Chapter 8
“When did you two meet?”
“Summer,” I said. Jack had been quiet the entire time. Maybe he was pissed at our text exchange this morning.
“You square off during summer camps?”
I glared at Trent across his desk. There was no way I was incriminating myself or half the guys in school by admitting that. We’d all said some shit that hadn’t helped the brewing contention.
“Open up, or I can’t help.”
Hard pass.
“All right.” Trent shrugged. “How’d you feel about the session on Monday?”
I glanced at Jack to see if he’d chime in with something, but no, he shrugged.
“Waste of time,” I said.
Trent huffed. “What did he text you today?”
I pulled my phone free, scrambling to think of a good lie. We hadn’t exchanged any new details like Trent wanted.
JackASS
Tell me something for today’s session, Dipshit.
Who dis?
“Cal?”
“Uh, he said good morning and that his favorite color is pink.”
Jack turned slowly and hit me with a blank stare that spoke his thoughts loud and clear. I winced, a bit sorry for the joke today. He’d no doubt get me back for it.
Trent either figured we were lying, or hell, maybe he liked pink. He nodded a few times, then asked Jack what I had sent him.
Jack cleared his throat, and I held my breath.
Staring at his phone, he said, “‘Jack, good morning. I’m glad we can have these moments to open up. I’ll start today off with a bit of truth. I like peeing in the pool because the warm water feels nice on my balls.’” To me, Jack stage-whispered, “I don’t want to know about your balls, dude.”
I dropped my chin and sucked my lips over my teeth to hold back a snort of laughter.
Again, Trent either expected the stupidity or wanted to believe we were sort of taking this seriously. “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?” he said. “How about next time going beyond surface level, and let’s dig into some real emotions between you two.”
Emotions? How about the unexplained ones that had erupted inside me like mini tornadoes when Jack had stared me down in the parking lot after school on Monday?
I’d left my gear in my truck, and since I’d already been late enough for practice, I hadn’t wasted time running for the locker room with my clothes.
Jack’s gaze had been a heavy hand as he’d raked it down my half-naked body.
If I’d flexed a little more than necessary to put my shirt on, to hide myself from the look on his face, well, I couldn’t be blamed for that.
It’d been reactive. Like, it had to have been appreciation that had darkened his features for a second, and it was natural to show off, right? It hadn’t meant anything.
Yet, two days later, I replayed every second of it and came away with more confusion. For the first time, fight hadn’t been my jump-to impulse. That might’ve meant something, but I didn’t know what.
“You’re both aware of the Athletic Leadership Camp, right?” Trent asked.
“Coach mentioned it,” Jack said, while I swallowed my wayward thoughts.
“It’s been around for a while, but this will be the first year our school has participated.
” I nodded along, because like Jack had told this idiot, Coach Sullivan had said all this too.
“It’s designed for young kids to show them teamwork and how to lead by example, things like that.
” Yup. “Each year, they ask for volunteers to assist, like, camp counselors. We’re sending you both. ”
“Yeah, I figured that’s what you meant.” I glanced at the clock. Forty fucking more minutes of this shit.
“We’re sending your other captains, Nick and Ty, too.”
“Great.”
Trent stared at me, maybe watching for some sort of reaction or hoping I’d, I dunno, open up and talk to him. He could keep on waiting.
Finally, he sighed and said, “The school will be decorating for the fall festival coming up. I’ve made sure to put y’all down for heavy lifting. Anything that’s going to take the both of you.”
I nodded. When Trent had mentioned us working together, the fall festival was the first thing that came to mind.
The whole town got involved in it. Decorations and planning were over-the-top, but it always ended up being fun.
This year, I wasn’t too thrilled for it, and that I couldn’t even blame on Jack.
During my junior year, the whole world had turned bleak in a span of months. We used to do the fall festival as a family. Last fall, my parents had already been deep into the angry weeks leading to them announcing their divorce. Neither had shown up for anything after that.
They told us they were separating the weekend after Thanksgiving.
Cara had cried while I sat numb. Far from being surprising, I’d almost been relieved by it, and that had brought on the guilt.
Since then, nothing but the constant yelling had changed.
Home held this thick cloud that became a chore to be around.
I couldn’t talk to either of my parents without hearing the latest argument between them before getting quickly dismissed for something else more important.
Not many of my friends knew about it, and for some reason, that gave me a little peace. I didn’t want to bring anyone down. I didn’t want my parents’ lives to affect my own. I kept up the smiling face and the bright attitude for everyone else while inside, things got darker and ugly.
When Jack had said he’d heard I was a nice guy, I truly wanted to scream back that I was.
I was a fucking nice guy. But was I anymore?
Was I a fraud? A faker? Too bad I didn’t trust Trent.
I really did need someone to talk to. Anything I said in this safe space would get back to Principal Woodson, then to my parents, no doubt.
The rest of the hour was the same as Monday.
Trent ran out of his open-ended questions and reminisced about his school days.
My mood tanked. Words and urges ate at my inside.
Things I needed to say out loud to make sense of, but I had no one.
Dozens of friends, and not a single one I wanted to unload all my bullshit on.
Talk to Jack.
I snorted at the stray thought. He was partially to blame for all the crazy shit in my head, the things I couldn’t make sense of. He should take on some of the burden.
Even as I berated myself for the stupid idea, I wondered if it would work. If, by some miracle, he stopped fighting me, or I him, would he listen as I ranted over the pressures in life, over the confusion he made me feel? Or would he laugh?
If I told Jack how in the brief moments when we were at each other’s throats about one stupid thing or another, it gave me an odd peace from my parents, from their fighting, from worries over Cara and leaving her alone when I went to college, fuck, about college too, just everything, would he laugh or listen?
Would Jack give me an outlet for all this darkness building inside me?
Thursday 6:59 AM
JackASS
I’ve been playing soccer since I was four.
So?
JackASS
We’re supposed to tell each other something about ourselves, moron.
On Monday and Wednesday, overachiever.
JackASS
Whatever. I’m tired of you making up shit about me. Now you’ll have plenty to tell Trent.
You always do what your told, Princess?
JackASS
If either of us is a princess, it’s you.
How do you figure?
JackASS
I don’t wear pads for my sport, Princess.
Today I learned you know nothing about football. There’s your something new.
JackASS’s contact changed to Princess.
Princess
Doesn’t count. That’s about me.
…
Princess
You’re a stubborn princess, huh?
There. You learned something new about me.
Princess
…
You’re welcome, Princess.
When the few lines of text ended, my smirk faded, the energy sizzling in my veins receded, and everything returned to the muted sludge that covered my outlook on life. I didn’t remember getting ready for school or driving there. Muscle memory had taken over, so I could zombie out.
Even now, Sasha, the girlfriend I was severely neglecting, was trying to get my attention, but I couldn’t.
I might have grunted some kind of a response to her that kept her going.
At one point, she touched my arm, and I flinched, then glanced at Jack across the room to see if he noticed.
I didn’t know why I cared or why he would care.
Jack moved his eyes away from me a second later.
Fuck me, he had noticed.
Okay. Okay, so what did I do with that?
Somewhere in our fighting, he’d become this sort of constant thing I could rely on.
Something that wasn’t demanding and, in a twisted way, actually felt like attention.
To me. Jack didn’t make it about himself as Sasha did.
He wasn’t making it about the divorce or their jobs, as my parents did.
He didn’t ask me about the next game, or what was for dinner, or about a test I had.
Jack, in all his bitching and puffing and glares and snarling, was focused on me.
How does that make you feel? a voice that sounded annoyingly like Trent’s said in my head.
I didn’t have an answer.
Sasha toyed with my fingers, keeping me connected to her like an accessory, as she blabbed with another girl in class, and I glanced at Jack over and over.
Why? Why him? What about him? A tiny pinch on the back of my hand snapped me out of my head.
Sasha smiled sweetly when she came into focus.
I wish she’d stop doing that to get my attention.
Jack turned away from me.
Again.
The uproar of everyone escalated as the teacher left the room. Voices rose until one above the others seeped through the never-ending circles of my thoughts.
“I swear. It was a stupid joke, like …” Ty waved his hands around, then blurted, “What do you call a fake noodle?”
Everyone around him laughed without even hearing the punchline because that was how charismatic he was. He didn’t need the ending. Eyes were on him, soaking him in. Jack, on the other hand, rolled his with a shake of his head.
Ty snorted. “So stupid, but it got over fifteen thousand likes.” He scanned the students around him, as if making sure the attention was building before he went on. “I’m going to start posting all the dumb shit you fuckers say at school. It’s bound to get more likes than dad jokes.”
Our classmates laughed as if Ty were God’s gift to entertainment.
“Jack even says funnier shit than that guy.”
Jack lowered his brows as Ty brought him into all of it.
His arms were already crossed over his chest, but somehow, he made the closed-off gesture even more don’t fuck with me-looking.
A wad of paper bounced off Jack’s shoulder.
He shot his hand out, grabbing it before it fell.
I blinked in surprise. It hadn’t even seemed like he was paying attention.
Jack launched it, nailing Ty right in the head.
The class erupted in more laughs as Ty dramatically fell off his perch while making dying noises.
Jack grinned at his brother, then shook his head again. Instead of returning his attention to the window, he glanced at me.
There it was again. Just seconds. Yet in that span of time, the world stopped.
Nothing existed outside of him and me. We didn’t react.
No eye rolling or sneers passed between us.
Time paused, and then it was over. Jack turned to the window, and I reluctantly answered whatever Sasha said with an appropriate noise.
Several students tried to get Jack involved further by aiming “nice throw” and “went for the kill shot” at him, but Jack closed himself off, taking my brief ray of sunlight with him. And once again, my world swallowed me whole.
Practice that afternoon was light in preparation for the game. We ran drills, found some last-minute gaps in the line, and corrected them. Coach swatted me on the shoulder as I ran past, saying it was noticeable having me at practice all week, as if I’d had a choice in missing last week.
Nick and Michael lingered in the locker room with me as the team changed, showered, and cleared out.
“What are you doing tonight?” Nick asked. “I heard some of the guys are meeting at Taco Waco.”
I shrugged. “Dunno, man.”
“Dude.” Nick leaned a shoulder into the locker beside mine. He was dressed and ready to leave. I was in no hurry and only had my jeans and shoes on. “This is some serious funk you’re in.”
“Lot on my mind, I guess.”
“You need to talk?”
I glanced around the locker room. Only these two were close, but I wasn’t sure I could get the word yes out without choking on it. I sprayed deodorant on, deliberately hitting Nick, then pulled my T-shirt over my head.
He coughed, then shoved my shoulder. “We’ve always been tight, bro. I’m all ears when you need it.”
“What are you two doing now?”
“Notta. Going home,” Nick said.
“Daddy’s workin’ the late shift, so I’m taking Jamie to hang with Asher for a bit,” Michael said.
“Gotta be rough sharing a car.”
Michael shrugged. “Nah. See ya.”
“Later,” I said to Michael’s retreating back, then turned to Nick. “Wanna check out the FC game with me?”
Nick laughed. “For real? Counseling brainwash you that fast? Do I need to order Team Jack shirts?”
“Forget it.” I dunno why I asked. I should just go home, call Momma, call Sasha, do my duty like the good Cal I’d always been, then avoid life for a while.
“Nah, man.” Nick slapped my shoulder lightly with the back of his fingers. “You know I’m just messin’. Yeah, let’s check it out.”