Chapter 6
Thursday’s detention was with our chemistry teacher, not Mr. Hitchcock, thankfully.
However, he had the same idea as Ms. Haney.
Not only were we side by side, but we were also at the same lab table.
No brace of metal to keep me from stretching my leg toward him or Jack sliding his fingers across the cold, smooth surface toward me.
On the bright side—and hell yeah, I was a fucking bright-side kinda person—it made it very easy to mess with each other, which seemed to be the only way we could communicate.
“Rumor says the football team is planning something,” Jack whispered. The raspy sound barely reached me, even as close as we were. Mr. Matthews was a younger guy and had his earbuds in. Whether he listened to anything, who knew, but he didn’t glance at either of us when Jack spoke.
Eyes on the seemingly unconcerned detention monitor, I whispered, “Yeah, to win the game tomorrow.”
“A prank, dumbshit. They’re planning another prank.”
Nick promised he’d have a sit-down with the players during practice this week and get them to stop this nonsense between our two teams. There were no guarantees on that front since this had evolved into a bunch of squabbles between students that would need to be settled, but I hoped he could guilt them into it by using me as the martyr.
I took on the punishment for the team this time so everyone had this chance to get their acts together.
Something like that anyway.
If this shit went on when football season ended, I wondered if the school would care to go light on the retribution. Detention might not hurt my chances at MIT, but suspension probably would.
“We’re tryin’, okay? I can’t force people to stop, but most of us don’t want to get in trouble.”
When he didn’t immediately reply, even with a doubt-filled huff, I glanced his way. Jack sat frozen, expression blank. He had blue eyes too, but his were so different. Fringed in black lashes, they had a golden-brown center near the pupil.
“There a problem?” Mr. Matthews asked.
We startled and dropped our gazes, mumbling, “No, sir,” as we did.
How long had we stared at each other? Why had we stared at each other?
Just when I figured he wouldn’t respond after getting caught, Jack whispered, “Doesn’t seem so.
Maybe you don’t have plans after high school besides getting some girl pregnant and working on a farm, but I do.
So stop fucking up my future.” He somehow shouted the last part without being any louder at all, but it was what he said before that that tripped me up.
Get some girl pregnant?
I shook my head, not planning on responding more than that, but the jumble of thoughts rolled on.
Sasha.
I’d had a break from her this week, and I kinda liked it. I’d never wanted a girlfriend, but then she was, and I supposed I hadn’t hated it. I hadn’t really liked it either, though. Get her pregnant? Not likely.
Sasha was the sensible choice of a girlfriend.
Her friends were dating football players.
She was pretty and always around, but was that all there was to choosing a girlfriend?
She was around? I snorted and shook my head again.
Man, if I told her I liked her because she was around, she’d probably slap the shit out of me, and I might even deserve it, I wasn’t sure.
Nah, there had to be more to it. Girlfriends led to wives, and I certainly didn’t want one of those.
At least, not if it led to the relationship my parents had.
They’d been miserable. So no, Sasha wouldn’t be any more to me than she was right now.
She wouldn’t be my baby momma, and hell, she might not even be my girlfriend for much longer.
“Mr. Rutledge, you can leave,” Mr. Matthews said.
I jerked my head around as Jack stood and rushed to shove his books into his bag. What the …?
“Got practice,” he said as if he heard my thoughts, then grinned. “Sucks to be you.”
I tracked his every movement until he was gone and then stared at the door he’d vanished through.
It wasn’t a secret the starting line of the varsity soccer team was also part of the Stewart United Football Club out of Auburn.
Since it wasn’t affiliated with the school, I supposed they couldn’t restrict him from practices as they could me.
Or maybe he got a note from his parents or something. Fuck if I knew or cared.
“You’ve got a few more minutes, Mr. Winters.”
I hunkered over my notebook to finish what I’d been working on. Very unsuccessfully, I might add. Detention sucked ass, but at least I’d had someone to share it with.
The last few minutes dragged. I glanced at the time on my phone so often, I’d swear it moved backward. Had this really felt different when Jack was suffering with me? I glanced at his empty chair, imagined him glaring at me, then snickered and got back to my homework.
Okay, so maybe the fight between us was a welcome distraction to everything else, but it wasn’t like I missed the asshole.
When I was finally let out, I headed for the football field to catch the tail end of practice.
We had a game on Friday, and today, they’d be going over any strategies for it.
Sometimes Nick would come to my house on Thursdays so we could talk about the team and expectations, but Daddy wouldn’t allow it this week.
That still burned me up. Jack and I had been the ones singled out, the ones wrapping up the fight started by others, but it was so unfair that Daddy wouldn’t even listen to me about it.
Had I expected any different? Yeah, I might’ve.
He never had any time for anything anymore, but this?
I’d never been in trouble in my life, and this wasn’t even enough to get his attention? What would it take?
Friday’s detention was canceled, thank fuck.
Coach grabbed me as I suited up for a short practice before our game to lay it on thick about responsibility and consequences.
He’d stuck his neck out, so he said, to get me on the field since I’d missed practice all week. “Don’t make me regret it,” he’d added.
Like I’d planned for any of this.
And of course, we lost.
Spectacularly.
One man didn’t make or break a team, but I sure felt like shit. I’d let my team down. I’d fucked us over by missing out all week. Had I been there, in the thick of it, working on our cohesion, would we have won?
Sasha caught up with me as the team solemnly plodded to the locker room. She smiled and hung all over me, and when I pulled my sweat-slicked arm from her grasp, she narrowed her eyes.
“I'm gross from the game, Sasha.”
She pouted her red lips and stomped her foot like a child. “I’m beginnin’ to think you’re avoidin’ me. All this week, we’ve barely said two words.”
This conversation had already been more than two words, but I didn’t point that out. “I’ve been grounded. What do you want me to do? Sneak off to see you and get in more trouble?”
By the sparkle in her eyes that widened a fraction at my suggestion, that was exactly what she wanted me to do.
I tunneled my fingers through my soaked hair. “Look, I gotta get Cara home. I’m still grounded until Daddy says otherwise.”
She tossed her ponytail and stormed off without another word. I watched her for a minute, not in regret or defeat, but in relief. That should be a major clue to dump her, that I’d never been into this the way she was, but it was one more hassle I couldn’t fit on my plate right this minute.
I showered off enough so I wouldn’t stink up my truck, then found Cara and headed home.
“I’m spending the night at Kitty’s house,” she said when I asked her about dinner.
“You okay that with Daddy?”
Cara rolled her eyes and brought out her phone. Who knew where Daddy was this time of day, maybe still at work. Regardless, he’d replied to her text with a simple “Okay.”
Later that night, the house was quiet. I lay on my bed, one arm behind my head, and thought about this week that was finally over.
No more detention. Hopefully no more taking the fall for my dumbass teammates.
No more forced encounters with Jack Rutledge.
What should’ve been a peaceful moment, a chance to get some rest, wasn’t.
Saturday greeted me with a to-do list and a message from Daddy saying he’d be at work.
Yeah, on a Saturday.
After a bowl of cereal, Romeo followed me to my room and lay with me on the floor while I tossed a football over my head, wasting away the morning with nothing at all.
Slap. Slap. Slap. The rhythmic noise of the pigskin against my palm was comforting but not distracting. The entire week replayed in blots of gray moments with Jack being the only thing in color.
Romeo lifted his head, got to his feet and stretched, then padded out of my room, probably as tired of my mood as I was. I tossed the football a few more times, then let it drop and slipped my hands behind my head.
Was I jealous of Jack? Maybe that was why I couldn’t get him off my mind. He was pretty stacked for a soccer player, but so was I. It’d never been a competition like that, but if I had to guess, we were evenly matched physically.
He didn’t seem to care about popularity, and even though I was well-liked, I didn’t either.
Being nice just made people like me, nothing wrong with that.
Okay, so maybe I was a bit jealous people left him alone.
Everywhere I went, someone had to say something to me.
It’d never been a problem before I had some heavy shit I wanted to be left alone to think about.
Still, even if that were it, that didn’t explain why he hated my guts so badly, or why he got a rise out of me every fucking time, or why I couldn’t simply walk away and be the bigger person as I could with anyone else.
“Fuck.” I rubbed my eyes. “This is too deep.”
Eventually, I had to move, had to get shit done. I pocketed my to-do list, then chased Romeo around the house before I finally got him into my truck.