“Hi, Lacey!” Kev called from the other end of the table.
“Hey, Kev.” Kev was the happiest guy at Jackson. And single-handedly responsible for the excellent meals in the cafeteria every Wednesday. “Whose vegetable lasagna is this?”
He grinned a cheesy grin. “Mine! Kev’s dad’s recipe.”
“Someone’s trying to use Kev to avoid the subject,” Shani said.
“Right? Did you pass up the opportunity, Lacey?” Ali asked with a grin on her face. “You still haven’t said.”
“Hey, Trueheart.” A blue hall pass got shoved in front of my face. “Mrs. Mack wants to see you.”
“Oh, gosh, girls. I’ve got to run.” I grabbed my tray and made a quick exit while my friends clucked like chickens at my back.
Yep. That was me. A total chicken.
“You wanted to see me, Mrs. Mack…” I stood waiting in the open doorway of Mrs. Mack’s math lab since she appeared to be in a meeting with another student.
“Yes, Lacey. Come in.” She waved me in with one hand. “I believe you know Chad. He’s signed up for a trig tutor and since trigonometry is your strength and Chad mentioned that you two are friends, it seemed like a great match.”
My gaze landed on the student sitting in the front row. Chad Pennington smiled at me and I gave him a nod. Grady’s step-brother. Huh. Maybe Mrs. Mack had misunderstood because Chad and I weren’t friends.
“Mrs. Mack, the thing is, I’m a bit embarrassed about needing a tutor. Would it be possible for this to stay between the three of us?” Chad tugged at his collar, ran a hand around his neck and cleared his throat. “To be honest, my father has high expectations and it would take some pressure off if I didn’t have to worry about him finding out how badly I’m struggling. I’m hoping that with hard work and Lacey’s help, I can bring up my grade by the end of the grading period.”
“There’s no shame in utilizing a tutor, but we’re happy to respect a student’s privacy.” Mrs. Mack sent him a reassuring smile before turning to me. “Lacey?”
“Of course.” I shrugged. It wasn’t like any of the volunteer tutors went around announcing who we were tutoring. But sure, some kids associated needing a tutor with being dumb. That wasn’t the case at all. I liked Mrs. Mack’s analogy: tutors simply held math up and turned it, helping a student see a different, more approachable way to understand. “I have an opening on Thursdays any time after five.”
“Will six o’clock be too late? That’s when I get out of lacrosse practice.”
“Six will work, but I’ve only got an hour since I volunteer in the evenings.”
“I’m going to need more than an hour a week. I’m pumped to get a handle on this.” Chad pressed his lips together and tapped the desk with a clenched fist. “Any chance we can add a session during lunch? I really want to understand the material before the next test.”
“That’s the determination that will get results.” Mrs. Mack beamed at him. “I know it’s asking you to go above and beyond, Lacey, but his test is in three weeks so the lunchtime tutoring would be temporary.”
“I—I’ll have to look at my schedule and get back to you,” I said. Between meeting Grady to work on our advice column, my volunteer work at the nursing home, my commitments with the various school clubs I was on, and the one student I was already tutoring I was lucky if I saw Bernie once a week for lunch.
“Great. I really appreciate this, Lacey.” He retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it over to me with a wide grin. “Here’s my number. Just text me the day and time and I’ll be there. I am so stoked about finally understanding trig.”
“I’ll text you as soon as I figure out my schedule.” A high school student with a business card? Was that a thing?
“Awesome. I’m looking forward to…getting together.” Something about the stress he put on “getting together” made my shoulders tense up.
“It will save us time if you go through your old homework assignments and tests,” I said. “Come up with a list of what you need the most help with.”
“Absolutely. I’ll start tonight while I wait for your text.”
I stepped out of the room with an unsettled feeling in my stomach. I remembered how smarmy Chad came across the first time I met him at Grady’s house. That wasn’t the Chad I’d met just now. Although…I’m looking forward to…getting together.
My gut said smarmy Chad was the real deal and stoked-about-trig Chad was up to something.
I rarely acted on impulse, but I stepped back into the room and went with my gut.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Mack? Thinking it over, I really don’t have the time to take on another tutoring assignment.” I flicked my gaze over to Chad. His smile thinned out and his eyes went cool. “Conan Farkle mentioned he has room in his tutoring schedule. Conan’s better at trig anyway.”
“He’s one of our top mathletes. Good idea, Lacey,” Mrs. Mack said.
“Are you sure you can’t find any time,” Chad asked, turning his charming smile back on. “Even one day a week is fine with me.”
“I’m absolutely sure.” Sure that I’d made the right call. “I’ll pass your phone number to Conan.”
“Thanks,” he said, a sharp edge to his voice.
I didn’t know what he was up to, but something about the guy made me cringe like holding a slimy worm in my palm. Just ick. I was relieved to be out of it.
I was reaching to turn out my light for the night when my phone sounded with a text. I figured it was Bernie letting me know if she wanted to carpool tomorrow. But it wasn’t Bernie.
Grady: Eyes open or closed?
Me: Open. Otherwise I can’t read this text.
Grady: Unbelievable, Trueheart.
Me: What?
Grady: You made a joke.
Me: Watch it, buster.
Grady: But seriously, eyes open or closed?
Me: I guess that depends. For driving, I feel strongly that open is best. For sleeping, closed.
Grady: Two jokes? What has gotten into you? Quick, feel your forehead to see if you have a fever?
Me: Ha ha. I just—I like that we’re friends now.
Grady: Yeah. It doesn’t stink.
Me: You smooth talker, you. No wonder you have a list of girls wanting to go out with you.
Grady: Interesting… That’s the second time you’ve brought up the list. Is that your way of saying you want me to give you that “close friends” deal and slide you in near the top?
Me: Dream on.
Grady: What if I told you I already was…?
Me:
Me: What was the question again? Eyes open or shut for what?
Grady: You are a chicken, Lacey Jane. For kissing. I’m putting the finishing touches on my column while I’m on my break.
Me: Break from what? Homework?
Grady: No. Work-work.
Me: Holy cow, you’re still at work! It’s almost eleven at night!
Grady: Tell me about it. But the band I play with is the closing act.
Me: How did I not know you played in a band?
Grady: Maybe because you used to hate me. But let’s get back to kissing, Trueheart. Eyes open or closed? I would like your expert opinion.
Me: Who kisses with their eyes open?
Grady: Right? That’s what I said, but Josh said eyes open is the only way to kiss.
Me: Josh, who downs an order of tater tots in thirty seconds and four Barn Burner burgers from Burger Barn in fifteen minutes. Josh who believes Bigfoot is real. Josh who had two concussions last football season. That Josh?
Grady: So, eyes closed. Not to brag, but I think you’ll be semi-impressed with my column.
Me: Email it to me when you’re finished.
Grady: How about you come by the end of lax practice tomorrow and I’ll hand it to you?
Me: Why not just email it to me?
Grady: I’m conserving the internet. Making sure there will be enough internet left over for the gener
ations after ours.
Me: Did you get hit in the head at lacrosse practice today?
Grady: Seriously, Trueheart? Have you not seen me play? I’ve got reflexes like a cat. Or is it a sloth? I can’t remember. Only Dax and TJ are quick enough to peg me, but that’s it. Plus, we wear helmets.
Me: Well, now I’ll have to come by your practice tomorrow. You have me curious about those reflexes. Cat or sloth?
Grady: You know what they say: curiosity killed the sloth.
Me: Well, then it’s a good thing sloths have nine lives.
Grady: Absolutely. But seriously, come by practice. Don’t be a scaredy-sloth.
Pretty sure I fell asleep with a big fat smile on my face.
11
Flagrant Foul (What the Frick, Chad?)
Grady
Lacrosse practice was grueling but I loved it.
Grueling because Coach K pushed us hard in pre-season practices so we were the team to beat in our division. The fact that we’d played in the last three division title games since Coach K took over as head coach had a lot to do with our willingness to put in the hard work.
Coach pounded on the basics: scooping ground balls, cradling and stick protection, fast break transitions, and passing under pressure.
“Chad, you keep cutting off the middle man. Hotdogging won’t win games. Teamwork wins games. Let’s run that again.”
“What the heck is his problem,” Chad mumbled when Coach turned his back to talk to Prather, our team’s face-off specialist. “I think we got the drill down five reps ago.”
Considering Chad was the reason Coach kept making us repeat it, the guy had some nerve mouthing off. As co-captain it was my job to check his attitude, but thankfully TJ, the other co-captain, handled it before I had to.
“You’re his problem, Pennington.” TJ stepped toward Chad, frustrated and pissed off. “Maybe if you’d put more effort into getting it right instead of complaining we could all move on.”
Chad looked like he wanted to tell TJ to shove it, but he kept his mouth closed. He had no problem back-talking me on the field as long as Coach wasn’t within earshot. He was smart enough not to pull that with TJ. Of course, that didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes the minute TJ’s back was turned. If he had a problem, he should have the gonads to be upfront about it. Badmouthing teammates behind their backs was bad for the team. That was why most of the team didn’t care for him. That and the fact that he was lazy.
It was too nice a day to let Chad ruin it. Lacrosse practice was one of the highlights of my day. Especially preseason when the January temperatures were mild. Sprinting down the field with a lacrosse stick in my hands under a Texas blue sky felt pretty darn perfect.
Perfect. That made me think of Lacey. I glanced over to the stands for the hundredth time looking for her. No adorably perky gray-eyed girl yet, so I forced myself to refocus on practice.
TJ stood next to me frowning into the stands. Huh. I turned to Dax, raising an eyebrow with a head nod over to TJ—silent bro speak—and Dax only grinned.
“What’s up with you today?” I tapped the head of my stick against TJ’s to get his attention. “I’m usually the bad cop to your good cop. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great,” TJ growled, still looking into the stands.
“So you’re just chewing everyone’s butts out because life’s peachy?”
Dax snickered but turned it into a cough when TJ glared at him.
“TJ’s worried about Shay.” Dax jerked his thumb toward where TJ was staring. “Shay’s parents made her start here at Jackson instead of home schooling her.”
“Oh, sure. You’re worried how kids will treat her?” Shay had been in a car accident years ago. It had left her with years of rehab and scars on one side of her face. “I think most kids will be decent. And we’ll all have her back, right?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled, his frown settling in deeper.
“You’re going to have to excuse TJ.” Dax smiled, clapping TJ on the shoulder. “Having to fight for Shay’s attention has made his green-eyed monster roar to life.”
“Ah.” The guy was jealous. Which was funny since TJ was usually the most laid-back of all of us. I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh.
“Dax?” TJ said, still staring over at Shay.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Shut up.” TJ turned away from the stands and back to the field. “You too, Grady. I know you’re laughing on the inside.”
Coach called us back on the field and we went back to work.
“TJ, feed the ball to Grady faster!” Coach called. “Grady, make your cut sooner to help him out.”
“Got it, Coach.”
We ran a give and go, and I cut quickly to the left, turned on a dime, pulled in the throw from TJ, turned and fired the shot. Goal!
“That’s it! Go again.”
We went again and it went as smoothly as the first time—until I turned to fire my shot. That was when I took a stick to my throat, losing both my breath and my footing. I landed hard on my back, staring up at the wide blue sky.
“What the frick, Chad?” Dax called from the other side of the field. “That was an illegal cross check and a flagrant foul.”
“Hey, my bad.” Chad shrugged. “It was an accident.”
Sure it was. He accidentally held his stick in two hands and sliced it into my throat when my head was turned away.
TJ reached a hand down to help me up. I sent Chad a sharp look, letting him know he hadn’t fooled me, and moved to the sidelines to catch my breath. Like all the parts of my life that involved Chad, I had to shove Chad out of my head, set the moment aside, and move forward.
Our two-hour practice flew by. While I enjoyed playing both football and lacrosse, I really dug the speed of lacrosse practice. The sheer number of football players meant each play took more time to coordinate and run. It made the time lag. But then again, any time I was on the field meant I wasn’t at home. So, it didn’t matter how slow or long practice ran.
I played because I loved the game and I loved the camaraderie of team sports. My teammates gave me the feeling of family that I didn’t have at home. It took the edge out of the lonely, isolated feelings that had grown heavier since my father split. Don’t get me wrong. I liked to win as much as the next guy. I was competitive as heck. But unlike Dax and TJ and a few others, I had no plans to play in college.
Another thing playing sports gave me was an outlet for all the frustration I felt about my life at home. Instead of giving in to the impulse to punch Chad in his face or put my fist through the drywall, I could sprint like the wind across a field, tackle and take down other players, body check an opponent and steal the lacrosse ball, and then whip it past the defenders and the goalie for a score.
“Bring it in!” Coach called, blowing his whistle to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “Some of you need to work on your stick skills. We can’t afford to spend more time in practice. Pick up your stick at home. Play some wall ball and practice cradling. Captains, anything to add?”
“Too many players are getting winded from running just two lengths of the field. That’s conditioning,” I said. Of course, Chad, the laziest player on the team, rolled his eyes. I lived with the dude; I knew he hadn’t run a single mile. “You have to be putting in the miles on your own.”
“Grady’s right. Cox and Mesquite are our toughest competition and it might come down to who can last longer,” TJ added. “That needs to be us.”
“You heard your captains,” Coach said. “That’s it for today.”
My gaze zipped immediately to the bleachers, and I smiled when I saw Lacey sitting in the third row from the bottom. I grabbed my lacrosse gear and headed over.
“Hey, you,” I said.
“Hey, yourself.” Her lips curved up into a soft smile. “You weren’t kidding about being fast. I guess I knew that from watching you play football.”
“Have I ever lied to you?” I grinned, liking that
fact that she’d noticed me last season. Then again, I’d had two TD receptions when we won the state championship game last fall, so it was a little hard not to.
“Lacey,” Chad came up next to me, propped his foot on the bottom step leading up into the stands, and jerked his chin at her. “How’s it going?”
“You two know each other?” I asked. Jackson had a large student body, so not everyone in the senior class new each other. Ideally, I liked to keep my life completely separate from Chad’s. The fact that he was over here trying to hijack my time with Lacey made me want to punch him for the second time in the last hour.
“No,” Lacey said, her forehead wrinkled with a rare frown.
“Yes,” Chad said, his eyes intense as he looked at Lacey.
“I mean, we’ve met.” She narrowed her eyes at Chad before turning to me. “I met Chad at your house the day I went over to apologize and, you know, found out you’d lied to me.”
“Ancient history, Lace.”
“Yet, I still remember it.” She gave me her Perfect Princess look, but her eyes were bright with laughter.
“I’ve got something to make you forget… Excuse us, Chad.” I took Lacey’s hand and led her higher up in the bleachers. Just high enough to give Chad the hint that he wasn’t part of this conversation. We sat and I pulled out my phone, handing it over for her to read my column. “My Mr. Jackalope column.”
She didn’t even read it. She just nodded and handed me back my phone.
“I totally trust you. I’ll wait and read it along with everyone else.”
“Okaaay.” I raised one eyebrow at her. “Although, are you sure? I won’t mind at all if you want to look it over.”
“I’m good. In fact, hand me your phone again.” She held her hand out, and I gave it to her. She typed in an email address and sent my column off with a swoosh. “There. Submitted. I bet we’ll have the most popular column again this week.”
The Good Girl & the Bad Boy: A Sweet YA Romance (Jackson High Series Book 2) Page 6
