Tommy
Ican’t think.
I can’t breathe or run or do anything. My chest might explode because Didi’s ignoring me, and I hate it.
Bax, Remy, and I are the last seniors on the track. Coach made us slam a few extra laps since our performance has been lackluster so far this season, and we are supposed to compete at the state championship in a few weeks.
We are slated to win.
I glance over at Remy, who’s just as miserable as I am as we jog around the track. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a nod. It’s the first acknowledgment of me in days that wasn’t a glare.
Better than nothing.
Out here, Remy looks normal, not wearing the sick leather and ripped jeans he started wearing this year. Out here we are the same, just like we always were.
I don’t have the energy to beat Remy today, and he doesn’t seem to give a shit, either, since it’s Friday night, so we slog around the last few laps.
We finally finish, and the three of us walk over to the bench and catch our breath. The fluorescent lights shine down on us as the sun slips low in the sky. We’ve been running for two hours since school ended.
Remy doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t walk away, either. Bax glances between the two of us and shakes his head at the tension between his two best friends.
He jerks his head at me, hinting at me to say something.
I don’t.
Screw Remy. Why the hell would he ice me out? How bad could it have been? He didn’t do it, despite what everyone thinks. He didn’t kill Daniel Jenkins. The police combed through all the evidence. So why is he acting like this?
His eyes are still haunted, stone black as he glances up at me and runs his hand over the facial hair he’s growing out.
I wish he’d talk to me about it. Talia is still away at a healing facility—she’s only there three months, but you’d think she was in prison, doing a life sentence, from how miserable Remy is about it.
They’re close—I always knew that. She’s protective of him, but not the same way he is of her. He’s fierce when it comes to Talia Vital. He’s loyal to her above all else, even his best damn friend.
Coach walks over with his clipboard, looking unimpressed. “What the hell was that?” he bellows. “That’s not the energy of a winning team.”.
He glares at Bax. “Are you going to finally clean up before the state tournament, son?”
Bax shakes his head, flailing his hair. “Nope.”
Coach jerks his head to me. “What’s your problem lately, Landry? You’re slower than a pig in shit.”
“Nothing,” I mumble.
Everything. My best friend hates me. I have a massive crush on a girl who won’t look at me, and it’s driving me crazy.
I can’t pass math because she won’t help me with it anymore.
I have zero focus on the track because all I can think about is this white-haired beauty.
And worse yet, I’ve stalled out on my song because I haven’t been around her for three days.
Everything is wrong.
“He’s been too busy pining over white-haired pussy,” Remy jokes, and my eyes slide over to him. If looks could kill.
I stand up and face him, jabbing his chest. “What the hell do you know about her?”
Oh hell…has he noticed her? Is he the reason she won’t talk to me anymore?
Girls always like both of us, but I thought he was too busy being miserable to give her the time of day.
His eyes draw down to my hand then he clenches his fist. “I know you won’t talk to her in public.”
Shit, is that why she’s mad at me? Because she thought I was hiding her? Our hiding was more to protect her than it was for me.
Coach shifts his attention to Remy. “And you, boy. I don’t know what the hell to do with you, son.”
Remy scoffs and crosses his arms.
“Did you kill that Jenkins kid like everyone thinks you did?”
Remy’s head snaps up. “What? No?”
I bark out a laugh, but the look Coach gives me is anything but funny.
“Well then, get your ass out of that damn library and train some more, kid. Get out of your funk. You two are my talent, this town’s treasure.
No one can beat you two so don’t let whatever is going on with you ruin this.
You need each other, and we have a chance to win this year—as a team.
All three of you need to get your heads out of your asses and win. ”
He reaches down and grabs something from his bag—a bottle of something from the looks of the brown paper bag. My eyes perk up.
“What’s that?” Remy asks, eyeing him carefully.
“Back in my day, this is how we used to get over things. Good ole fashion whiskey. Take this bottle, go out to the bush, and drink the whole goddamn thing between the three of you until it’s gone and hash out whatever is keeping you two apart.
When you get back to school on Monday, make sure whatever shit is going on between you two boys is fixed. ”
Remy and I both stare at each other for a few tense seconds, both of us looking confused, but it’s Bax who grabs the bottle.
“Far out, Coach.”
Coach stomps off toward the school. “And you, Baxter. Cut that damn hair,” he calls from over his shoulder.
“Not a chance, Coach,” he calls back.
The three of us have shit-eating grins on our faces, and we blow this popsicle stand before Coach changes his mind.