Chapter 51 Ivy
IVY
The drive to my old school feels so odd.
But what feels even more off is the jersey I’m wearing.
Everett’s. I’ve worn it plenty of times and even over my cheer uniform for some games.
Tonight, I feel like it’s suffocating. I promised I’d show and wear it, though, so here I am, wanting to salvage whatever I can of our friendship.
I think. Yes. I don’t want to lose Everett completely.
We’ve been there for each other’s best moments and worst tragedies.
When I steer into the parking lot, I sit and watch the swarm of people dressed in Willowbrook’s shade of kelly green.
Kendall and some other members of the squad are nearby.
I feel the need to hide, but they won’t notice me.
I’m in my new car. They’d be looking for my Corolla.
If they even remember that much. I left their world, and nothing changed just as easily as my mother disappeared from my life and time carried on.
I don’t know how long I’ve sat in a daze, but the alert from my phone pulls me out of it. Obey if you dare. Meet at fairgrounds in front of the roller coaster now—Or beg for Mercy.
“Obey this, fucker.” I flip off the screen then toss my phone onto the passenger seat.
Fuck. I have to bail on Everett again. But I have to admit that a part of me is thankful for an excuse to not walk into the football game and try to exist in my former reality.
I drive there and find the parking lot empty before I head inside and wait. It’s about five minutes later when Brooke shows in her Belgrave cheer outfit, and she immediately zones in on my jersey. “Really, Ivy? They’re a rival team.”
“It’s Everett’s. I promised I’d be at the game.”
She points at her chest. “Yeah, I should be at a football game too and not the creepy carnival from hell.”
“Hell is here.” Remy jumps out from behind what looks like an old snack booth and grabs Brooke’s waist, making her yelp. He laughs before he spots my jersey. “What the fuck, Walker?”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I tuck my arms over my chest.
“You’d better not wear that shit when we play them next week. I’ll riot, and I know Luca will lose his shit as soon as he sees you wearing it.”
“It’s a stupid piece of fabric.”
Brooke says, “You know that’s not true. Wearing a guy’s jersey says y’all are together.”
“Exactly,” Remy shouts.
“Weren’t you wearing a Saints jersey last week? Didn’t know you were dating a player.”
“Yeah, baby. I’m their bitch,” he whoops.
Why did I think I could reason with Remy of all people?
“Yes. Unless y’all are playing the Cowboys. Then you’re our bitch,” Garrett laughs as they hitch into a whose-team-sucks-more argument.
When I look over, Luca’s glaring at me. Or more like the jersey I’m wearing.
I do my best to ignore him until Decider appears minutes later.
“Obey if you dare. Which is harder: giving up control or learning to obey? You’ll find out now.
For the next twenty-four hours, the uninvited team member must submit to every command of the invitee. ”
Micah laughs as Brooke asks, “Are you freaking kidding?”
Decider resumes, “At the twenty-four-hour mark, roles reverse. The ally takes over for the following day, and the invitee must obey. After forty-eight hours are up, roles return to normal. You’re equals again. But the damage will be done. Use your authority wisely.”
“This is going to be horrible,” Brooke grumbles.
“Kiss my feet and say the Saints are the best team ever,” Remy tells Garrett.
Garrett curses but he gets on his knees and follows Remy’s orders before he tells him, “You’re gonna regret it if you keep on, dick.”
“Yeah, whatever. I have a football match to get back to before Coach benches me next week.” Remy takes off jogging. “We might be able to make it back before halftime.”
Brooke tells Micah, “I need to go back too.”
He says, “Go ahead. Then you’re all mine when it’s over.”
“Just fucking fabulous.”
When they both leave, Luca and I are the only two remaining. I’m with Brooke. This is going to be horrible. He’s in control. What will he ask of me? What will he take just because he can?
When I finally look at him, his eyes drop to the number on my chest as he demands, “Take it off. Now.”
I lift the jersey off over my head, dropping it at his feet. “What next, Master?”
“Don’t wear it again,” he states.
“You have the power to dictate that for the next twenty-four hours, then it’s up to me.”
There’s a smirk peeking at the corner of his mouth. “You already know you belong to me. Or do I need to remind you?”
“Is this what we’re doing until tomorrow, or can I go home now?”
“Follow me,” he commands. Regrettably, I walk behind him.
When we get to his car, he instructs me to get in.
“What about my car?”
He’s already climbing into the driver’s seat when he informs me, “I’ll send someone to come and get it later.”
I drop into the passenger side. Just because I have to listen doesn’t mean I can’t ask questions, although he doesn’t have to answer. “Where are we going?”
Thankfully, he does. “Dinner.”
“With Daddy since it went so well last time?”
He glares over at me. Maybe I should’ve kept that jab to myself. I’m just so angry that I have to obey the dickhead no matter what.
Luca finally answers, “No. We’re going out.”
I pull at the tank that I was wearing under the jersey. “Can I get a shirt first?”
“You don’t need it.”
“Guess it’s not a fancy place then.” I don’t even care. I’m starving and was too nervous to eat before going to the field and facing all my old friends and Everett. Fuck. His football game.
Pulling out my phone, I message Everett.
Ivy: I’m sorry something came up, but I promise I’ll be there next week.
Unless the Decider elects to screw up that night too. Hopefully not. After this, we have three left, then we’re free. I drop the phone on my thigh and rest my head against the seat, taking in a deep breath at the thought of being done. I can’t freaking wait.
Once we pull into the gravel lot, I realize it’s not a fancy restaurant but an old yellow building, the worn sign reading Cracked Pirogue Café. I’d expected him to pick a place where there would be a valet and food that costs more than it was worth, not something that looks cozy and welcoming.
We walk in and find an open booth towards the back. There’s lots of commotion and chatter around us, but it still feels comfortable. “How’d you find this place?”
“It was my grandpa’s favorite. Order whatever you want.”
He slides a menu across the table as I tilt my head and ask with a smirk, “Is that an order?”
“It’ll be the first of many if you keep sassing me.”
Something about the way he says it makes me want to challenge him. But I decide against it for my own sanity.
Once I scan over the menu, I order a hamburger steak with mashed potatoes and smothered green beans and a Barq’s root beer. Luca never glanced at the menu but gives his order for a shrimp po-boy with fries and a sweet tea.
“Come here often?” I tease.
“Yes.”
Man of many words, as usual. The waitress returns with our drinks, places them on the table then walks away while Luca remains quiet.
“So, your grandfather loved this place?” I haven’t even tasted the food yet, but I get it.
“He did.”
“I can’t imagine your dad liking this vibe. Has he always been so unpleasant?” That’s as nicely as I can put it.
Luca replies, “As long as I can remember.” He looks like he’s hesitating but continues on. “They didn’t get along at all. My father swears that Granddad changed after my uncle died.”
“Oh,” I say a little surprised at him revealing something so personal. “I’m sure losing a child would change a person.” Like losing a parent does.
“Dad always thought that my grandfather blamed him for it.”
I shouldn’t ask. “Was he responsible?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Luca says. “He died playing Mercy.”
“What?” I gasp. “You’re playing a game that killed your uncle.”
“Like I said, I needed to win so Micah couldn’t.”
I’m unable to fathom the level of hatred that would make him participate in a game that killed his family member.
“You and Micah should really go to therapy. The level of animosity you two have for each other”—I point at his face and circle my finger around, indicating the scrapes and bruises that still cover it—“it’s not normal or healthy. ”
The waitress places our plates on the table, then tells us to let her know if we need anything else.
We eat in silence. And I don’t mind; the food is delicious.
It tastes like home-cooked perfection. Don’t get me wrong, our chef is wonderful.
But there’s something about this meal that hits different.
I take another bite, closing my eyes for a few seconds. When I open them, Luca is staring at me. “That good, huh?”
“Yep. I absolutely understand why it was your granddad’s favorite.” I cautiously ask, “What exactly happened to your uncle?”
“Don’t know. All we know is he died while playing.”
“Did your dad win?”
Luca seems irritable as he replies, “No. But that’s all I know about him playing. None of the past players ever speak about the game. All the rules, challenges, and strategies are kept very hidden.”
“This round is bullshit. All of them are actually, but this one is for sure,” I complain as he keeps eating until I ask, “What are you going to do if you don’t win?”
“It’s not an option.”
“In reality, it’s a possibility.”
“I either win or die trying. There’s no middle ground. If Micah does, I’m dead anyway.”
“He won’t kill you. Not really, right?” Fighting at the Tomb is one thing, but could they murder the other?
“People do what they have to for survival.”
“Would you? If you win, are you going to kill him?”
“Only if he makes me.”
Why does that not make me feel warm and fuzzy at all? Maybe because I know they enjoy pushing one another’s buttons.