Jacob
“Is my girlfriend turning you into a chick? Be honest.”
Tucker shoved what looked like half his double burger into his mouth, then chased it with a long slurp of chocolate milkshake.
the high of his alone time with Rory—managed to laugh.
All around them, the Point Lookout Diner hummed with activity. The restaurant was the primary hangout for not only Woodmont
High, but also the middle school, the busy parents of Woodmont, and the geriatric set. Dishes clanked, diners’ conversation
waxed and waned, and the local news covered the weather on a flat-screen over the breakfast bar, which was decorated with
autumn-berry garland. Normally, this was one of his go-to places to chill, but tonight, wedged into a small booth across from
Tucker, Jacob was on edge.
“Firstly, no, not a chance,” he said, reaching for the ketchup at the end of the table.
“And B, you’re the one who made me try out for the squad.
You can’t be mad that I’m naturally good at everything.
” He shook the ketchup over his plate of fries, and nothing came out.
He shook it harder. Still nothing. When he shook it yet harder, about half the contents of the bottle plopped on top of his pile of potatoes.
Tucker cracked up through his mouthful of food. “You’re the one who made the bet in the first place, dude. Don’t put this
on me.” He dipped one of his own fries into Jacob’s lava spill of ketchup and popped it into his mouth.
With a sigh, Jacob dunked a chicken finger and took a bite. He sort of wished he could turn back the clock and never make
that ridiculous bet. Of course, then he wouldn’t have had all this time with Rory, and he wouldn’t have traded that for anything.
Not that he could ever tell his friend that.
“Okay, you’re not the worst cheerleader in the world,” Tucker conceded.
Jacob raised his eyebrows.
“Still a pretty girlie thing to do, though,” Tucker added with a snort.
Before Jacob could punch him in the shoulder, the bell over the diner door chimed and four girls from school walked in.
Jacob recognized a couple of them from the recent pep rally as members of the JV cheer squad.
They immediately spotted him and Tucker and started giggling and whispering behind their hands.
Sometimes being an upperclassman was a little like being a low-grade celebrity.
It was weird. Not awful, but also not awesome when he didn’t feel like dealing with other people.
A waitress started to lead the girls toward a table in the back, and as they passed by Jacob’s table, one of them said, “Hi,
Tucker,” in this really flirty way, turning to walk backward so she could twiddle her fingers at him. Tucker grinned and very
slowly looked her up and down like he was shopping for a new car. It made Jacob’s stomach turn.
“You know that girl?” Jacob asked, reaching for his soda.
Tucker shrugged. “Her name’s Phoebe. She’s a sophomore. She slid into my DMs last week.”
Jacob felt a little warmth rise up his neck. “Does that happen a lot?” he asked cautiously. “Random girls sliding into your
DMs?”
“What’s the big deal? Doesn’t it happen to you?” Tucker shoved more fries into his mouth.
“Not really.” There was a thing last year with a girl named Ashlyn from their class, who sort of hinted around that she wanted
him to ask her to the Winter Formal. But she moved on to another member of the soccer team before he could even figure out
how to respond. Why would someone want to go out with him when she didn’t even know him?
“You’re missing out. A lot of girls are really into the soccer thing.” Tucker waggled his eyebrows. Now Jacob really felt
sick.
“You’re not . . .” He scooted forward on his seat and lowered his voice. “You’re not cheating on Rory, are you?”
Tucker gave a short, terse laugh. “I never knew you were a Boy Scout.”
Why did Jacob suddenly want to punch his best friend in the face?
“I’m just kidding, man. I’d never cheat on Rory,” Tucker said. “But it doesn’t hurt to keep your options open. You never know
what’s gonna happen, right?”
“Whatever,” Jacob said. He wiped his fingers, crumpled his napkin, and tossed it onto his mostly uneaten plate of food. If
Rory were his girlfriend, he would definitely not be worried about other options. “I should go. I have a ton of homework to
do.”
“Wait! We didn’t even talk about soccer!” Tucker’s tone shifted completely from insulting to conciliatory. Jacob, who was
halfway out of his seat, dropped back down.
“What about it?” he asked irritably.
“Dude, we’re really suffering. We have to find a way to get you back on the team.”
The door opened again, and this time a bunch of girls wearing varsity jackets from their rival school, Shrewsbury High, walked
in. For half a second, Jacob wondered if they were here to flirt with Tucker, too, but luckily they were seated in the other
dining room.
“Coach made it pretty clear I had to prove myself to him before that was going to happen,” Jacob muttered, staring down at
his plate.
“Okay. But how are you supposed to do that if you’re not even going to practice?” Tucker asked, screwing his face up in confusion.
“I don’t freaking know,” Jacob admitted. “It seemed like he was just going to tell me when I passed some sort of mysterious
test that only he knows the rules to.”
Tucker blew out a sigh, then took another long pull on his milkshake straw.
“You’ve gotta talk to him, man. If we keep Kai on as striker, we’re going to lose every game. And the scout from UConn is
coming to the Bergen game. We can’t have a losing season or I’m screwed.”
Oh, so it’s all about you, is it? Jacob had some schools scouting him, too, and he wasn’t even playing. Not that any of this was even going to matter if he
couldn’t get his precalc grade up. A creeping anxiety rose up his spine and curled over his shoulders. Jacob was used to focusing
on fun. He was accustomed to moving through life carefree, at least at school. He did not like this feeling one bit. But Tucker
clearly was not going to let him leave until he was satisfied that his illustrious future soccer career was intact.
“Fine. I’ll talk to him,” Jacob said. “I gotta go. Let me know how much I owe you for the check.”
He was out the door before Tucker could say another word.