Chapter 12 Tyler
As the calendar turns to September, I start to feel more at home in Hamilton Lakes.
I don’t need help finding my classes anymore, I have a regular order at the diner (vanilla milkshake and fries), and we’re settling into a routine on the team.
Mondays are quick practices in helmets only; Tuesdays and Wednesdays are workdays in full pads, ready for hitting, tackling, and running; and Thursdays are walk-throughs, jerseys only, resting up in preparation for Friday games.
Just like Brownsville. But Hamilton Lakes has the volume turned way up.
I’m already getting treated like some kind of local hero.
When I stop through the coffee shop downtown, the barista serves me a mocha before I even order—and half the time, it’s on the house.
When I pass through the halls, students I’ve never met wish me good luck and welcome me to Hamilton Lakes.
Even the cafeteria workers slap an extra scoop of potatoes on my tray.
And reminders of Brownsville are becoming less barbed. When Santi texts me again, it just says, Miss you at practice. Things are pretty boring around here now that John’s not running his mouth so much. Maybe you can come back to visit soon?
The knot in my chest releases just a little.
I don’t plan to come back anytime soon, but it’s good to know things aren’t getting even worse in my absence.
I consider texting about Kate—asking if she’s talking to anyone, or at least if she seems to miss me at all—but ever since my conversation with Sabrina, I care a lot less about what’s happening back home and a lot more about what’s happening here.
“Heads up about Ms. Moore,” Sabrina says, falling into step easily beside me as I head toward first period. “She likes to give pop quizzes, and now that everyone’s settled in, the gloves are off.”
I look up with exaggerated fear. “Oh shit. Are you saying I should be actually doing my homework?”
Sabrina opens her mouth and raises her hand as if to smack me, but then she catches the glint in my eye. “Okay, no need to give me a heart attack. I’m just trying to keep you from flunking out of this school the second you arrive.”
I can’t resist. I raise an eyebrow. “Are you saying you like having me around?”
She shrugs, and the rose-and-vanilla scent of her wafts around me. “We’ll keep you. But only if you have a talent.”
“A talent?”
“Sure.” She looks at me impatiently. “You remember all those posters you were hanging for me? Did you notice how all of them had a talent we’re advertising for the pep rally except yours?”
I wince. “I was kinda hoping we were letting that one go.”
“Never. Go on, tell me!” She pokes me in the ribs, and I discover I’m unexpectedly ticklish.
At least when Sabrina’s coming after me.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll be forced to guess!
” Before I can say anything, she starts firing talents at me like a machine gun.
“Doing the worm! Making balloon animals! Extreme chicken-nugget speed eating! Origami—”
“Okay, okay!” I watch her with wide eyes. “I’m honestly impressed. Is there someone whose talent is extreme chicken-nugget eating?”
“No.” Then she narrows her eyes at me. “Unless it’s you.”
I sigh. I know when I’m defeated, and even I wouldn’t bet on myself against Sabrina.
“I’m actually pretty good at ventriloquism.
Or, well, I used to be. My younger sister, Savannah, loved puppets when she was growing up, and I did a lot of babysitting, and, well, a guy does what he has to do in order to keep a whiny five-year-old entertained—”
It takes me a minute to realize Sabrina’s no longer walking beside me. When I turn, she’s standing stock-still in the middle of the hallway’s traffic, gaping at me in wonder.
“What?” I can’t help grinning at her.
She blinks, then scurries into movement again.
“So I was right about the puppetry? Damn. My instincts are even better than I thought. Do you, like, have one of those dummies?” Before I can answer, she holds up a hand to stop.
“Never mind. Even if you do, I don’t want to see it.
We don’t need to start this season with a curse. Keep it at home, Tyler.”
I wave her off, stopping at my classroom door. “There’s no dummy! I haven’t even done it in years! And you’re not going to use my ventriloquism as some sideshow attraction!”
Sabrina leans in close, grinning in a scary way. “Oh, just watch me. You need a ride home after practice? Because we can discuss this more then.”
And then she winks before spinning on her heel and dancing down the hall to her own first period. Her ponytail bobs away until she turns a corner, and I finally start feeling a little less dazed.
I shake my head, sliding into my desk in the front row.
A few people exchange good mornings and waves, and I wave back, suppressing my smile.
How long until the word gets around that Sabrina and I are going to homecoming together?
She’s already creating a buffer between me and the unwanted attention in the halls, but—
A blond tornado of motion skids through the doorway, gaze flickering between me and the space Sabrina had been occupying a moment before.
Ms. Moore frowns. “Mr. Thompson, your class isn’t until fifth period—”
“Just needed a quick hit of calculus!” Ryan says cheerily before sliding into the empty desk beside me. Then he leans in close, eyes wide and voice lowered. “Was that Sabrina walking you to class? Is she replacing me as your bestie, or what?”
I swallow hard. It’s now or never. My stomach clenches at the idea that Ryan might be upset by the news, but I remind myself there’s nothing to worry about. There’s nothing going on with Sabrina—either on my end or his. And I promised I’d help deliver her message.
So I keep my voice casual. “Yeah, she’s nice. We’re actually going to homecoming as friends.”
His eyes widen. “You—really? You’re the guy?”
I fight to keep from wincing, fear rearing its head. Fear of ruining something good here—of hurting Ryan, the unhurtable guy. “That okay? I didn’t know you had a thing when she asked me. But we’re really just friends.”
Ryan’s forehead creases in a rare frown, and I hold my breath. Did we miscalculate?
But then he shrugs, face relaxing. “I mean, I feel like I should challenge you to fisticuffs or something. But what can I do about it? She doesn’t want to go with me, so.
Guess it’s time to find a different date.
” He shakes his head, laughing self-deprecatingly, and his easy come, easy go attitude is back in place.
“Damn, you don’t even need my help settling in anymore! I see how it is!”
I loose a sigh of relief. Sabrina must be right that nothing that serious happened between them, or he’d be acting much more upset, right?
“I definitely still need you, man. And there’s really no reason to bring fisticuffs into it.
She’s just my new-student buddy.” Though now that things are out in the open, it’s like the floodgates to my fantasies have opened up.
What will Sabrina look like in a formal dress instead of her sundresses and cutoffs?
Will she wear her hair in a fancy updo, or loose around her shoulders?
And we’ll have to dance together at least a little, right? My hand on the small of her back—maybe even her head resting against my shoulder. Soft skin and rose perfume and the warmth of her curves against me…
But Ryan brings me back to Earth with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Well, maybe you can use that friendship to put in a good word—that girl is still avoiding me, and we should talk—”
“Mr. Thompson.” Ms. Moore is standing in front of the desk Ryan’s occupying. “First period is about to start. Surely you have somewhere to be?”
He jumps up, backing toward the door with hands raised. “I’ll be back for my next dose of derivatives in a few hours! Keep my seat warm for me!”
And then he’s gone, leaving me spent from the emotional whiplash of it all.
Thank God he took it rationally—this just friends thing is going to be exactly what Sabrina and I both need, and now Ryan can move on and find a real date instead of staying hung up on whatever happened between him and Sabrina last summer.
Though as Ms. Moore starts her lecture of the day, I can’t shake my idle visions of dancing with Sabrina like we’re the only two people in the room. Can’t help smiling at the way she said, You’re not half bad.
“So… Sabrina?” Will asks at the end of practice, as we’re all getting dressed after showering off the sweat and grime of today’s drills. He holds my eye as he adjusts a pair of wide-leg trousers so they fall just right.
I shrug and try for a casual smile. Word spread fast, all right. “She’s cool, right?”
“Oh, she’s the best.” Will locks eyes with me seriously.
“She’s my girlfriend Kara’s best friend, and those two would die for each other.
And nobody does more for anyone in Hamilton Lakes than her.
Like, obviously our team is great, but without her?
” He shakes his head. “We wouldn’t even be on the map. ”
“It’s no fun playing a great game if no one is cheering you on! Cap’n Ahab knows,” Kai adds, checking his hair in the camera of his phone. (It’s perfectly styled, as always.)
… right. “Yeah, she’s been super welcoming.”
“Welcoming, huh?” Will waggles his eyebrows.
I flush, feeling irrationally like I need to defend Sabrina’s honor. “Not like that.”
He just shrugs. “Whatever makes you happy, man. As long as it doesn’t screw up your game.”
My cheeks warm, and I bend to put more focus than strictly necessary on lacing up my sneakers. “Well, I’m just happy to be playing this year—I’m not good enough to go much farther—”
“You serious?” Will’s eyebrows pop up in shock. “You’re definitely good enough to play in college. You’ve got fast feet, open eyes, quick inside hands. Great technique. You know how to read the field and adjust. And you work damn hard—coaches are gonna love your grit.”