Rule #9 (10 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

I sit in my room at my desk and sketch. My pollywog is Jack. I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t find the perfect green colored pencil to match the true color of his eyes. My phone rings and I pick it up without looking. “First game of the season this Friday,” Dad says in that little-kid voice he gets when he’s excited about something. “You going?”

I’m still not done being mad at my dad. And, seriously, like he’s just going to talk about the game after that hateful message he left on my phone. Okay, I know it wasn’t hateful, but it felt like it.

“Hello?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. I’m not going to start arguing. It’s not worth it anymore. He can show his artwork to her first. I’ll get over myself. Maybe I’m taking this too far. And I started my period last week, which sends me off the deep end. I get all emotional and shit, crying for no reason. Not that this was one of those times. I had every reason to let the waterworks explode like that geyser in Yellowstone.

“Alicia could sure use someone company with me coaching.”

He pauses.

“What?” I ask. He’s got to be kidding. This is why I need to keep my guard up. Every time I bend he ties me in a knot, actually a double knot.

“I’m working with the Varsity O Line,” he says.

“Great.” I know he’s super excited about this. A couple of years ago I would’ve shared in the excitement for my dad. He’s dreamed of this opportunity to coach high school football. Before he started coaching high school, he won the three division titles in the youth Titan league. He’s been working with the freshman and now has moved up to varsity.

“She’ll be alone at the game.” My father’s not going to let it go.

“Really, Dad, I have a life. Remember, I’m in high school. This is my football team. My high school. When I go I sit with my friends. Mom doesn’t sit with me.”

“Your mom doesn’t go.”

“I wonder why,” I spit into the phone. Ooh, that was mean. But the woman he cheated with, that destroyed my family, was a football mom. Her son played on my dad’s team. So let’s just say my mom is over football.

“Okay, fine. Never mind. I’ll shut up.”

What a fantastic idea, Daddy!

I blurt out, “Dad, I gotta go.” I hang up and let out a scream. Not like the kind that would break glass. More like the kind that would send a mother racing to make sure her child is okay.

My mom shoves the door open to my room, trips over the pile of clothes strung across the floor, and lands on her butt. She scowls at me. “Dang it, Massie.”

“Sorry, Mom.” I feel bad. She’s asked me several times this week to straighten up my room. I keep meaning to do it, but there’s always something more pressing, like eating, sketching, hanging out with my friends, or staring at the wall while I think about Jack.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Dad called. Are you okay?” I close my sketchpad and stand.

Her butt is still planted on the floor. She scans the room.

“I know. I’ll clean it.”

“Yes, you will. And before you go anywhere.”

I help my mom to her feet. She flings a pair of jeans with her foot toward the corner where my laundry basket is. Two points for my mom, because the jeans land in the center of the basket.

“So I hear your dad’s trying to make up and you’re being a pill.” She walks over to my bed and takes a seat. She pats the space next to her and I sit.

“He asked me to sit with her at the game on Friday night.” I change the subject. I don’t want to clean my room so I’m hoping this discussion gets me out of it. I know I shouldn’t use this to manipulate the situation but I really don’t want to clean it today.

“What game and with who?” my mom asks.

“Dad got promoted to the Varsity team.”

“Football.” Her eyes roll back into her head. Not like me and my friends do it. My mother does this way better. Her eyes roll back, and then they twitch. I can’t do it. I wish I could.

“He wants me to sit with Alicia at the game.”

“What an idiot—I didn’t mean that,” she quickly clarifies. “I meant that I can see why you would say no.”

“I love the idiot comment. It’s so accurate.”

Mom doesn’t push anymore, which means she’s on my side for the moment. She pats my leg and says, “Sometimes your dad doesn’t think before he talks.” Then she walks out of my room.

I take this opportunity to pick up my room and not just hide everything. If she does a thorough inspection, this will give me even more points. I’m thinking I can use them to get her to let me stay with my friends while she’s in London.

A couple of hours and three trash bags later, Natalie and Vianna bounce into my room shaking their blue-and-white pom-poms.

“Whoa.” Natalie halts when she finds me lying on the floor in my favorite black yoga pants, which I usually wear to bed. “What the hell?”

She’s either shocked by my spotless room or she’s worried that I’m not going to the game. Probably the room. She knows I won’t miss the game.

“We’re tailgating before the game,” Vianna says. “If you don’t hurry up, we’re gonna miss it.” She just wants to go because Hunter is kicking tonight. At least soccer boys are good for something.

“I’d like some of that good hot chocolate before we go in.” Natalie winks.

“Didn’t you drink enough at Andrew’s party the other night?” I ask. The orange soda and cola was not really what she was drinking. That was to keep me from lecturing.

“You’re such a prude.” Natalie hops on the bed.

“Someone’s gotta drive your drunken ass home,” I say.

It’s not like I haven’t ever drank. I’ve had my share, especially after the divorce. I like the mint taste of the Schnapps in the cocoa, but after I high-centered my car because I didn’t realize the road ended—I thought better of drinking and driving.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s my turn to let go. Why should I always be the responsible one?

#

We pull into the stadium lot and find a spot to park at the south section. Not many people have arrived yet, but the cars are starting to straggle in. The lights on the scoreboard are lit and the field looks like the sun never set. My blood warms and my heart races. I love Friday nights in the fall.

“Hi, girls.” Alicia waves. I didn’t realize I parked my car right next to hers. But how am I supposed to know which white SUV belongs to her? Her and some other lady walk alongside us. “Should be a fun game!”

She waves her blue-and-white poms. She overdid it at the spirit wear shop: the only thing that doesn’t have the Stallion logo or colors is her jeans. Even her tennis shoes are royal blue.

The woman who came with her has an oversized sweatshirt that only football players and coaches can get, so I’m assuming she’s some coach’s wife.

What does Alicia expect me to say?
Love the new car. Hey, you should sit with us. Are you doing anything after the game?

“Hey. I heard your dad called you.” Alicia moves closer.

I stall and wait for Vianna to catch up. I grab my friend’s arm and whisper in her ear, “Great, she’s gonna invite herself to sit with us.”

“Nice car, Alicia, good seeing you.” Natalie tugs at my arm, pulling me away from my dad’s new wife and her friend. “Let’s go.”

Vianna clings to me so that she’s not separated. It’s like we’re on a field trip and the teacher has made us link our arms together so that we don’t get lost.

We find our group of friends tailgating…and the hot chocolate. I grab Natalie’s cup and take a sip. The cocoa isn’t hot, but the mixture still warms my stomach. I down the remainder of the liquid. I don’t give a crap anymore. My parents will never reconcile now. My dad’s new wife has ruined all chances of that. I need this drink.

“Hey.” Natalie tries to grab the cup from me. “You’re driving.”

I hand Natalie the empty cup. “Not anymore.”

Vianna holds out her hand. I hand her my keys and she hands me her hot chocolate. “You need this more than I do,” she says.

I don’t want to overdo it. I’ve only become so stupid drunk that I acted like an idiot once. Okay, twice. Once with the car and one other time where I cried all night. That’s it. The cheerleaders act like idiots on a weekly basis. They’re the type to drink too much, then cry at the end of the night. More like sob. They look ridiculous, laughing one second, crying and hugging each other the next, and then ending up with their heads stuck to the nearest toilet, forgetting that boys actually pee and miss on those things. Our cheer squad is that stupid.

I pop a piece of peppermint gum into my mouth.

We still haven’t entered the stadium. The trick is to drink fast, then enter the stadium with a crowd of people. Before the woozy feeling takes over.

We’ve failed at the first part. We still haven’t made it into the stadium and found our seats, and there are no lines at the gate. Unfortunately, most everyone is watching the kickoff. If I feel light-headed before I secure my entrance, it won’t be good. I don’t have much time, especially since Andrew’s mom stands at the gate taking tickets. She always knows who’s drinking. She credits this knowledge to her troubled teen years.

“Massie? You okay?” Andrew’s mom asks.

I hand her my ticket. “Yes, Mrs. Sheppard. I’m fine.”

“Your eyes are a bit glossy.” She moves her head closer, taking a better look.

“Crying.” I wipe the skin underneath my eyes and chew hard on my peppermint gum. I’m wishing I would’ve drunk vodka. At least it doesn’t have a lingering alcohol smell.

“You gonna be okay?” She pats my shoulder gently.

Crap. I need to get in before I fumble my words. Dads at the gate are so much easier to walk past than moms. If dads asked the same question, which they wouldn’t, tears would’ve sealed my entrance. Dads never want to talk about feelings.

Here it goes. I hope for a line to form behind me. I say enough but not too much. “Dad got remarried. I parked next to the new wife. She has a new car so I didn’t know. She’s gonna take my dad to the cleaners like Natalie and Vianna’s stepmoms.” A family gathers behind us wanting to enter. Thank God. “I
really
don’t want to talk about it.” I let my eyes bubble.

“Okay, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything.” Mrs. Sheppard moves to the side so we can enter.

Past hurdle number one. But hurdle number two is waiting for me on the other side of the gate: Blake.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

I move away from Andrew’s mom and Blake follows me. We stand by the bleachers where the majority of Pine Gulch High gathers. The few parents who have founds seats on the top bleachers will move before the game is over. We stand most of the game. And we are loud. It’s our section and parents usually can’t hang.

“I was thinking, maybe we could go somewhere else to talk?” Blake gives me a look.

“Oh, no. Not going to happen.” I cross my arms and look down toward the seats my friends have secured.

“I’m really sorry about…” he stops and stands there like I’m supposed to take the next step, like I’m supposed to be the next one to say something.

I wait without saying a word. I may have been really sad the other night. I didn’t mean to let him hold me. But I’m pissed now. And I’m sick of him showing up.

“Um.” He takes a swig of his hot chocolate.

The cup is the same as the ones we had at the tailgate. I grab the cup from him and finish it off, letting the heat from the alcohol fill my body. I crush the cup, then hand it back to Blake dripping chocolate foam. I wipe the liquid that dribbles down my hand onto his jeans and walk away.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

One minute and fifty-seven seconds before halftime, I sulk in the middle of the student section. The rest of the student body from Pine Gulch stands. I should stand but it doesn’t matter. We’re losing fourteen to zero.

“Holy cannoli,” someone screams. Then the crowd roars.

Now I’m squished. Asses in my face and someone’s foot lands on mine. Popcorn plops in my hair. Someone from behind me spills a sweet and sticky liquid substance on me. I don’t give a shit. The alcohol still warms my insides. Until it wears off, I’ll be fine.

“Stallion touchdown!” The announcer’s voice booms through the stadium. The crowd stomps and the vibrations feel like a mini earthquake. Not that I really know what an earthquake feels like. I live in Colorado.

I know that our kicker secures the extra point because Vianna is screaming Hunter’s name, which means we’re back in the game. I don’t want the intensity of my buzz to diminish. I force Natalie down. “Do you have more hot chocolate?” I giggle.

“Stand your ass up.” She yanks at me.

“Come on, I know you have more,” I sing as I try and pull her back down close to me.

“You’re missing the stupid cheer you love so much.” She pulls at me again.

“Who cares about the cheer? Next thing you know, we’ll be making those
whoop, whoop
sounds like they do at the baseball games.” I fling my hand in the air, almost smacking Natalie in the face. I hate baseball. It’s so boring. Nothing exciting happens. That’s why they have to come up with stupid cheers.

Note to self: Make sure you tell Blake how boring baseball is.

Natalie plops down beside me and looks me square in the eye. “Look. It’s okay for me to act stupid. Everyone expects it. You, however, don’t fit that role, and Vianna can’t drive us home.” Natalie points to Vianna.

Vianna sips something from a mug that we didn’t bring into the game. “Stallion power! Go Stallion! Kick some…” and something stops her from fully letting go. Even with alcohol she can’t let it all out.

“This is bullshit,” I say. Why must I always be the responsible one? I stand and look out onto the field. Academy Christian has the ball on their forty-yard line with over a minute left in the half. “Interception,” I scream. The quarterback pulls back but their line doesn’t block. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I shake my head and sing. I’ve had way too much to drink, but I can still see it.

Instead of tossing the ball to the sideline or even taking the sack, their quarterback takes a chance and heaves the ball deep—right into our linebacker’s hands. Jack takes the ball and slams his massive body over their offensive line like they’re preschoolers.

“Stallion interception! Touchdown Pine Gulch! Linebacker Jack Kotenko!” the announcer yells, and the crowd explodes.

“See? We need your little ass sober,” Natalie screams over the roar of the crowd.

“Trust me, I’m sober now,” I say. Although it looks like Natalie will be driving us home tonight. Edna will not be happy. Natalie is not a very good driver, but she’s the only one who can get behind the wheel. What a change.

Natalie and I huddle together in line at the concession stand. We left Vianna back with some other friends so we wouldn’t get kicked out. Vianna is still cheering because of the second extra point that Hunter scored.

Parents are securing spots in the front of the line. Once the hungry teenagers see their parents, our place slowly pushes further and further toward the gate, making the sugary smells weaker and the warm buttery aroma distant. I want a chili cheese dog with lots of onions. Onions are never a staple at the games, though.

“Oh, shit.” Natalie turns and faces me.

“What?” I look past my friend and see the problem. Alicia and her friend head our way with paper trays loaded with food.

Alicia starts talking before I have a chance to say anything. “I know you don’t want to sit with us. I don’t blame you. I know your dad called you. He doesn’t
think
. But I figured you might want some food.” Alicia hands me a tray filled with hot dogs, cinnamon pretzels, candy, and gum. “If you follow us back to our seats, I’ve got bottled water, too.”

I hesitate.

“Wow.” Natalie looks at Alicia suspiciously. Then she grabs the food from me before I drop it. The alcohol hasn’t worn off. And that is why I stay quiet and let my friend take the tray.

“What?” Alicia asks. She pauses, and then her eyes look sorry and her head cocks to the side. “I know you’re worried that I’m going to take your dad away.”

Even if I could talk, I don’t know what I’d say. Natalie cuts in and says, “That’s exactly what
I’m
thinking.” Then my friend grabs a hot dog from the tray. Natalie takes a big bite and smirks at the two women.

”Thanks for the food,” I say. It really was a nice thing for her to do. I don’t want to be her new bestie but I can at least be civil.

“Anytime,” Alicia says. Then she waves me off. “Go have fun.”

The second-quarter comeback provides us momentum. It offers our team hope and delivers power. Out of the gate, Torres scores a seventy-yard touchdown and Hunter scores his third extra point. The third and fourth quarters remain a battle. Both sides fall to injuries. At the end of the fourth quarter, Academy Christian scores another six points with a touchdown.

Then Jack comes through again. Those large hands of his block the ball, no extra point for the opposing team. The crowd goes wild. Academy Christian’s undefeated record for the past two years—broken. Take that! Stallions win the game 21–20. The band explodes with our school song. The girls cry and scream while the boys chest-bump and whistle. I watch number 59, Jack, run off the field.

The crowd pours into the parking lot. Natalie, Vianna, and I take our time. There’s no use in running to the car. It will be impossible trying to get out of here. And I really don’t want to run into Alicia and her friend. The food was much appreciated, but we are not best friends because of her little peace offering.

On Friday night home games, the local Burrito Bar stays open late. The extended hours aren’t advertised, but on nights of a win, the line at the restaurant reaches out the door. The buy-one-get-one-free-with-your-student-ID special helps. If the home team loses, the restaurant shuts down at ten p.m. and the deal is off. Tonight the line circles around into the seating area when we arrive.

“Do you wanna stay?” Natalie asks.

“Yeah. I’m still hungry, and…” I point to Vianna. “Miss In Control has gone off the deep end. We can’t take her home like that.”

It’s strange how our roles have reversed. Natalie ends up the DD, Vianna is in the backseat with Hunter, and I’ve come down off my buzz but I still won’t drive. If Edna could talk she’d be yelling at me. Natalie hit the curb twice trying to park my poor car.

An old blue-and-white pickup pulls into the lot. Big white letters spell out Maggie Mae on the back window. It’s Tyler and someone else, I can’t see who, but the crowd’s roar helps me figure it out really quick.

“Kotenko! Kotenko! Kotenko!”

I look around. Dang it, no escape routes. I don’t know why I’m nervous. It’s not like anything happened at Andrew’s party. We watched the movie. Jack told me the movie was his granddad’s favorite. Jack’s Southernisms pop out at the most random times. Or maybe people who aren’t Southern call their grandfather granddad all the time. I wouldn’t know. I don’t have grandparents that I talk to. But I love the way he talks. It’s adorable.

I don’t know how the movie ended because I had to help Tyler sneak Natalie out of the back yard after she had one too many spiked sodas.

“Sweet.” Natalie shoves me, which brings me back to the present.

Tyler spots Natalie when he enters the restaurant. He smiles. He’s liked her since the fourth grade and he’s not going to let some stupid Colby thing stop him. Jack enters the restaurant behind Tyler.

“Did he just wink at you?” Vianna nudges me. Her worlds slur and she giggles.

“What are you talking about, wasted girl?” I ask. I know my face is red, but I’m counting on the fact that Vianna’s inebriated and she won’t notice.

“Oh, I saw it too.” Natalie raises her eyebrows. “The new boy winked at you. And you’re as pink as your phone cover.”

I turn back toward the counter and look up at the menu. Not that I need to look. My order never changes. The crowd continues to chant Jack’s last name. They make a hole for him to walk up to the front of the line. He shakes his head, but it only makes the crowd louder.

Sidney Jacobson, who is the lead cheerleader, sticks one foot out while swaying her hip. Her boobs are hanging out of her bra and most of the guys in the restaurant notice. “Come on, Jack.” Her voice raises an octave.

Why does it sound cute when her voice squeaks?

I look at Natalie. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Jack moves closer.

“Oh
hell
no,” Natalie hisses. “Tyler. Remember? Leaving would ruin my chances. He almost kissed me the other night at Andrew’s. I want that kiss.”

Jack and Tyler move to the front. Jack slaps the hands of his admirers on his way to the front of the line. I motion with my hand for Jack and Tyler to pass, then I join the crowd and put out my hand for him to slap. He deserves it. He played an excellent game.

When Jack reaches me, his fingers clamp down around mine and he pulls me with him. I start to pull back, but he doesn’t let go and I give in, squeezing back and following him to the front of the line. Sidney hisses.

When we make it to the register, someone tries to pay for Jack’s meal. Jack pulls out a twenty. “I’m paying, or else it’ll look like you’re paying for Massie’s. Can’t have that.”

Jack leaves the change in the tip jar and we find an empty table and Natalie and Tyler join us. The crowd doesn’t leave Jack’s side. He talks to each and every person that congratulates him on the win, which I swear is everyone in the restaurant, including the old people. It’s like Oklahoma football has found its way to Colorado.

Jack makes sure that he gives credit to the rest of the team. “Without Torres’s touchdown we wouldn’t have won. He’s the one who turned the game around.”

His left leg leans against mine. And, just to make sure he’s doing it on purpose, I move mine away. He scoots closer and his leg finds mine again.

Vianna and Hunter join us. Once Vianna has food in her stomach, she looks like she’s ready for bed, so a little after eleven we all head out.

“Party at the Pit,” someone screams.

I look at Natalie and then at Vianna. I look back at Natalie and shake my head. “She needs to go home.”

Natalie nods in agreement. I can tell she’s disappointed that she can’t hang with Tyler, but she won’t leave Vianna. And I can’t drive. Tyler pulls Natalie close and whispers something in her ear, then kisses her on the cheek. Natalie actually blushes.

Football players surround Jack. His eyes meet mine and he winks. Then he mouths the word “wait.”

But I point to Vianna and lip back. “Gotta go.”

Rule number nine:
Take care of your drunk friend even if it means you have to leave the best night of your life.