Sidekick

by Natalie Whipple

At the first break, they rag on him when he asks about the teardrops and squiggly lines above the characters’ heads. He doesn’t talk much after that.

  They pass out fast tonight. It’s barely three. Garret’s watching the TV intently, but he has his head in one hand like it will fall off if he doesn’t hold it up. He may be a noob, but he does seem determined to like anime. Trent’s snoring in the recliner. Daphne’s head crashed into my shoulder a little while ago and I don’t have the heart to move it. Besides, it looks like Keira might be headed the same direction.

  Her head bobs forward, and she snaps it back up. Then she leans it back against the couch and closes her eyes. Ever so slowly, her face inches diagonally toward my shoulder. My skin tingles with anticipation. Then her cheek presses against me and I can’t breathe.

  Tonight rocks.

  Izzy turns off the TV when the episode ends, since most everyone’s asleep. She closes her eyes and stuffs a pillow behind her head. I’m not moving for anything, even if I’m slightly uncomfortable with Daphne on my other side. She’s never done that to me before, but she’s accidentally fallen asleep on Trent and Colin. I’m usually in the recliner.

  A phone rings, and all the sleepers shoot straight up.

  “Oh, shit!” Keira digs around in her purse. “What time is it?”

  “Past three,” I say above the groans from everyone else.

  “Mom?” Keira says when she answers it. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time and fell—” She rolls her eyes. “Their parents are here. It’s not like we’re having some massive orgy.” She puts her hand over the receiver. “Can you give me a ride home, Garr?”

  Garret perks up. “Sure.”

  “I’m coming right now. I have a ride, so you don’t even have to put on your slippers. See how nice I am? Bye.” She hangs up, standing abruptly. “My mom thinks we’re all naked over here—sinning. She’s such a prude.”

  Garret runs his hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

  She shakes her head. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Nine

  By Monday I decide I’m overreacting. Again. So what if she didn’t ask me for a ride? Keira was totally into me that night. She smiled and leaned her head on my shoulder and everything. She talked to me first at Parker’s, and she approved of my anime watching. She only asked Garret for a ride because I was already home and she didn’t want to inconvenience me. That makes sense.

  I shove a few books in my locker, telling myself to snap out of it. It’s only been a week. Garret might move fast, but the cross-clique issues have to slow him down. He can’t talk and flirt with her at school like he can with a cheerleader.

  “Russ!” Mercedes calls. Holly Lark is with her, as usual. She is Mercedes’s best friend, and she’s one of the few cheerleaders who has never made a pass at Garret.

  “What’s up, Mercedes?”

  “You can tell Garr he made me gain five pounds, that’s what.”

  I slam my locker, holding back the eye roll. “Anything else?”

  She punches my shoulder. “It was a joke, dork.”

  “Oh.”

  “But speaking of weight gain, I told Holly you make killer food. She doesn’t believe me.” She nudges Holly. “Right?”

  Holly stares at her shoes. “Right.”

  “Tell her how amazing you are!” Mercedes says.

  “If you mean the tacos in Life Skills, then yeah, I made those. I don’t know about them being killer.” I head for the cafeteria, almost preferring Dallas to this obvious attempt at flirting. Mercedes walks too close to me and it’s uncomfortable.

  “Well, trust me, they were incredible. I tasted them.” Mercedes bumps into me. It doesn’t feel like an accident. “You should have seen the teacher, Hol—she had a full-on foodgasm.”

  “Did you take lessons or something?” Holly asks.

  “Nope.”

  “C’mon, your mom had to teach you, at least,” Mercedes says.

  “My mom hardly cooks.” I stop at the cafeteria door, annoyed at all the prying. Mercedes is insane if she thinks going around making me into a pansy kitchen boy will score her points with me. “Look, Mercedes, can you not tell people I cook?”

  She pouts. “But why? It’s so sexy!”

  I shake my head. “Whatever. I don’t cook—you got it?”

  “Fine.”

  I open the door for them, happy when they skip off to the other cheerleaders without any more embarrassing questions. I just want to get some food, sit with the team, and keep things as normal as possible. As I head for the line, a table of franticly waving people catches my eye. It takes me a few seconds to believe what I’m seeing.

  Izzy, Daphne, Colin, Trent, and Keira are calling me over. But as wrong as that is on its own, this situation is about a thousand times worse. This is like turning the world upside down and declaring anarchy.

  Garret’s sitting with them.

  Garret’s calling me over to the freak table.

  My feet won’t move. Has he gone insane? Is this some kind of prank he and Keira thought up on the way to her house? It’s not funny. Garret must not understand just how popular and important he is. If he turns into a freak, the whole balance of the school will be thrown off.

  I force myself to stay calm. He’s trying to impress Keira. Something probably did happen when he took her home. I’ve already lost my chance; why did I ever think I had a chance against Garr?

  Finally, I regain control of my body. I hold up my hand, telling them to wait. I can at least stall by getting food. I need time to process this.

  When I get in line, Dallas shows up behind me. “What the hell is going on, man?”

  “I have no clue.” I pick up a lunch tray, my head still reeling. Do I go over there? I can’t go over there. I’ve spent the last three years making sure no one knows that I actually like my crazy little sister. Can I ruin it all in one lunch period?

  “Did he lose a bet I don’t know about?”

  I shrug.

  “Isn’t that freak with the Chinese hat on your sister?”

  I look over, acting like I didn’t notice. “Uh, yeah, that would be her.”

  “And you don’t know what’s going on?”

  “What, you think I talk her? Dude, I pretend she doesn’t exist.”

  He laughs. “I don’t blame you there. But what do we do about Garr?”

  “Like I know.” The lunch lady plops a sloppy joe on my tray. Usually I don’t mind them, but suddenly I’m not hungry.

  “You should go over there, tell him he’s lost his cool pass by hanging out with them.” Dallas laughs again. He must be enjoying this more than anyone. “They called you over, after all. You’ve been welcomed by the freaks! Lucky shit!”

  “Yeah. Lucky.” I swipe my card at the end of the line.

  “So are you gonna go?”

  Now that I’m out of the line, Garr waves at me again. I gulp. It feels like everyone’s eyes are on me, waiting to see if I’ll join the freaks. And what will happen then? I can almost smell Dallas’s hope—he wants me to sit over there so badly he’d probably drag me over and shove me into the seat if I couldn’t kick his ass for it.

  “So?” Dallas pushes again.

  I shake my head. “Nah, man, I’m not going over there. I’ll ask him later.”

  “Good idea. At least you still have some sense.” Dallas slaps me on the back, and we sit with the team. I spend the rest of lunch ignoring the death stares coming from Izzy’s table.

  Chapter Ten

  After practice, Garret and I end up at his house in front of the Xbox. There’s also an entire Costco box of Bagel Bites involved. And a 12-pack of Mountain Dew. I’m too hungry to complain about how truly disgusting Bagel Bites are. We shovel them in with as little chewing as possible.

  I’m already sick of people asking me about what happened at lunch, or if I know anything about the new skater chick, or if Garret and I “broke up.” He hasn’t said anything yet, but the team was always in earshot.

 
I sprawl out on Garret’s floor—since he actually keeps his room clean—in the mood to shoot the crap out of some zombies. He tosses me a controller and sits on the edge of his bed. “Dude, what was up with you at lunch?”

  I scoff. “What was up with me? What was up with you?”

  He smiles wide and shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. That was kind of crazy, huh.”

  “Uh, yeah.” I choose a zombie hunter, glad it’s a game where we’re on the same team. I rarely beat him at video games. No matter how many hours I devote to Mario Kart or Mortal Kombat or whatever, he always comes out on top. I never say anything, but I think he’s figured out I might not play if I have to play against him. He never suggests those kinds of games anymore.

  “It didn’t sound like a big deal when Keira said I should eat with her, but I felt like an idiot after you didn’t back me up,” he says.

  The level loads and I shoot a few zombies while I figure out what to say. Am I supposed to feel guilty? I guess I feel bad for not backing him up, but I don’t see why I have to go down just because he’s after Keira. If he wants her bad enough to throw away everything else, maybe I don’t want to compete. “I couldn’t. Dallas was practically ready to dethrone you already.”

  “Dethrone?” He laughs as he takes out a pack of moaning undead. “You make it sound like I’m king of the school.”

  I roll my eyes. He really doesn’t get it. Garret is still that kid who’s good at everything and doesn’t understand why people make such a big deal out of it. He hates being popular, rarely ever admits or shows that he is. Which I guess I’m glad for, because I’d have to kick his ass otherwise. “You are, whether you want to be or not.”

  He sighs. “Whatever. I could say the same thing about you.”

  “Yeah, right. Do kings usually come in second on everything?”

  “You really don’t get it, do—”

  “Look, either way, you can’t hang out with the freaks just because you’re having some life crisis or whatever.” I dodge a zombie at the last minute and Garr takes care of it for me. “At least not in public.”

  At that point his door swings open and Tucker comes bouncing in, looking just like a little Garret clone. “Can I play?”

  “Not right now, bud.” Garret keeps his eyes on the screen but takes a big health hit with the distraction.

  “Please?” Tucker drags out the word.

  “We’ll play after dinner, okay?”

  “Okay!” Tucker leaves without a second thought because Garret is that kind of brother. If he says he’ll do something with Tucker, he does. Girls think it’s infinitely adorable, too. It’s annoying that he can get away with doting on Tucker when I can’t even admit to caring about Izzy like I do.

  “If I’m the king of the school, which I’m not, I should be able to hang out with whoever I want,” he says after Tucker shuts the door.

  “True, but you have to accept others will see it as a sign of weakness. You should have heard Dallas. He would have totally trashed your reputation if I didn’t stop him. There are plenty of guys who want your spot, just like they want Mercedes, and they won’t be such benevolent rulers.”

  “Damn, you sound like my cunning advisor.”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  We start on the next level and Garr sighs. “I’m so sick of this shit. When am I allowed to just be myself?”

  “You can be yourself all you want right now.” I laugh, knowing exactly how to make him chill out. “You can even talk about how you want to marry your AP math homework if you want. I won’t judge.”

  He kicks my leg. “Don’t make me tell everyone how much you love James Taylor and how you sing ‘Sweet Baby James’ in the shower.”

  My eyes narrow to slits, but I don’t take them off the screen. “Shut up.”

  It always comes back to James, though I like plenty of other “oldies” artists. Jim Croce, Credence Clearwater Rival, and Fleetwood Mac. All of which sound slightly cooler than James Taylor.

  My dad loves the oldies, too, and I guess that’s where it all started. He says the songs remind him of his dad, who died before I was born. And now he’s passed the affinity on to me. When he’s home, he blasts everything from the Beatles to Bread to Dan Fogelberg. On road trips he insists it’s all we listen to, since “no road trip is complete without oldies.” I don’t know what it is, but that music makes me feel better. You can’t feel bad listening to “Here Comes the Sun” or “How Sweet It Is.” It’s real music. Songs that tell stories that feel like they could happen even now. I’ve tried listening to current music, and it never beats the classics for me.

  It makes me sound like an old man, which is why I keep my mouth shut about how much I hate rap. What jock hates rap?

  “Take me home, country road…” Garr starts singing off-key.

  I take a zombie’s head off in one shot. “That’s John Denver, you idiot.”

  “You actually know? Why am I your friend again?”

  “That’s it. We’re done.” I drop the controller and let a zombie eat him.

  “Hey!” He busts up laughing. “Don’t make me post pictures of those extremely short swim trunks you wore when we went to that cabin by the lake.”

  “My mom packed the wrong ones!” I shove him. “I seem to remember a very unfortunate incident about you losing your trunks diving into said lake. I’m sure all of Facebook would love to know that story.”

  His eyes widen. “I almost forgot about that. And you hunted them down for me while I hid under the dock.”

  I nod. I’ve never told a soul that happened, and I never will. This is why we’re best friends—we know all the embarrassing crap about each other and it doesn’t matter. We make sure no one else sees that stuff.

  That’s the thing about being popular: one false move and it’s all over. People are waiting for you to screw up, so you have to make sure they never have a chance to realize what a loser you really are. That’s all popularity is—pretending to be cool. No one is actually cool.

  “I thought it’d be nice to be with Keira, but she kind of made fun of me.”

  “Really?”

  He nods. “I don’t get her. One second she’s nice, and the next she’s telling me I’m a dumb jock.”

  His words should give me comfort, but they don’t. I know him too well. “Which means you’re only gonna try harder.”

  He smiles. “Maybe.”

  Garret can only stay away from his homework for so long. After a couple more games he kicks me out, and I head back home just before dinner, determined to ignore my own homework for as long as possible.

  When I open the front door, I freeze. Keira’s on my couch watching TV, her hair in two long braids. But that’s not the strangest part.

  No one else is there.

  Opportunity has knocked. I will definitely answer.

  She turns, her eyes filling with surprise. “Oh, hey, Russ. Nice of you to ditch us at lunch.”

  “I couldn’t abandon my other friends, especially after Garr did. I never sit with Izzy.” I throw my backpack on the floor, trying to act like it doesn’t matter what she thinks.

  She scoffs. “I get that you think you’re too cool for us.”

  “That’s not it at all.” I shove my hands in my pockets. I’ve already talked enough with Garr about this. “What’re you doing here, anyway, Judge Keira?”

  She shoots me a death glare. “Catching up on Haruhi.”

  “Ah. Where’s Izzy?”

  “She and the crew went to get pizza. I guess your mom called and said she found some sewing club she has to check out?”

  I laugh. Of course. “Great.”

  She looks back at the TV, so I figure she’s over my “ditching” them. “I’ve always wanted to see this one, but there’s just so many out there, you know?”

  “Izzy keeps a log of what she’s watched and what she thinks about it.” I lean on the edge of the couch, wondering how close she’ll let me get with no one around. “It’s basically
the only reason she learned to use spreadsheets.”

  “Yeah, she’d have to with how detailed her vlog is. She totally knows her stuff.”

  “Oh yeah?” I take a seat by her. I don’t actually watch Izzy’s vlog. I see practically everything she talks about and can form my own opinions. “I didn’t realize people actually took her seriously.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You might know more than Garret, but you’re still pretty clueless.”

  I choose to ignore her comment. “What a small world, though. Here you knew her before you even came here.”

  “The power of the internet.” She purses her lips. I get the sense that I’m annoying her, so I back off. She is trying to watch the show, and since she’s watching in Japanese she has to read the English subtitles.

  I pause, realizing the captions aren’t on. “Wait, you actually know Japanese?”

  She smiles. “You’re quick, you know that? Hello? Lived in Japan my whole life.”

  “Yeah, I just figured you went to one of those English schools. You don’t have an accent or anything.” Izzy watches a lot of anime, but she still needs captions. She’s trying to learn Japanese online and has a huge box of kanji cards she’s determined to memorize. It’s not like you can learn it in school around here.

  “My mom spoke English at home, and my jackass step-dad used Japanese, though he speaks really good English. My mom has a thing for jackasses.” She shifts so her knee is almost touching mine. I take it as a hint. Girls never get closer for no reason.

  “That sucks.” I move my knee so it touches hers. She doesn’t move. The other night she didn’t want to talk about her family at all, but now it’s like she wants me to ask. “Is that why you’re here? Did your mom leave him?”

  “Yeah, finally. Only took sixteen years of beatings to convince her.” She leans her head on my shoulder, and I can’t quite believe how easy that was. “I miss Japan, but I definitely don’t miss my step-dad.”

  “I bet.” I don’t know what else to say. She talks about this crap so matter-of-factly, but what if she tells me she got beaten, too? I feel like I don’t have a right to ask such a serious question. I just want to be there for her if she’ll let me.