Carolyn: Thanks for reading!
BB: So Michael came though for Kyle and the team, can he keep it up? Will winning actually motivate him to try harder? Here's hoping, but not betting the house on it.
Yeah, it would be wrong to assume that, just because he stepped up to the plate once, Michael's going to be a super reliable guy all the time now.
Poor Isabel. Gah. I hope for her sake, that she's learning a lesson about dating loser boyfriends and doesn't fall for his type again. If that's all she takes from her relationship with Michael, it'll be a valuable lesson.
Isabel's the classic smart girl who makes dumb decisions when it comes to guys. (Ugh, I think I'm that girl, too.
)
morethenwords122: As for Isabel... I kinda see what she loves about Michael but I still wish she'd just see that she still does deserve better. Michael's not good enough for her. He's not good enough for anybody, right now
He's . . . kind of charming, in his own unique way. But I agree, he's not good enough for her or anyone right now.
Rodney: A hundred and sixty point plus FOOTBALL game?
......did either of the team's defense unit actually show up to the game?
Oh, those are my favorite types of football games! Defense optional.
The school I teach at had a similar game this year, although it wasn't QUITE as close at the end. But the overall point total for both teams combined did end up being in the 140s, and it was such an exciting game!
Okay....I have to say for me Michael,Tess and Isabel are a bit flawed characters to me...not how you write them...how they are people I mean.
Good! That's how they're supposed to be.
I'm not overly fond of Michael all that much. The fact he'd rather hook up with random girls instead of being a good boyfriend shows me he has no character. Isabel who lets him get her in trouble because she 'loves' him,shows me she has no back bone.
Unfortunately, the only male role model Michael has had growing up is a total loser, so he's a loser, too. But that doesn't mean he always has to be. And yes, Isabel, for as confident as she is with school, she's very insecure about her relationship with Michael and always has been.
And Tess in this one where she looked down on herself thinking cheerleading was all she's going to be in life....plus a part of me wonders how much she really loves Kyle and how much is hope with his possible football stardom she can ride on with?
Tess really does love Kyle, but she's that girl who is
so wrapped up in her boyfriend that he's the only thing she thinks about when she thinks about the future. And really, for anyone who is close to him in some way--Tess, Michael, Jim--there's definitely this sense that they will be able to ride his coattails into a bright and successful future, because nobody has any doubt that that's what he's going to have.
Sara: Good for Michael!!!! Becoming a man!
Well, he's still very much a boy right now. An immature, impulsive boy. He's got a way to go if he wants to be a man, and an even farther way to go if he want if he wants to be a good man.
Eva: I can only imagine the disbelieve on everybody's faces when Michael aced the test!
He's that classic kid who is very capable but just chooses not to apply himself most of the time.
Maria is indeed a mystery. I'm very curious to know her story, which won't be a pretty one I presume.
Well . . . let's put it this way: If her past was all sunshine and bunnies, she'd be telling Michael all about it.
CandyliciousLovah: Surprise, Maria. There you are, knowing more about Michael
Knowing a lot more about Michael than he knows about her.
THANK YOU ALL VERY MUCH FOR THE FEEDBACK! 
This is a long part, and there's a lot of different stuff happening. I just couldn't figure out when to end it. When I write, I don't write in chapters. I write it all as one long story and split it up as I post. And since I couldn't decide where to split this, you get extra this week. Enjoy!
Part 9
Beneath the sheets, Michael could feel the sheen of sweat on Isabel’s skin as it rubbed against his. He lay on top of her, knowing he should move before he crushed her, but she didn’t seem to be complaining. So he stayed right there.
“Mmm, that was some victory celebration,” he murmured. Actually, they’d had three different celebrations that night. She’d been on top for the first celebration, and on all fours for the second. And he’d decided on good, reliable missionary for the third, since she was obviously exhausted.
“I’m proud of you,” she said, smoothing his hair back from his face. “You played so good.”
“You cheered so good.” He kissed her lips quickly, then kissed her cheek ,and leaned forward to press his face against her neck. “Tell me the truth: The whole time I was out there, were you fantasizing about this?”
“Hmm, maybe,” she replied.
“Maybe?” He latched his mouth onto the side of her neck, sucking forcefully.
“Just a little bit.”
“A lot,” he whispered against her flesh, lifting his head again. He stared down at her for a moment, attempting to gauge from her expression whether or not a fourth victory celebration was in the cards. He had no problem doing it in missionary again if that was all she could handle.
Much to his disappointment, she sighed and craned her neck back to look at the window. “Sun’s almost up,” she said.
He knew what that meant but pretended he didn’t. “So?”
“So you have to leave soon.”
“Soon but not now?”
She laughed a little. “I’m serious. My mom would totally flip if she woke up and found you here.”
“Shit,” he swore, hating that adults were such buzz kills most of the time. “She really doesn’t like me, huh?”
“No. But that’s okay, because
I really like you,” she said, rubbing her legs against his underneath the covers. “In fact . . .” She drew it out for a long time before finally saying the words he could practically
see on the tip of the tongue. “I love you, Michael.”
She’d told him that before, plenty of times, but he hadn’t heard it for a while. “I love you, too,” he returned, dipping his head down for another kiss. Even though she was acting like he had to go, he knew he’d get his fourth victory celebration now. Girls couldn’t resist when guys said things like that.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“KYLE!”
“I’m up! I’m up!” Kyle scrambled out of bed at the sound of his father’s booming voice. “I’m up, see?” He immediately started doing jumping jacks.
His dad threw open the door to his room. “Come see this!” He ran back out into the living room, and Kyle followed him. The TV was on. ESPN.
Always ESPN in the Valenti household. And since it was football season, it was almost constantly football on ESPN. Kyle recognized the play they were showing on Sports Center right away. Because it was
his play,
the play from the big game last night. He’d dreamt about it all night long during the few hours that he’d actually managed to stay asleep.
“Look!” His dad was bouncing around the living room, holding his hands over his mouth. He looked like an excited kid on Christmas morning.
“Eighty-eight to eighty-three,” the Sports Center analyst recapped. “Sounds like a basketball score, right? Well, check this out: That was the final score of a high school
football game, in New Mexico of all places. The top-ranked Recido Razorbacks were hosting the 0-2 West Roswell Comets. It was an
electric back-and-forth game all night long. Comes down to fourth down, and Comets quarterback Kyle Valenti makes an
incredible pass.”
Kyle’s chest swelled with pride as he saw himself executing the miracle play in slow motion on his own TV screen.
“In the midst of being tackled, this kid’s still able to deliver a perfectly thrown ball to his receiver in the end zone. It’s good for six and their first win of the season.”
“I’ll tell you, this is one of the most amazing throws I’ve
ever seen at the high school level,” the other Sports Center analyst chimed in, “at
any level, for that matter. Kyle Valenti’s been a top college prospect for a long time, and that play last night is one of many things that sets him apart from all the rest. He’s got a bright future in the sport, and I’m sure we’ll be hearing his name for years to come.”
“You hear that?” His father howled with delight. “National coverage! Doesn’t get much better than that!”
Kyle laughed lightly. What a difference a week made. Last week at this time, his dad had been pissed at him, telling him he’d thrown his whole senior season in the shitter after getting into that fight with Ryan. Now he was the world’s proudest father again.
The phone rang, and his dad bounded to it, answering it way too enthusiastically. “Hello? Oh, Joe, did you see it?”
Kyle nodded. Uncle Joe. His father’s older brother and another big football fan.
“Oh, you think it’s somethin’ on TV? You should’ve been there to see the real deal.”
Kyle smiled. ESPN. Sports Center. It was all coming together. It was all happening just the way they’d planned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The closer they got to the thrift store, the slower Tina walked. “Michael, where are we going?” she groaned, seeming to sense that this was their destination.
“To the best shopping spot in town,” he proclaimed, not at all embarrassed to be going there. Plenty of people did. The thrift store had everything. The goods were in decent condition and hardly cost anything. What was so wrong with that?
“Why do we have to go
there?” she complained, stopping.
“Because you’re out with your bro,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward. “You’re on a bro-date.” He wasn’t about to let her start becoming
that self-conscious. There was no shame in going to the damn thrift store. “Besides, this is all I can afford right now.” He had very little cash on hand now that he was tipping his waitress better.
“Let’s just go somewhere else,” she begged.
“Oh, come on, Teenie, no one’s gonna see you,” he said, putting his arm around her as he led her inside. “Hey, we’ve got some good stuff here before. Maybe we could find some board games or movies for your slumber party thing tonight.” He waved at the three elderly women sitting behind the counter. The whole store was run by volunteers from the local VFW ladies auxiliary group.
“We’re not gonna do board games and movies,” Tina said.
“Oh, really? What are you gonna do?”
“Truth or dare.”
“Truth or dare.” He put his hands on her shoulders and walked behind her back to the room where they kept toys, games, and other entertainment items. “Want my advice?”
“Yeah.”
“Always pick dare. Truth’s way harder. Or, if you
do pick truth, just lie. Who’s gonna know?”
“I guess.” She didn’t exactly sound or look peppy, even though she was having friends over tonight.
He let go of her shoulders when they got to the entertainment room, and he pretended to be interested in looking at the movies that had been donated. But really, he was more interested in his little sister’s social pursuits. “So these girls you have comin’ over . . . they the same ones who stood you up at that pep rally a few weeks ago?” he asked.
She lowered her head and mumbled, “Yeah.”
“Yeah? You still wanna be friends with them?”
She shrugged. “They’re cool.”
“You’re cooler.”
“No, I’m not.”
Oh, he saw it happening, and he felt powerless to stop it. Tina was growing more and more concerned about popularity every day. He so badly wanted her to just feel comfortable in her own skin, the way he did. But maybe it was different for girls. Maybe it was something he just couldn’t understand.
He held up an old VHS
Winnie the Pooh movie. It used to be one of her favorites. But now she just shook her head to dismiss it. Probably too old for
Pooh.
“Isabel’s gonna come,” she revealed suddenly.
“To your slumber party?” He had a few other parties in mind for them.
“Yeah. I called her this morning.”
“You called my girlfriend?”
“Mmm-hmm. She’s gonna do our hair and makeup.”
“Huh.” Well, that would help Tina’s plight, he supposed. Those other little brats would be in awe of Isabel. “She gonna stay all night?”
Tina shrugged, her eyes drifting over to the board games. “Maybe.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He looked up to the top shelf and spied the collector’s edition of
Braveheart for only fifty-cents. Holy shit, what a bargain. He had to get that, so he tucked it under his arm, along with a few other videos.
“Alright, let’s prepare you,” he said. “Truth or dare.”
She thought about it for a minute, then decided, “Truth.”
He raised an eyebrow. Going against his advice, huh? He’d take it easy. “You got a crush on any boys yet?”
“No,” she answered quickly.
“Are you lying?”
“Only ‘cause you told me to.”
He grinned. “Alright, fair enough.” He noticed she couldn’t take her eyes off a game called Dream Phone, so he bent down and picked it up for her, even though she seemed sure that they weren’t going to play any board games that night. “Let’s go,” he said, motioning with his head to the door. She walked out first and held it open for him since he had his hands full.
“Truth or dare,” she mimicked as they headed back out front.
“Ah, what the hell? Truth.”
“Do you love Isabel?”
He laughed a little. Little girl knew how to ask a big question. “Yeah, I love her,” he replied.
“Are you gonna marry her someday?”
“Probably not,” he muttered, setting all his items down on the counter. The youngest-looking old lady got up to handle the transaction for him.
“What?” Tina asked.
“Dare,” he said, reminded of his own advice that dare was the easier option in the game. “I switch to dare.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael’s little sister was just too cute and convincing for her own good. Even though kicking it with a bunch of fifth graders wasn’t exactly the greatest Saturday night she’d ever had, Isabel couldn’t say no when Tina asked her to come to her slumber party. She knew how important fitting in was to a girl her age, and she knew Tina had always struggled with it. She figured that, now that she and Michael were back together, the least she could do was be there for a little girl who, in many ways, felt like a little sister of her own.
The three other little girls she’d invited definitely already thought they were God’s gift to the world. The apparent leader was named Britney, but she was only the leader tonight because a girl named Hannah couldn’t be there. And her name was problematic because one of the other girls was named Britney, too. When Tina introduced them, the inferior Britney quietly revealed to Isabel that everyone now just called her Brit because she wasn’t allowed to use her full name. The other one was named Sandy, and she talked a mile a minute. Within ten seconds of knowing her, Isabel already knew that her mom had named her after the female lead of
Grease, that she’d been born on Easter Sunday, and that her favorite thing to eat was salad without dressing because she liked to be healthy and thin.
She curled their hair for them, and then she got to work on their makeup. She tried to keep it simple, but they kept wanting more. More mascara. More eye shadow. Leader Britney even wanted to try eyeliner. By the time they were almost done, they looked a little too old, and Isabel felt the need to wipe some of it off. “Boys like the natural look,” she told them.
“Oh my god, let’s talk about boys!” Britney exclaimed.
“Yeah!” Brit and Sandy agreed.
“Okay,” Tina said meekly. She probably didn’t have much to say.
“Todd Langston’s so cute!” Britney raved. “I think he’s gonna ask me out.”
“Oh, yeah, he
totally is,” Sandy assured her. “Yesterday, when Mr. Meyer told us to pick our partners for the project, he, like,
ran to you.”
“I know.”
“Um . . .” Isabel used her makeup remover to lessen the eye shadow around Tina’s eyes. “Aren’t you girls a little young to date?”
“No,” Britney answered quickly. “I had my first boyfriend in the first grade.”
“Me, too!” Sandy squealed. “Me, too! Me, too!”
“Hey, Tina,” Brit piped up, “when did you have your first boyfriend?”
Isabel knew what they were doing. She’d survived enough of these preteen sleepovers to know the tactics well. They were trying to embarrass her by getting her to admit that she’d never had a boyfriend. Isabel quickly jumped in to rescue her. “I didn’t have a boyfriend until the seventh grade,” she said.
“Really?” Britney seemed shocked. “Huh. Now you’re with Tina’s brother, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“He’s so hot.”
“Ew!” Tina squealed.
“What? He is.”
“Well, he’s a little too old for you,” Isabel cautioned.
“I know, but I can still think he’s hot.” Britney sighed wistfully. “Do you guys kiss?”
“Um . . .” This wasn’t exactly the conversation she wanted to have with them. “Yeah, sure, we kiss.”
Britney leaned in closer, looking around and lowering her voice. “Do you guys do, like . . . more than kissing?”
“
No,” she answered quickly, hoping she sounded convincing. “No way.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kyle’s pickup truck bounced along the road as they neared his house. Michael looked out the window, seriously contemplating something. When they turned the corner, he decided to just blurt it out. “Hey, so I was thinkin’, if I start passin’ all my classes, Isabel might actually let me try anal.”
“Ha,” Kyle laughed, “good luck.”
“What, you don’t think it’ll happen?”
“No. Isabel’s way too tightly wound for that.”
“Well, you never know.” Last time they’d been dating, he felt like he’d come
really close to talking her into it. Kind of. Her initial response of ‘hell no, no way, not in this lifetime’ had downgraded to a simple ‘no.’
“Even if she agrees, that’s no guarantee it’ll work out,” Kyle cautioned. “Tess and I tried it once. We barely got started before she told me to stop. Said it was too painful.”
“What? I’ve done it before. It feels good.”
“Yeah, to you.”
Michael laughed a little. “I guess.” He’d only done it a few times, and the girls he’d done it with had been way too drunk to feel much of anything, even pain. “Hey, maybe I should ask your dad about it,” he pondered as Kyle pulled into the driveway.
Kyle immediately dismissed the idea. “You’re not asking my dad for anal sex advice.”
“Why not? He probably knows exactly what to say to . . . loosen ‘em up.” He twirled to fingers around in the air, grinning.
“I’m sure he does,” Kyle agreed as they got out of the truck, “but you’re still not gonna ask him. That’s too weird. I don’t wanna have those visuals.”
When they walked inside, Jim was on the phone, just ending a conversation. “Alright, we’ll talk to you later,” he was saying. “Bye.” He ended the call, grinning from ear to ear. Probably some athletic director somewhere wanting to discuss Kyle’s future. “Hey, guys,” he said. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah, party was kinda lame.” Kyle kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the living room couch.
“Whoa, Jim.” Michael surveyed the various wines the elder Valenti had stacked on the counter. And it looked like there were chocolate covered strawberries and whipped cream, too. “Big night planned?”
“Well, sort of. I’ve been seein’ this woman for a few weeks now,” he said nonchalantly. “She’s into the whole romance thing, so . . .” He trailed off and shrugged.
“Right, right.” Michael nodded, taking notes. “So this is how you get her to . . . loosen up?”
Jim smirked.
“Is she comin’ by tonight?” Kyle cut in quickly.
“Yeah, later.”
“Huh. I don’t think I’ve met this one yet, have I?”
“No, you haven’t.”
Kyle leaned forward to grab the remote. He turned on the TV and then picked up a PlayStation controller. “Should I brace myself for another new stepmom?”
Jim chuckled. “No, it’s probably not that serious. We’re just havin’ fun.”
“Looks like.” Michael reached for one of the wine bottles, but Jim swatted his hand away. So he sat down next to Kyle on the couch and picked up the second PlayStation controller, ready to launch into a game of NCAA Football. “Well, don’t worry about it,” he said as they waited for the game to load. “When she gets here, we’ll clear out. We’ll just go look at all the
Playboys Kyle’s got stashed under his bed.”
“That’ll take us five hours, at least,” Kyle joked.
“At least,” Michael agreed. “I like the vintage ones. Are those from your collection, Jim?”
He nodded proudly. “You gotta pass those kind of heirlooms down the genetic line, otherwise they get lost forever.” He poured himself a glass of wine and sauntered into the living room to join them. “NCAA Football, right?”
“You know it.” Kyle’s fingers were already dancing around the controller.
Jim took a big gulp of his wine, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. “I was just on the phone with this guy from Bama. He said their athletic director’s drooling over you. After the way you played Friday night, it’s not a matter of
if you get a scholarship; it’s just a matter of how big it’s gonna be. But you gotta keep it up. Don’t slack off now.”
“I won’t,” Kyle promised as the game screen finally appeared on the TV.
“And Michael, it helped havin’ you in there,” Jim went on praising. “You know they’ve been showin’ that play on Sports Center all day?”
“That’s what I hear.” Even he had to admit, it was a cool thought, knowing he’d been seen by thousands of people all across the country.
“And it wasn’t just a beautiful throw; it was a beautiful catch,” Jim pointed out. “Now I know your dad’s not really too involved with your game, but if you want, I could drop your name to a few of my contacts. Kyle’s not the only one here who could play at the next level.”
“Well, he’s the only one who’s gonna,” Michael mumbled, moving towards the edge of the couch. He was stoked. PlayStation was just about the only competitive thing he could kick Kyle’s ass at. If he got lucky.
“I think you oughta think about it,” Jim advised. “Football could be your gateway to college. You could have a bright future ahead of you.”
“I could,” Michael agreed distractedly, his eyes glued on the screen now that their game was starting.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Michael awoke, the December 2007 edition of Playboy was open atop his lap. It was his all-time favorite issue, the one with Kim Kardashian on the front. Really, people could say what they wanted about that woman, but . . . what a woman she was.
Really.
He sat up, orienting himself quickly. He was asleep on Kyle’s floor again. Kyle was snoring loudly, rolled over onto his side. There were magazines sprawled all around him, too.
Michael closed the December issue and took a moment to admire beautiful Kim on the front. Then he set it aside, forced himself to his feet, and headed out into the kitchen. He wasn’t used to this, waking up on Sunday without a hangover. It was interesting.
He opened the cereal cabinet and helped himself to the Cocoa Puffs. While he was pouring himself a heaping bowl, the door to Jim’s bedroom opened quietly, and a small, slender woman slinked out. She appeared to only be wearing one of Jim’s t-shirts, which, on her, went all the way down to her knees. She had brown hair that went just past her chin, and she didn’t look a day over forty, even though, if she was dating Jim, she probably was.
She froze in the kitchen when she noticed him. “Oh. Hello.”
“Hi.” He set the cereal box down, letting his eyes roam over her. “You Jim’s girlfriend?”
“Yeah.” She tugged down on the t-shirt, but that didn’t make it look any longer.
“What a MILF,” he remarked under his breath.
She tilted her head to the side curiously. “What?”
He quickly reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a milk carton. “I said, ‘Want some milk?’” he covered.
“Oh. No . . . thank you.” She crossed her arms, cautiously making her way to the counter. “So you must be Kyle.”
“No, Michael. I’m Kyle’s friend. He’s still asleep.”
“Oh. I see.”
He added some milk to his cereal. He poured a little too much, though, so it overflowed and sloshed over the sides of the bowl, splattering the counter. He didn’t bother to clean it up, though. In fact, he grabbed a spoon, picked up his bowl, and started eating as he stood there.
“So, Michael . . .” She glanced back at the bedroom, as if she were contemplating darting in there to get dressed. But she was a trooper, stood out there with him, continuing the conversation despite how awkward she must have felt. “I think I saw you on TV yesterday. Jim wouldn’t stop talking about that play at the end of the game.”
“Yeah, it was a good one,” he agreed.
“Seems like you’re a really good football player. Are you gonna play in college?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
He shrugged. No need to go into any more detail than that.
“Well, it looked like it was a really good game,” she said. “How long have you and Kyle gone to school together?”
“All our lives.”
“Hmm. That’s nice. Ready to graduate?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried to scoop up too big of a spoonful, and he spilled some more, on the floor this time.
“I actually have a daughter about your age,” she said.
“Oh, really? She go to school? I probably know her.”
I’ve probably fucked her, he thought to himself.
“No, she doesn’t go to school,” she said. “She’s a waitress at the Crashdown, though.”
Immediately, one face flashed into his mind. “Is she?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Maria.”
Slowly, a smile spread across his face.
Maria.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
At this point, it was pretty much just understood that Michael would take a root beer for every meal. Maria didn’t even have to ask him. She got him one right when she saw him walk in, and when she set it down in front of him on the table, he smiled. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Hey, you should have the extraterrestrial tacos today,” she suggested. “It’s our special.”
“Extraterrestrial tacos,” he mused slowly. “Alright, sure.”
“Everything on it?”
“Absolutely everything.” He liked things spicy.
“Be back.” She spun to leave, but he wasn’t about to let her go.
“I met your mom yesterday,” he blurted.
She turned back around, looking utterly confused. “What?”
“Yeah. Amy DeLuca, right?”
“Yeah. How--how did you meet her?”
“She’s dating my best friend’s dad,” he explained. “Jim Valenti, the sheriff.”
“Oh, I knew she had a boyfriend. Didn’t know he was the sheriff. Didn’t know he had a son.”
“Yeah, my friend Kyle. He comes in here sometimes.”
She nodded. “Yeah, sure. Wow, so . . . so you met her, huh?”
“Yep.” He took a big drink of his root beer, amazed that it was actually starting to taste just as good as actual beer did to him. “She slept over with Jim. I slept over with Kyle.” He realized how weird that sounded and quickly felt the need to clarify. “Not in a gay way.”
She laughed a little. “Small world.”
“Yeah. Anyway, she was just wearin’ a t-shirt.”
“Oh, ew.” She cringed. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. She looks good. And that bodes well for you, ‘cause . . . genetics, you know.”
She looked like she wanted to sit down, but she stayed standing instead. “It just
sounds really sleazy. But . . . I don’t know, I guess she’s really into him.”
“Just think, if they get married, you and Kyle will be step-siblings.”
“I don’t think they’ll get married. I doubt it’s that serious.”
“I don’t know. Jim’s been married three times,” he pointed out.
“That also means he’s been divorced three times.”
“Who hasn’t been these days?”
She made a face, shaking her head. Again, she looked like she was debating taking a seat, but she startled when her boss came out of the back room and yelled, “Maria, what’re you doin’? Get back to work!”
Right. She wasn’t on break. She had a job to do. He had to remember that.
Sighing, she left his table and back to the kitchen to place his order for the tacos.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“
Okay, does someone wanna explain to me what the
hell is going on here?” Tess demanded shrilly to the poor, unsuspecting secretaries in the front office.
Feeling sorry for the women bracing against her onslaught, Isabel tried to calm her friend down. “Tess, it’s okay.”
“No, this is not okay! This is
so wrong. How is this girl not nominated for homecoming queen, huh?”
Isabel mouthed her apologies to the secretaries, and Tess just kept going.
“She’s popular, she’s a cheerleader, and she won the damn thing last year! This is—this is a conspiracy, is what this is. You guys are conspiring against her. You’re jealous of how pretty and smart she is, and you’re taking out your jealousy on the freaking homecoming nominations!”
“There’s no conspiracy, Tess,” Isabel said, once again apologizing quietly. This time, she grabbed her friend’s wrist and pulled her out of the office. The secretaries just continued to sit there, stunned, completely perplexed by what had just hit them.
“Isabel, this is so unfair. I’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise.”
“Tess, it’s
fine,” she insisted. “I knew I wouldn’t be nominated.”
“What?”
“Yeah, remember how Michael and I had our little
Great Gatsby cheating scandal? Well . . . Principal Forrester found out about it, and he
really wasn’t happy. So he basically gave me an ultimatum: Either drop out of the race for homecoming queen or the race for student body president.”
Tess made an incredulous face. “So you chose homecoming queen? What’s wrong with you? That’s way more important than student body president!”
“Not to me. Besides, it’s like you said, I won it last year. I already know what it’s like. I don’t need to win it again this year.”
“But you
deserve to be nominated.”
She shrugged, not sure if anyone deserved such a thing. “It’s okay. Hey, think of it this way: Kyle’s for sure gonna win king, and you’re
probably gonna win queen, so . . .”
Tess’s eyes started to gleam as she pictured it. “Well . . .” She squirmed from side to side excitedly. “That would be pretty cute.”
“See?” It was mission accomplished as far as Isabel was concerned. She’d gotten Tess to calm down. Not an easy thing, because even though Tess was tiny, she had a lot of spunk and vigor in her.
Michael rounded the corner suddenly with a stack of papers in his hand. “Oh, hey, I got those campaign posters made,” he said, handing them to her.
“Oh, really?” She couldn’t contain the disappointment when she saw what he’d come up with. He’d drawn a caricature version of her, which actually was pretty good, but totally not presidential enough. And the slogan was simply,
Vote for Isabel. Why? Because I said so.
He shrugged helplessly. “I couldn’t think of anything.” And then he was on his way.
Isabel stared at the posters, wondering if there was even any point in putting them up. Michael
was popular. If he said to vote for her, people probably would.
“Well,” Tess said softly, “at least he tried.”
She sighed. That was thing. She knew he wasn’t trying, not as hard as he could have.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sixth period got scrapped that day so everyone could assemble in the gym and hear the student government platform speeches. Of course, sixth period was Michael’s study hall. No, they couldn’t miss out on chemistry or algebra or something challenging like that. They had to miss out on the one class period of the day where he could actually just be lazy and get away with it.
Even though only one person was running for treasurer and only one was running for secretary, they were required to give speeches. Boring. It was really all about the presidential speeches. Three people were running, in addition to Isabel. One was a sophomore girl who had a tendency to stutter and was way out of her league. For some inexplicable reason, maybe because he was no longer part of the jock inner circle, Ryan was giving it a go, too. His speech sucked, though. Clearly he’d been trying to wing it, but it hadn’t worked. The only real competition—if it could even be called that—Isabel had was going to come from a junior named Raymond Sullivan, who had been vice president at East last year. He was so flamboyantly gay that it wasn’t even funny, but for some reason, that made the girls love him. His speech was decent, but Michael cringed whenever he listened to him, because he was trying so hard to sound like a chick.
Isabel’s speech was definitely the best, though, and he wasn’t even being biased. His girl had no problem getting up there in front of everyone and speaking with poise and confidence and all those good qualities schools liked to instill in their students. Honestly, Michael found it difficult to focus on what she was saying, though, because he kept glancing down at the skirt she was wearing. It wasn’t that tight, but he found himself wondering if she was wearing underwear and then wondering if she’d let him drag her into the eraser room so he could find out. Probably wouldn’t, but a guy could dream.
He snapped himself out of his fantasies right as her speech was coming to an end.
“This truly is a year of new beginnings here at West Roswell High,” she recapped. “Two schools have become one. Two student bodies have merged.”
Michael leaned over towards Kyle and joked ,”I’d like to merge with
her student body.” Kyle laughed lightly.
“To be elected the head of that student body would be a complete and utter honor,” Isabel continued, “and I would do everything I can to make sure I maintain the integrity of that position. To recap, my first priorities would be to establish an after school tutoring program and to work with our administration in order to procure off-campus lunch privileges for upperclassmen.”
That got a few hollers from the crowd.
“I ask that, if at any time before, during, or after this election you have ideas for our school and for our students, please come share them with me. I’m very open to what each and every one of you has to say. I know that my own ideas are only the tip of the iceberg. We have a plethora of potential here at West Roswell.”
“Plethora?” Kyle echoed, astonished. “Dude, your girl’s so smart.”
Michael nodded in agreement. Plethora. Hmm. He had no idea what that meant.
“Thank you so much for letting me speak to you today,” Isabel concluded, “and for considering me for your vote. Thank you.”
Everyone began to clap as Isabel stepped down from the podium. Michael stood, shouting, “Yeah!” and clapping as loudly as he could. Kyle stood up beside him and proclaimed, “She’s got my vote.” Immediately people around him started nodding and registering that fact, as though that were all they needed to vote for her, too.
“Way to go, Isabel!” Tess exclaimed, her voice somehow rising above all the others as she shot to her feet. “Woo!” She nearly lost her balance and fell forward on the bleachers, but Kyle reached out and caught her arm, steadying her.
After the speeches, they were allowed to mull around the gym for a bit until the end of sixth period. Whenever somebody walked by Isabel, they congratulated her on the job she’d done. Tess, in particular, couldn’t stop raving. But then again, Tess hardly ever even stopped talking, so that made sense.
“I’m not even just saying this ‘cause you’re my friend,” she babbled. “You did
so good. Like way better than everyone else.”
“Yeah, all the other speeches were boring,” Kyle agreed.
“Yours was interesting,” Michael added.
She gave him a skeptical look. “You mean actually listened to what I said?”
“Yeah, you talked about the . . . plethora and . . . potential. And merging.” He sighed. “Alright, you
looked interesting while you were giving it. I was distracted.”
“Of course.” She gave him a quick kiss anyway.
“Well, well, well,” an annoyingly high-pitched voice rang out. It was Raymond Sullivan, and he was treading towards them with a sneer on his face. “Looks like Roswell Barbie’s trying to give me some competition.”
Isabel rolled her eyes.
“Um, is that supposed to be insulting?” Tess asked. “Because Barbies are pretty.”
Raymond glared at her for only a second, the way you glared at an insect you just wanted to fly away, and then he returned his attention to Isabel. “I gotta admit, I was surprised. That was a pretty good speech.”
Isabel crossed her arms over her chest, not backing down from . . . whatever this was. Confrontation? No, this was way too petty to be that. “And why would that surprise you?”
Raymond shrugged. “I just figured you only used your mouth to suck your boyfriend’s cock.”
Michael couldn’t help but laugh a little. To him, that was funny. But clearly it wasn’t to Isabel. She gazed at him in disbelief, and he knew he had to do a little damage control. “I mean . . . hey!” he barked, stepping in front of her, amping up the bravado as he towered over the little wimp, trying to look intimidating. “What makes you think you can say that to her, huh? That’s disrespectful. You can’t talk to my girl like that.” He pushed on his shoulders, sending him stumbling backward just slightly.
“Don’t push me, bitch,” Raymond ground out.
“Who you callin’ bitch? You’re the little bitch.” Michael pushed him again, but this time, Raymond pushed back, with surprising strength. He actually managed to tackle Michael to the ground, but . . . come on. Varsity football player versus a gay pain in the ass? It was no contest. Michael got a few punches in pretty easily before Kyle pulled him away and the principal finally came to break it up.
It was because of this altercation that he found himself back in Topolsky’s office that afternoon while everyone else went on to seventh period. He knew Isabel would be mad at him for this. She’d say he made her look bad. But the way he saw it, he’d made Raymond look way worse. The little prick was in Principal Forrester’s, probably getting an earful, probably accepting that he’d have to drop out of the election now.
“Oh, Michael, here we are again,” Topolsky said as she closed the door to her office.
“Hey, I haven’t hit anyone else this year. I’d say I’m doin’ pretty good.”
She sat down, taking out what looked to be a brand new student file. Only a month into the year and already his was pretty full. Absences, cheating scandals, now this . . . different school, same stuff.
“Why’re you always dealin’ with me?” he asked her. “Why not make Forrester do it?”
“Let’s just say, you’re my special project this year,” she replied.
“Tough project, huh?”
“Well, I like to earn my money.” She sighed, taking a specific piece of paper out of his file. She handed it to him and said, “Take a look at that.”
He expected it to be some kind note they were sending home to his parents about all his lunchtime absences, but . . . it wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all. He knew what he was looking at right away but asked, “What’s this?” anyway.
“Those are your test scores from the state standardized assessments we’re required to give,” she explained. “You took the tests last year as a junior.”
“So?”
“So? Look at your scores, Michael. You were above average proficiency in every subject matter. You scored in the ninety-sixth percentile on English, ninety-second on math. And clearly you’re very creative, too, because your state writing piece was judged as exemplary.”
He shrugged, handing the test results back to her. “So I got lucky. Trust me, that’s nothing new.” He grinned. “I get lucky all the time.”
“These scores aren’t just the result of lucky guesses,” she assured him. “You have a first-rate mind, when you choose to use it.”
“Look, I’ve heard this all before.”
“So you’ll hear it again. Michael . . . maybe you should’ve listened a little closer to your girlfriend’s speech. She was talking about potential, and that’s something you have in abundance. Don’t you ever wonder what you could accomplish if you really set your mind to something? Don’t you ever wonder who you could be?”
He knew who he was, and he knew who he
wasn’t. All these people that had such high hopes and expectations for him were going to end up disappointed. He wasn’t the type of person who was able to live under the pressure to be . . . good.
Topolsky seemed to sense that she still wasn’t getting through to him, because she put his scores away, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Oh, Michael,” she sighed. “I just wish I could find something to motivate you.”
He smirked.
Good luck with that.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“No.”
“No?” Michael raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “
Just no?”
“I’m not doing that.” Isabel’s tone left little room for debate.
“Why not?”
“Because! We’ve been through this. It’s disgusting.”
“What? It’s natural.”
“It is
not natural!”
He groaned, shifting his weight on his feet, feeling frustrated. He knew he should have asked Jim Valenti about this. That guy was a guru. “But it’ll motivate me to study,” he attempted desperately.
“Are you
serious? You’re
bribing me?”
“What? No. Kind of.” He felt all control over the conversation slipping quickly from his grasp.
“You think I’m gonna let you backdoor it just so you keep your grades up?”
“Well . . . maybe?”
“Unbelievable. No. No way. You shouldn’t need that to motivate you. You should just do it.”
“Just do it,” he echoed, still trying to salvage some sort of hope and possibility here. “See? Now we’re on the same page. Let’s just do it and see how it goes.”
“Ugh!” She made a face of disgust and stomped out of her bedroom.
“Oh, don’t act all exasperated,” he said as he followed her downstairs. “I seem to recall, a year ago, you had a different cherry that needed popping. And I popped it so good.” They both stopped abruptly at the foot of the staircase, because Isabel’s mom was walking in the door. She looked alarmed, as if she’d heard the tail end of that conversation.
Michael gulped and managed, “Hi, Mrs. Evans.” But that was all.
Even though he tried to bolt, Isabel’s mom insisted he stay for dinner that night. Which, truth be told, he didn’t really mind. Diane Evans was a good cook. In fact, she was sort of good at everything, very much like her daughter in that regard. She made some kind of delicious fruit salad that Michael liked even though he didn’t like fruit, and she even made meatloaf and mashed potatoes because she knew it was his favorite.
“So Michael, I hear you’re nominated for homecoming king,” Diane remarked in between awkward silences. “That’s quite an honor.”
“Ah, not really.” It was just a popularity contest. Anyone who thought it was anything else was an idiot. “I got nominated back at East, too. But Kyle always wins.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“I think Tess is gonna win queen this year,” Isabel said.
“Oh, that’d be nice.”
Michael shoveled some more meatloaf into his mouth, and Isabel discreetly made a gesture for him to . . . slow down? Or chew with his mouth closed? He wasn’t sure, so he tried to do both.
“I was homecoming queen, back in the day,” Diane reminisced. “And your daddy was king.”
“He was?” Isabel smiled a little. “That must’ve been romantic.”
“Not really. We weren’t even dating at the time.” Diane sighed longingly, and her eyes glazed over as she remembered. She literally shook herself out of it, though, and asked, “So what are you two planning to do after the dance?”
Fuck, Michael thought.
Nonstop. “Uh . . .”
Luckily, Isabel had more of a censor. “Actually, we were thinking we might just hang out with Tess and Kyle. At Kyle’s house.”
“I see. And will there be any parents there?”
“Kyle’s dad will be there,” Michael lied quickly. “Probably his girlfriend, too.”
A flash of hurt flew across Diane’s face, and she lowered her head.
“Oh, sorry,” Michael apologized immediately. Jim had dated and bedded so many women in his time that it was easy to forget Diane had been one of them.
“That’s okay,” she said quickly. “Isabel, sweetie, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” Isabel got up from the table, exchanging a worried glance with Michael on her way out to the kitchen.
Michael continued eating while he waited for them to rejoin him. Even if he hadn’t been able to overhear their conversation, he would have known exactly what was being said. He was every mother’s worst fear, and he accepted that: the hormonal teenage boy who cared too much about sex and not enough about school. Regardless, Diane Evans had always been a pretty decent woman to him. She made sure not to judge him aloud, even though she was probably doing it internally.
But because they only ventured out to the kitchen, and because their kitchen was right next to their dining room, he was able to pick out bits and pieces of what Diane was saying to her daughter. Lots of “be careful” and “I know you love him, but . . .” And then she was questioning whether or not Isabel was still on the pill and reminding her about Princeton and her future. Because Isabel had a bright future, just like Kyle. And other people just didn’t have that.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tess stood before her full-length mirror, hands on her hips, angling herself in various positions so she could examine the dress from all angles. “Is this the one?” she asked.
Isabel lay on the bed, glancing up from her physics homework long enough to say, “I think it looks great, just like the last three dresses you tried on.”
Tess smoothed her hands over the fabric. This one had lots of jewels and bedazzlements on it up around the torso and waist. But the bottom was unadorned and soft. Even though the dress itself couldn’t seem to decide if it was pale pink or lavender, it was a pretty color. And she liked the light purple belt cinched and bowed below her bust-line. Always good to accentuate the assets.
“I like it,” she remarked, though she was still indecisive. There was a reason why she’d bought so many dresses. She didn’t know which one she liked best. “Should I go with this one?”
Isabel was once again focused on physics. “If you want to.”
“I just wanna look pretty.”
“You always look pretty, Tess. And you’ll look
extra pretty when you win homecoming queen.”
“Well . . .” She didn’t want to get cocky, but realistically, Isabel
had been her biggest competition, and now that she wasn’t allowed to be nominated . . . “I have to look gorgeous, just in case Kyle proposes.”
Isabel’s head snapped up. “Proposes?” she echoed. “Proposes what, exactly?”
Tess smiled coyly. “What do you think?”
Isabel set her book aside and curled her feet up under her. “Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on this whole engaged-before-your-senior-year thing?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Tess, you guys are in high school.”
“But Kyle leads an accelerated lifestyle,” she protested. “Think about it: In a few years, he’ll be in the freakin’ NFL. Surrounded by professional cheerleaders and adoring female fans who want him to sign their breasts. I just don’t wanna get left behind.”
“You won’t,” Isabel assured her.
“I’m good for exactly two things in life: cheerleading, and being Kyle’s girlfriend.”
“You’re good for more than that.”
“I just think it’d be romantic is all.” She flapped her arms against her side, turning to gaze at her reflection in the mirror again. “Even if he doesn’t propose on homecoming, that’s okay, because the possibilities are endless.”
“They are?”
“Yeah. Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, my birthday, prom. He could even propose at his graduation, and I’d be content.”
“Even then?” Isabel smiled and shook her head. “Don’t get your hopes up, Tess. I doubt the guys sit around and talk about things like this.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kyle had been banging his hands against the table for what seemed like forever before he finally stopped and blurted, “I think I’m gonna propose to Tess.”
Michael literally spit up the root beer he’d been drinking. It went all over the table. “What the hell?” he barked.
“Not, like, tonight or anything. Relax.”
“Oh, thank God. You had me worried there.” Michael grabbed a napkin and quickly cleaned up the mess he’d made. No sense in making Maria do that.
“I can just tell, though. I can just see it in her eyes,” Kyle said. “Whenever we start talkin’ about homecoming . . . she wants me to propose to her then.”
“But you’re not gonna.” As much as he liked Tess, he hated the thought of his best friend being all tied down like that. Like more tied down than he already was.
“No, that’s just too soon,” Kyle admitted. “But maybe . . . I don’t know. I know she wants me to propose before her senior year.”
“What the fuck?” Michael spat. “Is she nuts?”
“Well, we’ve talked about it.”
“Then are
you nuts?” he revised. “God, what’s wrong with you? You’re seventeen. You’re a guy. You’re not supposed to be talkin’ about that.”
“Why not? We know we’re gonna get married someday.”
“Yeah, but . . .” He knew girls generally looked forward to marriage more than guys did, but still . . . he couldn’t imagine putting a ring on someone’s finger so soon. Maybe ever. “You’re a fuckin’ crazy person,” he decided flat-out. “You’re fuckin’
crazy. You know that?”
Kyle just grinned. “I’m in love with the girl,” he said with a simple shrug. “And I think she’d feel a lot better about me goin’ off to college if we were engaged.”
“Are you gonna be like your dad? Get engaged every other minute?”
Kyle frowned. “Dude, it’s not like that. Tess isn’t just some hot chick I’m balling. She’s . . . she’s the one, you know.”
“No, I don’t know,” he confessed. “Well, whatever, man. I’m just not . . . I’m not in that . . . space, you know? I don’t get it. But . . . whatever.” He was relieved when Maria came back to the table. Maybe an outsider’s perspective would do Kyle some good.
“Hey, guys, our cook just had, like, a seizure or something,” she revealed. “It’s gonna be a bit of a wait on the burgers.”
“Ah, that’s fine,” Kyle said.
“Hey, Maria, I got a question for you,” Michael announced. “Do you think Kyle here’s too young to get married?”
“Uh, let me answer that for you,” Kyle said quickly. “Yes, I’m too young to get married. No, I’m not too young to get engaged. So if I decide to do that within the coming months, wish me luck.”
“I’m probably not even qualified to answer,” Maria said. “I don’t even know you.”
“Oh, but you probably will,” Michael said. “Hey, Kyle, you know how your dad’s girlfriend has a daughter?”
“Yeah.”
He pointed to Maria.
It took Kyle a second, but he connected the dots. “Really?”
Maria smiled and shrugged.
“Yeah, I figured it out. I’m a mastermind like that,” Michael boasted, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back in the booth.
“Well, hey, your mom seems cool,” Kyle said.
Maria made a face. “Not so much.”
“No, really, I liked her. Which is why I’m gonna offer you some advice: Prepare her for the inevitable heartbreak. My dad’s what they call a serial dater. He goes right from one to the next, stops to get married for a few years here and there, but it never really lasts.”
“Better hope that’s not hereditary,” Michael teased.
“Shut up, man,” Kyle growled, kicking him under the table.
“Okay, inevitable heartbreak,” Maria registered with a nod. “Got it.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Friday was a culmination of a busy week for West Roswell High. In between the student government elections and spirit week and the pep rally Tess and her cheerleaders cared
way too much about, there were torturous football practices. Coach Warner was determined that they weren’t going to let their egos get too big after their showing in Recido last week. Every day, he reminded them that a homecoming victory would be their first home victory, and that they owed their crowd that much.
And really, that was what the week was all about. Not the pep rally. Not the election. The game. Friday night came, and the game was everything.
The whole town must have turned out—honestly, what better things did anyone have to do? In Roswell, the choices were limited. Michael was semi-surprised to see that even his parents had made it there. His mom gravitated towards Diane, even though they had little in common, and his dad managed to mingle with Jim and the other football dads.
The visitor’s section was basically non-existent. The team they were playing traveled from over two hours away. They were called the Greyhounds, but they sure as hell weren’t fast. That much was apparent just from watching them warm up.
Michael found himself distracted by the cheerleaders while he was supposed to be practicing his routes. As was tradition, they were wearing the football players’ away game jerseys. Isabel was wearing his, of course, and Tess was practically swimming in Kyle’s.
When the announcer introduced Kyle and he ran out onto the field, the applause and cheers for him were so loud that they actually drowned out the announcer’s voice, and even though they had a decent speaker system, the next guy up couldn’t hear his name being called, and he ran out onto the field late.
The energy was palpable—it was homecoming, after all. But if the crowd was expecting another nail-biting, fight-to-the-finish type of game, they weren’t going to get it. But they
were going to get a win. That much was clear right from the start. On the very first play of their possession, Kyle eased past sloppy defenders and ran the ball nearly eighty yards downfield for a touchdown. And it continued to be all Comets after that. Everything that
hadn’t been clicking during those first two home games was clicking now; they were firing on all cylinders. By the end of the first half, Michael already had three touchdown receptions himself.
The cheerleaders did a dance at halftime, and Michael sneaked out of the locker room during coach’s spiel just so he could see it. Damn, they looked good. Something about those skirts . . .
Before the start of the second half, they recognized all the homecoming royalty candidates out on the middle of the field. This aggravated the hell out of Coach Warner, of course, because all the candidates for king were on the team.
But once they started up in the third quarter, they weren’t fazed by any of the activity. They went back to doing what they did best—scoring. Their defense did give up one touchdown on a kickoff return late in the third, but other than that, all was going their way.
When they were up fifty-nine to seven, Coach Warner made the decision to send in the B-team. Mostly freshmen and sophomores who, even though they weren’t
great players, were perfectly capable of securing a win against a crappy team like the Greyhounds. Kyle waved at the crowd as he took a seat, and they gave him a standing ovation.
Even the B-team managed to get into field goal range, so the final score ended up being sixty-two to seven. The crowd was pumped, obviously elated to see that the Comets had a team that could completely and utterly dominate the way they’d been predicted to at the start of the season. The bar had been set. This was what they would want to see from every game on out.
But Michael wasn’t thinking ahead to all the other games. All he was thinking was that it was Friday night. And they’d just won. Isabel was roped into doing some lame team bonding sleepover thing with the cheerleaders, so sex would have to wait. But he still had the guys to hang out with. And since they’d all just played, they were hungry.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was mere minutes before closing that they pulled up out front of the Crashdown. Restaurant workers probably hated it when customers came in right at the last second when they were ready to leave.
“Dude, am I s’pposed to the driver?” Antonio slurred, leaning against Jase for support.
“Yeah, man!” Jase exclaimed.
“No, I-I can’t drive. I’m . . . out there,” Antonio struggled to say. “You drive.”
“I can’t drive, man.”
“I’ll drive,” Bubba bellowed, bringing up the rear. But right as he said that, he hunched over and threw up on the sidewalk.
Michael shook his head. Lightweights, all of them. Even Bubba, who, physically speaking, was a heavyweight. They’d driven out to Frasier woods to kick-start the night with some vodka shots and whiskey, but even though Michael had drunk just as much as his friends had, he was feeling it a whole lot less. Somehow, he was actually the most sober out of all four of them, which
never happened. He had a feeling he’d be the one behind the wheel that night.
When they stumbled inside the restaurant, Antonio and Jase started singing the West Roswell fight song. “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. The Comets are the team to fear!” They sounded horrible and off-key, and they couldn’t remember the rest of the words, so they just started say, “Hey!” over and over again.
Maria came out of the back room, retying her apron around her waist. Michael gave her a head nod and a small smile. Poor girl. She’d been there that afternoon, too. Probably was working another double shift.
They sat down in the wrong booth, so Michael directed them to the right one. They stopped singing long enough for Antonio to yell, “I love food!” at the top of his lungs. Jase picked up a menu, opened it for no apparent reason, and then tossed it onto the floor. “So what’s the plan?” he asked. “Where we goin’ after this?”
“Well, there’s a lot of parties goin’ on,” Michael said. “How about we just go hit all of ‘em and stay at the best one?”
“Yeah!” Bubba exclaimed, fist-pumping the air way too over-zealously.
“Dude, I can’t believe Kyle’s missin’ this,” Jase said. “Where the hell is he anyway?”
“Didn’t you see all those college scouts there tonight? He and his dad are wooing them,” Michael informed them.
Jase and Antonio looked at each other and both said, “Woo!” at the exact same time. They erupted in laughter as though that were the most hilarious thing in the world, but the immediately stopped when Maria came up to the table. “Oh, hello,” Jase said, licking his lips.
“Hi, guys,” she greeted, sounding tired. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
Antonio, letting his eyes roam all over her, mumbled, “I think I’d like to drink you, sweetheart.” That made Jase chuckle.
“What?” Maria asked quietly.
Oh, no, Michael thought. He knew what guys were like when they were this drunk. Hell, he usually
was one of the guys who was this drunk. He didn’t want Maria to have to put up with them.
“Actually, I’m hungry,” Antonio went on. “I think I want a . . . blow-job burger.”
Laughter. Michael just smiled nervously. Maria glanced at him quickly, looking uncomfortable. “Excuse me?” she said.
“I’ll take a doggie style hot dog,” Jase added. Louder laughter this time.
Michael felt his smile fading, but he just kept sitting there. It was like he’d forgotten how to talk or something.
“Gangbang guacamole!” Bubba roared. And that got the three of them laughing so hard that Antonio was nearly falling onto the floor and Jase was hitting the table so hard it might break.
Maria looked stunned. And hurt.
Michael knew his friends expected him to say something vulgar, too. And honestly, if it had been any other waitress, he might have. But he couldn’t say something like that to Maria. Still, he felt their eyes on him, waiting, so he forced his mouth to work. “Just get us all root beers,” he said, trying to look her in the eye. It was hard. “Please.”
She walked off, probably relieved to be away from them. Who could blame her?
“Guerin, what the hell, man?” Bubba said, shoving his shoulder.
“Yeah, aren’t you supposed to be the ultimate ladies’ man?” Jase reminded him. “Aren’t we supposed to be learning from you?”
Michael just shrugged. What was he supposed to say? They wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand that Maria was . . . she was just . . . different.
“Disssssapointed,” Antonio struggled to get out, shaking his finger at him. “Hot little waitress and you don’t even put the moves on her? Lame.”
God, he felt lame. But not because he wasn’t putting ‘the moves’ on her, not that what these guys were doing classified as that. He just felt lame because he felt like . . .
. . . a loser. And that usually didn’t bother him.
He sat with the guys for only a few seconds more, letting them make their dumb jokes and say their stupid stuff. But then he couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and walked in Maria’s direction.
“Oh, there he goes,” Jase mumbled.
He walked behind the counter, where she was taking longer to get their root beers than was actually necessary. “I’m sorry,” he apologized weakly.
She grunted, not even looking at him. “Yeah, you should be.”
“They’re just drunk.”
“And so are you, I presume.”
“Yeah, but . . .” There was a difference between
being drunk and
acting drunk. “I didn’t say anything.”
She whirled to face him, accusation in full bloom in her eyes. “Yeah, you didn’t say
anything. You just sat there and let them . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head angrily. “You know, I would like to think that, if I’m standing there getting verbally assaulted by those creeps you call friends, you might have the decency to step in and say something.”
Decency? Did he have that in him? He really wasn’t sure anymore. But she seemed to believe he did; otherwise she wouldn’t be so upset.
He felt bad.
She grabbed all four root beers by the bottle necks and brushed past him. But he caught her arm and pulled her back. “Maria,” he said, looking her right in the eye as he apologized. “I’m sorry.” He loosened his grip on her slowly and promised, “I won’t ever let that happen again.”
She still looked disappointed, but at least she looked a little less mad. Letting out a heavy sigh, she didn’t say anything more as she headed back to the table to drop off the drinks. He watched her.
He only felt a little better.
TBC . . .
-April
)
I hope that we can discover why soon 