Chapter Six

Fuller

“Did you do the reading last night?” Wren grabbed a small bottle of hand sanitizer that was connected to her backpack and squirted some in her hands.

I flinched. Wren’s voice was void of emotion and interest. She was clearly still pissed at me. I couldn’t tell her the real reason I was looking over my shoulder last night, that I was on the lookout for TyShaun, who knew about the stupid bet I’d made with Marc. Ugh.

I hated that TyShaun had probably already told Marc about my visit to Wren’s. Shoot, I should have told him to take a picture. That might have counted as proof for the first part of my bet… No. Screw that. I needed to find a way out of the bet, not figure out how to fulfill it.

Plus, there’s no way Marc would accept a picture of me standing in her driveway. He wanted proof that Wren and I were hooking up. I swallowed the lump in my throat. No how, no way, would that picture ever happen. This situation sucked, and I was the only one to blame. And I hated myself for it.

“Um, Fuller?” Wren drummed her fingers on the table. “Did you do the reading last night?”

“Yeah, sorry. I got a lot done. Thanks for the audiobook tip.” I couldn’t believe no one had ever told me about audiobooks before. It made getting through the reading assignments ten times easier. Plus, I could multitask, could shoot hoops or run while listening.

I’d actually borrowed Hudson’s library card and logged on to the public library’s website last night. In five minutes, I’d downloaded the audiobook of LeBron James’s biography and placed my name on the waiting list for Angie Thomas’s second book, On the Come Up. What would my teammates think if they found out that I was listening to books that weren’t assigned by a teacher? “Fuller the Jock” becomes “Fuller the Nerd.” A small smile played on my lips.

“You’re welcome.” Wren sat across from me with her arms folded over her chest. Her eyes refused to meet mine.

“Listen, about last night… I tried following you on Instagram,” I started, unsure of where to take the conversation. “You didn’t accept me—”

She held her hands up, cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear any stupid excuses. You were obviously embarrassed to be at my house last night. It’s not like I expected anything different. You’re Fuller James, Homecoming King and captain of the basketball team. Why would you want to be seen with Wrentainer?”

She emphasized the terrible nickname. It wasn’t that she was putting herself down, but pointing out that others, including me, had done it countless times. I frowned as a queasy feeling settled in my stomach. “I know that’s what it looked like, but I promise you, that’s not what happened.”

Wren’s knuckles turned white, and she hugged her body tighter. “Whatever, it’s not like I wanted you there, either.”

Ouch. That stung.

I wasn’t trying to get with Wren or anything, but her hatred for me was a stark reminder of the consequences of acting like a cocky asshole. “I swear to you, Wren. Last night may have looked bad, but it’s not what you think.” Not that I can tell you why it’s not what you think, but it isn’t…

She didn’t respond.

Clearing my throat, I tried to change the subject. “I really liked meeting your grandpa. He seems like a great guy. He sure loves basketball, huh?” Her body tensed even more as soon as I mentioned him.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she just looked away.

“How long has he been living with your family?”

She inhaled slowly. “Two years.”

“He seems really happy.” I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say, but I was being honest with Wren, and it felt good.

“He is, most of the time.” Her voice got softer. “Sometimes he has…episodes. It can be pretty tough to calm him down.”

Her honesty reverberated through me. “That sounds difficult.”

“It can be, but there isn’t another option. We’re not going to send him to a nursing home. Not when he’s happy and safe living with us. I know one day…” She paused. “One day that will probably be the reality, but for now, he’s staying with us.”

We sat in silence for several minutes.

“I-I know what it’s like. To live with someone who’s sick,” I said quietly.

Wren’s expression softened.

I certainly didn’t plan on baring my soul to her, but I felt safe, and deep down, I knew she wouldn’t tell anyone. “My little brother, he’s got a condition. It’s called brittle bone disease. He’s extra susceptible to getting hurt.” Saying the words out loud felt freeing. Besides Marc, I didn’t talk about Hudson with anyone else. Well, I’d told Marissa once, but she’d somehow turned the conversation around and made it about her.

Even though I didn’t know Wren well, I already knew she would never do that or blab about it to half the school. “I don’t have a lot of free time, but when I do, I spend most of it with him.”

Wren’s sympathetic hazel eyes locked onto mine. “That must be really tough. For him, I mean.”

“He’s a good kid. He’s got a great sense of humor, too. It’s gotten him through a lot of rough times. The hardest thing is when people find out that he’s my brother, but they don’t know about his medical condition. They all assume he’s a basketball prodigy. When he tells them that he doesn’t play sports, things can get…” I trailed off. “Well, let me put it this way, most people these days don’t have any manners or common decency.”

Wren finally let her arms fall from her chest. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, but he’s developed a thick skin when it comes to stupid people and their comments. I think being a huge fan of Deadpool has helped.”

Wren chuckled. “Deadpool? Shouldn’t he be more into Spider-Man or Thor? Something a little more kid-friendly?”

Was she a Marvel fan? I wondered if she was just into the movies or if she was hardcore and into the comics. “Eh, not really, but my parents got over it once they saw the positive impact it was having on him.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Wren responded. “I’m a big superhero fan. Marvel, DC, you name it and I’ve read the comics and probably watched it.”

“Yeah, Deadpool is indestructible and he doesn’t give a crap what anyone else thinks of him. Sometimes Hudson calls me Weasel.” I grinned.

“Weasel as in the bartender?” Wren asked.

“Yeah, he says I’m the guy he can tell all his problems to.” A warm sensation surged through my heart. “The best part, though, is that he has a new favorite song. It’s from the first movie, and he’s obsessed with it.”

Wren bit her lower lip and smiled. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“‘Shoop’ by Salt-N-Pepa.” I closed my eyes and laughed. “You should hear him rapping it. It’s hilarious.”

“He’s got good taste in music.” A chuckle escaped Wren’s lips, but she quickly brought her hand to her mouth, quelling the proof that she might have actually been enjoying talking to me.

We sat in silence for a few seconds, both of us still smiling. “I meant it, though, what I said earlier about meeting your grandpa. He seems like a great guy.”

Wren didn’t respond. She got this faraway look in her eyes. Then she reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Does he have…um, memory issues?”

Her head moved up and down slowly. I felt myself pulled into her eyes, warm pools of emerald with flecks of gold. Why hadn’t I noticed how pretty her eyes were before? Had they changed colors? I swear they were a light brown earlier. We’d learned about eye color during a genetics lesson in biology, that they had something to do with incomplete dominance. Either way, Wren’s eyes either looked different colors in different lighting or they straight-up changed color.

“My great-aunt has Alzheimer’s disease. She lives in a memory care facility now.” Shocked by my own openness, I continued to talk. “It was really hard on the family, but it’s the safest place for her.”

Wren looked down at the table. “My grandma died three years ago. Gramps started forgetting little things shortly after that. We went from having him over for NBA games and dinner every night to moving him into our spare bedroom in just under six months.”

“That’s a lot to take on.”

She shrugged. “When things get tough, you have two options. Pass the buck or stand up to the plate and go to bat for the person you love. The decision was simple.”

Wow. I had no idea what Wren dealt with on a daily basis. To make it worse, she had to deal with our classmates bullying her. The night we’d stood on the dance floor five years ago came crashing back. I felt like such an asshole. If I hadn’t uttered Marissa’s nickname for Wren so loudly, it might never have caught on. Or, maybe if I hadn’t been such a jerk, I could have told Marissa and my friends to stop calling her Wrentainer. But no, I was too worried about maintaining my popular status.

It felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on my chest. I had been a gigantic jerk to her five years ago and here I was, doing it again. I needed to figure out a way to make things right, pronto.

“I don’t know how you handle it all… Taking care of your grandpa, getting perfect grades, taking every AP possible… That’s a lot to deal with.”

“I’m sure you’ve made sacrifices for your little brother.”

I thought back to the countless hours my parents spent with him at appointments or by his bed in the hospital. I was there, too, but it was hard during the basketball season. I constantly balanced feelings of guilt and pride. Guilt that my brother had been cursed with a terrible medical condition and pride in myself for working so hard to accomplish my basketball goals. It left me with a sinking sensation in my gut.

“I always feel like I’m not doing enough.” I was never this honest or open with anyone, but I meant every word that I was saying to her. It was like she had a superpower, one that blasted through my shields and let her into the most personal inner folds of my life.

Wren shrugged. “You do what you can for family. They’re the most important people in the world.”

“You’re right.” Wow. I never thought I’d have anything in common with Wren besides basketball. But here we were, two completely different people, with a tragic commonality. Sick family members we’d do anything to help.

I tilted my chair backward and laced my hands behind my head. “Your gramps knows a ton about basketball. That’s pretty cool. Do you guys watch a lot of games together?” According to Brandon, Wren knew the sport better than just about anyone. She even kept stats for him. Like, proper stats during every game.

Wren smiled. “Yeah, I love watching games with him. It’s like getting transported back in time. He’s so lucid and with it during the games, kind of like he was when you two were talking last night—well, at least in the beginning. He used to take me to all the high school games and even some college ones when I was a little girl. We’d share popcorn, M&Ms, and a soda. He taught me how to keep stats and everything. It was really special. I go to all our games, I mean, the school games, but it’s too hard on him.” She paused, blinking slowly. “But we still watch them together, every Saturday morning. I pop popcorn, get a bag of M&Ms, and have a soda waiting for him. It’s our special time together.”

“Wow, that’s really…amazing of you, Wren.”

“It’s no big deal. I love spending time with my grandpa.” Her cheeks had taken on a pink hue. “It’s so hard to see him struggle. He forgets words and he confuses my mom and me a lot. I try not to let it get me down, but it’s hard. And, lately… Lately, he’s been getting up in the middle of the night. Thankfully, I’m a really light sleeper, so as soon as I hear his door open, I get up and figure out the best way to help him.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through that. I bet you’re really tired.” I cringed internally as I said the word “bet.”

“Yeah, well. What can you do, except keep on going?” Wren glanced down at her hands. “Plus, it’s only sleep. I can make up for it in college, right?” She gave me a sad smile.

“You’re right.” I found myself wanting to reach out to her. Pull her into my arms. Dude. What are you thinking? Get a grip!

“Anyway,” Wren said, digging her worn personal copy of The Hate U Give out of her backpack. It looked like she’d added more fluorescent Post-it notes. “We should probably talk about the book.” Her voice was softer, unlike the beginning of our tutoring session. Scratch that, for the first time ever, she didn’t sound like she resented having to work with me.

“Yeah, I read, well, listened to ten chapters.” I grinned, knowing it would impress her. “You would know that if you looked at my text messages.”

Wren placed her hand on her backpack. That must be where she kept her phone. “Yeah, about that…”

“Not a big deal. But yeah, yours truly listened to ten chapters.” Bragging about doing my schoolwork? Trying to impress Wren Carter? Did I get transported into a different dimension?

She arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? You really listened to ten chapters last night?” She paused, studying my face. “You better not be lying to me, James.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” I made an X over my chest. “Well, I listened to seven chapters last night and three this morning.” Plopping my backpack onto the table, I slid out my laptop and flipped it open. “Once I started listening, I actually had a hard time stopping. The book is incredible.”

Wren’s eyebrows knit together. “You really think so? You’re not doing this to try to score suck-up points with your tutor, are you?”

“Honestly, yes. Oh, I mean, yes to the book being amazing. Not yes that I’m trying to score brownie points with you.” I chuckled. “The themes were really helpful, too.” I opened up the Word doc that I’d typed notes into last night. “I put a few thoughts down here and even came up with an idea for the topic of my paper.”

Mrs. Parsons walked by us and smiled. The weird thing was, I don’t think I ever saw her teeth when she smiled. It was something my little brother constantly pointed out. When people smile, they either show their top teeth, bottom teeth, both, or no teeth at all. Sometimes, when we’d watch movies together at home, we would bet on what type of smile people had. Whoever won got a handful of Sour Skittles, his favorite snack.

“Not bad.” Wren still had her eyes glued to the Word document on my computer. “I think Mrs. Brewster will be happy with your proposed topic.”

Pride swelled in my chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, someone was impressed with me for my ideas, not for how I handled a basketball.

“Angie Thomas’s Use of Symbolism to Highlight Racism and Police Brutality in Society. It really spoke to me. Everything from the moment Khalil picks up the hairbrush to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.” I felt confident in what I was saying. I could only hope Wren and Mrs. Brewster agreed.

“Very powerful.” Wren nodded in agreement. “Angie Thomas is hands down one of the most influential authors of our time. She wields words like the Samurai wielded their katana swords.”

“Definitely.” Damn, speaking of having a way with words. Wren always sounded so smart. “Did you know that part of Darth Vader’s helmet was inspired by the samurai?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Are you making that up?”

“No.” I chuckled. “The neck part on his costume was inspired by the samurai’s helmet.”

“Interesting.” Her eyes met mine. It looked like she was going to smile, like a legit authentic smile, not the type Marissa would plaster across her face.

“So, ah, I was, um, thinking of stopping by Mrs. Brewster’s classroom before practice started. Maybe she’ll sign off on it early, and I can have an extra day to work on the paper. After I finish listening to the book, I’m going to make an outline. I was hoping you could go over it with me? Make sure I didn’t miss anything important or include anything that doesn’t need to be in there?”

Wren’s nose wrinkled. I’d never noticed how cute she looked when she did that.

I never noticed a lot of things about Wren…

“What? What’s with the look?” The corners of my lips twitched. “You don’t want to review my outline?”

“Of course I’ll review your outline. It’s, ah, I guess I’m surprised.” Wren picked up a pen and tapped it against her open palm.

I cocked my head to the side. “Surprised that a slacker actually came through and did the work he said he’d do?”

“Your words, not mine.” Finally, she returned the smile.

She was a top-row-teeth smiler. My favorite kind.

“Listen, I was thinking—” But before I could finish the sentence, my phone buzzed. At the same time, Wren’s phone started vibrating from somewhere in her backpack.

“That’s weird,” she murmured.

I guess she didn’t get many texts during the day. I thought I’d turned all my notifications off after lunch. Mrs. Brewster was a stickler about phones—if she caught anyone even looking at theirs, she’d take it and wouldn’t give it back until you had a signed note from your parents. Since being assigned to work with Wren yesterday, I decided keeping it in my bookbag until the end of the day was probably the safest plan. Neither of us needed to get into any more trouble than we were already in.

Wren reached into her backpack as I unlocked my phone. As soon as I tapped on the notification, my jaw dropped. An anonymous Instagram account, famous for posting gossip, had tagged Wren and me in a picture together. I was standing in her driveway, grinning like a fool. The caption read, “Hookup Alert: Wrentainer lets Fuller James spend the night at her house!”

Wren’s gasp was audible. By the time I looked up, she was standing and pointing a shaky finger at me. “Did you do this? Is this the reason you kept looking over your shoulder?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I swear, Wren. I didn’t have anything to do with this post.”

Before I could defend myself any further, TyShaun popped his head into the library. “Wow. You two can’t seem to get enough of each other!” He winked before throwing his head back and laughing. “I’m surprised I didn’t find you in the AV room.” He bent his elbows and brought his arms toward his body in a repetitive motion.

“Shut up, TyShaun.” Wren’s voice quaked.

Shit. My mind floated back to last night, when I’d bumped into him outside of Wren’s house. He must have been the one to take the picture and send it to the gossip IG account.

“The picture is out there.” TyShaun continued laughing, slapping his hand on the side of the door. “You can’t hide your relationship forever.” He held up one finger and winked.

Oh no. He and Marc must have counted this as step one. My guilty conscience crumbled under the pressure. I opened my mouth to tell TyShaun to screw off, but Wren beat me to it.

“We aren’t in a relationship!” Wren’s eyes were glossy.

“You act like this isn’t helping your reputation,” TyShaun said. “Whoever posted that did you a favor, Wrentainer!”

The librarian stomped toward TyShaun with a scowl on her face. “This is a library, not the mall. Get to class, Mr. Adams. Now.”

TyShaun winked at me before disappearing around the door. “See ya later, FullTainer.”

I balled up my fists. He was damn lucky we were teammates.

By the time I turned my attention back to Wren, she was shoving her book into her backpack. Her hands shook as she attempted to zip it shut.

“Wren, wait.” I reached across the table, but she pulled back. With tears streaming down her face, she snatched her backpack off the table and bolted toward the doors.