Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
CARSON
JUNIOR YEAR
I sneak into my first period late through a cracked window that Mr. Stone leaves open for me.
We have an understanding.
He turns in attendance, and I don’t tell anyone I saw him kissing Mrs. Pierce in his car outside the school. Mrs. Pierce has a husband on the school board, so his job and livelihood depend on my silence.
I know it’s terrible to blackmail people, but is it wrong if you wouldn’t tell anyway because you would never want to be the one to break up a family?
Technically, it isn’t blackmailing. I’ve never asked him to do anything, but him being aware of my knowledge of the affair has him doing just about anything he thinks will keep me quiet.
I call it information of convenience.
One of the many advantages of being Carson Garcia-Graham.
“Hey, Carson,” Jovie leans over her desk, chomping her gum.
“Hi,” I acknowledge but don’t entertain a conversation, knowing that I’m constantly being watched and a single conversation with Jovie would cause people to talk. By the time it gets to Avery, my girlfriend, it would be twisted entirely into something else.
Mr. Stone’s lectures are monotone and boring, and I find myself nodding in and out of consciousness. Nash and I stayed up streaming for my channel all night, causing dad to yell at us a couple times before finally turning the internet off. Thank God for hotspots. Guess he forgot about that.
The bell rings, and everyone files out of the classroom. I push my book down in my bag and pull my phone from my pocket, checking my messages.
Avery
Where were you this morning?
Shit.
She hates it when I’m not here to walk her in, so I can already tell that today will be off to a rough start.
I saunter out the door into the hallway, where it’s like the sea of people separates for me. Everyone says hi, acknowledges me, and no one gets in my way.
I’ve never had a single day where I was invisible. Where I could walk through the hall like a normal kid. It’s hard sometimes.
I know exactly what you are thinking.
Poor Carson being so famous must be awful.
But it’s not. I’ve always been well-liked. You know what is awful, though? Being used and never knowing who genuinely wants to be with you, or just wants their follower count to rise.
Nash is at his locker. Our third baseman, Crew, is smiling and laughing about something.
I try to squeeze by without them noticing, wanting to slink into the quietness of my next class.
A class I actually like with kids who could care less about my subscriber count.
Film study is the only class of the entire day where I don’t think about baseball.
The scouts, the workouts, the constant training to be the best.
“You just gonna walk right by us?”
I swivel my head in their direction, “I didn’t see you guys.”
Crew coughs out a loud “bullshit.”
“Give me a break. School just started on Monday, and I’m still recovering from summer.” I make an excuse, an empty one but still.
“Ha, we are all recovering from that.” Nash grins, wiggling his eyebrows.
Avery steps into view, with Jovie and Parker, her two minions at her side. I take a step backward, hoping to hide behind someone but realize it’s a lost cause when she practically shoves Nash out of her way.
“Are you just going to ignore my texts?” She whispers, her arms crossed over her chest.
“I haven’t had the chance to respond. I’m sorry.” She rolls her eyes, looking around to see who is watching us, before stepping closer.
“Don’t forget to meet at my house tonight after practice,” she says seductively, running her finger down my chest, pulling me in by my shirt. “Just come straight upstairs. My dad is out of town.”
She kisses my lips lightly before walking away, all of the guys turning to me with shit-eating grins.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” Nash mocks. “Naked in my bed.”
Crew chuckles, “I wish a cheerleader would walk up and say that to me.”
What they don’t know is that she doesn’t mean it. She will be more interested in taking a picture with me and tagging herself on my Instagram than getting it on.
It’s a total turn-off for me. Don't get me wrong, Avery is beautiful. She looks like she could be a long-lost Kardashian sister, but when she instantly pulls out her phone when you’re around, it kills the mood.
The day passes in a blur and by the time lunch rolls around, I’m ready to escape.
Jonah, our first baseman and team captain, sits at the head of the table.
He and our right fielder, Gavin, are both seniors.
The only seniors on the team. Nash, Crew, and I sit on one side, with Avery, Jovie, and Parker on the other.
Parker and Jonah have been dating since I was a freshman.
They are cute together and pretty much have the homecoming titles in the bag, which rubs Jovie the wrong way.
She swears it’s solely because she is a senior.
Jovie doesn’t know humility or how to pretend she’s not a stuck-up bitch.
I see Nash’s eyes widen as everyone’s attention is turned to the cafeteria door. Miss Mason is standing there with a girl at her side. Jovie sneers, turning back to her tray.
“Who is that?” Crew asks.
Avery smiles, “That’s Cori, Jovie’s new sister.”
Jovie flips her blonde hair over her shoulder, “She’s not my sister.”
Crew’s grin widens. “She can be my sister,” he whistles. “Or my step sister. I watched a video—”
“Crew!” Parker warns. “Stop, you’re such a pig.”
“An extremely good-looking pig,” he adds, “with abs.”
Jonah laughs, tossing a fry at him, “She’s not interested in your abs, Collins.”
Crew smiles, his eyes still trained on the new girl.
Jovie can’t wipe the sneer from her face, Avery’s nose is stuck in her phone, and I take my time memorizing the new girl.
She’s not very tall, but her legs are long and toned, her caramel hair is tied up in a bun, and her skin glows.
It’s a soft sun-kissed tan, not the spray tans that Avery and Jovie strut around in.
Immediately, I notice how she’s different than the girls here at Legacy.
She wears jean shorts, a black cropped Blink 182 T-shirt, and a pair of low-top Chuck Taylor’s.
Crew is the first to break the silence, “So Jovie, if she’s not your sister, then?”
Jovie sighs, pushing her chair away with a screech, not answering Crew’s question, and struts out of the cafeteria.
“She’s so salty about it,” Avery laughs. “It’s kind of funny.”
“Who is she?” I ask Avery, Crew leaning in close for the answer.
“That’s Cori Clark. Jovie’s cousin.”
Nash stands up in a hurry, stomping out of the cafeteria behind Jovie, nearly taking the door off the hinges.
What the heck is going on?
Avery laughs a little, shaking her head. “She’s a total psychopath. Jovie said her parents shipped her here after she got kicked out of school for murder.”
I look at Crew and we both bust out in laughter.
Avery glares at us both before standing, “Laugh all you want, Crew Collins. Don’t come crying to me when she goes all Lorena Bobbitt on you.”
With that, she walks away, leaving us looking around like fools. By the time I turn back to where Ms. Mason was standing, they’re gone.
I search the hallways for Nash before giving up and making it to the last block of the day. An easy last class before a grueling hour and a half of baseball conditioning.
After school, I wait for Nash at my locker.
He usually meets me there, and we walk down to the field together, but he doesn’t show.
Jonah, Gavin, and our shortstop, Madden, are already throwing and warming up when I make it to practice.
I scan the field and dugout for Nash but don’t see him anywhere.
“Have you seen Nash?” I ask the guys.
“No, not since lunch.” Crew states, tossing the ball into Madden’s glove across the field.
Jonah rolls his eyes, “He’s probably just messing around, you know how he is.”
“He needs to be behind the plate,” I growl.
Crew snorts, “He’s behind a cheerleader instead. I put money on it.”
All the guys laugh, continuing to loosen up their arms, and I steal a freshman catcher to come to the bullpen with me.
I shoot off several text messages that go unanswered, which isn’t unusual.
My eyes still search the field and what I can see of the parking lot for Nash. He’s a party boy, a ladies’ man, and pretty unpredictable most of the time, but he never misses baseball practice.
Never.
Not one time since Middle School.
The thought makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up as worry sets in.
I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, so I toss my glove into my bat bag and head to the cages.
It’s where I go when I need to clear my mind.
It's hard to think about the outside world when you’re trapped in a net with balls flying by every few seconds.