Students of the Game (16 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-
NINE

            The following Friday night, Farah picks me up and she looks amazing. Apparently the feeling isn’t mutual. “That’s what you’re wearing?” She gives me an appalled look, taking in my hoodie and jeans.

“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” I say defensively, as my phone buzzes and I find yet another harassing text from Carver. He’s been sending them all week. “I have enough guy drama in my life right now as it is.”

What I don’t admit to her is that I didn’t tell my mom I was going to a party. I’m not 100% sure she’d say no, but I lied and just told her I’d be sleeping at Farah’s instead. Also, that the thought of wearing anything remotely revealing makes me nauseous when I picture Carver’s hand trailing up the hem of my dress. I’m seriously contemplating just wear baggy sweats for the rest of my life.

Farah breaks my train of though
t with a huff. “Fine, let’s go. I don’t want to be too late.”

She seems fidgety and on
edge, nervously tapping the steering wheel as we drive. The depressing drizzle of rain hitting the windshield doesn’t help the mood either. Even though I told her about breaking up with Carver, we don’t talk much about it, or anything for that matter. This in turn, makes me nervous and I just keep swigging from a water bottle to fill the silence. By the time we meet up with Charlotte, Farah is a totally different person.

“I told Derek we’d be there by nine,” she snaps at her sister who’s putting the finishing touches on her make-up. Charlotte is two years older, with a quiet beauty about her, and hair as
red as Farah’s. Though where her curls are tightly wound and full of bounce, Charlotte’s hang loose in long relaxed waves, I never realized how much someone’s hair could reflect their personality.

“Chill, Farah. It won’t really get started until ten anyway.” She tosses a few necessities into her hobo and slings it over her shoulder indicating she’s ready to go.

On the ride over to the party, Charlotte glances at me in the rear view as she drives. She comments that she’s glad I finally decided to ditch the boyfriend and join in the fun. I glance at the back of Farah’s head, wondering what exactly was said about me in my absence, and feel slightly uncomfortable. If Farah had wanted me to spend time with her, all she had to do was ask. She invited me out once, and then never mentioned it again, so I never pushed it. Has she really been jealous of Carver all this time, filling the void in our friendship by partying?

I can already hear the bass pumping from inside the apartment, and as we take a freight elevator to the top floor, I pray that the cops don’t get called. The door rises and the three of us are instantly consumed by a rolling front of cigarette smoke, as thick as the fog outside. Taking a second whiff, I mentally throw pot in there, too. There are bodies everywhere, taking up the majority of the apartment’s floor plan. Which is actually an amazing feat since it’s a huge open studio space with barely any furniture. I can’t even imagine knowing this many people. The invite must have spread through word of mouth like an uncontainable wild fire.

Charlotte almost instantly ditches us when she spies some of her friends from school. For a moment Farah and I stand huddled side by side, dodging people carrying more beers than they can handle, and drunk girls dancing to their own unsexy rhythm. I shudder.
That looks horribly familiar
.

Farah doesn’t seem faz
ed by any of it and just stands there, scanning the crowd. Just as I’m about to tell her that I need to pee, Farah points and yells over the music, “There’s Derek!”

I look to where she is indicating and see a small group sitting on an arrangement of Ikea couches around a glass coffee table, away from the crowd as if having a private party of their own.

“Farah, I really have to pee!” I exclaim, cursing all that water I consumed on the drive into the city. Farah gives me a look that could kill and I know she’s eager to greet her man. “Just go over there, and I’ll meet you after I’m done!” I yell to her.

We separate and miraculously, I find the bathroom. Only having to wait behind two others to use it, by the time I head back to the location of the couches, maybe about ten minutes has passed. The party has gotten even more crowded, and I wade my way through the sea of party goers, pushing and shoving until I finally see Farah. When I do, I stop dead in my tracks as I watch the scene unfold before me.

Farah is sitting on the lap of some guy, I assume to be Derek. He dips her down so she’s hovering over the coffee table. My mouth drops open in shock as she effortlessly takes in the full line of cocaine laid out before her. Farah sits up and laughs as he licks what’s left off her nostrils. My head starts to pound along to the beat of the music and someone slams into me. Pissed off and irritable, I slam them right back, not even realizing that the person is a girl, I cause her to fall to the ground.

“You bitch!” She exclaims and quickly stands up, getting right in my face.

“I’m sorry, I…” Fumbling for an apology with my thoughts on Farah, I don’t expect the shove back. I stumble, and catch myself from falling completely, but it’s enough to cause a slight scene. Not going unnoticed by Farah and her crew.

Farah races
over, curls trying to match her pace and grabs my arm. The pissed of girl calls me another name, but not wanting to get kicked out, lets the incident go. Then as quickly as it happened, she’s sucked up back into the sponge of the party.

“I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?” Farah laughs.

“Me! What about you?” I glare at her. “What the fuck are you doing over there?” The adrenaline still pumping through me causes me not to care about swearing at my best friend.

“Oh, oops,” she pouts. “You saw that? I thought you’d be in the bathroom longer.”

“Are you serious, Farah?” I throw my arms up in disbelief. “This is why you’ve been hiding the guy from me, because he’s your personal drug dealer?”

“Relax. It’s just a little blow.”

Another body sh
oves into me and I’m about to lose it. “No, I won’t relax!” I grab Farah’s wrist. “We’re leaving
now
. Where’s your sister? Does she even know about this?”

Farah rips her hand free from my grasp and crosses h
er arms, “So what? Big fucking deal! Now that you know, what’s the point in leaving?” She throws me a sly smile. “Let me have some fun.”

I can’t believe the person in front of me is my best friend of six years. I look into her eyes and realize how much she’s change
d over the course of the year, her thin frame, tired eyes, and lack of interest in her real friends. The signs were there, I just didn’t do anything about acknowledging them. Now I understand the secrets. She knew I wouldn’t approve and I don’t. “No. We’re going.”

     
Farah gets in my face, apparently a really fun place to be tonight. “I’m not leaving,” she says angrily.

I know I should stay and make sure she’ll be alright, but I can’t bring myself to sit back and just allow myself to watch her self-destruct. “Then I am.”

I stare her down before she turns and heads back to the couches. Standing there, lost in a crowd of unfamiliar faces and thick smoke, I suddenly realize I have a whole new problem before me…how to get home. I can’t call Seth. Once he sees the caller ID, there’s no way he would even pick up the phone. And I can’t call my mom. She would kill me if she knew I went to a party without asking. This is why I hate lying. Seeing no alternative, I dig out my phone and find the number then press the call button. It rings twice before he answers.

“Bryce…I need your help.”

I tell him where I am and he says he’ll be here in thirty minutes.

He makes it in twenty.

CHAPTER FORTY

BRYCE

“I gotta go man,” I tell Quincy, as I hastily shove my phone in my pocket, fishing my car keys out from the other.

“What? What do you mean you
’ve got to go? This is your birthday party!”

“I’m sorry. Something came up.”

“What’s more important than chillin’ with your boys?” He wraps his arm around my shoulder, spilling his beer in the process.

“I’ve got to pick someone up in the city.”

“Oh, birthday booty call!” He raises his cup in the air, in approval.

“Yeah, man…W
hatever. Thanks for this.” I motion to the crowd hanging around Quincy’s parent’s living room, a lot of them, kids I don’t even know.

I head for the door, thinking only of getting to Joy as soon as possible. I’m just about at the Jeep, thanking the heavens that no one parked me in, when someone calls to me. “Bryce! Where are you going?”

It’s Missy. She’s walking across the lawn, dressed only in a sleeveless black dress, hugging herself from the chill of the night air.
Damn
. I was hoping leave without a scene, but a good quarterback can sense a blitz a mile away.

I sigh. “Missy, look I don’t have time for this. I really
have to go.”

“Time for
this
? By that you mean me?” she says heatedly. “It’s her isn’t it?”

I don’t say anything in response.

She laughs. “Oh my God…it is! Wow….I never realized how lame you are. Together all that time and we never even
fucked
? How long have you been doing her? I bet she likes it rough…the quiet ones always do.”

“Seriously, Missy?” I take in a breath and try to remain calm, slowly getting into the Jeep. “Is that all you care about? Maybe you should give Carver Halsey a call.” I know it’s a horrible thing to say, but I can’t stand to hear her talk that way about Joy.

Just before slamming the door shut, I lean out and yell, “You think I’m the one that’s lame? Why do you think we
never fucked?” I don’t give her a second glance as I floor the engine, off to rescue Joy.

            
I drive into Rhode Island on autopilot. The highway’s not that congested, having already delivered everyone into the city, that has something to do there by now. Yet, I still find myself having to weave around the jerk-offs that like to coast at sixty in the fast lane, just to piss people off.

While I drive I think about Missy, and I can’t believe how stupid I was to waste all that time on her, believing it was for a good reason. She never cared about me, just as I never cared for her. Though, while my reason was redemption, hers was seeking a social status. In a way we both used each other for our own personal goals and that’s really the only thing to feel bad about.

When I get into Providence, I have to use my phone’s GPS to locate the address of the coffee shop, Joy gave me. I’m usually pretty good at finding my way without it, but I don’t want to take a chance and waste time by getting lost.

I switch on my defroster and set the wipers on low to clear the steady mist of rain that’s collecting on the glass. Between the glare of headlights and horrible drivers, the weather only adds to the disorientation of the city.

Finally, I see the glow of green lettering through the foggy windshield and relax slightly when I pull up to an empty spot outside the coffee shop. I see Joy sitting on a stool facing the window, with her head in her hands. When she spots me, she grabs her bag and bolts for the door.

“I’m so sorry, Bryce. I didn’t know who else to call,” she says frantically, when she opens the door. I can tell that she’s been crying. Make-up that at one point probably looked good, has
raccooned both eyes, and her usual silken hair is flat and damp from walking in the rain.

“It’s alright, Joy. Just get in.” I make a note not to mention the party or Missy. I don’t want her to feel any worse than I sense she already does.

We drive in silence, except for the occasional shuddering arch of the windshield wipers. Joy has her head resting against the passenger window, and for some time I think she’s asleep. I motion to put the heat on for her, but she stops me, saying she’s fine.

“Well, obviously you’re not, Joy.” I take my eyes off the road for a second to look at her. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

She runs through the events of the night and tears start to form in her eyes as she explains how she witnessed Farah McKinley doing drugs, and helplessly walked away. “I just left her there, Bryce!” she exclaims. “If something happens, it’s my fault.”

I reach over and grab her hand. “It’s not your fault. She made the decision for herself.”

Joy just nods loosely, as if in thought. When she starts to shiver, I turn on the heat without even waiting for her approval. The combination of the blasting w
arm air and her emotional night causes Joy to dose off the rest of the ride home. I glance over at her. Her head is back against the headrest, lips slightly parted. The tangled entrails of her wet hair remind me of when we were kids and how much she used to hate to have it brushed. It makes me think back to last semester when I first approached her in the hall, after years of silence between us. I realize just how much I’ve missed her and all the events of her life, big or small. I’ve missed out on sharing so much with her.

Arriving at her house, I pull up and park behind the decrepit green Jetta. I need to get my hands underneath that hood, if her brakes were that bad who knows what else needs replacing. She is obviously not one for keeping up with car maintenance. I shake my head and focus on the task at hand, waking her up.

“Joy,” I say softly, though it’s pointless since the rain is now heavy, and loud enough to drown it out. “Joy? We’re here,” I say louder and she doesn’t even flinch.

Screw it.
I react quickly, undoing her seatbelt then hopping out of the car. I sprint around to the passenger side, and open her door, getting soaked in the process.
Keys.
Where are her damn keys? I fish through the pocket of her hoodie, and she starts to stir as I wrap my finger around the set in victory.

“What are you doing?” she asks sleepily.

I don’t answer, instead I fling her bag over my shoulder, then scoop her up like a baby and make a beeline for the house.
         “Bryce! I’m awake. I can walk.” She struggles to break free, but my grip is too strong.

“Which one is it?” I ask at the door, trying to balance her weight, the bag, and fumble with the
keyring in the darkness. I can feel a continuous stream of water dripping from my hair, down my forehead, and off my nose. She immediately selects the right one, and as I manage to get the lock open, we stumble across the threshold.

“What the hell, Bryce!” she swears at me.

“That’s what I should have done when I dropped you the night of the dance.” I say matter of factually. “I was too pissed at you then, so I thought I’d do it now, instead.”

She looks adorably frustrated, especially in waterlogged clothes, like a little kitten that’s been locked out too long in the crazy rain. I feel bad for playing with her, especially after the crappy night she’s had. As if it all suddenly comes back to her, Joy frowns and asks if I want to stay for a little while to hang out. I suspect she is just prolonging the fact that once alone, it will have to be processed, but I oblige. Joy motions for me to be quiet and I follow her upstairs. You can tell her mother has had no design influence on her room, whatsoever. There are posters of bands hung up, clothes are scattered everywhere, and the bed is unmade. I look up and notice that she still has those silly glow-in-the-dark stars all over the ceiling.

“Wow, for someone so organized, your room is a disaster,” I joke.

Joy’s in the process of grabbing some dry clothes and gives me that look of hers, and I know to shut up. “Take your shirt off,” she instructs me, rummaging through a drawer.

“What?”

“Give me your shirt. I’ll toss it in the dryer. My brother probably has one you can wear while it dries.”
       My conscience kicks me hard in the ass and tells me I should go. This could be dangerous. Usually he’s pretty on target, especially on the field.
But,
sorry, man…not tonight.
I’m totally done with not being here for Joy any longer. I peel the wet t-shirt over my head and hand it to her. She stands there for a minute staring.

“What?” I ask, feeling the familiarity
of self-consciousness raise its evil head. I look down at my stomach. “It’s just muscle.”

“No, it’s not
just
muscle, it’s a freaking six pack!” she says, shaking her head and heads quietly out of the room.

When Joy returns, she’s changed into a tank and dry sweats, and washed her face, but that hair is still a rat
’s nest. Moving to sit on the bed, she’s checking her cell phone, as she tosses me a towel and a black t-shirt with a slogan in white across the front.

C:\DOS\Run?

Um…OK. Whatever, dude. I shrug at it like it’s a foreign language and pull the shirt over my head.

“I feel like I’m in a sausage casing,” I say looking into the mirror over her dresser. Devon’s t-shirt is ridiculously tight, and covers only three quarters of my abdomen.

Joy looks up, and starts to laugh, literally busting a gut. I’ve never seen her laugh so hard and glad to be the cause of it, I start laughing too.

Suddenly there’s a light knock on the door.

“Joy? Is that you? Is everything alright?” Mrs. A. calls, with sleep in her throat.

“Shit,” Joy whispers to me and wal
ks over to the door. “Yeah, Mom, I’m home. Everything’s fine. I just didn’t feel like sleeping at Farah’s house,” she calls back through the door in response.

“OK, honey. Is someone in there with you? It sounds like Bryce.” she asks with a slight note of disapproval in her voice.

“Um, yeah…Bryce is here, Mom.” Joy glares at me, and I playfully cover my mouth with my hand.
        There’s a pause on the other side, then finally a response, “Fine, honey…you’re old enough. Just don’t do anything stupid, OK?”

“Mom!” Joy exclaims, and I hold back a laugh, feeling bad for enjoying her discomfort.

“Don’t wake your brother. I’m go
ing to back to bed,” is the final response.

“This is all your fault!” Joy flops back down on the bed and pouts.

“My fault? You called me!” I tease. She knows it’s the truth, and this makes her pout even harder. This girl is so stubborn.

Joy gets up and moves me out of the way so she can grab a hairbrush from her dresser. She plops back down on the edge of the bed and starts to brush through the tangles. I stand there for a moment watching her not only struggling with her hair, but with all the shitty things that have happened to her tonight. Suddenly, I find myself walking over to the bed and sort of half-kneel on it next to her. I gently take the hairbrush from her hand and select a matted lock. Surprisingly for once, Joy doesn’t protest. She adjusts her body so her back is now towards me.

I start brushing mechanically, strand after strand, until her damp hair is completely combed through. Joy cocks her head to the left, and I push back the wispy pieces from the nape of her neck, collecting all her hair over her left shoulder, exposing a plane of soft skin on the opposite side. Her eyes are shut and I can sense that she’s finally relaxed.

Not even an entire defensive line could stop me from doing what I do next, I want it so badly. I lean down kiss the velvet smooth skin of her outstretched neck. As I breathe her in, I become lost in the floral scent of her hair mixed with the hint of fresh rain off her skin. Joy opens her eyes and turns her head towards me in surprise. I cup her chin in my palm and wearing this tight ass t-shirt I don’t know the meaning of, I kiss her hard on the mouth. She doesn’t pull away, but returns the kiss in earnest. I guide her down onto the bed, beneath me. We kiss again, a long, delicate, perfect kiss. My body tingles all over from finally knowing what it’s like to feel the warmth of her breath on my lips. When we finally pull away, Joy looks over at the clock but my eyes don’t follow. I can’t tear them away from this beautiful girl before me, afraid that if I blink, she’ll be gone. I need to savor this moment. The moment I finally kissed the girl I have loved my entire life. Without looking, I know it’s at least after twelve because Joy looks up at me and whispers, “Happy Birthday, Bryce.”

“Thanks.” I somehow manage to voice a reply and smile down at her. Despite Joy’s troubles, I think this is already the best birthday I’ve ever had. 

“You should probably go. It’s really late and your parents might get worried.”

“Yeah.”

I picture my party at Quincy’s most likely still in full force without me, and know that my parent’s expect me there for the night, anyway. I look at the clock and see it’s after one, and Joy must be exhausted with worry over Farah. It takes energy from every cell in my body to force myself away from her. Still reeling from what just took place, I stand up and awkwardly try to pull the t-shirt down over exposed skin.