What's In It For Me (6 page)

"You just got lucky." And that was an
easy one, too. "Your middle name is Jet. Because of your jet black
hair."

He clapped his hands as if he just won
a bet, "Nu-uh. I was name after my grandpa Jet, who served during
the Vietnam War."

"No way."

"Way. You can ask anybody. Everybody's
practically my stalker. Face it, Sherlock. You'll never top
me."

"Whatever. I'm not listening. Blah blah
blah." I covered my ears with my hands.

He chuckled and leaned back on the
windshield. He had one hand behind his back and the other stretched
freely behind me. "You knew that the moment you saw me adding in
the sandbox."

"Remove your hand. I want to lie down
too." I told him but he pretended to fall asleep. I tried removing
his outstretched hand but we wouldn't budge. I stifled a yawn. My
watch says eleven in the evening. That is way past my bedtime. I'm
too drowsy to even set-up my tent. Screw that. I don't need a tent.
I had slept on the van's hood a number of times.

"Suits me." I lied down on the
windshield anyhow, my head resting on Andrew's arm. This is the
closest we've been so far. "You'll wake up with an arm so sore you
can't even hold a stupid football." I told him and
giggled.

He was still pretending to be asleep. I
was surprised when the arm I was resting on moved and pulled me
closer to him. I thought of struggling away, but I never did.
Instead, I just closed my eyes. This is such a weird and alien
feeling. Girls will kill to be in my place right now when I didn't
wished to be here in the first place. I did not move for a long
time but I couldn't sleep either. Andrew moved gently and brushed
my hair behind my ear. It was creepy and I could've pushed him away
but I didn't. Instead, I fell asleep in the arms of my enemy on the
hood of my mother's van.

***

I woke up by the sound of birds flying
overhead. Andrew was now nowhere beside me and I was wrapped snugly
in a wool blanket. Now that was preventing me from having
hypothermia all night. I wonder what my mother would say when she
learned that I slept on the van's hood.

I saw several people setting down their
tents. Watching them was like watching a zombie movie. Their eyes
were bloodshot, their stares vacant, and there were eye bags under
their eyes. I climbed down the hood and took my duffel bag from the
passenger seat. I jogged to the girls' locker room where I saw Tara
and her friend Shelona. I smiled at them and they waggled their
fingers at me. By now, I'm sure that signal indicates a greeting,
such as a hello or a goodbye.

"Excited for the game?" I asked as I
find myself a decent shower cubicle.

"Yeah." They replied quite
enthusiastically.

I've never been excited for a
championship game before. Not only that this will be the first time
I'll be there in the field to watch it, I'll also be there to cheer
for the Greenvale team. Go Leviathans.

"No, no, no." Tara shook her head as
she watched me tying my hair up in a ponytail. "It looks better
down."

"Oh," I replied dumbly. "I guess
so."

I studied myself in the mirror. I'm not
used to wearing my hair down. Tara fluffed my hair to give it more
volume. I hate to say this, but I think it does look prettier down.
I smiled at Tara and she smiled back.

She put one arm around me and
whispered, "Andrew likes you, you know. He won't tell, but I just
know."

I was stunned and was not able move as
she and Shelona grabbed their stuff and strutted out of the girl's
locker room. She's crazy. She'd no idea what she'd just said. I
took a deep breath. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and saw
a very different girl than the one I saw before back in my room.
This girl was now wearing her hair down.

I walked out of the locker room feeling
like a very different person.

***

The game was only an hour away but I
still can't find Andrew anywhere. I decided to jog around the field
for some morning workout. I thought about Tara and how her IQ must
have dropped another ten points. If that's even possible.
Yikes.

I jogged for about fifteen minutes when
I immediately hid behind some bush. That's when I spotted Andrew
Alleyn with some guy who's positively older than him. I'm sure it
wasn't his dad. I've seen Mr. Alleyn Sr. before, when Wesley
(accidentally, but I have my doubts) swallowed a penny. Besides,
this guy's too young to be his father, even though they looked so
much alike. The same jet black hair (although I favored Andrew's
messy hair over his crew cut) and the same blue eyes.

"Why do you have to come today?" I
overheard Andrew saying angrily, "I have a game to
play."

"Andrew, you're smart enough to know
that this is more important than your game." The guy was telling
him just as sternly. "You're eighteen years old, for crying out
loud."

"I already told you I don't want to
live with you." Andrew looked and sounded irritated. This upsets
me.

The guy shook his head. "You can't
possibly live with them. They don't want you there, Drewey." His
expression softened.

I've never admitted this to anyone
before, but I really love my name. It's simple and no one will ever
mispronounce it. Kit. It's as easy as that. One awesome syllable.
It can't be cutesified. Hearing Andrew's name being cutesified like
that, almost made me laugh out loud.

"Thank you for pointing that out,
Chris." Andrew said in mock appreciation.

"Hey, that's when we're one and the
same." The guy brushed Andrew's hair like he was his younger
brother. And then it struck me. The similarities were too much. The
guy known as Chris was Andrew Jet Alleyn's older brother. I thought
about me and Wesley, how we're very much different but still
brother and sister. How I threw tantrums when I was five and told
my mom to "stuff that ugly thing back to where it came from". Then
to the time I popped Rick Harris' nose until it bled like crazy
when he chased Wesley around the neighborhood with an aggressive
dog on a leash.

Andrew stuck his tongue at Chris and
punched his shoulder. "Hey, wish me luck."

"You'll do good. After all, it's no
coincidence that you're Christopher Jesse Alleyn's younger
brother."

Hey did he just say Christopher Jesse?
I think I've seen his photo in some old yearbooks I collect. So
he's really the Greenvale football legend. I can't believe Andrew
and I are just the same. We're standing behind someone else's
magnificent shadow.

Andrew finally said his goodbye when
Coach Culkin blew his whistle. It's show time. It's time to kick
some serious Jackson butts. I saw Joe Fulkner with his team. They
looked absolutely vicious. Like they've just eaten human beings for
brunch and they're hungry for more. Oh no. I shot a glance at
Andrew. For some reason I can't explain, it turned out I looked at
him longer than I've intended.

"We're gonna win this, Sherlock." He
said with the same amused expression that I'm very familiar with.
He moved in closer. Or was that me? Nevertheless, the space between
us eased.

"Do me a favor and total Faulkner." I
showed the light scar on my right palm to him. "Get
even."

"What's in it for me?"

I shrugged. I knew I looked funny
carrying those green and white pompoms. "I don't know. What do you
want?"

He narrowed his eyes. "If I, in your
words, total Joe Fulkner the Incredible Hulk today, will you
promise to grab coffee with me?"

I almost dropped my pompoms. "Are you
asking me on a date, Alleyn?" I asked in a copycat version of his
amused tone.

He nervously put on his helmet. "Not a
date, Sherlock. You have to pay."

"Oh really."

"Uh huh."

"What?" Stop staring at me like
that.

"What 'what'?" Stop staring at me like
that and act as if it was no big deal. You're seriously making me
swoon right now.

"Alleyn come over here!" Coach Culkin
called for Andrew. The game was about to start.

"Hey goodluck." I wished him and did
what a cheerleader like me supposed to do. I waggled my fingers at
Andrew as he made his way to the field.

***

The game finally ended when number
eighteen aka Andrew Jet Alleyn (who else?) made the phenomenal
touchdown. Christopher Jesse Alleyn was there to congratulate his
younger brother and his former team. Coach Culkin was ecstatic to
see his favorite player-of-all-time again. I was not surprised when
I did not see any glimpse of Mr. or Mrs. Alleyn. Usually parents
were proud of their child's accomplishment. I should know. Mom,
Reed and Wesley were there even if they're not even familiar with
football. The only sport they know is paintball. Yep. Every
Saturday and Sunday mornings.

"Nice game, Sherlock, don't you
think?"

I was busy tying my Chucks (despite
Tara's severe prohibition of wearing one) to notice that Andrew
walked right up to me and was now striking a
conversation.

"Great game actually." I was still
tying my shoes and did not bother to face him.

"Need help with that?"

"Uh no. I'm almost finished, as a
matter of fact."

After I laced up my Chucks nice and
tidy, I finally faced Andrew. He was happy, that's for sure. He
just won the state champs for his team, for crying out loud. The
game was covered by local television. College teams were probably
readying his scholarship, that is, if he would ever want
one.

"About our date -" He started but I cut
him off.

"I thought it was not supposed to be a
date?"

"Don't you want it to be?"

"Are you crazy? Why would I want that?"
I asked with my eyebrows raised. Was I questioning him or
myself?

"Oh." His shoulders slumped but he
still managed to force a smile. "You're right. What am I thinking?
I'll see you around." He walked away, glanced back for the last
time and continued.

I was glued on where I was standing as
I watch Andrew walk away from me. I don't like how it feels, as if
I was doing the single and worst mistake I could do in my life.
What am I doing the entire time? I was blinded by the fact that
someone could be better than me. And that someone may have any
other meaning than just competition for me. At that exact point in
time I made the biggest decision in my life. Even bigger than the
decision I made that got me through Radcliffe instead of Yale,
where my father went. Four years of high school and not a single
leap of faith. I know I have to make one. Now.

I ran as fast as I could amidst the
noise of the crowd towards Andrew. He was walking away slowly, as
if expecting me to run to him and tell him that I'm a coward for
not telling him that I love him soon enough. And as I looked
through his blue eyes to the person I knew and cared for so much
inside, he was silently expecting me to stand on my toes and kiss
him because I'm dying to. Jerk. Why does he always have to be
right?

***

The spring play collaboration by the
Drama and Ballet clubs was a huge success. Juilliard gave out five
scholarships to the most talented performers. I was proud to say
that three out of five came from the Ballet club. We've decided to
do Romeo and Juliet despite my intense disapproval (it's not even a
love story, for crying out loud).

To my surprise, I finished
valedictorian this year. My GPA was 0.03 higher than Andrew's
99.95. Speaking of Andrew, he was accepted in Harvard for his
pre-law undergraduate studies with a full scholarship. Being his
girlfriend, I can't express how proud I am. We won't be far from
one another after summer, though. Because of my senior thesis, I
got in Radcliffe, the world's foremost educator of women and
basically Harvard Annex. I decided to take up Journalism. You know,
like Lois Lane.

Reed finally married my mom this
summer. The wedding took place in the beach (perfect summer
wedding) with some close friends and relatives. My mom, formerly
Rosaline Faith Sherlock, was now proud Mrs. Crowe. I decided to
stick to Sherlock though, for uh, sentimental reasons.

As Andrew drove our way to
Massachusetts in his brand new Ford which were given to him by his
parents (which were totally okay now, after I pointed out and they
realized that extraordinary sons like Chris and Drewey deserve a
happy family), with our college stuff in the back, I looked at him
and I have to smile.

"What?" He asked when he saw me staring
at him. "Do you want me to sing 'Passenger Seat' now?"

I laughed. "Oh please no. Your singing
sucks."

"I've got all that I need, right here
in the passenger seat," he started singing anyway, stealing glances
at me. God, he was so beautiful. "I can't keep my eyes on the
road,"

"Knowing that she's inches from me." I
sang with him. His singing might be very awful but I actually like
it that way. You don't expect him to be perfect, do you?

Life really has its way of letting me
know that I will never gonna be number one forever, even if I did
graduated valedictorian in high school and landed in a really cool
college for women. The guy sitting next to me, with his eye-full of
sapphires and jet black hair (that's badly in need of a haircut),
is and will be number one for me. I never expected anything like
this to happen. As we drove by countless McDonalds and across state
lines, I watch this insanely awesome guy and wonder how in the
world could he drive with both hands on the wheel but still have a
hold on my heart.