morethenwords122:
Michael's not a dumb guy. He knows that he can use sex to avoid talking.Michael is right about one thing, sex does make everything betterbut only for awhile because eventually, everything Isabel and him are not talking about will come back to haunt them. So... I can't believe i'm saying this but... just talk
Which obviously isn't a good idea in the long-run, but he's not thinking long-term.CandyliciousLovah:
Like he told her, she's part therapist.Maria does pretty well with listening to whatever problems Michael has, so that's got to be a bonus for them becoming hopeful friends.
She's definitely been a good sounding board/confidante for him lately, though she hasn't opened up very much in return.Trixie: Hey, you! I've missed you around here! I'm glad you were able to read 522. That was kind of an intense one.
Kyle's the all-American boy. He's got so much going for him but is likeable because he isn't arrogant about it.I'm loving your story! Right now, I adore Kyle so much - he's just too good to Michael, Tess, his dad. I love that you pointed out that he had a bright future! He's just this guy you wanna root for.
I think many girls have unfortunately been in the same situation Isabel is in here. Myself included.I also like how you're portraying Isabel here, she's this smart girl who keeps giving this wayward boy so many chances - I feel for her, because I've been there. I hope Michael doesn't compromise her future.
Which are . . .? I wonder if any of them are right.I'm looking forward to finding out what's up with Maria. I have my theories!
Carolyn: Yes, I thought that would be a very Michael outfit! Good-looking, but not too formal.
Sara:
She definitely doesn't need him . . . but she loves him, and that's not a good situation.EARTH TO ISABEL....MOVE ON! Sorry but Michael is a loser and he will only bring you down. Once Michael pulls his head out of his ass he might change my mind.
With every part, we inch closer and closer to finding out why she's so secretive.And Maria...what is her deal?? I want to know more.
Eva:
That's the overarching question for the story. I really like this title, too, and I usually hate the titles of my fics. This one came from the song "Someone, Anyone" by Anberlin.Your choice in title is great though: Is he going to be someone? Anyone? Are they all for that matter?
For sure, that's a good point. Michael's relationship with his father has had a HUGE impact on the guy he's become. And his mother . . . well, she loves him, and he loves her, too, but she's very helpless when it comes to raising him. With a kid like Michael, it's really hard to control him or to guide him in the right direction, especially when his biggest male role model in life (his dad) is constantly going in the wrong direction.There are moments where I could smack his head but then I'm asking myself something else too: Which parent lets his kids drink beer in the middle of the day? Which parent chooses such a free education (if you can even call it that way) as Michael is getting? I'm not looking for an excuse of his behavior here, but we have to be correct too: the reason why Michael is acting this way, isn't only a matter of character. He isn't the most loved and supported kid either. Does that make it right? No, but I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt.
He's definitely not an idiot, though he goes out of his way to act like one at times. Like you said, he's got potential. Isabel knows he has potential. That's why she feels like she can't move on from him.Certainly when I think about the small things in his act: the way he wanted to make it up with Isabel, the way he searches for someone he can really talk to when he goes to Maria, the way he walks her home,... Clearly he's not the a congenital idiot that everybody thinks he is. The question will be: when will he be ready to step up and take his life in his hands? Showing the world that he's got more potential than everbody gives him credit. Showing himself too that he's not a loser, making himself believe he can do something.
LuckyMiss:
It's definitely not a healthy relationship, is it? Everyone messes up once in a while, but Michael messes up habitually. But Isabel keeps believing in him, whether she should or not.The relationship he and Isabel are in is going downhill, and there were a few points in this part where I thought Isabel might throw in the towel and break up with him. Makes me wonder how long she's going to stick with him while they do this unfortunate back-and-forth with Michael doing something bad, making it up to Isabel in his own special way, then reverting to type. Hmm.
Rodney:
I think that's totally natural. He's so out there that he's interesting, and sometimes that can be charming or funny, but then other times he just takes it too far, and it's too much. And of course that's incredibly frustrating for the people who do genuinely care about him.You know at first I kind of laughed at Michael and his actions. But now I'm just annoyed with him.
Thank you for the feedback! I really appreciate it!
Parts of this update are set at a college football game that realistically did take place this year, though I took my liberties with altering when it happened and what the score was. Actually, I think I wrote this part back before the game was even played. Anyway, nobody cares. Just wanted to point out that I know it's not completely factual.
Part 11
October was upon them now. Thank God. October meant that they’d made it through over a month of the school year and that Michael now had thirty-one tally marks carved into his bedroom wall. October meant that Halloween was on its way and all the pretty girls would soon be dressing up like sluts. Oh, they would say they were dressed as nurses or maids or bunnies or cheetahs, but they would be sluts. Every single one of them. What a glorious holiday.
October meant that Thanksgiving break and Christmas break were ever so slightly more in reach, too. Couldn’t hate on that.
As it turned out, the month started out about as well as it could have. It was announced on the first Wednesday of the month that the votes for student government had been counted, and an overwhelming winner had emerged.
“Congratulations,” the principal said over the intercom during first period, “to your new student body president, Isabel Evans.”
Michael sat one desk away from her, grinning while all the other students clapped and congratulated her. She thanked them all, and eventually, her eyes locked with his. He already had a few ideas in mind for how they could celebrate such an accomplishment.
Of course the real celebrating would have to be done in private, but there were certainly ways to celebrate publicly, too; so he convinced a couple of guys from the football team to help him throw together a party that night in honor of her sweeping victory. They had it in Frasier woods, since there was such little possibility of ever getting busted there, and it turned out to be a real wild time. Girls dancing and drinking . . . not a bad combination. Tess had a little too much and ended up stripping down to her bra and panties before Kyle covered her up again. Isabel loosened up, too, although not quite that much. She had a few more drinks than Michael had ever seen her have before, and she seemed to have a genuinely good time as she danced the night away with him. And he was so wasted that he couldn’t help but dance back.
That Friday, they won a semi-competitive football game with the Cavallo Coyotes, forty-five to thirty. A recruiter from Texas Tech was there to watch Kyle, and he stopped him and talked to him for about a half an hour after he emerged from the locker room. Even though Kyle didn’t intend to go there, it was obvious from what the recruiter said that the school had him high on their radar.
Oh, yeah. Another party for that. More drinking. More girls. More dancing. Michael even scored a blow-job after dragging Isabel away deeper into the woods.
Of course, in the midst of all the fun, school was still dragging on, though, still seeming endless. Michael wasn’t sure how it was happening, but he kept getting tests and quizzes back with decent grades on them. No straight A’s like his girlfriend, granted, but solid B’s and C’s.
No party for that one. But it made Isabel happy, so he was sure he’d be rewarded for it at some point.
She was busy, though. Her and Kyle both. At lunch, they spent a lot of time showing each other college brochures. Michael usually just sat there while they did that, ignoring Tess as she rambled on and on about cheerleading.
But when it was just Isabel and him alone and she was in one of her college moods, he couldn’t ignore it. It didn’t matter if he tried to get her mind on something else, she was focused. And he was bored.
When she invited him over Sunday night, he thought they might give her shower a whirl this time. But unfortunately, her mom was home, and it took nearly fifteen minutes of convincing for her to agree to let them be alone in Isabel’s room. Isabel kept the door halfway open, though, so there wasn’t much hope for getting lucky tonight.
She lay on her stomach, a thick packet in front of her. She’d been carrying that packet around all week, never letting it out of her sight. It was her Princeton application. She was filling it out by hand before entering the information online and submitting it that way. Why? He had no idea.
“Would you say I’m more driven or passionate?” she asked, chewing on her pen top.
He stared up at the ceiling, wondering how long she’d had those glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up there. They looked like something she might have gotten when she’d been a little girl.
“Michael?”
“Driven,” he finally answered.
She made a check mark on the paper. “And am I more responsible or disciplined?”
He made a face. “What’s the difference?”
“Well, it’s pretty much the same thing, but I can only choose five of these words to describe myself, and I wanna make sure I’m picking the best ones.”
He grunted. Wasn’t this pointless? Why would they even have something like that on the application? What did it really tell you about a person? Hell, he could say he was responsible, even though he wasn’t. He could say he was driven. He could say he was smart. He could say he was a whole lot better than he actually was.
“Responsible,” she decided. “Right?”
He rolled over onto his side, draping his leg over hers and flinging his arm over her waist. “I don’t know, we did some pretty irresponsible things last week.”
“Disciplined then,” she decided. “Because disciplined is like . . . you know how to have fun, but you know when to get serious, too. And I’m like that.”
“Most of the time.” He would have preferred for her to be a little less disciplined right now, though. Helping her fill out her college application wasn’t exactly the most thrilling thing in his life.
She put a check next to disciplined, then continued deliberating. “Goal-oriented. That’s definitely me. But that’s pretty much the same as driven. Should I put both? Or just one?”
“Put ‘em both,” he said. “You are both. I feel like you’ve been thinkin’ about your future since you were three.”
“Well, I practically have,” she admitted, laying her head down for a minute.
“I don’t get that.” The future was a giant unknown for him, and he was content to keep it that way.
“You really never think about it?” she asked softly.
“No.”
“Well . . .” She turned onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. “Maybe we should talk about it.”
“Ugh,” he groaned, rolling back over onto his back, “let’s not and say we did.”
“We never talk about the future.”
“Because I hate talking about the future. Let’s just live in the now.” He moved so that he was lying on top of her, encompassing all of her body with his. If her mom walked by and peeked in right now, she’d be concerned, even though they weren’t doing anything.
“But we need to talk about it,” she insisted. “Because if this works out the way I want to and I get accepted . . . I’ll be moving to New Jersey.”
“Oh, that’s where it is?”
She gave him an exasperated look.
“I seriously didn’t know. But that’s cool. Jersey. I like Jersey.” He’d never been there, but judging how it looked from all the trashy shows on TV, it looked awesome. Like a slacker’s wonderland.
“So . . .” She played with the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning one before re-buttoning it again. “Would you consider moving there with me?”
“Yeah.” Even though he hadn’t given it much thought, he figured ‘yeah’ was the safest answer. “Jersey Shore. Looks like my kind of place to party.”
She frowned, leaving one of his buttons unbuttoned now. “So—so that’s what it would be like? Me going to school, you just partying?”
“Well, what else am I gonna do?”
“You could go to school, too.”
“Is . . .” He groaned, flopping onto his back again. “We’ve had this conversation.”
“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t go to college if you had the chance.”
“I’m not gonna have the chance.”
“You might.” She crawled on top of him, straddling his hips, and he wished so badly that she was naked and he was naked and they weren’t saying a word right now. But alas, she kept on talking. “Think about it: You’re passing all your classes right now, right?”
“Yeah. Just so I can play football. And I’m just doin’ that for Kyle.”
“Okay, well, say you continue to pass all your classes. And say the football season continues to go well. And say, maybe, just maybe, you take the ACT exam and do really well.”
“What makes you think I’d do well?”
“Because you’re so much smarter than you let on.” She bent forward and pressed an insistent kiss to his cheek. “Just say all those things happen. Decent grades, athleticism, test scores . . . what college wouldn’t want you? Even if it’s just, like, a community college . . . Michael, you could apply to places in New Jersey. Or anywhere. But if you get accepted somewhere in New Jersey, then we could be together . . .” A wistful smile formed on her lips. She was so getting ahead of herself.
He shifted around underneath her, trying desperately to bring his groin into contact with hers. But she was sitting too far up for that. He needed to get her mind on something else, though. This college nagging was threatening to ruin October for him.
“Can I just do some research for you?” she asked. “Please, just let me look into other New Jersey schools.”
“Fine, you do that.” She could research all she wanted. Hell, she could fill out that application and submit it for him. Didn’t mean he was going to go.
“Really?”
“Yeah, go ahead.” If it got her to stop talking about this for the rest of the night, he’d agree to anything. “And I’ll just continue to live in the now.” He was finally able to slither enough underneath her that he could press his hips up into hers. She closed her eyes and moaned, and he hurriedly captured her lips in a kiss, hoping that, even with the door halfway open and her mom downstairs, he’d be able to distract her for the rest of the night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Poor Amy DeLuca. Whether she wanted to or not, she was practically forced to watch Kyle’s promotional DVD, a collection of his greatest plays and victories from his freshman year of high school until now. Jim made sure to tell her that it was still a work in progress, that it wouldn’t be done for weeks to come. And then he sat back and stared at the screen like a kid looking at presents under a Christmas tree.
Amy, to her credit, was a good audience. Even if she felt bored, she didn’t look bored. She sat there and watched the whole thing without complaint. It was already ten minutes long, and some of the footage definitely needed to be cut down. Jim would probably have a hard time deciding which bits to leave on the editing room floor.
Michael yawned as the video reached its end. It would impress the coaches, no doubt. But he’d seen the plays the first time around, in the flesh. Somehow, it just wasn’t the same seeing it on repeat.
“Oh, Kyle,” Amy exclaimed, “what a great video.”
“Thank you,” he said politely.
“It’s very impressive.”
“Ah, it’s not the finished product,” Jim reminded her yet again, getting down on the floor to remove the DVD from the player. “We still got a lot of games ahead of us this year. Imagine what it would be like to end it with a state championship.”
“But no pressure,” Michael added on sarcastically.
“Well, I don’t know much about football,” Amy admitted, “but I would think every college in the country would want you playing for them.”
“Well, I think some do,” Kyle said, being modest. “It’s pretty competitive, but I think I stand a good shot.”
Jim smirked, carefully putting the DVD back in its case. “Gotta be Division I, though. Anything else is beneath him.”
“Where do you wanna play?” Amy asked.
“Well, I’ve had my heart set on Alabama for a while now,” Kyle replied.
“Oh, they’re good, aren’t they?”
Kyle shrugged. “Dynasty.”
“SEC. That’s the conference to be in,” Jim proclaimed.
“Oh, it all just goes over my head.” Amy laughed a little.
“Stick with my dad and he’ll teach you all about it. He went to Bama, you know,” Kyle informed her.
“Really?” Amy smiled at her boyfriend. “I didn’t know that.”
He grinned. “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Michael couldn’t help but laugh at that. Because honestly, Amy probably knew Jim’s favorite sexual position, his fetishes, and not much else.
Jim cleared his throat and said, “You know, Michael, you might do well to put together a highlight reel of your own. Send it out to a bunch of coaches . . . you never know whose eye you might catch.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Michael replied quickly.
“Well, I could help you. One of my deputies has this friend who’s really into the whole film-making thing. He’s the one who’s working on Kyle’s. I bet he’d help with yours, too, if I talk to him.”
“No, you don’t have to.” He grabbed Kyle’s arm and practically yanked him out of the living room. “Come on,” he said, dragging him towards the hall, “let’s go look at your Playboys.”
“Oh, alright.”
He waved at Jim and Amy and said, “Have fun fucking.”
Kyle elbowed him in the stomach as they slipped into his room. “Dude, you can’t say that. You might offend her.”
“Oh, you know that’s what they’re gonna do.” What was wrong with being blunt about it? He picked up a miniature rubber football off the floor and flopped down on Kyle’s bed, tossing it up in the air repeatedly.
“My dad’s kinda right, you know,” Kyle said, sitting down in his computer chair. “You should make a video.”
“Of what?”
“Your highlights. It’s a freakin’ highlight reel.”
“And what was the highlight of my high school football career? Sitting on the bench my entire sophomore season or punching that referee in the face junior year?”
“You’ve had a lot of highlights so far this year,” Kyle pointed out. “I don’t know. I’m just sayin’ . . . make a video, send it out, see what happens.”
“No.” Michael threw the football at him, and he just sat there and let it hit him in the head.
“Fuckin’ stubborn,” he muttered. “Man, you know what you need to do? You need to go visit a college.”
Michael sat up, getting a laugh out of the suggestion. “You really think that’s gonna make me wanna go?”
“I think it’s worth a shot.” Kyle turned to his laptop, typing something and moving the mouse quickly. “Come look at this.”
Michael reluctantly got up and stood behind him, peering down at the computer screen. Kyle was on eBay, bidding on tickets to the next Alabama game. They were playing the LSU Tigers, and anyone who followed football in the slightest knew that all the announcers and analysts were predicting that game would be as spectacular as any bowl game this year. Two storied powerhouse teams meeting for an epic clash . . . the bids were pouring in. These weren’t bad seats, either. Two tickets for the thirty-second row, Alabama sideline . . .
“You gonna go?” Michael asked.
“We’re gonna go,” Kyle corrected. “I was gonna try to get these as an early birthday present for my dad, but you need ‘em more than he does.”
“Oh, so I can get in the college spirit, huh?”
“Maybe.” Kyle daringly placed a bid, apparently not concerned with the fact that it was already up over five-hundred and fifty dollars.
Well, Michael thought, kneeling beside Kyle’s desk, if I’m gonna go to college for a day, I might as well go for a game.
They stayed up late into the night, bidding higher and higher each time someone outbid them. They had to place a bid right at the last minute, but they got it in just in time. In the end, they owed six-hundred and eighty-six dollars, but the tickets were theirs.
“Well, shit,” Michael swore, “if we’re goin’ half and half, I can’t pay for that. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Neither do I,” Kyle admitted, “but . . . your girlfriend does.”
A slow smile crept across Michael’s face. This was very true.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Whenever the freshmen, sophomores, and juniors had district testing days, the seniors were basically kicked out of school for the day. The official term was “field trip,” although going to the UFO museum for the exact same tour they seemed to end up going on every year wasn’t much of a field trip at all. But it was a day off school, so it was a good day in Michael’s book. And it was a chance to spend the entire day with Isabel and try to convince her to lend him some money.
He initially ran the idea by her during the middle of the tour. They were hanging towards the back of the pack, not listening to a word of what the tour guide was saying.
She folded her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “So you want me to be the financer of your wasted weekend in Alabama?”
“Tuscaloosa, to be exact,” Kyle added.
“Who said anything about being wasted?” Michael asked, feigning innocence.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “It’s a college football game. Everybody’s wasted.”
“It’s a college football game,” Kyle emphasized. “Hmm?”
For the first time since they’d mentioned it, she actually looked like she was considering it.
“Please, Isabel,” Michael begged. “Kyle’s paying half of it. And I’ll pay you back.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Okay, I won’t,” he admitted. “Not with money. But I’ll pay you back in other ways.” He smirked, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“It’s not the money that’s the issue,” she said as their tour group moved forward, towards the alien autopsy exhibits that were probably meant to be creepy. “It’s the fact that I have to trust you to behave around a bunch of college girls.”
“Baby, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promised. That probably wasn’t true, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Isabel, let me reiterate . . . college football game,” Kyle said again. “Your boyfriend here would actually be setting foot on a college campus. Think about how that might motivate him.”
Michael rolled his eyes. As much as he hated all this talk about motivation . . . if this was what it took to motivate Isabel to fork over some cash, he could work with it.
She crossed her arms again, shifting from side to side as she thought it over. Finally, she gave in and agreed to it. “Fine. I’ll cover your part of the cost. Just because I really hope this will be good for you.”
“Oh, it will,” he assured her. A road trip sponsored by his girlfriend’s savings? Just him and his best friend? Booze and babes all around? This would be so good for him. It’d been awhile since he’d really gotten to let loose.
“Oh, hey, get a picture of me,” he said to Kyle, hopping over the bar that was meant to section off the displays. When the group had moved far enough ahead, he climbed onto a table where an alien replica was lying flat on its back, in the process of being dissected. He held himself up in a push-up position and moved his hips forward like he would during sex.
Kyle laughed and snapped a picture on his cell phone. “Nice, man.”
Michael climbed down off the table and hopped back over the bar. He laughed when Kyle showed him the picture.
“Don’t post that on Instagram,” Isabel said. “It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s funny,” Michael argued.
“No, it’s immature. I swear, I know middle schoolers more mature than the two of you.”
“Thanks, Isabel,” he said sarcastically, walking past her. “My day just wouldn’t be complete without a girlfriend lecture.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria felt the plates slip from her grasp, and she was powerless to stop them as they fell to the floor. They shattered upon impact, but luckily, the truckers had polished off the food that had been on them, so it wasn’t as messy as it could have been. Still, it caused all the customers to look at her. Embarrassing. The truckers got a good laugh out of it, and she made sure her butt wasn’t facing them when she bent down to pick everything up.
Michael was there to help her in no time at all. “Butterfingers,” he teased.
She managed to laugh a little. “Thanks.” She stacked together what remained of the plates just as her manager came out of the back room with a broom. He tried to hand it to her even though her hands were full. Michael took it for her instead, holding it like he didn’t know what to do with it. “I’m not really good with cleaning,” he admitted.
“Here, trade me.” She handed him the plates, taking the broom from him instead. She got to work quickly sweeping up the shards of plates still on the floor, unable to suppress a yawn as she did so.
He set the semi-intact plates down on the counter and took a seat there, watching her for a moment. Then, he commented on the obvious: “You look tired.”
“Yeah.”
“Late night?” He grinned. “Maria, you party animal.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. I just . . . couldn’t get to sleep.” She’d had a lot of nights like that lately. Determined not to feel sorry for herself, she ducked into the backroom, went into the cleaning supply closet, and grabbed the dust pan her manager had neglected to bring out for her. Michael was still sitting at the counter when she came out, and the truckers were still watching her and grabbing their crotches. She tried to ignore them.
“I think you’re overworked,” Michael said. “Overstressed. You need to relax.”
She hurriedly swept the shards into the dust pan. “I don’t have time to relax.”
“Well, find some time,” he suggested, as though it were that easy. “You know what you should do? You should come to our game on Friday.”
She froze. He was . . . asking her to the game? That was . . . what was that?
“It’s at home, and we’re gonna dominate whoever the hell we’re playin’,” he promised.
“I might end up having to be here,” she pointed out. “You know me and my double shifts.”
“Just take the night off. Come to the game.”
She sighed, keeping her eyes focused on what she was sweeping. “I don’t—I don’t really know anything about football,” she said.
“So? You don’t have to know football to enjoy yourself at a game. It’s just the whole atmosphere that makes it fun. Even I get into it.”
“But I’m not even a student there. I wouldn’t even have anyone to sit with.”
“I bet your mom’s goin’ with Jim. Just tag along with them.”
She sighed, running out of excuses.
“Or bring that guy you met up with the other night.”
She leaned the broom against the counter, bending to pick up the now full dust pan, completely and utterly confused now. “What?”
“The other night, when I was walkin’ you home . . . you stopped at the Blue Moon bar and said you were meetin’ somebody,” he reminded her.
“Oh. Right.” She’d forgotten about that. Still . . . “What makes you think it was a guy?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just figured . . .”
A guy, she processed. He thinks you were meeting a guy. Like for a date. It was probably best to just let him think that.
“Come on, Maria,” he urged. “Quit making excuses and tell me I’ll see you there.”
As hard as it was to admit it, she did kind of want to go. She hadn’t been to anything fun like that in a long time. It would have been nice to go. It really would have.
“Maybe,” she told him, even though she knew right where she would be on Friday night: either here at the Crashdown or at home. She rarely went anywhere else.
He seemed content with a maybe, because he smiled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Friday night rolled around, just as Friday night always did. And once again, the game was all anyone could think about. With every home game, it seemed more and more people were turning out, even old people with walkers who probably were risking hip injury by walking up and down those bleachers. But everyone wanted to see their beloved Comets continue to have success, and everyone wanted to see the future superstar quarterback in action.
Michael’s parents weren’t there that night. They had grounded Tina for dressing too skimpily and sexily for school and were staying at home with her. It would be interesting to see if they were actually able to follow through with a punishment for once in their lives.
Even though he knew they weren’t there to watch him, he couldn’t help but wonder if someone else was. So while Coach Warner had all the starters in their pre-game huddle, giving them a pep talk that went in one ear and out the other, he found himself scanning the crowd, looking for her.
She’d said maybe. She’d said maybe she would be there. Which, as he understood it, meant yes. When girls said maybe, they meant yes. When guys said maybe, they meant no. It was simple logistics.
But she wasn’t there. Probably at the Crashdown or with some guy or . . .
She just wasn’t there.
He forced himself to return his attention to the huddle, only because there was nothing else to pay attention to.
“Don’t get cocky now,” Coach Warner warned them. “You’re feelin’ good about yourselves. Bounced back from two losses and now you got a winning streak goin’. But remember, a streak means nothing if you can’t keep it up. Comets on three.”
They piled their hands in the center of the circle, and Bubba chanted, “One, two, three!” As they all yelled “Comets!” together, they scattered to finish warming up.
Michael glanced back over his shoulder one last time, just in case he’d missed her. But no. He hadn’t. So he looked up at the scoreboard instead. This was Kyle’s game. He was just an assistant, and he was fine with that. But it still felt good to score. Time to put some numbers on the home side.
So that was exactly what he did.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Four quarters and one unsurprising victory later, Michael emerged from the locker room. A bunch of the other guys on the team were asking him where the big party would be that night, but he honestly had no idea. He and Kyle had agreed to take off right after the game, win or lose. But it was nice to take off after a win.
When he walked outside, there were several groups of parents standing around in the parking lot, some of them waiting for their kids, some of them just socializing with each other. A few of the dads spotted him and said things like, “Nice game, Guerin,” or, “Keep it up, kid.”
When he got to Kyle’s truck, he was talking to a recruiter. But the recruiter was wearing an Eastern New Mexico sweatshirt. Kyle was being plenty friendly, but . . . come on. Eastern New Mexico? Yeah, right.
The recruiter was just heading away as Michael approached. “I hope we’ll be in touch,” he was saying. “Let me know if you want any more information.”
“Thank you,” Kyle said, waving at him as he walked away. He laughed a little, shaking his head, and Michael laughed, too. Did that guy really think Kyle would settle for a division II school? He was deluded if he even thought he stood a chance.
They climbed into Kyle’s truck, blasted the radio, and tore out of the parking lot as a Nirvana song blared on.
The drive to Alabama’s campus wasn’t a short one. Tuscaloosa was a good fifteen hours away, which meant they had to drive all night. For the first three hours, they both stayed awake, but then Michael fell asleep and Kyle kept driving. He pulled over on a deserted stretch of highway three hours later, and they switched, Michael behind the wheel and Kyle sleeping for the next three. They kept alternating like this, stopping at gas stations along the way only to piss and get stuff to eat. And by 3:00, they’d reached their destination.
Even though parking was chaos, they managed to snag a spot in one of the parking garages, even though they had to pay for it. As luck would have it, that parking garage happened to be right near sorority row. And it just so happened that a few sorority girls were hosting a carwash outside their house. Even though Kyle had already parked his car, when they saw him and Michael, they immediately invited them inside, ordered them pizza, and paraded around in their bikinis for a while.
Good times. Good times.
It was hard to leave, but they had a carwash to run, and Michael and Kyle had some tailgating to attend to.
“See ya, ladies!” Michael called to them as they walked away from their soapy, bubbly deliciousness. “Be back later for a sorority girl sex sandwich!”
“Man, you never stop,” Kyle said.
“Nope.” He saw a couple girls up ahead, ambling towards the entrance of Bryant-Denny stadium, both looking so cute decked out in their football jerseys and hats. Girls who loved sports were definitely sexy, and this place was crawling with them.
They found the best tailgate parties in the parking lot closest to the stadium. A bunch of guys who claimed to be university alums were grilling up enough burgers and hot dogs to feed an army. Their wives were contributing baked beans, coleslaw, and potato salad to the mix. The beers just kept emerging from the cooler as though there were an endless supply. All Michael and Kyle had to do was tell them they were rooting for Alabama, and they got whatever they wanted. More food than they could manage to eat, and drinks from people who didn’t seem to care whether they were old enough or not. Kyle didn’t drink, though. He said he couldn’t risk getting photographed doing something that was technically illegal, so he let Michael have all the fun in that regard.
By the time the game actually started, Michael was a little buzzed. No, more than buzzed. What was the next step up from buzzed? It wasn’t plastered. He wasn’t plastered . . . yet.
It was a crazy atmosphere, one that put the West Roswell High crowd to shame. And that was saying something, because, for a high school fan base, the Comet fans held their own. But this was something else entirely. A hundred thousand people, give or take, shouting at the top of their lungs. Most for Alabama, but plenty of LSU fans had turned out, too. For the most part, though, it was a sea of crimson in the stands. Lots of the people didn’t even sit down.
“Fuck yeah!” Michael shouted.
“Dude, they haven’t even run the play yet,” Kyle said.
“Oh.” Yeah. A little plastered.
It was a tight game, definitely a match-up that was living up to the all the hype surrounding it. It was a defensive battle, as many had predicted, but Alabama was up by a field goal in the third quarter, and they were driving the ball downfield.
“Man, think about it: That’ll be you down there next year,” Michael told his friend as the offense broke the huddle and scampered into formation.
“Hopefully. But, uh . . .” Kyle looked at him for a minute, then shook his head and refocused on the game. “Never mind.”
“Oh, hopefully I’ll be down there with you, right?” Michael filled in, practically able to read his mind. “Not gonna happen.”
“Yeah, yeah, you say that.”
The play wasn’t pretty. Third down and what should have been a short pass turned into a botched snap and a quarterback having to scramble on his feet for the first down, much like Kyle had had to do in the first couple games. They quickly brought out the chains to measure it, and when the ref signaled that it was indeed a first down, the crowd cheered.
There was a girl sitting next to Michael that he’d had his eye on the entire night. Very petite, very curvy, very blonde. When she shot to her feet to celebrate the play, one of her tits actually fell out of the bikini top she was wearing. It said Roll on the right cup and Tide on the other. How adorable. How slutty and adorable.
“Whoa, there,” he said, taking the opportunity to . . . fix the wardrobe malfunction for her.
“Oh, thanks.” Somehow, she managed to sound drunk with those two words alone. She smiled drunkenly, too, so he smiled drunkenly back.
“Good game, huh?” he said.
“Yeah, it’s the best.”
“You’re the best.”
She giggled and threw her arms around him. The poor thing was really having a hard time even standing up straight, so she needed his support.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Kyle mumbled.
“You go to school here?” he asked her.
“Yeah, do you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” Maybe she was one of the sorority chicks. Or maybe she lived in a dorm room. Maybe she had a hot roommate in that dorm room. So many possibilities.
“He has a girlfriend,” Kyle informed her quickly.
“Dude, shut up,” Michael snapped.
She just laughed and exclaimed, “I don’t care!”
Oh, she was glorious.
“He’s also in high school,” Kyle spilled.
“Oh . . .” She made a face and pushed him away gently. “Never mind.”
He groaned, glaring at his friend. “Cock-block,” he muttered. It was harmless flirting. He wasn’t really going to do anything.
“Just lookin’ out for you, man,” Kyle said, once again refocusing on the game. “Come on, Tide!”
The cheerleaders were starting up a simple “Roll Tide” chant on the sidelines below, and even though they had male cheerleaders and had to use megaphones to get their voices heard, Michael actually felt himself being led by their cheer. He joined in and shouted it along with them, wondering how many other people in that gigantic stadium and in that massive crowd were yelling the exact same thing: “Roll Tide! Roll Tide! Roll Tide! Roll Tide!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel swirled one of her last remaining French fries around in a mixture of cheese sauce and ketchup. She popped it into her mouth, even though she wasn’t hungry, and slid her plate towards Tess, silently communicating that she was willing to share. Hesitantly, Tess grabbed a fry, too, and ate it plain. She made a face as she swallowed it, though, and then out of nowhere, hit her hands against the counter and proclaimed, “Okay. We’re not gonna do this. We’re not gonna be those girls who mope around while their boyfriends are away.”
Funny. It seemed that that was exactly what they’d been doing all day.
“We’re gonna have a sleepover,” Tess decided. “I’m gonna come to your place, and I’m gonna bring every ice cream carton and Brad Pitt movie I own.”
Isabel smiled a little. “Sounds like a plan.” They had probably watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith a thousand times, but it was one of their personal favorites. And Legends of the Fall always got to her. He just looked so good in that one. That could definitely take her mind off Michael, distract her from the constant, nagging wondering about what he was doing right that moment.
“Do you regret letting them go?” Tess asked.
“No.” It wasn’t as though she could have made them stay. “Do you?”
“No,” Tess likewise replied. “I know Kyle’s really excited about maybe getting to go there next year. I don’t understand why you paid for Michael’s ticket, though.”
“I just wanted him to experience a college campus.”
“Hmm, well, let’s hope that’s all he’s experiencing.”
Isabel frowned. “You think I’m being too trusting?”
“I’m just saying, I’d keep that boy on a tighter leash. That’s all.”
Isabel sighed. She was really trying to have faith in Michael, because she knew he had it in him to be a good and loyal guy. But he was never going to be either of those things if she never gave him the chance.
The waitress came up to the counter, holding a pitcher of ice water in her hand. “Refill?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” Isabel replied.
“I’ll take one,” Tess said.
The waitress must have been tired, because half of the water she poured didn’t even make it into the glass. “Sorry,” she apologized, quickly wiping off the counter.
“You’re fine,” Tess said, eyeing her nametag. Her eyes lit up suddenly, and she said, “Hey, I know you.”
The waitress froze.
“Or . . . I know of you, actually. Maria . . . DeLuca, right? Your mom’s boinking Kyle’s dad.”
“Um . . .” Maria tucked her hair behind her ear, though it didn’t do much good. There were many strands falling out of her loose ponytail. “Well, I think she prefers the term dating.”
“Oh, well . . .” Tess made a face. “It’s all kind of the same thing with him. I’m Tess, Kyle’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you, too.”
“And this is my friend Isabel.”
“I know.”
Isabel gave her a confused look. She didn’t go to school, so . . . how exactly did she know?
“You came in here once before, with Michael.”
“Oh, you know Michael?” Hopefully this wasn’t one of the girls he’d . . . because there were a lot of them.
“Uh, yeah, he comes in here a lot,” Maria said.
“Yeah, this is, like, his favorite restaurant for some reason.”
Maria laughed a little. For some reason, she just didn’t strike Isabel as the kind of girl who’d . . . done anything. With Michael.
“You should get this place to cater his birthday party next month,” Tess suggested.
As much as Isabel disliked this greasy food for anything more than stress eating, it was a good idea. “Yeah, do you guys cater?” she asked Maria, knowing Michael would appreciate it.
“Probably. I think so,” she answered unsurely. “I could ask my boss sometime and let you know.”
“Thanks.” Michael’s party was going to have to be a big event. He was, after all, pretty damn popular. And he only turned eighteen once.
“Hey, Maria, give us your opinion,” Tess said, leaning forward as though she were about to spill some really juicy gossip. “Do you think Isabel’s crazy for letting Michael go to a college football game? In Alabam. With Kyle. Completely unsupervised.”
“Um . . .” Maria laughed a little. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t know him well enough.”
“She paid for his ticket and everything,” Tess kept going. “Talk about devotion.”
“Tess, I told you . . . I just want him to get the college experience.”
“That’s not a college experience,” Tess informed her. “That’s the wildest part of the college experience.” Again, she turned to Maria, wanting her opinion. “What do you think about that?”
Sorry, Maria, Isabel thought, rolling her eyes. Here this poor girl was, just trying to do her job. She didn’t care to talk about any of this.
“Well . . .” Maria slowly refilled Isabel’s water, even though she hadn’t asked for more. “I think it sounds like you really trust him.”
Isabel sighed, pushing the last two French fries on her plate aside. “I’m trying to.” Sometimes, it wasn’t easy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was complete and utter pandemonium when the game was over. Drunk people were already getting drunker, celebrating their team’s epic victory. The final tally was an Alabama win by three. It had definitely been a nail-biter. Sports Center would be raving about it all day tomorrow.
“And the quest for yet another national championship continues,” Kyle said as they strode through the crowded parking lot, dodging vehicles, busses, and people who couldn’t walk straight.
“Good game,” Michael said. “Hey, how many championships do you think they’ll win when you’re here?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully . . . a lot.”
Michael stepped over a couple who had decided to lay down on the middle of the sidewalk and make-out. It looked like it was getting pretty hot and heavy, so campus cops would probably break it up soon.
“Man, wouldn’t it be cool if we could win a national championship together?” Kyle pondered.
“Oh, here we go.” He’d been hearing this all day, and quite frankly, he was sick of it. “Dude, I’m not even good enough to play D1 football.”
“So play D2 for a couple years,” Kyle suggested, “work your way up.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Oh, come on. You know you had a good time at college today.”
“I wasn’t at college; I was at a college football game,” Michael quickly corrected. “There’s a difference. This right here is the best part of college. All the rest of it’s pointless.”
“Oh, is it now?”
“Yes. Hear me out.” He cleared his throat gesturing grandly as he began. “Higher education, in a nutshell. For some people, like you, it’s a necessary stepping stone to be what you wanna be in life. But for most people, it’s a waste. Waste of time, waste of energy, waste of money. Think about it: You spend about a half a decade of your life slaving away for classes that aren’t gonna do anything to help you in the future. You spend the better years of your young adult life studying to earn a degree you’re probably never even gonna put to use. And the whole point of it is to get a better job and make more money, but what about all those student loans you had to take out? Oh, yeah, it’ll be real fun paying those back ‘til you’re forty, at which point you can start putting your hard-earned paycheck towards your kids’ college funds.” He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, wondering why more people couldn’t just see it. “See? It’s a fuckin’ joke.”
“Maybe to you,” Kyle acknowledged. “I think you’ll change your mind, though.”
“Nope.” It didn’t matter how much his friend or his girlfriend tried to convince him, and it wouldn’t even matter if his parents got in on the action. He’d made his decision. He wasn’t going to change his mind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Did these chicken strips contain any actual chicken? It was hard to say, but at least they were filling. Maria carried hers out back behind the restaurant, where Michael was waiting for her. He’d already devoured nearly all of his burger.
“Hey, so why do you wanna take your lunch break out here?” he asked between mouthfuls. “Why not eat inside?”
She sat down beside him and explained, “Because, if I take it in there, my manager’s gonna be counting me down the entire time. ‘Ten more minutes, Maria. Five more minutes until your break is over.’ He’s an ass.”
“Sounds like.” Michael shoveled the remainder of his burger into his mouth, swallowing it seconds later. The guy tended to eat fast and then loiter for a while.
She bent the first chicken strip, breaking it in two, and took a bite out of the larger half. “So how was the game?” she asked him.
“Which one? You weren’t at either of ‘em.”
“Hmm, just had to get that jab in there, huh?”
“Well . . .” He shrugged, not apologizing for it.
“The Alabama one,” she clarified.
“It was good. Bama won. Three point game. Worth the money. How’d you know I went there?”
“Isabel was here last night. And Tess.”
“Oh, you met Tess, huh?”
“Yeah. She seems . . . nice.” She also seemed way popular, and Maria had a long history of not fitting in with the popular girls. “Does she always talk so much?”
“Oh, yeah, she never shuts up,” Michael said bluntly. “I don’t know how Kyle puts up with it.”
“Seems like they’re a good match, though.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He’d taken to scraping the cheese remnants off his burger wrapper, so he must’ve still been pretty hungry. She wasn’t, so she handed him a chicken strip. At first he shook his head and tried to refuse it, but when she gave him a look and kept holding it out for him, he finally gave in and took it. He ate that fast, too.
“I heard you guys won your game, too,” she said. “People were talking about it.”
“Yeah. To be honest, you probably didn’t miss much. It wasn’t our most exciting game.”
“I wish I could’ve gone.” She’d had the night off, though it had been time to just stay home and relax. Well, for the most part. Home was never very relaxing anymore.
“So go to the next one,” he suggested. “It’s away, though.”
There was no point in even entertaining the idea, because it would just make her all the more bitter that she couldn’t attend. “I can’t,” she said softly, squinting as the clouds parted and the sun beamed down on her face.
He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Maria DeLuca. So mysterious.”
She smiled sadly, wishing she didn’t have to be.
When her break was over, she went in the back entrance, stopping in the kitchen to toss her chicken strip basket in the trash. Her manager was zipping around, barking orders at the two cooks on duty. When he spotted her, he huffed, “Maria! Where have you been? Your break ended a minute ago!”
“Really? A whole minute?” She hated this guy and decided it wasn’t worth it to argue with him. She tightened her alien-head apron around her waist and walked back out into the restaurant. The increasingly-inappropriate trucker duo had sat in her section again, and when the one with the mustache saw her, her grinned and reached beneath the table to adjust himself.
She made a face of disgust and slipped back into the kitchen. “Derek, can you do something about those two guys out there?” she pleaded, hoping that, as a manager, he might as least have some level of concern for his employees. “They always say this really gross stuff to me, and it kind of makes me uncomfortable.”
He stared at her in disbelief, clearly not about to give her anything even resembling sympathy. “They’re customers,” he stated simply.
Was that supposed to mean something? “Right . . .”
“And you’re a waitress. Go wait on them.”
Feeling her entire body deflate, she resigned herself to more derogatory comments, suggestive gestures, and slaps on the ass.
If only Michael hadn’t left. When he was there, she actually forgot that she hated her job.
TBC . . .
-April
Smart! I hope she manages to continue to think like that even with Michael's charms.
when you see it if you'd like to listen.
when you see it if you'd like to listen.
it's been over twenty years and I still can't stand them 