Sell Out

by Tammy L. Gray

  She pulled away, but I kept my hands on her arms, urging her to look at me. “You good? Done apologizing for other people’s stupidity?”

  “Yes.”

  It was a weak, “Yes.” Weak because she didn’t believe me. Weak because she still hadn’t accepted that the things happening to her were not her fault.

  She hugged herself. “So, when will you be back in school?”

  “Wednesday. Thankfully, they counted Friday as day one.”

  She started down the steps. “I’ll see you Wednesday, then.”

  “Hey, Lindsay.” Her head turned. “Will do you something for me?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Will you change your number? Today?”

  “I’ll try.” With a wave, she walked slowly back to her car.

  I suddenly felt like her father, keeping her in my line of sight until she was safely pulling away from the curb. She was changing. The sweet, easy-going girl I’d known for years was barely a shell of her former self. A bitter taste coated my tongue.

  I would never understand how people could be so cruel.

  SKYLAR

  Blake made it to the quarterfinals, but didn’t make it past round two. I was glad. Nothing since my phone call had been fun. Not the arcade or the laser tag or the movie. Cody called me three times, and I made an excuse not to talk all three times. Lindsay knew his secrets. She went to his house. He talked about my dad. Until I could sort through what that meant, I couldn’t pretend everything was okay.

  “Dad, I’m home,” I called into our house on Sunday. There was no answer, and I wondered if he was sleeping again.

  I forced my heavy feet to the stairs and dropped my bag at the bottom. I was too tired to climb. Too tired to sort through the cascade of emotions.

  Our back door slammed, and I jumped.

  “Skylar?” Dad rounded the corner and swept me into a bear hug. He was sweaty and grimy soil smudged his cheeks and forearms.

  “Were you outside?” I squeezed him despite my shock. My dad hadn’t been outdoors in weeks. Something about the sun hurting his eyes and draining his already fragile energy. But this man was vibrant and full of life. I pulled back and studied him. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I feel great. Better than great.” He squeezed me again, leaving an arm around my shoulders. “Come on. I finally cleared out that weed bed that’s been bugging me. You can help me plant some flowers.”

  I was too stunned to speak. I walked on, trying to make sense of his dramatic change.

  “Princess, I missed you like crazy.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I know you’re all about independence and stuff, but I’m thinking no more overnighters until you’re off at fashion school.”

  Tears fell from my eyes. I tried to stop them, but that only led to more sobs.

  “Hey,” My father voice grew very serious, very fast. “Who do I need to kill? Cody? Did he try something?”

  I cried harder because he wasn’t even there to try something. He was with Lindsay. “No,” I said through sobs. “He got suspended. He didn’t go.”

  My father pursed his lips. I hadn’t told him about Cody’s fight or about Lindsay or Blake. I’d tried so hard to keep my two worlds separate. To be the strong one for my dad while he fought for his life.

  “It sounds like you and I need to have a long conversation.” He pulled some tissue from the box on our end table and waited for me to blow my nose and wipe away the tears. He opened the back door, and we sat next to each other on the swing. “You’ve been keeping things from me.”

  “You’ve been so sick. I didn’t want to burden you.” I messed with my fingernails, picking off the color Zoe and I put on just hours ago.

  “Sweetheart, you are not a burden. Ever.”

  I lay my head on his shoulder. I knew that. I did. Maybe part of me was pulling away before he could leave me. “How did you know you could trust Mom? You were already famous when you met her.”

  Dad’s arm settled around my back, and he brushed my hair with his fingers, our bodies rocking back and forth on the wooden seat. “Well, your mother was a pretty successful model, but, yeah, I guess there was some risk that she wanted more fame or money.”

  “So, how did you know?”

  “It’s hard to explain, Skylar. Love is trust. It’s risk. They hurt you. You hurt them. Your mom had to do a lot of forgiving, and so did I. There are no fairytale relationships. Every one takes effort and work.”

  I sighed. “I thought Cody and I had something special. Something just between the two of us, and now I’m not so sure.”

  A weighted silence built between us like my father was choosing his next words carefully. “I think you will meet a lot of boys in your lifetime, Skylar. They will come and go, and you will learn with each relationship. You have a big future ahead of you. Paris. Fashion. Your dreams.”

  In other words, Cody wasn’t forever.

  CODY

  Four days didn’t sound like a lot of time, but any number was too long when the girl I’d fallen for stopped calling me back. Any number was too long when I wondered if she still cared about me or if she’d been sucked into the vortex of Madison.

  My suspension lifted today and, yet, the hour between waking and getting ready felt like a walk to the guillotine.

  “I’m ending your punishment.” Mom said when I came downstairs. She tapped her nails on the counter, and though her words meant my weeklong sentence had been reduced, her tone did not imply absolution.

  “I know I screwed up.” It was the same sentence I’d spoken all weekend. And I meant it. Matt had warned me that once I became a fighter, control trumped all. Anger and rage made you stupid and sloppy and guaranteed regret. Boy, did I live that lesson.

  My mom stepped forward, her mouth pinched while her eyes searched mine for the truth. We’d never been super close, she and I, but I knew she loved me and wanted only my happiness.

  She put my confiscated truck keys in my hand. “Cody, you’re eighteen. If that boy had pressed charges, you would have been arrested. I thought…” She paused. “I don’t want you going backwards. Before Matt started training you, things were bad. Your depression, your isolation. I don’t want that for you again.”

  I pocketed my keys while Mom fidgeted with her pearl necklace. This conversation made us both uncomfortable. I had fallen into a dark place after Tom’s attack, one that scared my parents enough to pay for Matt’s training.

  “I’m fine. I’m not depressed. I just got angry with a guy who was being disrespectful to a friend of mine. I know I shouldn’t have hit him. Don’t read into this.”

  She backed away with an I-want-to-believe-you-but-I-don’t expression haunting her face. “It’s been weeks since I’ve seen Blake come by or Chugger. You talk about a girlfriend, but we’ve never met her.”

  My pulse jumped. “You will. I’ll have her come over for Thanksgiving.” I hoped my voice didn’t give away my uncertainty.

  Her cold, soft hands palmed my face. “Promise me you’ll tell me if something is going on. You are not alone.”

  The problem was I felt alone. And helpless. And like I was one second from losing everything that mattered to me.

  “Okay,” I said and hoped my mom didn’t notice that I couldn’t look her in the eyes.

  SKYLAR

  My heart did a skip, squeeze, and beat twice combination the moment I spotted Cody next to my locker. I knew he’d be back at school, and I intentionally ran ten minutes behind my normal tardiness in hopes he’d go on to class. No such luck.

  He didn’t give me a chance to speak, just grabbed my hand and pulled me right back through the metal doors and out to the parking lot.

  “Cody, I—”

  He kissed me, pulled me so tight against his chest that I crumbled like a wall of sand into his arms.

  “Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” he said, his lips hovering centimeters from mine.

  How do you explain to someone that you’re mad he shut y
ou out? You’re mad that he didn’t trust you with his deepest hurts when you had trusted him with yours?

  “It’s what you’re not doing. I need you to open up to me,” I said.

  “I have.”

  The frustration in his voice had my insides writhing. “Really? So there wasn’t anything deeper that drove you to punch that kid?” Just tell me, Cody. Tell me about sophomore year.

  He recoiled. Actually recoiled from me. “Are you still mad about the Super 32? Don’t you think I’ve paid for my mistake a million times over?” He said the words like I was a spoiled, uncaring brat, and I wanted to slap him.

  “No. I’m not still mad you got suspended.”

  “Then why, Skylar? Why are you avoiding me? We’re supposed to be stronger than this.”

  But we weren’t. He was doing just what my dad was. Letting me in on the good days and shutting me out when the bad stuff hit. Only this time it was Lindsay who was chosen to carry his burdens instead of me.

  “I’m not avoiding you.” I’m heartbroken. “The band is coming for Thanksgiving, so we’ve been working in the yard. I got caught up in the upcoming holidays.”

  He took my head in his hands. “You’re sure?”

  No. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

  CODY

  My edginess had no limit. Neither did my jealous insecurity. Blake was talking to Skylar again and too close. Much too close. Like it wasn’t bad enough he’d had her all weekend, while I was stuck in my house waiting for her to call me back.

  I joined them at her locker, wrapped a possessive arm around her. She’d been pulling away from me, physically and emotionally. She’d shift slightly when I touched her, and she didn’t return any of my affection. All through lunch she watched me like she wanted to say something but wouldn’t. A thousand emotions played with my head until one horrifying thought slammed into my chest—she was going to leave me. No. I couldn’t even think about it.

  “Blake.” My terse greeting was met with challenging eyes. Ones I held with the same disdain.

  “You missed a great weekend.” His expression softened as he turned to Skylar making the knot in my gut tighten. “Ms. Skylar is quite the laser tag queen.”

  Skylar’s cheeks flushed under his stare. “My dad’s trained me well.”

  “Chugger has a huge piece of land. I bet you you’d be killer at paint ball.” His smile deepened and was the final end to my wavering patience.

  “Like she wants to be surrounded by a bunch of drunks with weapons.” My harsh sarcasm didn’t deter him but made Skylar tense under my arm.

  “Skylar’s a big girl. She doesn’t need you making choices for her.” His voice was so calm; it masked the storm that would come from his next words. “Besides. I don’t recall you minding so much when Lindsay played with us. But, then again, that was before your long, dark, ride home this summer, wasn’t it?”

  Adrenaline pumped into my bloodstream. With only two feet between us, I took a step forward, every muscle ready. “Don’t say another word.”

  Blake didn’t flinch. He closed the gap, and we stood nose to nose. The air was saturated with violence. I longed to hit him. He was itching to hit me.

  But, instead of contact, he backed away with his arms in the air like a man surrendering. “You better check that temper of yours, St. James. People will start to think you’re a bully.” He winked at Skylar and my hand curled. “Whenever you’re up for some fun, you just let me know.”

  He walked away, but the fury wouldn’t leave with him. I had to hit something, do something now. I felt the rage spread, just like it had after they left me weeping on the bathroom floor, and after I saw the dollar bills fall out of Lindsay’s locker.

  I raked a hand through my hair and paced, but the pounding fury wouldn’t stop.

  “Cody?” Skylar’s simple touch seared my skin.

  I was going to lose it and right in front of her. I held my breath, fought for some kind of control. “You should get to class. Don’t you have a test?” I wanted her to leave, but she didn’t. She just stood there, waiting for me to fall apart. “Skylar, I need some space. Please.” I focused on sucking air and blowing it out.

  “What is happening to you?” Her plea was my undoing.

  My body was pure anger. It beat at my lungs, pulsed in my throat and my target became the one person I swore I’d never hurt. “I am so sick of everyone thinking Blake’s a god, okay? I’m sick of you eating with him and acting like he isn’t scum. I’m sick that you spent the weekend with him and didn’t return my calls. You want to know what’s bothering me? Fine. You are. I’ve given everything up for you! And you can’t even give me the courtesy of leaving me alone when I ask you to.”

  I slammed my palms on the locker, bent over and blew out a breath with the last of my rage. As soon as it had its release, I wanted to pull back every word, lock them away and beg her forgiveness.

  “I’m sorry.” Her words sliced me open because they were shaky and so wrapped in hurt that a thousand apologies wouldn’t make a dent.

  I stepped forward and she backed away, her hand raised in a warning to stay back.

  “Skylar, wait. I didn’t mean any of that.”

  She kept walking backwards.

  “Skylar.”

  Nothing.

  I stared until she disappeared, moving only when Henry walked up to me. I’d barely recognized him at first. Long gone were the glasses, and he must have bought out The Buckle. His life was on the fast track, while mine was spiraling out of control. But that was Blake’s game—making others rise to glory or tumble off the pedestal. He was the puppet master.

  Eyebrows pinched, the hard line of Henry’s mouth said I was about to get an earful. “Are you trying to hurt her?”

  I eyed his expensive clothes and the highlighted tips in his hair. Thought about how he set me up with Lindsay’s naked picture. “Don’t lecture me. You sold out.”

  He crossed his arms. “Yeah? Like you last year? Like when you lied to Principal Rayburn about Blake cheating? When you let me take the fall so Blake could compete at state?”

  Shame mixed with my already unsteady emotions. He must have seen it because he took an aggressive step forward.

  “Where was all this conviction then? Or am I not blond enough for you?”

  Once again, fury blinded me and, before I could register my actions, I had his shirt in my fist and his back against the locker.

  Henry was inches shorter than I was and weighed as much as a feather, but his eyes carried the fierceness of a warrior. “What are you going to do? Beat me up like you did that poor sucker last week?”

  His words stunned me out of my combative haze. I released him, backed away and tried to still my shaking hands.

  He pulled his shirt straight and picked up the books he’d dropped in our shuffle. “I saw an opportunity and took it. Just like you. And a hundred Lindsays won’t change the fact that you sold out too.”

  *

  I was finishing my warm-up mile when Coach called my name. “Cody. My office, now.” The team snickered as I jogged off the track.

  My neck muscles were wound so tight I could barely move them. Skylar, Blake, Henry. I was a sizzling pot of aggressive energy with nowhere to release.

  I shut the door to Coach’s office and stood opposite his desk with my hands laced behind my back.

  “I’m going to give captain to Blake today. I just wanted to let you know.”

  No, no, no! Fire pounded in my ears and burned down my cheeks and back. “Please, Coach, give me another chance.”

  “How many chances do you think you get? First, you skip school, then you attack Blake during practice. Next, you’re suspended for fighting and miss the biggest individual event of the season.” His fist pounded the desk. “You could have won.”

  I flinched at his words. At my own regret. I’d lost the respect of the team, the school and my coaches. I was losing Skylar, too.

  “I heard
this was about a girl, Blake’s ex.” He shook his head. “It’s bad form to date a teammate’s ex, Cody, and this is why. Combine teenage hormones with jealousy, and they become a raging inferno that ruins any chances for victory.”

  My head dropped. Would the lies ever stop? “Sir, I promise, this isn’t about a girl. It’s about me freeing myself from Blake’s control.”

  He placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “If that’s the case, then why are you the one going around punching everyone and getting suspended?”

  Because I’m an idiot who played right into Blake’s manipulative hands.

  “It won’t happen again, sir. You have my word.”

  “Your word doesn’t mean a whole lot right now.”

  The weight of his comment ripped through my heart, sliding down to take root among my growing list of failures. How did I even respond to that?

  Forcing myself to stand straight, I met his eyes. “I will respect your decision even if I don’t agree with it.” Even if it tore apart my last shred of hope.

  Coach paused, watching me with skepticism. His fingers stroked his chin, but he didn’t respond, simply pointed to the door to excuse me.

  I won every match that afternoon, and at the end when Coach pulled us in for our dismissal, I braced myself for the announcement he warned was coming. Only it never came. Instead, we were released to the lockers with a reminder that Saturday’s match would be our hardest this season, and he expected every one of us in this gym to be giving one hundred percent the rest of the week.

  I hung back while the others jogged to the locker room, my eyes searching Coach’s for an explanation.

  “Don’t make me regret this decision,” was all he said before walking off.

  I sucked in air, closed my eyes and exhaled a current of relief and gratitude.

  Finally, a victory.

  SKYLAR

  The parking lot outside Madison’s gym was packed along with the overflow parking on the side of the school. I wedged my small car into a spot between two huge trucks and prayed I’d still have a paint job when this match was over.