Chapter Two

Fuller

“I’m incredibly sorry, Principal Davis,” I said, hanging my head in apparent shame and dropping my gaze to his desk. He and I were running through the same routine we always did. I’d apologize and he’d respond with something like, “I’m going to give you one more chance, son. Do you understand?” I’d agree, call him “sir,” and all would be good until the next incident.

Normally, being called into the principal’s office didn’t bother me too much. I’d sit in the chair across from Principal Davis, where we’d usually end up talking about basketball and reliving the highlights of his high school career as the star center forward. We’d then move on to his time at the University of Virginia. We’d usually wrap up with how he could see a lot of himself in me.

But, this time, instead of it being the two of us, Coach and Wren Carter were here, too.

Coach Carter shook his head. “Fuller, we’ve been over this before. In order to play, you have to be passing all your classes. We’ve made a lot of exceptions for you over the years, but this is one that you know we can’t break.”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. It was bad enough Coach knew that my AP Lit grade had dropped to an F, but it was like rubbing salt in an open wound to have Wren find out, too. She was hands down the smartest kid in the entire school. I kept my gaze cast downward, on Principal Davis’s desk. There was no way I could handle seeing a smug grin on Wren’s face or, even worse, a look of pity. I’d never failed a class before. But, between the before school workouts, a full day of school, basketball practice, shooting hoops for an additional hour after practice ended, and hanging out with my little brother, I barely had enough time to eat and get a few hours of sleep, let alone read books and write AP Lit papers. I managed to keep up a 3.2 grade point average by getting most of my homework done and earning decent grades on tests, but that certainly wasn’t high enough to earn any kind of academic scholarship.

I wanted to drop down to regular Lit, but my parents forbade me from doing it. “You aren’t applying yourself, Fuller,” my dad would say. “If you spent half as much time on your homework as you did on basketball and with the ladies, you’d be doing fine in school.” Like he had a clue. He was an emergency room doctor with an eidetic memory. He was constantly at work and, unlike him, my only path to a full scholarship was basketball.

Plus, most people at school, including Wren, assumed I was a dumb jock. Who was I to prove them wrong?

I should have been able to coast through senior year, not have to worry about my spot on the team because of some English class that I’d never need again. Last time I checked, professional basketball players weren’t worried about using proper APA citations when they were tearing up the court.

When I wasn’t training, I spent time with my little brother. We watched Deadpool and read comic books together. Even though he knew the character Deadpool wasn’t real, he always claimed he was going to be just like him when he grew up: indestructible. Instead, he was forced to deal with a diagnosis that had taken that dream from him and left him with an uncertain future.

A lump formed in the back of my throat whenever I thought about him. It wasn’t fair. Here I was, voted athlete of the year by my peers, and my little brother was stuck in a body that couldn’t even handle getting shoved in the hallway.

Fighting back the hot tears that welled up in my eyes, I pushed thoughts of Hudson to the back of my mind. I kept that part of my life private, and I certainly wasn’t going to let Wren in on it. Speaking of Wren, my thoughts drifted to her copy of The Hate U Give. I’d spotted it on her desk today, cluttered with dozens of tabs and about a million notes in the margins. She’d probably already had her topic prepared for Mrs. Brewster and written half the paper. Me, on the other hand, well, I hadn’t even had time to crack open the book.

Not that this or any other paper should even matter. If this basketball season went well, I’d win a scholarship to the University of Georgia to play basketball. That way my parents could focus on my little brother’s medical bills.

A single session of physical therapy cost them ninety-five dollars. He had at least two sessions a week, every single week except during Christmas and one week during the summer when he went to a special camp for kids with serious medical conditions. The cost of those sessions, plus all his hospital bills, appointments with specialists, and trips to the emergency room for accidents, added up quickly. Even if my parents were to offer to help put me through college, I’d decided a long time ago that I wouldn’t accept a single penny of their money when my brother’s life was at stake.

To put it bleakly, if I didn’t get a full scholarship, I wouldn’t be able to afford to go to college.

Glancing up, my gaze fell on Wren. She sat two chairs over with her arms crossed and her lips pursed. She was so uptight she could produce a diamond if someone gave her a chunk of coal.

Her eyes had drifted to the bookcase to the right of Principal Davis’s desk. At the top sat the basketball we’d won the state title with last year. All the guys on the team had signed it. The day we presented it to the principal, I thought he might actually cry. The school hadn’t won a championship since his senior year, which had been over twenty years ago.

Sunlight streamed in through the window in the corner. I stole a glance, immediately wishing I was outside shooting free throws. There was a great court down the street from my house. Like the rest of Magnolia Valley, the basketball court was surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina, and the view was really incredible. I’d definitely miss it next year when I was playing for UGA.

Scratch that, if I was playing for UGA.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt, but why am I here?” Wren asked, dragging my mind from my happy place back to the depressing situation at hand. “I have a ton of homework, and I’d like to head back to study hall.”

She refused to look at me. I couldn’t blame her… Even though I wasn’t the guilty party and nearly five years had passed, I still felt responsible for her hideous nickname. I’d never admit it, but I hadn’t been brave enough to shut my classmates down when they were teasing Wren and calling her Wrentainer. I cared too much what they thought about me. Marissa was the one who came up with it, but I was the one who repeated it, loudly. I was the one who made all our classmates laugh. I was the reason Wren got bullied.

If it hadn’t been for that night and the repercussions that followed, I totally would have gone for Wren back in the day. Not only was she smart, but in middle school, she used to have a wicked sense of humor. I bet she still did. On top of that, she was pretty and not in that ten-pounds-of-makeup way like Marissa. Like today, her light brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, which accented her hazel eyes. She wasn’t very tall, maybe five foot three at best, but her legs were long and lean from the countless hours she spent running around the track. Thank you, cross-country team.

Principal Davis cleared his throat, bringing me back to reality. “Wren, Coach tells me that you’re refusing to tutor Fuller.”

“It’s not fair,” Wren said quietly.

“Not exactly,” the principal said, tapping on the screen of a tablet that sat on his desk.

When Wren’s eyes landed on the video that he’d pulled up, her face turned ashen.

“It appears that the two of you were engaged in a food fight today in the cafeteria,” Principal Davis said. He paused the video and zoomed in on Wren launching a handful of food in my direction.

His voice had taken on a serious tone, but I knew that we wouldn’t get in trouble for the fight. It all made sense. The only reason he’d dragged Wren in here was to guilt her into tutoring me. She was hands down the best student in AP Lit, and we already had study hall together. Now that Principal Davis had some leverage over one of the smartest students in the entire school, he’d apply pressure.

I had his moves pegged.

Principal Davis looked directly at me and then Wren. “Normally, I’d hand down your punishments and not think twice about it, but today, I’m giving you two an ultimatum.”

Wren’s entire body tensed. “What about all the other kids involved in the food fight?” As far as I knew, she’d never been called to the principal’s office or gotten into any kind of trouble at school. I wasn’t sure if she was scared of earning a black mark on her record or just plain furious with me.

Probably the latter, since that was her default setting.

Mr. Davis straightened his tie and stole a quick glance at the game-winning basketball. “They’ll be dealt with, Wren. Don’t you worry. Now, you owe our custodians, Mr. Tillson and Miss Constance, an apology. That part is not debatable. And either you both agree to this tutoring arrangement, or you’re both suspended for two days and given five days of detention.”

“What?” Wren gasped.

“Was that not you throwing food in the lunch room today, Ms. Carter?” the principal asked. He arched an eyebrow and pointed to his tablet. “Or do my eyes deceive me?”

“It was me, but I…” Wren stopped speaking and looked down at her hands.

I watched as her fingers tightened and she dug her nails into her jeans.

“Wren, I’d hate for you to lose the opportunity to go to the STEM Academy Camp at UNC over winter break…” Mr. Davis sat back in his chair.

“Wait. What?” Her jaw fell open in disbelief.

Mr. Davis steepled his fingers. “Any record of suspension automatically revokes your spot in the program.”

Wren didn’t say anything. Instead, she just sat there, looking totally shell-shocked. I felt bad for her, but getting that scholarship was more important than some nerd camp.

Preparing myself to lay it on thick, I cleared my throat. “I’ve already started writing my apology to Mr. Tillson and Miss Constance. I’ll deliver it to them today before practice and, if it’s okay with Wren, I’d very much like to work with her in order to bring up my AP Lit grade. The guys on the team are counting on me, and I don’t want to let them down.”

“Thank you, Fuller,” Principal Davis said.

Wren cringed.

Guilt washed over me, but that didn’t matter. I had to look out for my family and myself right now. My entire future depended on it. Wren was so smart, she probably had ten scholarships all lined up for next year.

“Wren, I’m really sorry for throwing food at you today. I think…” I paused for dramatic effect. “I think that sometimes I act out because even though I try to be good at everything, the harsh reality is that I’m not. I’m flunking AP Lit, which means if I don’t get a good grade on the next paper, I’m riding the bench in the season opener. Basketball means the world to me, and if you could please give me a chance, I promise to work hard and listen to everything you say.”

The words sounded sincere as they left my lips and, to be honest, some of them were closer to the truth than I’d like to admit. Up until this year, I’d never struggled with my grades. But the mounting pressures had gotten to me.

After Coach had called my parents to let them know I might not get to play in the first game, they’d ripped into me. I vividly recalled the feeling of heat creeping up my neck and the tight knot forming in my stomach. I’d never felt more ashamed. Missing any of the upcoming games could risk my future at the University of Georgia, my dream school. The coach had come out to the State Championship game last season and, if the rumors were true, he planned to come out again to the season opener to watch me play. Missing the season opener could have a disastrous impact on my future.

Coach remained silent as Principal Davis let out a sigh. “Miss Carter, the choice is yours. Either suspension and detention or tutoring Mr. James until he brings his Lit grade up to at least a C, although an A or B would be preferred.”

Wren stood and began pacing. “Suspension on my permanent record and losing my spot at the STEM Academy Camp? No way.”

“So, you’ll agree to help Mr. James?” Coach interjected in a hopeful tone.

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice,” she responded. Her voice was full of anger. She shot me another look that would stop most guys dead in their tracks, her hazel eyes practically launching live grenades at me. I’d never seen her this riled up before, and even though I hated to admit it, she looked kind of hot, in an angry nerd kind of way.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, standing to shake Principal Davis’s and Coach’s hands. “I promise this will never happen again.”

“It had better not,” Coach responded. He straightened the lanyard around his neck with his staff ID card hanging off the bottom.

Wren scowled as the corners of Coach’s lips curled up into a triumphant smile.

The first time I found out Coach was her uncle, I thought I’d heard wrong. What were the odds? Either way, their next family dinner wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience.

Principal Davis checked his watch. “Well, that’s settled. You two can go to the library now. I’ve informed your study hall teacher that you’ll be working together there until further notice.”

Wren gave the principal and Coach a curt nod before storming out of the office.

“Fuller, wait for me outside the office,” Coach said.

“Uh, sure.” Was he going to chew me out in private?

Gathering my backpack, I thanked Mr. Davis and Coach before heading to the hallway.

But before I could get out of the office, I stumbled over an Algebra book in the middle of the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Fuller,” the freshman apologized. He jumped out of his chair and scooped up the book. “Did you get suspended?” His eyes were wide open as he clutched it to his chest.

“What?” I asked, looking toward the door that led to the hallway.

“For the food fight,” the kid said. “We got called down here twenty minutes ago.” He pointed to five other students, all looking nervous.

“Oh, uh, you’ll be fine,” I called over my shoulder as I pushed through the office door.

A moment later, Coach joined me in the vacant hallway. “Fuller, I need you to keep this tutoring deal between you and Wren.”

“What?” My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Not that I planned on telling anyone—it was embarrassing enough as it was—but why was he telling me to keep it a secret?

“Sophomore year, you were out for four games with a sprained ankle, remember? The team completely tanked and we lost our shot at State.”

My gaze fell to the floor. “Yes, sir. I remember.” What I remembered more than missing the game was the reason why… The day before, Hudson had taken a nasty fall during recess and broken his collarbone. My head was all over the place and, at practice the next day, I took a stupid misstep during a shooting drill and twisted my ankle. All I could think about was my little brother, and it all but destroyed the entire team’s season. Without their leading scorer, they didn’t stand a chance.

I tried to take a deep breath but failed. I had so much riding on me, it felt like an elephant sat on my chest and was refusing to budge.

“Well, we can’t have that happen again. If your teammates think there’s even a remote chance that you won’t be playing in the season opener, it will give everyone a complex and could very well cost us the game and the championship. Not to mention the fact that, if we lose a game or two, your chances at a full ride are going to go down significantly. To top it all off, if the UGA coach comes to watch you and you’re riding the bench… Well, you can only imagine how that will look, right?”

“I’ll keep it to myself, sir.” Disappointment seeped into my core. For someone who was used to feeling like the king of the court, I suddenly had plummeted to feeling like the piece of gum stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe.

“Good. I’ll speak with Wren after school.” Coach placed his hand on my shoulder. “You really need to get it together, Fuller. Your entire future is on the line.”

“Yes, sir.” My chest constricted even more.

“Good. I’ll see you at practice.” He turned around and headed toward the gym, leaving me wincing from the verbal lashing.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I headed toward the library. How could I let this happen? Failing a class? Coach and Principal Davis forcing Wren to tutor me and keep it a secret? I really screwed up…

My eyes landed on her a moment later. She was standing beside the library doors with her back to me, digging through her book bag.

“Hey, Wren,” I shouted, jogging toward her. “Wait up.” Damn, she really fills out those jeans. I’d gone out with a girl on the track team a few times and her ass was nearly perfect. I wasn’t sure how it was possible, but Wren’s butt looked even better. I pictured her in the tiny shorts the track team wore.

Before I could fall any deeper into the world’s most unexpected daydream, Wren spun around. She didn’t say anything, but the way her eyes narrowed in on me, I could tell she was still plenty angry.

I grinned, trying to cover up how embarrassed I felt, and did my best impersonation of Principal Davis. “You were throwing food, too. Were you not?”

Instead of making her laugh, Wren put her hands on her hips. “Can we just get this over with?”

Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I waited for a freshman to walk by us.

“Hey, u-uh, Fuller,” the kid stammered. “Gonna take us to a state championship again?”

“You know it,” I responded. The confidence in my voice masked the reality of riding the bench for the season. I kept smiling until he turned around and disappeared around a corner.

Even though I felt like a total loser, I had to keep up the charade. I needed to lay it on even thicker. “Come on, Wren. I promise to be a good student. If I’m not, I’ll let you punish me.” I winked at her.

“You’re disgusting.” Wren’s face turned beet red, but not in the same way as the group of junior girls who waited around my locker every morning. Instead of wanting to rip off my clothes like my basketball groupies, she looked like she wanted to sock me in the face.

I had to admit, it was intriguing.

“If you’re going to be my tutor, you might want to consider being a little bit nicer to me.” I caught a whiff of her shampoo. She smelled like some kind of tropical flower. I imagined her prancing across the beach in a bikini, her long legs pumping and her feet flicking up sand. Earth to Fuller. Knock it off!

What had gotten into me? Was I sick? Had the possibility of getting kicked off the team made me delusional? Whatever it was, I needed to squash it. There was no way I’d ever crush on Wren. We had too much history and not the kind that anyone wanted to relive.

She scowled.

“It’s not going to be that bad.” I cocked my head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Plus, that punishment offer still stands.”

“Punishment offer? You mean like how Zack Denver punished you on the court last year? He scored on you what, seven times before the first half of the season opener?” She didn’t blink as she threw the statistic at me like nothing. “Or, punish as in when Nathan Dixon beat your free throw percentage by twenty-five points in the Sportsplex Summer Tournament?”

My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Did I stutter?” She drummed her fingers on her opposite arm.

Heat blasted up my neck. I wish I’d had some stats to throw back at her, but I didn’t know anything about cross-country, and they certainly didn’t hand out percentages for the number of books read in one sitting.

“Let’s head to the library and get this over with,” Wren said, spinning on her heel and leaving me in the middle of the hallway.

I stood there watching her stomp away in disgust.

“Dude, what was that?”

I spun around, making eye contact with Marc. His shirt was still stained from the mashed potatoes Wren had launched at him during lunch.

“Did you get called into Principal Davis’s office?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Marc chuckled. “Yeah, two days’ detention. I get to serve them during lunch, though, so I don’t have to miss practice. He showed me the video. I totally nailed that freshman with applesauce. Seriously, I wanted to ask him to email me a copy.” He glanced over my shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Anyways, why are you talking to Wren Carter? That girl hates you.”

I turned around as Wren yanked open the large wooden library doors and stormed inside.

“I’m not talking to her,” I said defensively. Coach’s words echoed in my ears, reminding me I needed to keep this a secret.

Marc jutted his chin out. “I totally heard you tell her she could punish you. Look, I know you and Marissa are on the outs, but how did you go from Haleigh and Lyla to Wrentainer?”

Before I could say anything, the library door flew back open and Wren stuck her head out and snapped, “Are you coming or—” She stopped talking when her eyes landed on Marc. Without another word, she disappeared back into the library.

“Ah, yeah. One second.” My heart slammed in my chest as Marc’s eyes narrowed in on mine. I hated lying to my teammate and one of my best friends.

“For real, are you seriously trying to hook up with her?” Marc asked, his left eyebrow raised. “Because she sounds like she wants to rip you a new one.”

“She’s totally into me,” I lied. “And she’s kinda hot.” At least that part is true. The words tumbled out with ease.

“What?” Marc asked. “Who are you and what did you do with Fuller James? You do know that we’re talking about Wrentainer, right? The same girl who spit her retainer at me in seventh grade?”

While I didn’t correct him, I never had to lie about hooking up with girls before. In fact, I never had to even try when it came to the opposite sex. Well, except with Wren. But it wasn’t like I’d ever tried to win her over.

“Hello?” Marc asked, waving his hands in front of my face. “Earth to Fuller.”

Straightening up, I pushed back my shoulders and cracked my neck. “My bad, I’m, ah, thinking about practice.”

“Okay, but don’t change the subject,” he persisted. “What’s the deal with you and Wren?”

I shrugged, trying to make what I was about to say as nonchalant as possible. “We have study hall together, so I figured after she did my math homework, I’d give her some one-on-one Fuller time. Maybe break in that AV room in the back. Come on, she’s a hot nerd who’s never even had a boyfriend.” I clicked my tongue and winked. “We’ll be making those stacks shake in no time.” The words came out before I could stop myself, and I immediately regretted them. Even though I was being a complete dick, I desperately needed Marc to buy my excuse to hang out with Wren.

“You are so full of it,” Marc responded.

Puffing out my chest, I stood my ground. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Nope,” my teammate responded, shaking his head. “There’s no way you’d go after a girl like Wren. Plus, she literally hates you.”

I could feel my heartbeat ringing in my ears. “All right then, I’ll prove it.”

“Prove that Wren Carter actually likes you?” Marc asked. “How?”

“I bet you that by our first game, Wren Carter will be in the stands cheering for me.”

No, no, no. Stop it! What are you doing?

Marc rolled his eyes. “She’s always in the stands. That girl loves basketball more than ninety-nine percent of the kids at this school.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, realizing how deep I’d dug this hole. “I bet she’ll show up at the first game as my girlfriend.” Girlfriend? Why was I making things impossible for myself? “I’ll dump her in the parking lot afterward. Your consequence for losing the bet is to pick up the pieces and convince her to go to the Fall Harvest Dance with you.”

My chest tightened as the words left my mouth. Sure, I could be a cocky jerk, but I’d never do something like that to her—or anyone. Then why the heck did you just say it?

“You’re brutal,” Marc said with a chuckle.

I laughed, trying not to let my friend in on the fact that I was lying. “And you have to give me your Deadpool comic book collection.”

Marc tilted his head to the side. “Now you’re bringing Hudson into this?”

“He loves Deadpool and you know it.” Even though the bet was a terrible idea, I thought about the massive smile the comic books would bring to my little brother’s face. He always wanted to be like the superhero who could withstand any type of injury. With his diagnosis, it made sense.

“Are you chickening out?” I asked, desperate for him to back off. He loved his comic book collection. There’s no way he’d risk it and go through with this stupid bet.

“No way; this bet is too easy to walk away from. It is so on,” Marc said.

My chest constricted so tight I could barely breathe.

“But,” he continued, “getting her to show up as your girlfriend… You could totally fake that, and I’m not giving up my Deadpool comics that easily.”

I cleared my throat and tried to appear nonchalant. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking three things. First, prove that you two are hooking up. A picture will work. Nothing graphic, ’cause I don’t want to see all of that. Second, there needs to be some kind of public display of affection. I need to witness it, or it doesn’t count. Otherwise, how will I know you’re really going through with everything? Three, she needs to show up at the game as your girlfriend. As in, wearing your letterman jacket, the whole nine yards.”

I gulped. I was totally going to lose this bet. I said a silent prayer that the consequence wouldn’t be something I couldn’t handle.

“If, or should I say, when you lose, you’ll have to wear Ryan’s Halloween costume from last year to school for picture day or until you get sent to Principal Davis’s office.” Marc grinned. “Sound good?”

Shit, shit, shit! It’s not too late. Fall on your sword! I repeat, fall on your sword! Coach will get over you spilling the beans.

“Unless you’re the one chickening out?” He arched an eyebrow.

“The mesh wrestling singlet?” I asked, mentally recalling the costume. “That thing is made for a ten-year-old.” That singlet left nothing to the imagination. I was confident, but was I that confident? Wren would totally freak out if she saw me wearing it.

Hmmm… That might actually work in my favor.

Before I could get lost down that rabbit hole, Marc cleared his throat. “Do we have a deal or are you ready to admit you’re full of it?” Marc grinned, holding out his hand.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed his hand and shook it. “It’s a deal.”