Clutch Player

by Ash, Nikki

  “I think you’re talking about Melissa. I have a four-point-two GPA and I’m planning to go to college at NYU. I want to go to art school and one day teach art.”

  “So, brains and beauty,” Landon says with a nod. “Getting high isn’t going to help you much.”

  “I don’t smoke… haven’t since freshman year. Everyone just assumes I do because I hang out with Melissa.”

  A gust of wind comes through and I wrap my arms around myself. I’m wearing long sleeves, but I really should’ve grabbed my hoodie before I left.

  Landon notices and unzips his hoodie and hands it to me. “Here.”

  “Then you’ll be cold.”

  “I’m okay. I was playing ball, so my body is still warm.”

  I throw the hoodie over my head. It’s big and soft, and when I lift the hood up, I can faintly smell Landon’s scent on it. It’s fresh and clean, and for some reason makes me want to nuzzle my nose into the fabric.

  “So, why do you let everyone think you do?” he asks, forcing me to stop focusing on his scent.

  “I guess I don’t really care what they think. I mean, I have a year and a half left and then I’m out of here. If they want to assume I smoke or sleep around like Melissa does, then that’s on them.”

  “Nobody thinks you sleep around,” he says. “Everyone knows you’re a one-man woman.”

  “We’ve never had sex,” I admit softly. “But I’m pretty sure he has. I went to his house tonight and his mom said Melissa was with him in his basement.”

  “Shit,” Landon curses. “It’s probably not what it sounded like.”

  “You have to say that because he’s your friend.” I nudge his side.

  “Nah, I would tell you if I knew he was cheating on you.” Landon’s eyes meet mine, and in the moonlight, they light up brightly.

  I’m not sure why, but for some reason I find it really easy to talk to Landon. He doesn’t seem to have an agenda like Melissa, or mock me like Richie often does. And he isn’t judgmental like my mom. It’s as if he genuinely wants to get to know me.

  “It doesn’t matter because we’re over. He’s so selfish and I’m just over it. If he slept with Melissa tonight, that’s on them. We’re done.”

  We spend the next couple hours talking about everything and nothing. School, friends, our futures. Landon’s grades are okay, but he’s determined to get drafted into the Major Leagues. Even if he goes to college, he’s sure he’ll end up getting a baseball scholarship. He reminds me a lot of myself, in that his goal is to get out of this small town and go somewhere bigger and better, where he can have a fresh start and make a future for himself.

  As he’s telling me about his favorite teams he’s hoping to get drafted to, his phone pings with an incoming text. He reads it then holds it up for me to see.

  Dick: Cohen said he saw you bring Harper home. Her mom called saying she ran away. Have you seen her?

  “You have him in your phone as Dick?” I throw my head back with a laugh. “I thought you two were good friends.”

  Landon chuckles. “Just calling ’em like I see ’em. And I wouldn’t say we’re good friends. Teammates, sure, and I put up with him, but we’re not good friends. He’s just better to have as an acquaintance than an enemy.” Wow, his views toward Richie sound a lot like mine toward Melissa.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asks, holding the phone up again.

  “Nothing. What I do is none of his concern.”

  Landon nods and then types something back. “It’s a school night and I have homework to get done. You can spend the night if you want.”

  “Really? Your dad won’t mind?” Then I remember what he said a few minutes ago, that his dad treats him like a friend.

  “I have a futon I can crash on. You can take the bed.” He slides off the table and takes my hand, helping me down. “But you have to call your mom and tell her where you’re at.” He extends his hand with his phone.

  “Fine.” I dial my mom’s number and she answers on the first ring.

  “Hello.” She only says one word, but it sounds strained like she’s worried.

  “Mom.”

  “Oh, Harper. Where are you?” she cries. “I’ve been calling around everywhere. I called Richie and he said he hasn’t seen you. I even called Melissa, but she didn’t answer. I was about to call the police.”

  My stomach flip-flops at the sound of her sobbing into the phone. I assumed she would be mad that I left, but I never thought she would be worried. Leaving without telling her was stupid and immature. I’m better than that.

  “I’m with a friend. I’m sorry. I just got really upset when you wouldn’t listen to me. I didn’t smoke, Mom. I don’t smoke. It feels like everything is spiraling out of control with us.”

  Just as I’m starting to get worked up, mentally preparing myself for another battle with my mom, Landon takes my hand in his and squeezes it comfortingly. Instantly, my heart rate and nerves calm down. I take a deep breath and Landon smiles softly at me.

  Mom’s silent for a long moment, and then she says, “Come home and we’ll talk.”

  My eyes meet Landon’s and he nods once, releasing my hand. I immediately miss the feel of his fingers entwined in mine and want to make him give me back his hand. But I don’t. His hand isn’t mine to have and hold.

  “Okay. I’ll be home in a few minutes,” I tell her.

  We hang up and I hand Landon back his phone. “Thank you for tonight.” I throw my arms around him to hug him, to show him how much I appreciate him being there for me. “Thank you for listening to me.” I tip my face up to kiss his cheek, but he’s a good foot taller than me, so I have to stand on my tiptoes. My lips linger on his stubbled jaw for a few seconds before I let go of him and back up.

  “Seriously, thank you.”

  “It’s no problem,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”

  When I get home and step through the front door, I find my mom is waiting for me. She cuts across the room and envelops me in a hug. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” she begs.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her as she holds me tight. “I won’t. I promise. I shouldn’t have left. It was wrong, and I know that.”

  “It seems we’ve grown apart the last several months,” she says, sitting at the kitchen table. “I think it’s time for you to talk and me to listen.”

  We spend the next hour talking about everything, from how I’m doing in school, to Richie and me breaking up, to my friendship with Melissa. For the first time in a long time, she listens without judgement, and it feels really good to be able to talk to my mom. I’ve missed this, and I tell her that.

  We also talk about dad and she confides in me that he’s continuing to spiral downward and she’s at a loss as to how to help him, so she’s asked him to see a marriage counselor with her.

  She ends up giving me my privileges, my car, and my phone back with the promise that she’ll be watching my grades and has the right to randomly drug test me. She also suggests I don’t hang out with Melissa anymore, saying that she’s worried Melissa will bring me down. I ask her to please trust me and she drops it.

  With a hug good night, I go to bed feeling a lot better. Mom and I should’ve had this talk a long time ago, but I’m glad we had it now. In a lot of ways, I feel like our talk happened because of Landon. Our conversation tonight helped calm me down and then he made me call my mom to let her know where I was. I consider texting him to thank him, but question if it’s a good idea. Up until today we’ve barely even spoken ten words to each other.

  As I’m lying down in bed, a message on my social media comes through from Landon. Not sure if you have your phone back, but just wanted to make sure you’re okay.

  I respond with: We talked and everything is okay. Thank you for listening to me tonight. See you at school tomorrow.

  A few minutes later, Landon responds with: Good night.

  Two

  Harper

&nb
sp; I’m grabbing my books from my locker when Melissa walks over and leans against the locker next to mine. “Saw your car in the parking lot… Your mom gave it back after you ran away?”

  “Yep, we talked.” I close my locker. “How did you know I ran away?” I already know she didn’t answer when my mom called her, which means there’s only one way she could’ve found out…

  Melissa flinches, but quickly schools her features. “Richie and I were hanging out last night. He was upset about you breaking up with him. Your mom called him worried.”

  “Did you sleep with him?” I ask her point-blank.

  She scoffs. “No! I don’t need or want your sloppy seconds.”

  “You know I haven’t slept with him.”

  “Whatever. You know what I mean.” She rolls her eyes.

  The bell rings for first period and everyone disperses, not wanting to be late. “I guess I’ll see you at lunch,” I tell her before I walk away.

  On my way to class I think about why I asked her if she and Richie slept together. At first, I consider that maybe I do still care about him and if they did, it would hurt me, but when I imagine them hooking up, I don’t feel sick or sad or even angry. I feel relieved.

  And that leads me to wonder if maybe deep down I was hoping her answer would be yes, because then it would make it easy to cut her loose. To end what I’m realizing is a one-sided friendship. Because as much as I try to care about Melissa, I’m beginning to wonder if she’s capable of caring about anyone else. She could’ve come over to my house last night after she heard Richie and I broke up. She’s snuck in through my window a million times, but she didn’t. She went to him. And with that thought, I think I have my answer.

  As I walk to class, I find myself looking around to see if Landon is somewhere in the halls. I’m not even sure if I’d approach him if I did see him, not knowing what to say. It was easy last night, while we were alone at the park, to talk and connect, to share our stories—I shared more with him in those few hours than I have in the last six years with Melissa and seven months with Richie. In the dark of night, I felt safe. But now that the sun is up, I wonder if I would still feel that way. In the light of day, would our connection still feel as strong as it did last night? I know one thing for sure, I would like to find out. I’m just not sure if Landon feels the same way.

  First and second period seem to drag on forever. I check my phone every few minutes to see if I’ve gotten any messages from Landon. I’m not expecting him to message me or anything, but I’m hoping he will. After the hundredth time of reaching into my backpack to check, I force myself not to check anymore.

  During third period, when my phone vibrates in my bag, I get excited and pull it out, only to find it’s a text from Richie, asking if we can talk.

  Me: There’s nothing to talk about. We’re over.

  Richie: Just like that?

  Me: Just like that.

  I know I sound cold, but I’m not sure what else to say. We’ve only been broken up for like eighteen hours, yet it feels like a ten-ton weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

  Richie must get the message—pun intended—because he doesn’t text me back.

  When lunch rolls around, instead of sitting with everyone, I grab my food and find a hidden spot away from everyone so I can finish my project that’s due next period. I’m lost in concentration, when a shadow cuts into my sunlight.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re hiding.”

  I glance up and find Landon standing over me. He’s got his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and a chicken sandwich in his hand. His brown hair is messy in a I don’t give a fuck kind of way, and it suits him. The corners of his mouth are turned up in a lazy, playful smile, and his hazel eyes are shining with amusement under his thick lashes. And suddenly my brain feels like it’s mush. Nobody should be allowed to be that hot without even trying.

  “I’m…” I clear my throat in an attempt to get a hold of myself so I don’t sound like a mumbling idiot. “I’m working on a project that’s due today.”

  “So, you’re not hiding from Richie?”

  “Nope, he texted me earlier and I told him we’re done.”

  “And you’re okay with that?” He arches a brow.

  “I’m more than okay with that,” I tell him honestly. “It needed to happen. We’re not right for each other.”

  “All right.” He nods. “What’re you working on?”

  I show him the pictures I’ve drawn and am labeling for Chemistry.

  “Mrs. Bowen?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Had her last year.” He sits next to me and drops his bag on the ground. “Want some help?”

  I glance around. “Shouldn’t you be eating lunch with your posse?”

  “Let’s see, spend my lunch with a bunch of asshole jocks—or a beautiful girl?” He moves his hand up and down like he’s tipping a scale. “I think I’ll go with the beautiful girl.”

  “Umm… I’m pretty sure you are one of the asshole jocks,” I joke, ignoring his beautiful girl comment, even though deep down, I’m grinning that he thinks I’m beautiful.

  “Oh, Harper.” Landon clutches his hand to his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

  “Whatever,” I say through a laugh, enjoying our easy banter.

  “You want help or not?”

  “Suit yourself.” I hand him a picture I’ve labeled. “Color the parts on this one.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  We spend the rest of lunch working as a team. I label the parts and then Landon colors them in. I can’t remember the last time Richie sat with me during lunch while I worked on homework. Every time I’d mention it, he would tell me I should take easier classes if I can’t handle it, then head over to hang out with his friends. Looking back, I’m not sure what I was thinking dating Richie for as long as I did. It’s not that he’s a bad guy per se—he’s just not the guy for me.

  The bell rings, and I jump in shock at how fast lunch flew by. Luckily, I got almost all my work done. Before I realize what’s happening, crayons and papers are flying everywhere. I wince, ready for Landon to make fun of me like Richie always does. But he doesn’t. Instead, he drops to the ground and helps me pick everything up.

  “I’m kind of a klutz,” I admit sheepishly with a shrug.

  “Yeah, I’ve gathered that. I’m pretty sure you spill something from your lunch almost every day, and you trip over your own two feet constantly in the halls.”

  He pushes the crayons into the box and smiles up at me. “It would be kind of adorable if I weren’t so worried for your life.” Laughter rumbles through his chest. But it’s different from the way Richie laughs at me, like I’m stupid and immature. Landon’s laugh is playful, devoid of all malice. And it does things to my insides.

  “Last week when you almost fell from the top of that pile during cheer practice…” He shakes his head. “I thought for sure you were going to wind up in the hospital.”

  I cringe, remembering exactly what he’s talking about. Right after that, Melissa yelled at me for a good thirty minutes and banned me from being part of any future mounts or pyramids. I don’t even know why she wanted me as a flyer anyway. She knows how clumsy I am.

  Since apparently Landon has gym last period and can be late, he walks me to class. When we stop in front of the door, I glance behind him and see Richie walking past, talking to some other girl. His eyes connect with mine for a second, and I expect him to glare, but he doesn’t. He just frowns.

  Hot and cold. I’m not sure which one the frown is. And it feels good to not have to care.

  My eyes go back to Landon. “Thank you for helping me during lunch.”

  “No problem.” He leans in, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me, but he bypasses my lips, his mouth stopping a hairbreadth away from my ear. “Hopefully I’ll see you later,” he whispers before he walks away, leaving me standing in the doorway by myself. I watch as he saunters down the hall. He
’s wearing another hoodie today, which reminds me of last night. Instead of wearing my usual pajamas, I wore his hoodie to bed, falling asleep to the smell of his comforting scent. When I woke up, it no longer smelled like him, so I threw it in the hamper to wash, so I can give it back to him. Briefly, I wonder if I can somehow convince him to trade me—a fresh Landon-smelling one for the clean one—without sounding like a creep.

  Unlike my morning classes, the last period of the day flies by. Since basketball season is over, so is cheer, which means I can head straight home. I want to show my mom our talk meant something to me, so when I get home, I pull the chicken out of the fridge and make dinner, so she won’t have to do it when she gets home.

  Dad is out, probably pretending to look for a job while really getting drunk at the bar, and since I’m an only child, the house is quiet. Melissa sends me a text asking what I’m up to, but I ignore it, not wanting to hang out.

  While I wait for the chicken to finish, I help Mom by picking up the house. I gather Dad’s dirty clothes and throw them into the washing machine, then pick up any papers I find and put them in the bill drawer. As I’m about to close the drawer, I notice a couple of envelopes have bright red lettering on them with words such as final notice and overdue. I grab one and read it. It’s the mortgage, and it’s five months late. I put it back and take another one. The electric bill, and it’s overdue. I pull one more out. It’s a credit card statement for close to fifteen thousand dollars and it’s late.

  Mom has said things are tight with Dad being out of work, but I didn’t realize it was this bad. Just as I’m shoving all the papers back into the drawer, I notice an envelope with my name on it. Opening it up, I see it’s my prepaid college fund. My parents took it out for me when I was born so my college would be taken care of. I read the letter several times, in shock. My parents cashed it out. My college fund is gone. How could they do this? Why? They know how important college is to me. I can never afford to go to NYU now. With us living over four hours away, I would have to pay to live in a dorm. Without this money, I’ll never be able to afford that.