Читать книгу Hooked - Liz Fichera - Страница 11

Chapter 4

Ryan

WHAT’S UP WITH HER? I TRIED to mind-meld with Seth as we passed a girl with the ends of her black hair wrapped around her hand. She looked at the floor as soon as we spotted her, like we’d caught her snitching or something.

As Seth and I approached Coach Lannon’s office, the coach filled his doorway, absently scratching the side of his head.

I’d seen that pinched look on his face before. He looked a little pissed, and I wondered if word had gotten back to him about Friday night’s party. We’d been in trouble with the coach a couple of times last year for partying, but nothing major. He’d given us the “don’t do drugs” speech and warned us about how alcohol burned brain cells, and we’d halfheartedly promised to stay out of trouble—or at least promised ourselves behind his back not to get caught. I’d heard that one of Zack’s neighbors had called the police because of the music, but, really, I barely remembered any of it.

“Seth,” the coach said, clearing his throat as we stopped at his door. “Got a sec?” The warning bell buzzed in the background, indicating a ten-minute window before Homeroom.

“Sure, Coach.” Seth balanced his dark blue TaylorMade golf bag in front of him. He grabbed the sides with both hands and waited.

The coach’s right eyebrow shot up. “Alone,” he said. “Sorry, Ryan.”

“Oh, right,” I said as I wedged myself and my bag between them. My best guess was that the coach was going to give Seth another warning about failing grades and ditching class, two things that Seth had done really well last year. Although I’d probably ditched as often, I’d maintained a decent grade-point average without trying too hard. Seth really needed to start taking the coach’s rules seriously. One more warning and he’d probably be off the team. Before I could think it through, I said, “If it’s about Friday night, I can explain—”

The coach cut me off with a wave of his hand. “What about Friday night?” But then he shook his head and sighed. “Forget it. It has nothing to do with that, Berenger.” His jaw clenched, and I realized that I’d just made things worse.

Before I could make him angrier, I dumped my golf bag inside the office where six others already crowded one of the corners, including a busted-up plaid one that must have been someone’s idea of a joke. Then I turned around for the hallway without stopping. “See you in class,” I mumbled to Seth as I passed through the doorway.

Seth flashed me a grateful grin, but I could tell by the way his lip twitched that he was anxious.

Coach Lannon barely gave me a chance to leave before he closed the door.

That couldn’t be good.

* * *

The next time I saw Seth, his nostrils were flaring.

He marched into Homeroom with his fists clenched. His eyes blazed and his chest heaved as if the coach had just forced him to do one hundred push-ups. The veins in his forehead looked ready to pop.

Seth scanned the room until he found me. I nodded at him from the back row and lifted my backpack from the empty seat next to mine.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed Seth. At least thirty other faces in Homeroom watched him storm his way to the back of the room. He dropped so heavily into his seat that his desk knocked into the guy seated in front of him, but the dude didn’t turn around and bitch. Probably too scared.

I feared the worst. “What’d the coach say?” I whispered to Seth as he jammed his backpack underneath his seat. Fortunately the Homeroom teacher was too busy going through her attendance sheets to care.

Seth shook his head and stared into space, then garbled something unintelligible. Totally not like Seth to act so out-of-control crazed.

I leaned in and tried again. “Come on. Tell me. What happened?”

Seth’s face darkened another shade, and all I could think was He got expelled. That had to be it. I wondered if I should get a hall pass to see Coach Lannon and try to explain a way out of this. I could promise that both of us would be on our best behavior all year. We had practiced so hard over the summer. The coach had seen us tons of times at my parents’ country club. And if I had to, I’d even break down and beg Dad to reason with him. Dad was an expert at convincing people to do stuff they didn’t want to do.

Finally, Seth spoke, but his teeth stayed clenched. “Dude, you are so not gonna believe this.” He exhaled as the principal’s voice filled the room over the loudspeakers with a list of upcoming SAT test dates.

I pulled closer, full-on curious.

“He. Kicked me. Off. The fucking. Team.”

“Say what?” My shoulders caved forward. “That is so busted!”

Seth nodded, nostrils still flaring.

“Maybe if I talked to him. Maybe if my dad talked to him...”

A frenzied smile took over his face. He looked as whacked as I’d ever seen him. “Don’t bother,” he said, surprising me again.

“Don’t bother?” My chin pulled back. Seth never gave up without a fight. “Why not? We could talk to him. We could talk him out of it—”

“Save it, Ryan,” he said.

“Why?” I said. “Why not try?”

“Won’t matter,” he fumed.

“But the coach saw you at the club this summer, practicing your ass off.” Seth might not have been the best player on the team but he had gotten a lot better. The coach had to have noticed.

Seth half laughed, half snorted. “Seems I got axed anyway.”

“Did it have to do with the party? Did he hear about it?”

“Had nothing to do with the party.”

“What, then? Why?”

Seth’s tight-lipped smile faded, but the anger behind his eyes only got worse. The blood vessels around his forehead looked freakishly ready to explode. “Some girl named Fred Oday got my spot.”

“A girl?” I was speechless. My eyes narrowed. There was that odd girl name again: Fred.

“Here’s the best part,” Seth continued, his voice growing raspier. “Coach isn’t even making her try out.” He chuckled darkly. “He handed my spot right to the bitch.” His glassy eyes stared back at me. “Sweet deal, huh?”

I shook my head. Hardly.

I didn’t even know this girl, but I already hated her.

* * *

Homeroom was only fifteen minutes, but it felt like fifteen hours.

Afterward, Seth stormed into the hallway. “I gotta ditch,” Seth told me. “I need to chillax before my head explodes.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Seth shook his head, surprising me again. “No, I just got to figure out how to explain this to my parents. They’re going to go ape-shit.” What Seth really meant was that his stepdad would freak. Getting cut from the golf team would give him one more reason to be disappointed in Seth. Unfortunately, Seth’s stepdad had a habit of showing his disappointment with a few well-placed punches, most of which left a bruise or two.

There was no stopping Seth either. He darted toward the student parking lot to get his truck.

Students with backpacks as big as tortoises shuffled alongside me as we all carved our way down the narrow hallways before the next bell. Normally I hated the claustrophobic feeling of the hallways and all the pushing and shoving, but today I barely noticed. I was still trying to wrap my head around Seth’s news: Some girl named Fred Oday.

Some girl? Had Seth heard that right?

She’s already got a spot on the team.

How was that fair?

Coach isn’t even making her try out.

Not even an informal tryout?

And her name is Fred Oday.

Fred? What kind of a girl’s name was that?

My temples began to throb as I replayed the news in my head. None of it made any sense.

And where had I heard the name Fred? Where had I seen her? Surely she hadn’t just dropped out of the freaking sky. She must be at least a junior. And why would Coach Lannon put a girl on an all-boys’ varsity golf team? Was he high? Weren’t there rules against stuff like that? Shouldn’t there be? Our chances of winning the state championship had just crashed.

Still numb, I almost head-butted Zack Fisher on my way to English. I was going through the door as he was busting out.

“You hear?” Zack said to me, predictably. Of course Zack had heard. Thanks to him, probably everyone in the entire school already knew about Seth.

I stared back at him, still a little dazed.

“Well? Have you heard?” He grabbed my shoulder.

I shrugged Zack’s hand off my shoulder. “Yeah. I heard. I sit right next to him in Homeroom. Remember?”

“Can you believe that?” Zack’s head of tight brown curls shook indignantly, his eyes shiny and wide with the news. “And now we’ve got a girl on the team? Are you kidding me?” His voice got higher, louder. Angrier. “Why don’t they just start a girls’ team?” Several freshmen glanced curiously in our direction as they passed us in the hallway.

“I know,” I said, unsure what more to say.

“You know her?”

I shook my head. “Never heard of her.”

Zack chortled. “Well, she better be good. That’s all I got to say.” He said it as if he didn’t think it was even remotely possible. I wanted him to be right.

“Yeah,” I said. Especially since she just got my best friend kicked off the team.

The bell rang, and we both turned for the door. Mrs. Weisz, our English teacher, was already at the podium and shuffling papers. She peered at us over her wire-rimmed bifocals. A quick flicker of her eyelids reminded us about her views on tardiness. But then I realized, too late, that I’d rather be anywhere other than inside her stuffy classroom discussing lame hundred-year-old books that never made any sense. I should have ditched with Seth.

Too late now.

With my backpack slung over my right shoulder and my hands jammed in my front pockets to keep them from punching a hole in the door, I wove my way to my usual spot next to the window. Every seat was taken, and the rows were so tight that there was barely any room to wedge between the desks. When I finally made it to the last row, I passed by a girl seated in the front desk and accidentally knocked over her book with my backpack.

“Sorry,” I murmured, bending over to retrieve it. When I stood up, my eyes swept over her desk and then landed on her face. It was the same girl who’d walked out of Coach Lannon’s office.

For a moment, we locked gazes, and I began to piece it together. But then before I blinked, the girl lowered her eyes and began fidgeting with a strand of her hair. It twirled around her finger like a shiny black ribbon as she stared down at a blank page in her notebook. Her eyes hid under feathery eyelashes.

And then, for some odd reason, I squinted at the cover of her book in my hand: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. In the right corner, written in perfect cursive letters in black ink, I saw another name: Fred Oday.

My jaw dropped. Fred Oday? That Fred Oday?

My temples started to pound again. My eyes traveled back down to the girl’s forehead. Her brow was furrowed, and her eyes stayed lowered. She was sure as shit avoiding me.

You’re Fred Oday? I wanted to shout.

I almost choked out my question until Mrs. Weisz said, “Mr. Berenger? Something wrong?”

I didn’t answer her. My gaze refused to unlock from the top of the girl’s head.

“Will you take your seat, Mr. Berenger?” Mrs. Weisz snapped.

I nodded numbly. And then I remembered.

All of the details came flooding back as clearly as the writing on her book. Everything.

She was the girl who’d dropped cake right into my crotch at Mom’s birthday dinner, almost as if she’d done it on purpose. She was the girl who’d passed Seth and me outside Coach Lannon’s office. And she was also the girl who’d robbed my best friend of his spot on the golf team.

I dropped the book onto Fred’s desk. It landed with a splat.

Then I stormed down the row and dropped into the last empty seat.