Tell (15 page)

Shane abandoned the warm-up and jogged toward the sideline where the water cooler stood, anxious to hydrate himself a little before the game actually started.  He smiled as he picked up one of those little cone-shaped paper cups and depressed the button on the water cooler.  Alex Hoover, the coach’s son, took care of the water and insisted on bringing these cute little damned cups every week, even tho
ugh once the game got into full swing, nobody had the opportunity to stand patiently and wait for the spigot on the cooler to fill one of them to get a drink of water.  Drinks were stolen in the seconds in between plays, squirted from plastic water bottles directly into a teammate’s mouth, sometimes actually getting enough water into his mouth to be satisfying, always leaving hydration across his face (though, in the warmer weather, this was just as satisfying).  Every week, though, Alex set up stacks of little cone-shaped paper cups in hopes that someone would actually use them.  Often they did before the game started, but once the clock began its countdown, forget about it.  The kid spent most of his time cleaning up little cone-shaped paper cups off the field after the last quarter had ended.

Shane took his helmet off and set it on the bench before he threw back what little water the cup held.  He crumpled it in his right hand and tossed it aside, and
Alex leapt from his sitting position to retrieve it and deposit it in a nearby waste bin.  Shane ran his fingers through his hair, already approaching an undesirable length, and could not help a glimpse at the cheerleaders running through their warm-up routine.

Amanda was hard to miss.  She stood in the front line, as one of the shorter girls, and her blonde hair, curled and pulled back in a white ribbon, swept across her narrow shoulder blades.  She seemed to sense him looking at her and turned to look over one shoulder.  A knowing smile crept on her face, and she raised her hand to wiggle her fingers at him in a wave.

He could not suppress the smile on his face, and he nodded back at her.  He was glad that it was still warm enough that the girls did not have to don those long-sleeved white bodysuits underneath their sporty cheerleading uniforms.  Shane could always sense a drop in the team’s morale when that happened.  It was even worse when it was cold enough for them to switch their skirts for wind pants.  At that point, some of the guys declared jokingly that it was hardly worth playing football anymore.

Shane had caught notice of Amanda last year.  She was the only girl on the varsity cheerleading squad who had been recruited as a freshman.  Shane knew little to nothing about cheerleading, but he knew that she was very good.  She never dropped anyone, she never lost her balance, and she never stumbled on a landing.  She could shout
louder than anyone else on the squad.  Her enthusiastic smile was always sincere, even when the team was losing and it was clear that the spirits of those around her were becoming downtrodden.

Also, she was gorgeous.  Pale, silken blonde hair and bright green eyes topped an excruciatingly perfect body.  Shane thought
she might bleach her hair and wear colored contacts, but he had confirmed on multiple occasions that her body was one-hundred percent real.

She had caught notice of him just as readily as he had her.  Without any ounce of vanity, Shane knew it was difficult to not notice him.  On the field, with their helmets and jerseys on, he knew it was hard to distinguish one football player from another.  Some were obviously bigger than others, and the few stretches of bare skin you might see on their arms or legs differed in tone, but other than that, the only thing that differentiated them was the numbers on their jerseys.  Until the helmets came off, of course, and it was hard for one’s eyes to avoid the red-headed, pale, freckled kid among the array of behemoths with which he was leaving the field. 

Amanda had noticed him at the first game, and he had caught her staring, even as she was supposed to be standing in that standard cheerleader position—feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped daintily in the smalls of their backs, intently watching the game lest an opportunity arise for the head of the squad to call out a cheer.  Amanda had not been watching the game on the field, but instead, had been staring at him on the sideline while their team was on defense.  And even then, she had had that knowing expression on her face.

He had cornered her at the party that night—it had been at Will’s house.  They had barely spoken to one another before she took him by the hand and led him to an empty bedroom to fool around.

He recalled it guiltily the next day, wondering if he had somehow gotten himself caught in a relationship with a girl he barely knew.  Not only that, but she was so much younger than he was.  She had literally just turned fifteen the day before, and he was closer to eighteen than to seventeen.  He felt like he might have taken advantage of her, even though she had not been under any influence of alcohol, she had initiated it, and he had barely spoken a word to her other than “I’m Shane.”

She had called his house that Sunday, and he had gone to the phone with a sense of trepidation, not to mention with his sister’s catcalls ringing in his ears (“Amanda Teller?  That girl is an
infant!
”).  He asked her to go to a movie with him the following weekend; he felt he at least owed her a date after what had happened.  She had laughed and thanked him for the offer, but her dad would not allow her to date until she turned sixteen.

Shane’s stomach had turned to ice.  The one night he let his hormones run awry, he had gotten himself into a situation involving a freshman girl and her strict father.  “Well, would you be able to hang out sometime this week?” he had asked her.

She had laughed again.  “I’ll let you know.”

The relationship that stemmed from that night was one that utterly bewildered Shane.  She did let him know when she wanted to “hang out” again—the phrase they used to conceal the fact that they were hooking up.  Although they liked each other a lot and enjoyed each other’s company immensely, neither one of them were looking to turn their relationship into an
actual
relationship.  This was what had completely boggled Shane’s mind from day one.  She did not want flowers, did not want him to take her to dinner, did not want them to make their relationship official on Facebook.  She wanted from him exactly what he wanted from her, and nothing more.  This left them both free to see other people.

Though Amanda was known to see other guys, Shane had not actually dated a girl since his first girlfriend, Lacey, during his sophomore year.  But last year, he had slept with Allison, then Courtney, then Desiree—all three of whom had been friends of Felicia’s beforehand.  He had not considered Allison and Courtney to be that big of a deal, considering they were really only her acquaintances, not close friends, but Desiree was in Felicia’s life for a good six months before he had had sex with her.  During that time she constantly sought him out at their house, sent him suggestive messages over Facebook, winked at him in the hallways.  He had put up with it until she revealed to him that her friendship with Felicia had simply been a means to get to know him better.  At that point, he had felt he had had no other choice than to sleep with her and get her out of his sister’s life as soon as possible.

This was the scandal that had spread all over school and given Shane the reputation that he nailed all of his sister’s friends out of spite.  And much to his dismay, suddenly there were a lot more girls who wanted to be Felicia’s friends.  It was appalling, but he could not help but laugh at the lengths of cattiness girls were willing to go to—women, who were supposed to be the fairer sex, were succumbing to totally insincere friendships just for an opportunity to get laid.  It was also secretly flattering, though he would never admit it.  His friends, of course, thought it was fantastic and hilarious.

Still Amanda called on him, time and again, completely impervious to the rumors and gossip that surrounded both of them.  He shook his hair out of his eyes as he watched Amanda execute a flawless back handspring on the track and, as he had many times before in various situations, marveled at her flexibility.

The only friend who had remained by Felicia’s side through the entire ordeal had been Cadie.  Shane’s eyes were forced away from Amanda as he thought about Cadie.  There was a connection there, and he knew it.  But he was not willing to forfeit the connection between himself and his sister in pursuit of it.  Cadie would have to be avoided at all costs.

Andy stayed close to Neil and Wes during the third quarter when the band was allowed to roam around freely instead of being stuck in the stands.  He used to hang out with Melody during this time, but he had been feeling a definite lack of testosterone in his life recently, and so he sought out male companionship.  Melody was fun and everything, but he was tired of being around her all the time.  He had tried to convince Lucas to come with them, but Lucas had wanted to go to the concession stand and get some provisions, and had run off, hot in Melody’s pursuit.  Andy did not know what was with him lately.

Andy followed Neil and Wes behind the bathrooms in the stadium, out an open gate that the band had used on its way in.  He had to jog to keep up with them, and he was more than a little perplexed when they ducked in an alley behind the home bleachers.  “Guys, where are we going?” he asked.  He could not help feeling like a little kid tagging along with his big brothers.

Once in the shadows, Neil reached under the jacket of his band uniform and produced a silver flask.  “These games are so boring,” he said before taking a swig.

“What is it?” asked Wes, taking the flask from him.

“Scotch.”

Wes took a long sip and held the flask out to Andy.  “No, thanks,” Andy answered.  Wes shrugged and handed the flask back to Neil.

“What, you don’t drink?” Wes wanted to know.

“Sometimes,” Andy responded.  They did not need to know that “sometimes” meant “twice.”  “I’m actually a total lightweight,” he continued, feeling the need to explain himself.  “It wouldn’t take much of that for me to start acting like an idiot, and then Mr. Bell would figure out what was going on.”  Was that true?  He had no idea.  He had never had more than three beers before in his life, and he had never had hard liquor.

“A lightweight, huh?” Neil said.  He looked Andy up and down.  “Jesus, you’d never know it from looking at you.”  He and Wes both laughed, but Andy could tell it was good-natured, not jibing.

The two of them drank in silence for a few minutes.  “So, what’s this I hear about you hooking up with Amanda Teller?” Wes inquired.

Andy was slightly embarrassed.  “We didn’t hook up or anything,” he said, “just talked at a party.  I haven’t really been going after her or anything.”

“You should,” Wes said.  “She’s cute.  And I hear she likes older guys.”

“Really?  I hear she likes any guys,” Neil responded, and this time Andy joined in their laughter.

“Well, I don’t really know her well enough to make a move or anything,” Andy explained.  “I’ve only talked to her a few times.” 
Once,
he mentally corrected himself.  He paused.  “You know, maybe I will have some of that.”

Neil handed him the flask, and Andy, with the same feeling he would have if he had stepped in front of a firing squad, tilted his head back and drank.  He tried not to cough, but the liquor burned the entire way down his throat.  How the hell did people do this on a regular basis?  He felt like his esophagus was on fire.  He cleared his throat loudly.

Neil snickered and produced a water bottle.  “Here,” he said, handing it to him.  “Take a sip of that first before the scotch.  It helps it go down easier.”

Andy did as he was told, and he was surprised to discover it was true.  That time he could barely taste the alcohol at all.  Of course, the other guys did not need to know that he had taken a much bigger mouthful of water than he did of the scotch.  The next time he raised the flask to his lips, he splashed some of the scotch on the sleeve of his uniform jacket.  Both Wes and Neil exploded in a storm of curse words.

Neil took the flask back from Andy.  “That’s enough for you,” he said.  “That’s all we need, you spilling on yourself and getting us caught.”

Wes leaned around the side of the bleachers to check the scoreboard.  “We’d better get back,” he said.  “We only have two minutes.”

The three of them snuck back through the gate and jogged to the other side of the stadium.  As Andy climbed the bleachers, he stopped at the trumpets’ row while Wes sidled back to his seat.  Melody shuffled out of his way, a soft pretzel clutched in her hand.  Andy nodded at her.  “How’s the pretzel?” he asked.

“Fine,” she responded.  She looked at him and furrowed her brow.  Melody leaned forward, sniffed his uniform once, and sat back up abruptly.  “You smell,” she said bluntly.

Andy clucked his tongue.  “Well, aren’t you charming,” he replied scathingly, then continued to climb the bleachers to sit with the other saxophone players, ignoring the hurt expression on her face.

Melody awoke with a start, for an instant forgetting where she was, but relaxed when she remembered she was on the bus ride home from the football game.  She saw streetlights roll by through the windows.  She checked her Indiglo watch and saw that it was already almost 11:00.

She turned her head slightly and realized that her pillow had fallen against Lucas’s shoulder as the bus rambled on the interstate.  Lucas was awake, sitting quietly and listening to the hushed conversations of those around him.  He saw that she had woken up and he smiled at her.  “Hey,” he said.