Sweet Sixteen

by Brenda Rothert

  Nothing’s different between Chase and me. He appreciated me helping Cassie, that’s all. I was invisible to him before and now he’s aware of my existence, but it doesn’t mean he likes me or anything. I tell myself that until my heart slows to its normal pace.

  But still, there’s a small shred of hope in my heart. Maybe he’s seeing me in a new light. And if not—even if he never does anything but look at me—I’ll happily soak up those looks.

  My desperation is a little disgusting, I know. I’m annoyed that of all people to have a secret thing for, I chose Chase. He’s the golden boy quarterback. I’m sure he stars in the fantasies of most of the girls in this school.

  And if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a conformist. I wish I could have a crush on some obscure guy no one else notices. Like Raj. He’s a great guy, and he doesn’t gangbang girls just because he can. At least, not that I know of.

  The thought makes me laugh. Raj is definitely a virgin. Some girl will be lucky to end up with him someday, but he just doesn’t give me that fluttery feeling I get from being near Chase.

  At least my feelings are safely locked away in my heart. Lauren would never tell a soul.

  When Chase walks by again with a lunch tray in his hands, I force myself to appear preoccupied with my phone. My flaming cheeks will give away my feelings if I’m not careful.

  I’m mindlessly scrolling when I get a message from Lauren.

  He looked at you again.

  And like that, my heart rate flies right back into overdrive.

  Ronnie got suspended from school over our fight, and people are still staring and whispering when they pass me in the halls. The freshmen who work on the theater crew are in awe of me, which is funny. At least, until they ask me to tell them what happened for the third time. Then I put in my earbuds and ignore them.

  We finish practice early because Mr. Douglas has dinner plans. It’s the first time I’ve been home before five since school started.

  The driveway that leads to our house is made of stone, and Michael, the local guy Mom hires to do maintenance on our house, is on his hands and knees scrubbing the stones with a brush as I pull in and park.

  “Hey, Gin. How’s senior year treating you?” He looks up at me as I step out of my car.

  “It’s good. How are you?”

  “Can’t complain.” He grins and goes back to work.

  Michael is in his fifties, and he’s been taking care of our house for almost ten years. It’s his full-time job, because our house is…well, enormous. It’s a ninety-year-old red brick mansion that was built by an oil tycoon back in the day. All the woodwork is original, and Michael painstakingly cleans and polishes every bit of it.

  The oil tycoon was named Richard Olney, and the Olney Mansion is the reason we live in Roper. Mom found out it was for sale, and the beauty and history of the sprawling six-bedroom house spoke to her. Twenty years ago, she bought it. And around eighteen years ago, she went to a sperm bank and picked out my father.

  I don’t actually know him, but she tells me he was handsome and had a great smile. She doesn’t know him either, because the sperm bank protected his identity. He was a research scientist with auburn hair, blue eyes, and no genetic predisposition to any serious diseases.

  So, obviously, I look like him, which is weird since we’ll never meet. But I made my peace with it a long time ago. It’s been Mom and me forever, and I can’t imagine it any other way.

  “You’re home early,” Mom calls out from the kitchen when she hears me walk in.

  “Practice let out early,” I call back as I set my bag down.

  I walk through the sunroom, filled with potted plants that Michael waters and carefully dusts, and then the large living room, complete with an antique piano Mom bought with the house even though no one ever plays it.

  When I walk into the kitchen, Mom is peering over the dark rim of her reading glasses, looking at a cookbook propped up on the counter.

  “What are you making?”

  “Hmm?” She looks up at me. “Oh, chicken and dumplings.”

  “Yum.”

  “How was school?”

  “The usual.”

  She brushes some flour from her hands and reaches for her wooden rolling pin. There are flecks of flour in her dark curly hair, and I brush them away as she rolls out dough.

  “If you needed to hide a body and a deep freezer wasn’t an option, what would be your next choice?” she asks me, her brow furrowed as she concentrates on her task.

  “Depends. How long will it be there?”

  She considers. “You aren’t sure. But you need to hide it well.”

  “I guess…bury it?”

  “No, because the dirt would be disturbed, and someone would see it.”

  “Hmm…trunk of my car.”

  She shakes her head. “That’s too clichéd.”

  “It’s clichéd for a reason. It’s a good hiding place.”

  Morbid conversations like this are a regular occurrence in our house. Mom’s real name is Julia Fielding, but she writes thriller novels under the name JD Morris. JD Morris is one of the top five grossing authors in the world. I’m proud of her, though I wish she’d work less and give a social life a chance. I worry about her being all alone when I leave for college. She doesn’t need to write anymore, we’re set for life, but it’s such a part of who she is that she does it for love of the stories.

  “How’s the book coming?” I ask her.

  “Still plodding along.” She sighs. “I just can’t figure out what to do with this body.”

  I take a bag of tortilla chips from the pantry and open it. “Famous last words, Mom.”

  She smiles. “How’s the fireplace coming along?”

  “It’s almost done. I’m pretty happy with it. The glowing embers are the best part.”

  “So what will you paint next?”

  I suppress an eye roll. “An abstract pumpkin.”

  “Oh. How will you make a pumpkin abstract?”

  “That’s a great question. One I’ve asked Mr. Douglas a few times. He just waves his hands around and talks about swirling colors.”

  “If anyone can pull it off, you can, Gin.”

  I shake my head as I reach for another tortilla chip. “We’ll see. Surprisingly, this whole reboot of Cinderella is actually really good. The script, I mean.”

  “Madison Grayson is Cinderella, right?”

  “Yeah. And when she remembers her lines, she’s good.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to see it.” Her eyes sparkle with happiness as she looks at me. “I’m just so proud of you.”

  “I just paint scenery, Mom. It’s no big deal.”

  She gives me a pointed look over the rim of her glasses. “Artistic talent is a very big deal.”

  “Hopefully, NYU will think so.”

  “I’m positive they will.”

  I roll up the top of the bag of chips and put it back in the pantry. “I’m sending in my application next month. Remember you promised me you wouldn’t use your influence to get me in.”

  Her sigh is flustered. “If that’s what you want. But considering the amount I’ve donated to that school—”

  “Mom, you promised.”

  “I know.” She puts her hands in the air, feigning innocence, and bits of floury dough drop down onto the kitchen counter.

  I love her belief in me, and so many other things. She stops writing every day to cook a nice dinner, no matter how intensely she’s into her manuscript.

  Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I give her a hug. “Do you need help?”

  “No, thanks. But will you run out and ask Michael if he’d like to stay for dinner?”

  “Of course he will. He loves your cooking.”

  “Just ask him anyway.”

  I was right—Michael wants to stay for dinner. If nothing else, I guess Mom will have his company when I leave for college. But I already know it won’t just be her who misses our nightly dinners together.
I will too.

  Chapter Six

  Chase

  My blood is pumping extra hard this morning. It’s not just tonight’s game I’m excited about, but also the rose the freshman player just handed over to me.

  I don’t usually look at the roses, but I did this time. It’s a long-stemmed rose, its perfectly shaped bud of petals a deep shade of red. I even took a sniff of the sweet, perfumy scent.

  This rose is special. It’s going to change everything for Gin.

  For the past week, I’ve paid attention to her. Where she goes, what she does, who she’s with. She rarely talks to anyone besides Lauren and Raj. She doesn’t even look at other people, and others don’t look at her. It’s like she’s invisible, her head down as she just bides her time.

  It makes me appreciate what she did for Cassie that much more. For an introvert to step in like that…I know it had to be harder for her than for someone like me.

  I’m guessing she’ll blush like crazy and not be able to find any words to say when I hand her this rose. Everyone will be shocked, including her. It took me a good forty minutes to convince the rest of the team we should pick her.

  One thing I’ve realized from paying attention to Gin this past week is that she’s actually pretty. She’s got pale blue eyes and a bright smile. I imagine her body’s nice under those baggy clothes, too. The inky black hair isn’t helping her out any.

  Doesn’t matter, though. I’m not doing this because of her looks. I want to repay her for what she did for my sister, and this will change her entire senior year. Being one of the Sweet Sixteen will elevate her social status like nothing else could. She’ll be the envy of most every girl at Roper, and the guys will see her in a whole new light.

  Sam falls into step beside me as I make my way down the hall to Gin’s locker, the rest of the team following behind me.

  “You sure about this, man?” he asks under his breath.

  “Yep.”

  He lets out a sharp breath. “Yeah, but she’s—”

  “Don’t. The vote’s done, and there’s no going back.”

  He glances over at me. “But if we could go back, would you want to?”

  “No.”

  With my tone, I let him know the conversation is over. Sam’s never cared who was chosen for the Sweet Sixteen before. One of his favorite things to say is, “Pussy’s pussy.” I don’t know what’s got his panties in a bunch over Gin.

  The farther I walk down the hall, the more people stare, all of them holding their breath. The hallway smells like powdery perfume, some of the girls spraying it and putting on lipstick as I approach.

  They’re all hoping it’s their day. My gaze passes over them like they aren’t even there, landing on the back of the girl bent down to pull books from the bottom of her locker and put them in her backpack.

  Gin’s oblivious to the rose ritual, and that makes me almost smile. She’s gonna be blown away.

  The rest of the team hangs back as I stop and approach her. I keep the rose half hidden behind my leg as I stand in front of the locker next to hers.

  She doesn’t look up, her attention focused on the pages of a notebook she’s flipping through. There are at least a hundred students in this hallway, and they all just fell into silence. Gin doesn’t even seem to know.

  “Gin?”

  She looks up at me, pulling earbuds from her ears. “Did you say something to me?”

  “Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair and grin. “Can you, uh…stand up?”

  She stuffs the notebook into her green canvas backpack and stands, looking off to the side and then back at me, her eyes narrowing as she figures out everyone is watching us.

  “What’s going on, Chase?”

  “I have something for you.”

  A slight pink flush colors her cheeks as she furrows her brow at me. I take the rose out and hold it in front of her. There’s a collective gasp from the students around us. Pretty overdramatic, because obviously, I was planning to give the rose to her.

  Gin’s eyes go wide, and her cheeks darken to red. “What…the hell…?”

  “It’s not a joke,” I reassure her, because she’s looking anything but pleased.

  I should have known she’d think it was some kind of prank. Gin’s been teased and called a lesbian since middle school.

  “Um…it is a joke, though.” Her eyes meet mine, her chin tipped slightly up.

  “No, it’s not. I chose you, Gin. You’re one of the Sweet Sixteen.”

  She scoffs and shakes her head. “I most definitely am not, Chase. Choose someone else.”

  When she turns back to face her locker, I can feel the energy in the hallway. It’s trapped, everyone frozen in disbelief.

  “Gin,” I say in a low tone. “I give you my word this is legit. Take the rose.”

  She shakes her head again, silent.

  I keep my shit together. This isn’t unfolding like I imagined it would, but I can fix it. I reassess and try a different approach.

  “You’re a beautiful girl. Why wouldn’t we choose you? I want everyone else to see you the way I do.”

  Her eyes are narrowed when she turns to face me, but I can still see they’re a darker shade of blue than usual.

  “I’m sure everyone would see me differently if I allowed myself to get gangbanged by the football team, but I’m fine with the way I’m seen now, Chase.”

  Her tone is level and firm, and the hallway fills with the buzz of whispers. Sam is muttering his disgust nearby. This thing is going to hell fast.

  “It’s not gangbanging, Gin.” My aggravation bleeds through in my tone.

  “Really?” Her brows shoot up in mock surprise. “Maybe you should Google gangbanging sometime.”

  There’s a shocked laugh behind me, and a muscle in my jaw flexes unconsciously.

  “Take the goddamn rose, Gin,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “No.” She holds my gaze in challenge.

  Now I’m pissed. I’m doing her a favor, and this is how she thanks me? I shove the rose toward her.

  “Just take it, and we can talk about this later.”

  “I don’t want your stupid rose.” Her voice rises with anger. “No self-respecting girl would. Go find some desperate wannabe groupie.”

  The mood in the hallway has shifted. The shocked whispering has turned into an angry rumble that may explode at any moment. Gin and I are staring each other down, me willing her to accept the rose and her telling me to fuck off with her eyes.

  Gin shoulders her bag and moves to step around me. I can’t let my big idea blow up in my face like this, so I step to the side too, blocking her path.

  “Will you please take the rose, Gin? Please. I’m asking you to do this.”

  Her eyes are glistening with tears, but she’s not sad. I realize as she stares up at me, chin tilted defiantly, she’s furious.

  “Take that rose and shove it up your ass, Chase.”

  She walks around me, ignoring the glares and insults that await as soon as she’s a few feet away from me.

  I push off the locker with my shoulder, pissed off as I stride through the crowd of teammates gathered in the hallway. The cluster parts into two for me, and I stalk off in the direction of my own locker.

  “What the hell was that?” Sam falls in beside me, his tone alarmed.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You want me to give the rose to someone else?”

  The warning bell rings. We have two minutes to get to class, and I only have a few seconds to make a decision.

  Cut our losses, give the rose to another girl, and pretend the Gin incident didn’t happen? Or keep trying to convince her to take the rose so I can salvage a shred of my wounded pride?

  “No,” I tell Sam. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Take care of…how? Do we need to vote again?”

  I silence him with a look. “I’ve got it.”

  He nods and slows his pace. Everyone scatters, heading to class
, and I stand in front of my locker for a minute, collecting myself.

  That was a disaster. She turned me down. Gin Fielding told me to shove the rose up my ass in earshot of dozens of people. I’ll never live this down.

  And worse, a Roper tradition hangs in the balance. If I don’t fix this, and fast, there’s a lot more at stake than my ego.

  Chapter Seven

  Gin

  I’m still shaking. Even after skipping my first class to shut myself in a stall of the girls’ bathroom and get myself together, my emotions are running just as high as they were an hour ago.

  Maybe higher, actually, because I’ve been thinking things through. I’m still mad as hell that Chase thought I’d want to be one of the football team’s vapid virgin sacrifices. His participation in the weekly gang bang is the one thing I’ve had to overlook to sustain my crush on him. The whole thing is sexist, offensive, and disgusting.

  Then there’s the way I was caught completely off guard by the whole thing. I was just standing at my locker, thinking about what books I needed for the morning, when suddenly half the school was staring at me as Chase tried to get me to take that rose.

  Completely mortifying. And after the way I defended his sister, that’s not what I expected from Chase. He’d assured me it wasn’t a joke, but how could it not be? I’m nowhere near the social circle of girls who hope to lose their virginity to a bunch of drunken football players. I don’t want to be either, but at Roper, no one would believe that. Everyone at this school thinks all guys aspire to be football stars and all girls aspire to date them. Or get gangbanged by them. It’s all the same in this hayseed town.

  At the sound of excited female voices entering the bathroom, I realize I completely missed the bell.

  “I heard she paid him five hundred bucks to pick her,” one voice says.

  “No way.”

  “Yeah. She wanted it to look like he’s into her.”

  Laughter fills the room. I close my eyes, my face flushed even though I’m safely hidden in a stall. Though I know the entire school is probably talking about me right now, I really don’t want to hear the conversations.