“That was a little dramatic, don’t you think?” she says.
I turn to face her. Her eyes are narrowed, but her mouth could pass for smiling. I can’t tell if she’s amused or angry.
“They expected a certain reaction from me. What’d you want me to do, tap him on the shoulder and ask politely if I could cut in?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “What makes you think I needed you to do anything?”
I don’t understand her hostility. It seemed like we left on good terms last night, so I’m confused as to why she seems so angry with me.
She rubs her hands up and down her arms and then her eyes fall to the floor. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I just…” She looks up at the ceiling and groans. “I was just prodding him for information. That’s the only reason I was with him in the hallway just now. I wasn’t flirting.”
Her response catches me off guard. I don’t like the look of guilt in her expression. That’s not why I pulled her away from him, but I realize now that she thinks I really am upset with her for being with him. I could tell she didn’t want to be there, but maybe she doesn’t realize how well I’ve learned to read her.
I take a step toward her. When she lifts her eyes to meet mine, I smile. “Would it make you feel better to know I was cheating on you with the guidance counselor?”
She sucks in a quick rush of air and shock registers on her face.
“You weren’t the only one who wasn’t committed to us, Charlie. Apparently we both had issues we needed to work out, so don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Relief probably isn’t the reaction a girl should have to finding out her boyfriend has been cheating on her, but it’s definitely what Charlie feels right now. I can see it in her eyes and I can hear it in the pent up breath she releases.
“Wow…,” she says, her hands falling to her hips. “So technically, we’re tied?”
Tied? I shake my head. “This isn’t a game I want to win, Charlie. If anything, I’d say we both lost.”
Her lips spread into a ghostly grin, and then she looks over her shoulder. “We should figure out where our classes are.”
I remember the schedules and pull hers out of my back pocket. “We’re not together until fourth period History. You have English first. It’s back in the other hallway,” I say, motioning toward her first period classroom.
She nods appreciatively and unfolds the schedule. “Smart thinking,” she says, glancing it over. She looks back up at me with a wicked smile. “I guess you got these from your guidance counselor mistress?”
Her words make me wince, even though I shouldn’t really feel remorse for whatever happened before yesterday.
“Ex-guidance counselor mistress,” I clarify with a grin. She laughs, and it’s a laugh of solidarity. As screwed up as our situation is, and as confusing as the new information about our relationship is, the fact that we can laugh about it proves that we at least share in the absurdity of it all. And the only thought I have as I walk away from her is how much I wish Brian Finley could choke on her laugh.
The first three classes of the day felt foreign. No one in them and nothing discussed seemed familiar to me. I felt like an imposter, out of place.
But the instant I walked into fourth period and took a seat next to Charlie, my mood changed. She’s familiar. My only familiar thing in a world of inconsistency and confusion.
We stole a few glances at each other, but we never spoke during class. We aren’t even speaking now as we enter the cafeteria together. I glance at our table and everyone from yesterday is already seated, save our two empty seats.
I nudge my head toward the lunch line. “Let’s get our food first.”
She glances up at me, briefly, before looking back at the table. “I’m not really hungry,” she says. “I’ll just wait for you at the table.” She heads in the direction of our group and I head toward the cafeteria line.
After grabbing my tray and a Pepsi, I walk over to the table and take a seat. Charlie is looking down at her phone, excluding herself from the surrounding conversation.
The guy to my right—Andrew, I think—elbows me. “Silas,” he says, jabbing me repeatedly. “Tell him how much I benched Monday.”
I look up at the guy sitting across from us. He rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his soda before slamming it on the table. “Come on, Andrew. You think I’m stupid enough to believe your best friend wouldn’t lie for you?”
Best friend.
Andrew is my best friend, yet I wasn’t even sure of his name thirty seconds ago.
My attention moves from the two of them to the food in front of me. I open my soda and take a sip, just as Charlie clenches her waist. It’s loud in the cafeteria, but I still hear the rumble of her stomach. She’s hungry.
If she’s hungry, why isn’t she eating?
“Charlie?” I lean in close to her. “Why aren’t you eating?” She dismisses my question with a shrug. I lower my voice even more. “Do you have money?”
Her eyes dart up to mine as if I just revealed a huge secret to the entire room. She swallows and then looks away, embarrassed. “No,” she says quietly. “I gave my last few dollars to Janette this morning. I’ll be fine until I get home.”
I set my drink down on the table and push my tray in front of her. “Here. I’ll go get another one.”
I stand and go back to the line and get another tray. When I return to the table, she’s taken a few bites of the food. She doesn’t tell me thank you, and I feel relieved. Making sure she has food to eat isn’t a favor I want to be thanked for. It’s something I hope she would expect from me.
“Do you want a ride home today?” I ask her, just as we’re finishing up our meal.
“Dude, you can’t miss practice again,” Andrew shoots in my direction. “Coach won’t let you play tomorrow night if you do.”
I rub a palm down my face, and then I reach in my pocket and retrieve my keys. “Here,” I tell her, placing them in her hand. “Drive your sister home after school. Pick me up when practice is over.”
She tries to hand the keys back to me, but I won’t take them. “Keep them,” I tell her. “You might need a car today and I won’t be using it.”
Andrew interrupts. “You’re letting her drive your car? Are you kidding me? You’ve never even let me sit behind the damn wheel!”
I look over at Andrew and shrug. “You aren’t the one I’m in love with.”
Charlie spits out her drink with a burst of laughter. I glance over at her, and her smile is huge. It lights up her entire face, somehow even making the brown of her eyes seem less dark. I may not remember anything about her, but I would bet her smile was my favorite part of her.
This day has been exhausting. It feels like I’ve been on a stage for hours, acting out scenes I have no script for. The only thing that appeals to me right now is either being in my bed or being with Charlie. Or maybe a combination of both.
However, Charlie and I both still have a goal, and that’s to figure out what the hell happened to us yesterday. Despite the fact that neither of us really wanted to bother with school today, we knew school could lead to an answer. After all, this did happen in the middle of the school day yesterday, so the answer could be related somehow.
Football practice may be of some help. I’ll be around people I haven’t spent much time with in the last twenty-four hours. I might learn something about myself or about Charlie that I didn’t know before. Something that could shed some light on our situation.
I’m relieved to find all the lockers have names on them, so it isn’t hard to locate my gear. What is hard is trying to figure out how to put it on. I struggle with the pants, all the while trying to look like I know what I’m doing. The locker room slowly empties out as all the guys make their way to the field until I’m the only one left.
When I think I’ve got everything situated, I grab my jersey off the top shelf of the locker to pull it on over my head. A box catches my eye, located in the back of the
top shelf of my locker. I pull it toward me and take a seat on the bench. It’s a red box, much larger than a box that would just contain a piece of jewelry. I pull the lid off and find a few pictures at the very top.
There aren’t any people in the pictures. They seem to be of places. I flip through them and come to a picture of a swing set. It’s raining, and the ground beneath the swing is covered in water. I flip it over, and written on the back, it says, Our first kiss.
The next picture is of a backseat, but the view is from the floorboard, looking up. I flip it over. Our first fight.
Third is a picture of what looks like a church, but it’s only the picture of the doors. Where we met.
I flip through all the pictures until finally I get to a letter, folded at the bottom of the box. I pick it up and unfold it. It’s a short letter in my handwriting, addressed to Charlie. I begin to read it, but my phone buzzes, so I reach over and unlock it.
Charlie: What time is your practice over?
Me: Not sure. I found a box of stuff in the locker room. Don’t know if it’ll help, but there’s a letter in it.
Charlie: What does it say?
“Silas!” someone yells from behind me. I spin around and drop two of the pictures in my hands. There’s a man standing at the door with an angry look on his face. “Get on the field!”
I nod and he continues on down the hall. I put the pictures back in the box and set it back inside my locker. I take a deep, calming breath and make my way out to the practice field.
Two lines are formed on the field, both rows of guys hunched forward and staring at the guy in front of them. There’s an obvious opening, so I jog toward the empty spot and copy what the other players are doing.
“For shit’s sake, Nash! Why are you not wearing your shoulder pads?” Someone yells.
Shoulder pads. Crap.
I skip out of line and run back to the locker room. This is going to be the longest hour of my life. It’s odd I can’t remember the rules of football. Can’t be that hard, though. Just run back and forth a few times and practice will be over.
I locate pads behind the row of lockers. Luckily, they’re easy to put on. I rush back out onto the field and everyone is scattering, running around like ants. I hesitate before walking onto the field. When a whistle blows, someone shoves me from behind. “Go!” he yells, frustrated.
The lines, the numbers, the goal posts. They mean nothing to me as I stand on the field amongst the other guys. One of the coaches shouts an order and before I know it, the ball is being thrown in my direction. I catch it.
What now?
Run. I should probably run.
I make it three feet before my face meets the astroturf. A whistle blows. A man yells.
I stand up, just as one of the coaches stalks in my direction. “What the hell was that? Get your damn head in the play!”
I look around me, the sweat beginning to trickle down my forehead. Landon’s voice rings out behind me. “Dude. What the hell is wrong with you?”
I turn and look at him, just as everyone huddles around me. I follow their motions and lay my arms over the backs of the guys to my left and right. No one speaks for several seconds, and then I realize they’re all looking at me. Waiting. I think they want me to say something? I get the feeling it’s not a prayer circle.
“You gonna call a play or what?” The guy to my left says.
“Uh…,” I stutter. “You…,” I point to Landon. “Do that…thing.” Before they can question me, I pull apart and the huddle breaks.
“Coach is gonna bench him,” I hear someone mumble behind me. A whistle blows and before the sound even leaves my ears, a freight train crashes into my chest.
Or at least it feels that way.
The sky is above me, my ears are ringing, I can’t pull in a breath.
Landon is hovering over me. He grabs my helmet and shakes it. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He looks around and then back down at me. His eyes narrow. “Stay on the ground. Act sick.”
I do what he says and he jumps up to a stand. “I told him not to come to practice, Coach,” Landon says. “He’s had strep all week. I think he’s dehydrated.”
I close my eyes, relieved for my brother. I kind of like this kid.
“What the hell are you even doing here, Nash?” The coach is kneeling now. “Go to the locker room and get hydrated. We’ve got a game tomorrow night.” He stands and motions for one of the assistant coaches. “Get him a Z-pack and make sure he’s ready for the field tomorrow.”
Landon pulls me up. My ears are still ringing, but I’m able to breathe now. I make my way toward the locker rooms, relieved to be off the field. I should have never walked on in the first place. Not smart, Silas.
I make it back to the locker room and change out of my gear. As soon as I get my shoes on, I hear footsteps nearing the locker room from down the hall. I glance around and spot an exit on the far wall, so I rush to it and push it open. Luckily, it leads right out to the parking lot.
I’m immediately relieved to see my car. I rush over to it just as Charlie climbs out of the driver side, hopping onto her feet as I approach. I’m so relieved to see her—to just have someone to relate to—that I don’t even think about what I do next.
I grab her wrist and pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. My face is buried in her hair and I let out a sigh. She feels familiar. Safe. Makes me forget that I can’t even remember…
“What are you doing?”
She’s stiff against me. Her cold reaction reminds me that we don’t do things like this. Silas and Charlie did things like this.
Shit.
I clear my throat and release her, taking a quick step back. “Sorry,” I mutter. “Force of habit.”
“We have no habits.” She pushes past me and walks around my car.
“Do you think you’ve always been this mean to me?” I ask her.
She looks at me from over the hood and nods. “My money’s on yes. You’re probably a glutton for punishment.”
“More like a masochist,” I mutter.
We both climb into my car, and I have two places I plan on going tonight. The first being my house to shower, but I’m sure if I asked her if she wanted to come along, she’d say no just to spite me. Instead, I head in the direction of my house and don’t give her a choice.
“Why are you smiling?” she asks, three miles into our drive.
I didn’t realize I was. I shrug. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
I glance at her and she’s waiting for my answer with an impatient frown.
“I was wondering how the old Silas ever broke through your hard exterior.”
She laughs. “What makes you think he did?”
I would smile again, but I don’t think I’ve stopped. “You saw the video, Charlie. You loved him.” I pause for a second, then rephrase. “Me. You loved me.”
“She loved you,” Charlie says, and then smiles. “I’m not even sure if I like you yet.”
I shake my head with a soft laugh. “I don’t know myself very well, but I must have been extremely competitive. Because I just took that as a challenge.”
“Took what as a challenge? You think you can make me like you again?”
I look over at her and give my head the slightest shake. “No. I’m gonna make you fall in love with me again.”
I can see the gentle roll of her throat as she swallows, but just as fast as she let her guard down, it flies back up. “Good luck with that,” she says, facing forward again. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be the first guy to ever compete with himself over the affection of a girl.”
“Maybe so,” I say as we pull into my driveway. “But my money’s on me.”
I turn the car off and get out. She doesn’t unbuckle. “You coming? I need to take a quick shower.”
She doesn’t even look at me. “I’ll wait in the car.”
I don’t argue. I close the door and head inside to shower, th
inking about the small smile I could swear was playing in the corner of her mouth.
And while winning her over again isn’t my main priority, it’s definitely the new back-up plan in case neither of us can figure out how to revert back to who we were before yesterday. Because even through all the bullshit—her cheating on me with Brian, me cheating on her with the counselor, our families in turmoil—we still obviously tried to make it work. There had to be something there, something deeper than attraction or a simple childhood bond, that made me fight to keep her.
I want to feel that again. I want to remember what it feels like to love someone like that. And not just anyone. I want to know what it feels like to love Charlie.
I’m standing on the edge of the lawn, looking down his street when he walks up behind me. I don’t hear him approach, but I smell him. I don’t know how, since he smells just like the outdoors.
“What are you looking at?” he asks.
I stare at the houses, each of them immaculate and manicured to the point of irritation. It makes me want to shoot a gun into the air, just to see all the quiet people inside scramble out. This neighborhood needs a little life breathed into it. “It’s strange how money seems to silence a neighborhood,” I say quietly. “On my street, where no one has money, it’s so loud. Sirens blaring, people shouting, car doors slamming, stereos thumping. There’s always someone, somewhere, making noise.” I turn and look up at him, not expecting the reaction I have to seeing his damp hair and smooth jaw. I focus on his eyes, but that isn’t much better. I clear my throat and look away. “I think I prefer the noise.”
He takes a step until we’re shoulder to shoulder, both staring at the taciturn street. “No you don’t. You don’t prefer either.” He says this like he knows me and I want to remind him he doesn’t know me at all, but he puts his hand on my elbow. “Let’s get out of here,” he says. “Go do something that doesn’t belong to Charlie and Silas. Something that’s ours.”
“You’re talking about us like we’re body invaders.”
Never Never: The Complete Series Page 9
