school, it was like she'd picked up from where we'd left off before the “pregnancy” and “statutory rape.” I will never forget the way she casually strolled up to my locker, asking me if I'd caught the newest episode of Dawson's Creek.

  I went along with the charade until it faded to the back of my mind. Girls bullied me by proxy for choosing to stick by her until we started going to Stonewall, where nobody knew us and we could start fresh. Honey still lied like her life depended on it, but I found myself justifying it, as they were dramatically more harmless. Honestly, my own logic was so convoluted I had trouble understanding it myself.