by Sky Chase
“We’re going Friday,” I said. She was going to a game, even if I had to drag her kicking and screaming. It was a part of the high school experience.
Her eyes grew big and she quickly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What?”
I chuckled. “I’ll take you to the game.”
“I don’t want to go.” She shook her head.
I grabbed the bag of chips from her and leaned back, throwing my boot-covered feet on the table. “Not an option. We have a deal, remember?”
I winked at her then tossed a chip in my mouth.
19
Beverly
I couldn’t believe that the week flew by that fast, and now I was face to face with Everest, as he concentrated—so seriously—on my face.
“Quit moving,” Everest said as he put eye black on my cheek.
“Is all of this really necessary?”
“It’s your first game, you have to go big or go home.”
“Can I go home?”
“Nope, nice try though.” He tapped me on the head with the eye-black container. We were sitting in the parking lot of the school, ten minutes before the game was to start.
He stared at me curiously, fingers gripping his chin. “What?” I asked, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
“Something is missing,” he said, kind of dazed, and stared at my face like the answer was written there in tiny letters. I’d put effort into my outfit tonight, making sure that I looked like
someone who’d be attending a high school football game. Everest had been talking about tonight all week, asking me if I was excited for it every time I saw him, and I didn’t know if I said yes because it was actually something on my senior-year bucket list or because I liked the way his eyes lit up when I did.
His face brightened like he had a brilliant idea, and he climbed into the back seat, digging for something. Jersey in hand, he said, “An authentic school jersey would complete your school spirit look.”
He smiled and held it toward me. I took the dark-red mesh between my fingers. I flipped it over, and the yellow numbers read 11.
“Wait, is this y—” The words caught in my throat.
“Yes, it’s my jersey. I found an old one in my room,” he said quickly, as if he’d practiced what he was going to say. “Don’t worry, I washed it.”
“I can’t wear this . . .”
“Sure you can.” His tone was matter of fact.
I looked down at the jersey, and then stared back into his mask of an expression. “I know how much this jersey meant to you at some point, how hard you worked with this mesh on your back, and the pressure that it came with . . .”—I shook my head and held the jersey back out to him—“it doesn’t feel right.”
He grabbed my fist clutching the jersey and softly pushed it back. “Just wear it, please.”
To make him quit looking at me like that, I threw the jersey on, the oversized material engulfing me like the sea.
“So, can we actually go to the game now?” I asked.
The first thing that hit me when we entered the stadium was the mass of people all gathered together wearing two colors. Everest wore a black jacket, and I wasn’t surprised that he’d be the only one not wearing the school’s colors.
The next thing that I noticed was the smell. The sizzle of hot dogs and butter and the combustion of popcorn kernels. The cotton candy that looked like plausible clouds—colorful, edible clouds. The bands from both schools tinkering with their instruments. Cheerleaders sitting on the ground, pom-poms in hand, ponytails pulled high. Shirtless guys who were overly dedicated, painting their abdomens gold and red. Girls taking selfies and parents picking a good seat.
I looked up at Everest and noticed him taking everything in. “You know, this is the first time I’m in the stands watching the game.”
“Are you okay?” I asked gently.
He looked down at me and smirked. “C’mon, let’s get some snacks.”
One look at the line and I instantly wanted to retreat. “It’s fine, I don’t want anything.”
“You sure?”
The scent of freshly-made pretzels filled my senses. A girl walked past me with a batch of cheese fries that hit the back of my throat, but then another look at the line persuaded me.
“No, I’m not hungry.” My stomach made a desperate plea for food.
“Looks like your stomach disagrees.” A smug know-it-all expression played on his face. “It won’t be that long.”
As we entered the line, we ended up standing behind a group of girls who were arguing about what color they were going to wear for homecoming. I was so deep into their conversation that I barely realized that Everest had grown incredibly quiet. I stared up at him and his face screamed that he was lost in his thoughts. For a moment I thought he looked sad, but the emotion flashed by so quickly I couldn’t tell if I actually saw it or not.
Nami walked past the line and spoke into her phone. “Tiffany, I’m here.”
She angrily ended her call and stuffed her phone into her pocket. Undoubtedly, she must have felt my stare because she looked straight into my eyes and approached us.
“Hey.” Her black hair looked almost blue in the fading sunlight.
I was stunned that she was actually talking to me; we had never really spoken before. “Hi.” I tried my best to keep my voice from wavering.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Nami Lynn.” Her smile was that of a politician.
“I’m Bev—”
“Beverly Davis, senior, seventeen, works at a café right on Brisklin Street. Resides in the east end of town.”
I was speechless.
“Don’t be so freaked out. Nami knows everything about everyone,” Everest assured me.
“Not everything . . . are you guys a couple?”
I blinked in response to Nami’s bluntness.
“Geez, Nami, you don’t waste any time,” Everest said, his laugh forced.
“Sorry, but it’s the thing that has been on everyone’s mind. And now you’re wearing his jersey. You didn’t even let Cara wear your jersey. But I’m being rude.” Nami grabbed our hands in one brisk movement and led us to the front of the line. “Presidential advances, order whatever you like, free of charge.”
We ordered just about everything on the menu. I was just going to get some popcorn but Nami urged me to get more.
“You should sit with us,” I said without a second thought. I’d never been the type to be outspoken, but this year I’d been talking without thinking. Although it came out accidentally, I meant what I’d said. It seemed like the right thing to say despite Everest turning stiff and Nami giving me an apprehensive smile.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly impose.”
“Sure you can,” I said, and then remembered she was talking on the phone, most likely to someone she was meeting. “I’m sorry, you probably already have plans.”
“I’m actually usually at these things alone or behind someone’s very sweet but highly overtalkative grandparents until my friend is finished playing the drums terribly.” She must be talking about Tiffany.
“Don’t want to keep the grandparents waiting, do you?” Everest asked, looking bored while walking up the ramp leading to the bleachers.
“On second thought, I think I will sit with you guys.”
Nami sat down right between us. It was clear she was comfortable when she dug her hand in my popcorn and took a sip of my soda.
“Your hair is different, it’s really pretty,” Nami complimented me.
“Thank you.” Nami was get-signed-by-a-model-agency-at-a-car-wash type of pretty, and here she was complimenting my looks.
“What’s taking this game so long?” Everest said after we’d been sitting for a while.
Nami groaned. “They are trying to convince someone to sing the anth
em.” She looked at us and shrugged.
An idea struck me. “They are looking for someone to sing?”
I didn’t even have to look at Everest to know he was giving me the death glare. Nami tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and popped her left eyebrow upward.
“Yes. It was supposed to be Taylor, you know, from Glee Club, but she lost her voice this morning. Do you have any ideas?”
“I do, actually.” I smiled at Everest, relieved that looks couldn’t kill. “Everest.”
“Everest can sing?” Nami said in disbelief.
“He’s amazing.”
“They don’t have, like, a track or something?” Everest asked, annoyed. “Like, why do they need a singer? Just type in a performance online and play it through the whole stadium.”
“I’m going to pretend you never said that,” Nami replied. “Could you please sing?”
“No.” His answer was immediate and his tone was clipped.
“Please sing. You’re so good. Show them how amazing you are. You’re not just football, Everest. You are so much more.” I grabbed his arm gently. “And last time I checked, we had a deal.”
He clenched his jaw before drawing in a deep breath. “Okay, okay, where is the mic?”
Nami’s eyes grew big before she gave him directions. She turned to me with a look of disbelief on her face.
“Are you blackmailing him?” she asked as she took a seat next to me. I couldn’t help but laugh as I shook my head.
The bleachers were cold so I snuggled deeper into the jersey. The cold wind blew on my cheeks and my teeth chattered. Everest’s figure appeared on the field and I instantly smiled. He looked so comfortable out there—even without his football gear.
There were confused gazes all around as Everest climbed up on the black stand with the mic. He gripped it confidently, but when he took his bottom lip between his teeth, I knew he was nervous.
His eyes searched the crowd, and I wondered what he was looking for until they landed on me. He looked at me as if he was asking for permission, and I nodded. With the movement of my head, he visibly took a deep breath and glanced around the large crowd again.
“Please rise for ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’”
His voice didn’t waver.
People around me chuckled and stood. They had no clue for what they were about to hear.
“What is this fuckery?” someone laughed behind me. Immed-iately, the whispers of people already beginning to talk about him rose up around us.
“O say can you see . . .”
He began and the crowd’s reaction was priceless. The girl to my left placed a hand over her mouth, completely taken away. Everest loosened up, a beautiful smirk on his lips as if he liked the reactions, liked knowing that he’d tricked people.
“And the rocket’s red glare . . .”
The elevation, the crescendo, it was simply beautiful.
“Where was he hiding this talent?” Nami laughed.
Everest finished the song and smiled. People in the stands went crazy—absolutely nuts. They roared. They screamed. They were proud.
His smile was wide as people patted him on the back and screamed for his attention. He continued to run up the wet bleachers and I feared he would fall. He stopped and scoped out the crowd until he saw me and ran in my direction. Cara caught my eyes, and I immediately looked away.
When he approached me, he was out of breath. He bent forward to catch it before coming back up with a full smile. His chest moved rapidly up and down.
“Beverly Davis, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to that shitty event they call homecoming?” he asked.
I almost choked—this was so abrupt and so spontaneous that I quickly tried to come to grips with my new reality. Nami couldn’t stop squealing next to me. I looked like a fish as my mouth gaped open and shut. I’d never been to homecoming. The thought I’d ever go never crossed my mind, let alone go with Everest Finley.
Everest noticed my discomfort and bent down to whisper in my ear, “After what you just made me do, it’s only fair you have to accept my challenge, Ms. Davis. Don’t live your life wondering what-if.”
“Y-Yes,” I choked out, still surprised that he’d even asked. He went with Cara each year, and I couldn’t help but realize that I was breaking that pattern.
“Do you solemnly swear to eat their horribly catered food and do the electric slide like it’s our last time?”
The curious gazes that followed Everest to his seat had gone back to the game. It felt like Everest and I were the only ones in the world.
“Yes,” I laughed.
The rest of the game was a blur. Tiffany joined us at some point, and like almost everyone, she complimented Everest on his performance.
“You never fail to keep all of us on our toes,” she said. Her drumsticks were stuck in the base of her ponytail. She was all smiles and even hugged me when she met us on the bleachers. Everest’s eyes smiled for him, and it was then I noticed that the green in his eyes had finally defeated the blue.
“Everest, you have full permission to sing me to sleep every night,” Nami joked, and we all laughed.
All I could think about was how incredibly brave Everest was, and how he asked me to homecoming. I knew it was a part of our bet, but why wouldn’t my heart stop thumping out of my chest?
20
Everest
Confession: How can I trust someone when I can barely trust myself? I genuinely care about this girl and, honestly, that scares me.
—EF, October 7, 2018
My sweatshirt was suddenly too dark and too hot as I climbed out of my car in the parking lot of Beverly’s apartment complex. I ignored the voice in my head telling me that this was all wrong. I had spent the weekend trapped by my thoughts, going back and forth before settling on the fact that I was going to attempt to be happy. I didn’t know if it would work but I’d decided to try.
“Hey, you.” I couldn’t help but grin seeing Beverly there on her balcony.
She turned around quickly, a fast smile settling on her lips. Had I ever mentioned how much I was fascinated with her smile? I swore Beverly had the kind of smile that made flowers grow. I’d never known anyone as genuinely happy. She never faked anything, and was an open book with bold lettering. Her heart covered everything in a five-mile radius, forget the sleeve. She wore a faded navy-blue sweater that swallowed her whole, her hair spiraling in every direction, and her signature beat-up high-top sneakers. Unlike the girls I used to hang around, she never talked about her appearance. It was like she didn’t care if every hair was out of place.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, leaning slightly over the chipped railing.
“I . . . w-was wondering if you needed a ride . . . to school?” The words I’d rehearsed in my head didn’t come out as smoothly as I’d hoped.
“Oh, I’ve got my mom’s car,” she said, holding up the keys. I knew this was all pretty random. I wasn’t usually up this early, and it wasn’t normal for me to show up to her place unannounced. The only time she saw me was in the afternoon or the evening, but that was about to change—a few things were about to change.
“I was thinking we could carpool, being that we are going to the same place and all.” The words flew out freely now. I turned to display my backpack.
“Tell me this isn’t a joke,” she squealed.
Everything on her lit up, like she was reminding the sun to rise and display itself to the world. She scurried down the steps, approaching me with plenty of momentum. I was caught off guard when she dropped her bag and keys and jumped on me, wrapping her legs around my waist and fastening her arms around my neck.
“Whoa.” I stumbled back a little bit then caught my balance. A swarm of bees appeared in my gut from our closeness.
Her scent invaded my senses as she held me tight. Her hair
tickled my neck, and not laughing at her excitement was impossible. Pushing every doubt and menacing thought away, I wrapped my arms around her.
She lifted her head up and focused her eyes on mine. “I’m so excited you’re going back to school.”
“Oh really? I can’t tell.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, and climbed out of my grasp. I already missed the comfort of her embrace. Somehow thinking it could wipe out the feeling, I cleared my throat. I even took a step back.
“What made you want to start going again?” she asked while picking up her book bag.
“You’re there.” I shrugged. “Shall we go?”
“Indeed we shall,” she said and hopped into the passenger seat.
After the game and all through the weekend, my phone was flooded with messages from people I hadn’t heard from since before my attempt. I guessed I shouldn’t have been that surprised. Nothing was going according to my original plan—not being here. Now I was pretty much winging everything, especially after my performance at the game. I lay in bed thinking about all the different ways the rest of my life could pan out, and I still hadn’t got a clue. I was still floating, but it was different this time. Hope was my sidekick in this adventure for the first time, and it was in the form of a deal with a loner girl who had the brightest smile and the dirtiest sneakers.
“Hey, you okay?” Beverly asked from the passenger seat, and I nodded casually and grinned for her sake.
I forced myself to believe I was doing the right thing as I threw my arm around her shoulder and walked into the school. Eyes zoomed in on us instantly, but no one approached us, they just called out greetings. I walked Beverly to her locker and all the way up to her first class, before heading to mine.
The first class of the day was just as boring as I remembered it to be. I’d worked hard all weekend finishing off the stack of papers that had collected on my desk. Luckily, they weren’t hard—I’d always done pretty well at school. Just because my mind was sick didn’t mean that I didn’t know the difference between an anion and a cation.
