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“Stop here,” Trent says when we’re about fifteen yards from the truck circle. “If she’s here, you don’t want her to see you.”

  “True.” I put Puke in park and turn off the headlights. It’s so dark the partiers probably can’t see my car past the bonfire.

  “So what are you gonna do if she is here? Take a picture or something?”

  “No.” I thought about it, but taking a picture like that is dangerous. I’ve lived most of my school years in fear that someone will catch me doing something dorky and post it all over the internet. I can’t do that to another person. Not even Keira. “I just want to see for myself. I can’t tell Garret his girlfriend might be cheating on him without being one hundred percent sure she’s doing it.”

  “But…she made out with you.”

  I look at him like he’s stupid. “And I’m going to tell Garr that?”

  “Good point.”

  “I told her if I caught her doing it again I’d tell him. If she didn’t care about that, well, she doesn’t deserve him.” Garret, for all his insecurities, is a good guy. He’d never cheat. Break up with a girl to get with another one? Sure. But who doesn’t do that?

  Trent nods. “Let’s go.”

  A cold wind cuts through my jacket, but as we get closer to the bonfire it’s not so bad. Trent makes me stay on the edges, worried that people will recognize me. I see a few people from school, but they’re either too smashed or high to notice me. There are older people here, too. I swear some are in their thirties. Which seems sad. I hope I’m not still acting like I’m in high school at thirty.

  “Chase!” Trent calls out. A tall, stringy guy in very tight jeans stops mid-stride. I don’t know him well, but I do know he’s into art and hangs out with Trent. As he comes closer, he recognizes me.

  “What’s with the jock?” he says to Trent, his words slurred.

  “Don’t worry, he’s cool.” Chase tries to walk off, but Trent stops him. “Hey, uh, have you seen that Brig guy around tonight?”

  “Brig Adams?” Chase looks around, though he’s not looking at anything in particular. “Pretty sure I saw him around here somewhere, but he’s always going off with that girl these days. The hot, bitchy one.”

  “Keira?” I ask.

  “Yeah! Dude, you, like, read my mind.”

  “It’s my super power.” I can’t help but mess with drunks. It’s always entertaining. “You were also thinking about what I tool I am.”

  His eyes go wide. “No way.”

  “Way, man.”

  “How’d you do that? Sheriously! Can you teach me?”

  I shake my head. “Either you have super powers or you don’t.”

  Trent laughs. “Thanks, Chase. We’re gonna grab a beer now.”

  He nods. “The good stuff’s in the blue truck, if you’re game.”

  “Gotcha.” Trent and I walk off, and he whispers, “Our best bet is the truck beds. Some guys put mattresses in them.”

  “Classy.”

  So we check truck beds as discreetly as possible. It’s kind of shocking how many are occupied. I mean, it’s one thing to find a room in a house. But outside? In the open? There are so many things wrong with that.

  And then I hear it. Her laugh.

  I grab Trent’s arm, and he waits for me without a word. A moan comes from the truck bed in front of us, one that I used to think was sexy when she was making it for me. The betrayal, along with all the ugly feelings, comes rushing back. It’s like I’m going through it all over again.

  Was she with this guy, too, when we were sneaking around? How the hell did she have time for three guys? There is something seriously wrong with her.

  I take slow steps toward the truck, the noises growing more and more disturbing. But I have to see. I have to make sure I’m not just hearing things. The truck is jacked up ridiculously high, so I have to stand on my tiptoes to peer over the tailgate. The second I see her white-blond hair, I know. Her back is bare, and I decide I’ve seen enough.

  I walk back to Trent, pass him, and he follows. “So?”

  “It’s her.” As glad as I am to have solid proof, I feel sad, too. A little part of me wanted it to be another girl because this will crush Garret. And I have to be the bearer of bad news.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The game. I have to think of the game. Coach stands in front of us in the locker room, his face more somber than usual. “This is it, boys. I know I don’t say it often, but I’m proud of you all. You worked hard this season. You’re one game away from being champions. For a lot of you, it’s your last game in high school. Let’s make it count.”

  Everyone cheers. So do I, though it’s like the ground just disappeared and I’m floating in limbo. My last game? I knew that, but hearing it feels so final.

  Garret slaps me on the back. “C’mon, Russ.”

  “Right.” I follow him to the lockers to finish getting ready. We got there a little late, since he had to have a pre-game make-out with Keira. This is not the time to drop the news on Garret, but I can’t stand hearing him go on about her. He thinks she’s just like his other girlfriends—happy to have him, loyal.

  “She is incredible, Russ,” he says as I put on my jersey. “You should see her skate. We snuck into this backyard with an empty pool, and wow, she flies.”

  She has it down to a science—give the sob story about her evil step-dad and her mom getting abused, ramp up the flirting, admit she wants you, and go in for the kill. Then she keeps you by giving just the littlest bits of herself, enough to keep the mystery but leave you begging for more. As much as I hate her, I hate myself more for buying it.

  “I practically had to pry her off me to get here.” Garret smiles too widely. “She’s an amazing kisser.”

  My laugh sounds broken, fake, but he doesn’t notice. I’m sure she knew how hard it would be for me to tell him. She doesn’t think I can do it. She thinks she’s completely safe.

  “She said she’d be here tonight to watch us win.” Garr grabs his helmet. “Just knowing she’s out there cheering me on? There’s no way I can lo—”

  “Keira’s cheating on you.” They say ripping off a Band-Aid hurts less if it’s fast, and I hope it works for words, too.

  He blinks a few times, like he’s not sure what I said. “What?”

  “She’s cheating on you. I saw her. I probably should have told you after the game, but it kills me hearing you talk about her when she doesn’t care about you. Sorry.”

  He shakes his head. “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I lie? I’m telling you I saw her kissing another guy at this bonfire party Trent took me to.”

  His brow furrows. “You went to a party with Trent?”

  Something’s wrong. He isn’t sad. He looks angry. At me. I get the feeling he thinks I’m making it up, and I have to admit that me going to some skater party sounds like the start of a really bad joke. “I swear, man. You have to believe me.”

  He runs his hand through his hair, barely pushing back whatever it is he’s feeling. “You know, Keira told me you’d try this. I said you’d never, because we’re too tight for that.”

  “What are you talking about?” A sense of dread washes over me. Keira’s probably been filling his head with lies ever since I sent her that warning text. She didn’t take it as a threat—she took it as a cue to cover her ass.

  “She said you’re totally hot for her, that you make passes at her when I’m not around.” He pauses, like he doesn’t want to say it. “She said you might try to break us up so you could step in. And now here you are claiming she’s a cheater. I can’t believe she was right.”

  I stare at him. He can’t be serious. He just can’t. “You’re gonna believe her over your best friend?”

  “Friend?” His laugh is hard. “I don’t think I know you at all. You had this secret life, Russ! At first I wasn’t bothered that you didn’t tell me about Izzy and her friends, but after getting to know them? They know you better than I do. They’re your real
friends, not me.”

  “That’s not true. You know the same me as they do. I’m your friend, like I always have been.”

  He shakes his head. It’s clear he’s been thinking about this for a while, and worse, he’s already made up his mind. “Is that what you call leaving me out to dry at lunch? Or trying to convince me not to date her? And let’s not forget you secretly working at Parker’s and suddenly becoming best friends with Mercedes. I’m not stupid. I knew you liked Keira.”

  I can’t breathe. He’s not kidding. He thinks I’m the bad guy. “Garr, that’s not how it is.”

  “Oh no?” I’ve never seen him look at me like that. It’s not anger—it’s disgust. “It sure seems like you’re going out of your way to keep me down. Maybe I’m tired of following you around like your little lapdog.”

  “What?”

  “Forget it, man.” He shoves his helmet on. “You badmouth my girl again and you’ll regret it.” He heads for the door, leaving me there alone.

  What just happened? I think my best friend threatened me, which means he probably isn’t my best friend anymore. It can’t be over just like that.

  I throw a punch at the lockers. Keira made it look like I’m the horrible, manipulative one. She made herself look innocent, and she used everything she had to screw me over. I hate that I can see how easily it all got twisted up, too.

  “Russ!” Dallas calls. “Get out here!”

  “Coming.” I take a deep breath, forcing it all down, locking it in a little box. It’s time to play the game of my life.

  Surprisingly, I play like a freaking god. I can do no wrong. The defenders can’t catch me. I find every opening. I score every touchdown we have. The crowd chants my name and I feel invincible.

  I wish it was enough to win the game, but it’s not. Their offense has our defense figured out. For every touchdown we score, they get one right back. And when there’s a pattern like that, the team that loses is the one that ends up on the wrong side of the buzzer.

  We’re on the wrong side. Ten seconds left, zero time outs, thirty yards. A field goal isn’t enough. It has to be a touchdown, so there’s only one chance—Garret. It’s always like this; I do the work, he saves the day. It’s never bothered me more than it does now.

  Dallas breaks the huddle and we line up. I don’t have much of a job for this play. All I have to do is make sure no one gets to Dallas before he throws. When the center hikes the ball, it goes by fast. I take out a defender who broke through, and Dallas chucks the ball.

  We all stop, watching it fly. It’s dead-on. Dallas may be a tool, but he can throw like a beast. Garret’s open. He’s in the end zone. We’re going to win this.

  And then he drops the ball. Literally.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  No matter how buzzed I am, Garret’s words play over and over in my head. After we lost, I tried to talk to him. I put my hand on his shoulder, and I honestly meant it when I said, “Sorry, man.”

  He shoved it off. “I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need you to save my ass. I don’t need you at all.”

  I hate to admit it, but I fought back tears. “Garret…”

  “Leave me the hell alone.”

  It stung, and my next word came out angry. “Fine.”

  And then he walked away, probably to see Keira, to drown himself in her intoxicating mysteriousness. Dallas dragged me to his car after that to fulfill my promise to go to his party.

  Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could save Garret from this shame. As I down another beer, I can still see him reaching up with one hand to catch. The ball bounced out of his palm and tumbled to the ground right as the buzzer sounded. He must have misjudged the force, and instead of catching with two hands he got cocky.

  Serves him right.

  I shouldn’t be thinking like that, but I can’t help it after what he said to me. It’s like a sign, a manifestation that things have changed forever. Good or bad, I don’t know. Just different.

  “Russ.” Dallas sits by me on his massive leather couch. It’s supposed to be a party, but so far it looks more like a funeral. And all the mourners are pissed off at the guy who died. “Did Garret just go home?”

  “I don’t know.” Seems like no one has picked up on the fact that we’re no longer friends. I’m not sure it has set in for me either.

  He takes a swig from his can. “Probably better for him, anyway. I can’t believe he dropped the ball.”

  “Yeah.” I still can’t process it.

  “It wasn’t my aim, was it?” He’s already slurring, and I bet I am, too.

  “It was definitely not your aim.”

  “I know!” He throws his head back. “I can’t believe we lost!”

  “Aww, Dallas.” Avery Marlowe, still in her cheer uniform, sways into view. Her bleached hair is plastered with glitter, some of which flakes off in a sparkly shower as she sits right in his lap. “It wasn’t you fault, baby. Don’t you dare feel guilty.”

  “The QB always feels guilty,” he says. “It’s my responsibility to lead the team.”

  I stare at him, surprised he’s being sincere. For the first time in my life, I almost get Dallas Green. He’s been under a lot of pressure this season. So much relies on the quarterback having it together, and he did work his ass off. He wanted this championship probably more than any of us.

  “You did lead us,” I say. “You couldn’t have done a better job, man.”

  He smiles at me, probably taken aback by the compliment. I’ve never actually told him he was a good player—I didn’t want to feed his ego. But maybe it wasn’t ego. Maybe it was his way of being strong for the team.

  “Russ is right. It was Garret’s fault.” Avery nods emphatically, and then she grabs Dallas’s face and kisses him.

  That would be my cue to move.

  Dallas has the kind of parents who think it’s better for their kids to get drunk at home than sneak off to do it, so they’re here making sure we get safely smashed. They do have some limits, though. No hard liquor. I get why they do it, but it’s still weird having Mr. Green wave and smile at me as I pass him on my way to get more beer.

  I grab another can from the cooler on the kitchen counter. The stuff tastes like shit, but I want the buzz. No, I want the crash. I want to be so drunk I can’t remember the way Garret looked at me, the way he walked away from me. It’s been a long time since I wanted to get drunk, but tonight it seems to be the best option.

  I want to forget how much I’ve lost.

  “Slow down there,” a familiar voice says from behind me. I whirl around, finding Mercedes’s welcoming smile. She has on this low-cut black top and tight jeans, making her look more like a model than a cheerleader.

  “Nope.” I take another long drink. “Getting smashed tonight. Feel free to join me.”

  She laughs. “Sounds good.”

  We both grab an armful of cans and find an open loveseat. She sits close. For a second I feel guilty, but then I realize I don’t have to worry about what Garret thinks anymore. Interesting. Not sure how I feel about Mercedes minus the Garret factor.

  She lets out a long sigh. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

  “Yeah. It sucks.”

  “It’s not that we lost, Russ.” She cracks open another can. “I mean it’s over. That was the last football game I’ll ever cheer. After basketball season I’ll never do this again. I’ve been a cheerleader since I was a little girl! It’s my whole life, and now it’s ending.”

  “You could cheer in college.”

  She gives me this look like I’m an idiot. “You think I have the grades for college? Hello?”

  “Oh, right.” That’s when it really sinks in. That game was the last one I’ll ever play aside from lame Thanksgiving touch football. I’m going to be one of those old guys who talks about how he used to be a star in high school. I’ll watch the NFL and complain about bad plays and crap offense, acting like I know better. Playing football is not something I do anymore. It�
�s something I did.

  It’s over. Something that was part of my life—my identity—is over, and I have nothing to replace it with.

  I down another beer to wash out the emptiness.

  “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now,” Mercedes says. Her eyes are wet.

  There’s nothing wrong with offering a little comfort, so I put my arm around her. “I know the feeling.”

  She smiles up at me. “You do?”

  I nod. “But let’s forget about it tonight.”

  “I like your thinking.”

  I lose track of how much we drink. All I know is that we’re having fun and laughing harder than I have in a long time. Other drunk people are dancing, which is hilarious. Some are passed out, which is hilarious. Everything is freaking hilarious.

  Mercedes has her legs draped over mine. She smiles and giggles as she twirls her hair around one finger.

  “What’s so funny?” I barely recognize my own voice.

  She busts up laughing. “You’re so drunk!”

  “So are you!” I poke her leg.

  “Hey!” She pulls herself up and sways so badly that I have to grab her before she falls off the couch. When she finds her balance, she looks into my eyes. Suddenly, nothing feels funny. Her voice is low, intimate, when she says, “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve always wanted to kiss you.” She leans in.

  It’s tempting. For the smallest moment I want to get it over with and date Mercedes like everyone expects. She’d be a good girlfriend—nice, hot, easy, loyal. We’d have fun, and she’d never expect me to be anything but what I am. She’d think she was lucky to have me, and that sounds really nice right about now.

  But right before her lips meet mine, I jerk back. Then I wonder why. So reflexively, too. I don’t have to be loyal to Garret anymore. He’s not loyal to me. But that’s not it. There’s something else that’s telling me I really don’t want to kiss her. She’s not the girl I should be kissing, except I’m not sure who is.

  She frowns. “Russ?”

  I get up, stumbling as I try to figure out my wobbly legs. “I gotta go.”