“It’s weird that they’re making you try out again,” says Abby.
“I know,” says Garrett, panting. He’s sweaty and red, and his eyes look electric blue. “It’s like a formality. Kind of. Just to see”—he pauses to catch his breath—“like, where he wants to put us.”
“Oh, okay,” she says.
“So, what, you’re just blowing off rehearsal?” Nick says, smiling at Abby.
“Pretty much,” she says. “I was like—yeah. I’m gonna go ogle soccer boys now.” She leans in closer to Nick, grinning up at him.
“Oh, really?” says Nick.
It’s starting to feel like I shouldn’t be listening in on this.
“So, it’s going well?” I ask, turning to Garrett and Bram.
“Pretty well,” says Garrett, and Bram nods.
It’s funny that I eat lunch with these guys five days a week, but we never really hang out apart from the group. I kind of wish I knew them better. Even if Bram doesn’t have his shit together about Leah. I don’t know. For one thing, both Garrett and Bram have been totally cool about the gay thing all day, which I guess I didn’t expect from a bunch of athletes.
Also, Bram is cute. Like, really, really cute. He stands a foot or so back from the fence, totally sweaty, with a white turtleneck under his soccer shirt. And he’s not really talking, but he has very expressive brown eyes. And light brown skin and soft dark curls and cute, knobbly hands.
“What happens if you really screw up the audition?” I ask. “Can they kick you off the team?”
“Audition?” asks Bram, smiling so quietly. And when he looks at me, I feel this happy sort of ache.
“Tryouts.” I blush. And I smile back at him. And then I feel a little guilty.
Because of Blue. Even though he’s still not ready. Even though he’s just words on a laptop screen.
It’s just that I also kind of feel like he’s my boyfriend.
I don’t even know.
So, maybe it’s the winter air or maybe it’s soccer boy calves, but after everything that’s happened today, I’m actually in a pretty decent mood.
Until I get to the parking lot. Because Martin Addison is leaning against my car.
“Where have you been?” he says.
I wait for him to move. I mean, I don’t even want to look at him.
“Can we talk for a second?” he asks.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” I say.
“Okay, well.” He sighs, and I can actually see his breath. “Simon, just—I seriously owe you an apology.”
I just kind of stand there.
He stretches his arms forward, cracking his knuckles under his gloves. “God, I’m just. I’m just so sorry. What happened in there. I didn’t know that would—I mean, I didn’t think people still did shit like that.”
“Right, who’d have guessed? Because Shady Creek is just so progressive.”
Martin shakes his head. “I just seriously didn’t think it would be such a big thing.”
I don’t even know what to say to that.
“Look, I’m sorry, all right? I was pissed off. The whole Abby thing. I wasn’t thinking. And then my brother basically ripped me a new one, and I was just . . . I just feel like shit, okay. And I deleted those screenshots ages ago. I swear to God. So can you please just say something?”
I mean, I almost start laughing. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m just trying—”
“Okay, how about this? I think you’re an asshole. I think you’re a huge fucking asshole. I mean, don’t even fucking pretend you didn’t know this would happen. You blackmailed me. This was—I mean, wasn’t that the whole goddamn point? Humiliating me?”
He shakes his head and opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off.
“And you know what? You don’t get to say it’s not a big thing. This is a big fucking thing, okay? This was supposed to be—this is mine. I’m supposed to decide when and where and who knows and how I want to say it.” Suddenly, my throat gets thick. “So, yeah, you took that from me. And then you brought Blue into it? Seriously? You fucking suck, Martin. I mean, I don’t even want to look at you.”
He’s crying. He’s trying not to, but he’s seriously, full-on crying. And my heart sort of twists.
“So can you just step away from my car,” I say, “and leave me the fuck alone?”
He nods, puts his head down, and walks away quickly.
I get in my car. And turn it on. And then I just start sobbing.
24
FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
DATE: Jan 5 at 7:19 PM
SUBJECT: Snow!
Blue,
Look outside! I can’t believe it. Actual flurries on the first day back at school. Any chance this will turn into another Snowpocalypse? Because I’d be really, really cool with having the rest of the week off. God, it’s been a weird fucking day. I don’t even know what to tell you other than the fact that being out to the universe is completely exhausting.
Seriously, I’m just totally spent.
Do you ever get so angry you start crying? And do you ever feel guilty for getting angry? Tell me I’m not weird.
Love,
Jacques
FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
DATE: Jan 5 at 10:01 PM
SUBJECT: Re: Snow!
I don’t think you’re weird. It sounds like you’ve had a shitty day, and I wish there was a way for me to make it better. Have you tried eating your feelings? I hear Oreos can be therapeutic. Also, I’m not really one to talk here, but you really shouldn’t feel guilty for getting angry—especially if I’m right about what’s making you angry.
Okay. I have to tell you something, and I think it may be something upsetting. I actually don’t think my timing could be worse, but I can’t think of any way around it, so here goes:
Jacques, I’m almost positive I know who you are.
Love,
Blue
FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
DATE: Jan 6 at 7:12 PM
SUBJECT: Really?
Wow. Okay. Not upsetting. But this is kind of a big moment, right?
Actually, I think I know who you are, too. So, just for fun, I’m guessing:
1. You share a first name with a former US president.
2. And a comic book character.
3. You like to draw.
4. You have blue eyes.
5. And you once pushed me down a dark hallway in a rolling chair.
Love,
Jacques
FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
DATE: Jan 6 at 9:43 PM
SUBJECT: Re: Really?
1. Actually, yes.
2. Kind of an obscure character, but yes.
3. Not really.
4. No.
5. Definitely not.
I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m the person you think I am.
—Blue
FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
DATE: Jan 6 at 11:18 PM
SUBJECT: Re: Really?
Well, I was doing great there until the end.
So yeah. Wow. I guess I was dead wrong. I’m sorry, Blue. I hope that doesn’t make things weird between us.
Anyway, maybe you’ll guess wrong about me, too? And then we would be even? Though I’m guessing you saw the thing on the Tumblr. God, I feel like such an idiot.
Love,
Jacques