We’re a damn mess as we make our way through the crowd at the mixer. We need to check in with Coach so that he knows we were here, but I’m thinking him seeing us like this would be worse than missing it altogether.
The event is an annual thing. There’s a lot of handshaking and speeches about having another great year and winning seasons, yadda, yadda, yadda. I fully support my team and want the best for all the teams on campus, but I could do without the flashy show of support. The free drinks and food are welcome, though.
“This is bad,” Wes says and sways to the left. “My first official event as an assistant coach and I’m drunk. Coach is going to fire me before the season starts.”
“Oh, relax, you’re not getting fired.” Joel pulls a pack of gum from his pocket. “Here. Try and cover the beer breath until you’ve got a drink in your hand. Coach is busy schmoozing, so it’s our chance to be seen without having to stop and chat.”
Joel looks from Wes to me. “Ready?”
“Go ahead. I need to make a call first.”
“Make sure you check in with Coach,” Wes says, slipping right back into his assistant coach voice.
“Can’t I just check in with you?”
He flips me off but then straightens as if he just again remembered he’s a member of the faculty.
The event is held outside between the fieldhouse and the baseball field. It’s a grassy shaded area with tall, skinny cypress trees that make the spot a scenic backdrop. I know this because every year they force us to stand in front of it for a photo op.
Staying on the outskirts of the party, I find a quiet spot to make my call. My brother answers on the third ring.
“Hello.” Heath’s tone is sullen and disinterested, but I try not to take offense. He’s eighteen so the only thing that has his interest right now is girls and hockey. In that order, too. Also, he’s voiced his opinion on talking on the phone several times. You can fake a lot through text, though, so I keep calling him to check in periodically in addition to texting.
“Hey, what’s up, little bro?”
“Same ole.” He curses under his breath, and I hear the sound of a video game in the background.
“How’s camp? Your old skates working out okay?”
“They’re tight as fuck, but I’m managing for now. I’ll need new ones before the season starts though, and the team is ordering new warm-up jackets.”
I bring my thumb to the middle of my forehead and press in like it might relieve the stress rising up and trying to swallow me whole. “I sent money for the jacket. Mom didn’t give it to you?”
“She probably spent it on bills. She quit the cafe, said the long hours alone were making her depression worse.”
I jab harder against my skull. “I’ll talk to her. I’m sure she just forgot to give it to you.”
“The country club is hiring. I could get a part-time job to help out.”
We’ve had this conversation a dozen times. I know it annoys Heath to depend on me and Mom for money—neither of which are all that reliable. Especially now. Fuck. I need to let Frank know what happened and tell him I’m done dealing. I push all that off to worry about later. One problem at a time.
Heath can’t work, at least not during the season. Maybe he could find someone to work around his schedule and he could get an hour or two a week, but the paycheck wouldn’t make much of a difference.
“You know you can’t work and keep up with practices. Coach will either bench you or kick you off the team.” I shake my head. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Okay.”
We fall silent, and I listen to my little brother play Xbox. The noise from his thumbs stabbing at buttons and the sound effects of whatever game he’s playing. It’s such a normal, innocent thing to be doing that just sitting here listening to him helps me remember that against all odds, Heath isn’t totally screwed up. Not yet anyway.
I know selling drugs to pay for hockey equipment seems extreme, but it’s the only shot he’s got to get out of Michigan and away from our mother, who is spiraling faster with each lost job.
When our dad died, I was just finishing high school and heading to Valley. I got out, excited to leave behind memories of the happy family that didn’t exist anymore. I was selfish, only thinking about myself. I left Heath to fend for himself and it kills me to think of the things he’s had to deal with while I was out partying and acting like life was grand. Especially since it’s my fault Dad’s gone.
Mom was okay at first. She was sad, as we all were, but she was functioning. Then… I don’t know. One lost job turned to two, bills started to go unpaid. I didn’t even know about it for a while. Heath and I barely spoke my first year at Valley so it’s no shock that he didn’t reach out until it was already pretty bad.
It was the beginning of sophomore year the first time he called and asked for money. I hadn’t gone home that summer so I didn’t see how bad it was. We’ve never been rich, but there’d always been money for what we needed. It must have taken some guts to call and ask me to help. Guts or desperation.
“How’s everything else? Is Uncle Doug still stopping by on the weekends to check in?”
“Yes.” He sounds glum. “I don’t need a babysitter. He just makes things worse. He rags on Mom and makes her feel worse than she already does. Then he leaves, and I’m left to deal with her crying all night.”
“Is it that bad?”
“It’s fine. I know how to handle her. I’m eighteen. I’m not a kid anymore, bro.”
My chest breaks with a chuckle that I keep silent. He reminds me so much of myself at that age. Headstrong and independent, ready to take on the world like I knew it all. The difference is I had two parents keeping an eye on me and knocking me down a peg or two when I needed it.
“Yeah, alright. Listen, I’m at a team event, so I gotta go, but text or call me if you need anything. And if it’s an emergency, call Uncle Doug.”
“I know, I know.”
“Stay out of trouble.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Love you, bro.”
“Love you, too.”
The conversation sobered me up something awful. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight as I pocket my phone and head toward the party. Coach Daniels still has people all around him, so I walk in front of him slowly until he spots me. He tips his head in acknowledgment and I do the same.
Obligations for the night complete. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to stressing about Heath and my mom, try and figure out how to solve my money issues on the up and up, and start worrying about how bad I’m gonna screw up being co-captain, but for tonight, I just want to forget it all.
At the bar, I grab a Jack and Coke and circle the party. I don’t see any of my teammates, but I spot some of the guys from the baseball team.
“Hey, Mario.” I lift my glass in greeting. He and a few other baseball guys live just down the street so we’re tight. He opens his stance up to let me into the circle. The other guys are all huddled around someone’s phone.
“What’s up, Payne?”
“Not much, man.” I point to the guys. “Some chick make the unfortunate decision to send one of you nudes?”
Mario shakes his head. His gelled blond hair holds perfectly in place and I run a hand through mine, wondering if I look as rough as I feel. “Nah, nothing like that. One of the girls on the volleyball team is some sort of heiress.”
“Freshman?”
“Transfer. Got busted for buying her way into school in California.”
An heiress at Valley? Buying her way into college? My brows pull down in disbelief.
“I think that’s her over there in the red dress.” Mario looks over my shoulder, and I turn to face that direction.
She’d be easy to spot even if she weren’t wearing a dress the color of a fire engine, but as it is, there’s absolutely no way to miss her. Long, tan legs and blonde hair that hangs in loose waves, she looks more California surfer girl than rich bitch.
She’s the only person at this event standing by herself. She’s holding a glass in one hand, perfectly poised and put together but slouched like she’s given up any pretense of pretending to have a good time.
“She’s hot. Hot enough I’d let her be my sugar momma,” Clark, one of the guys standing nearby, says as he steps into our conversation.
“I’d give twenty bucks to see you try,” Mario says with a shake of his head.
Clark tips his beer to Mario’s and clinks the bottles together. “You’re on.”
“This should be entertaining.”
I nod in agreement and watch as Clark weaves through people to get to Surfer Princess. He tosses a smirk back our direction when he’s a few paces from her and then goes for it.
She’s tall and the heels she has on make it so that I can see over Clark’s big head and watch her expression as he gives what I can only imagine is the worst pickup line ever. Clark is a good guy but about as smooth as a cat’s tongue.
A hint of a smile overshadows the slight discomfort I detect as she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. Her lips move in response to Clark and then she lifts her drink and takes a sip.
I can pinpoint the exact moment things go horribly wrong for ole Clark, though I haven’t a clue what he could have said to have the girl in front of him bristle in such a dramatic way I can spot it from twenty yards. Her mouth draws into a tight line as she nods and then takes off. She doesn’t even wait for Clark to move, just pushes past him and hightails it to the far side of the party.
“Crash and burn.” Mario chuckles as Clark turns back to face us wearing a sheepish grin and shrugs.
I laugh along with him, but I can’t shake the horrible day to offer a real one. I need more booze and maybe a lobotomy. “I’m gonna get some air.”
“We’re outside, man.”
I’m already two steps away when I respond, “Air other people aren’t breathing.”
I get stopped no less than five times, get forced into a photo with the team, and spend twenty painful minutes talking to an alumnus who has food stuck in his teeth before I can slip away from the party.
I pull the flask I stashed in my pocket and unscrew the cap. The burn of liquor is fresh on my lips when I spot her. She’s double-fisting it now, champagne in both hands as she leans against the side of Ray Fieldhouse. It’s the side entrance, only accessible with a badge given to staff and student-athletes.
Surfer Princess is hiding, not that I blame her. If the baseball guys knew about her, that means everyone else does too or will shortly.
She stills when she sees me, her haven invaded. Taking a step like she’s going to leave, I stop her. I’m not sure why, except she seems like the only person who might be having a shittier night than I am. “You don’t have to run off. You have dibs, being here first and all. I’ll just kick rocks.”
To my back, she says, “Wait.”
Color me surprised, I turn back to her, and she shifts uncomfortably on her tall heels. “Got something good in that flask?”
I shake my head. “Nah, it’s not good.” I close some of the distance between us and hold it out to her in invitation. “But it’s effective.”
She walks slowly until she’s within an arm’s length away. Up close, she’s even more beautiful, which seems like it should be impossible because she looked pretty damn good from a distance. She hands me one of the flutes, takes the flask, puts it to her lips, and tips it back without so much as a sniff or sip to test it first. She’s taken a healthy amount before she hands it back, eyes closed, and mouth twisted in displeasure. “You’re right on both counts.”
“Damn.” I take another, much smaller, drink. Who is this chick? I mean, I know who she is, but… damn. “That was impressive.”
“You say that now, but I might be sleeping right here tonight.” She shudders and coughs. “What was that?”
“Mostly Everclear. Little bit of Mountain Dew.”
“It tastes like rubbing alcohol.” She holds her hand out for the flask despite her obvious dislike for it.
“One hundred and twenty proof.”
She takes another drink.
“Go easy.”
When she hands the flask back this time, I pocket it. I know my limits, but I’m not sure she does. Lifting the champagne flute I’ve been holding for her, I ask, “This one for me?”
She shrugs. “Seems fair, I guess.”
I take a seat on the bottom step, one of three that leads up to the door. The sun just went down and there’s a nice breeze. I don’t know this girl, but this is the most at ease I’ve felt all day.
“Hiding from anyone in particular?”
“No. I’m hiding from everyone.”
“I feel that.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Did Bri send you over here to mess with me?”
“Who’s Bri?”
She sighs and takes a seat next to me. “Roommate, teammate, captain, arch-nemesis.”
“Bad combo.”
“Who are you hiding from?”
“Myself. Everyone. No one.” I drain the rest of the bubbly in my glass and pull out my cigarettes. “You mind?”
She gives her head a little shake and watches as I light up.
“You want one?” I ask after I take my first drag and feel her eyes still on me.
“No. I just haven’t seen anyone smoke in… forever. You know what those things do to your lungs, right?”
I chuckle.
“Guess that rules out track.”
“What’s that?” I ask. Glancing over at her, my gaze is drawn to her green eyes—the color of summertime in northern Michigan where I grew up.
“I was trying to guess which sport you played.”
“Not track,” I confirm.
“Baseball?”
“Nope.”
“Football? Quarterback maybe?”
I shake my head. “I could just tell you.”
“What fun is that?”
My soft chuckle lingers between us, and we smile back at one another. It’s the first real smile to come from me all day. I put the cigarette in my mouth and extend my hand. “Nathan.”
“Chloe.”