Sidekick Page 9

I laugh. As far as I knew, Daphne listened to punk and Japanese pop just like Izzy. I can barely picture her liking country, let alone someone as mainstream as Taylor Swift. “So you’re not all freak.”

  “Don’t tell Izzy. She’d disown me.”

  “After all the stuff you’ve kept secret for me? Of course not.” It’s weird thinking Daphne has stuff to hide. I’d always thought she was one hundred percent herself all the time. If Dallas railed on her just for not wearing lipstick, I can see why she has to hide the “normal” parts of herself. It’s stupid. Why can’t she do what she wants without getting grief?

  “You know, my mom has always taught me to be myself. It’s because of her upbringing, because she had to ‘kill her soul’ to survive in India, as she says.” Daphne stares out the window, watching the orange trees fly by. “She’s so over-dramatic.”

  I don’t know all the details, but I do know that Daphne’s mom came from a very rich, very traditional Indian family. She didn’t want to live by the rules. Didn’t want an arranged marriage. Didn’t want to be the kind of woman she was expected to be. She made a deal with her family that she’d agree to a marriage if she could go on one trip around the world first. She came to America, met Daphne’s biker dad, and ran away with him to Vegas. Her family disowned her, and she couldn’t have been happier. She got her citizenship, went to college, and became a lawyer.

  “Sometimes I wonder, though,” Daphne says. “How would it be if I wasn’t myself? Maybe it would be easier than being the freak. If I pretended I liked drama or pompoms or basketball, would anyone know I was a fake? Or would that become me?”

  This conversation is hitting too close to home, but I have to answer her. I can’t speak my mind to anyone else. “No.”

  She turns to me, surprised. “No? No to what?”

  “No, no one would know you were faking. And no, you wouldn’t become whatever you faked. The only one who knows you’re faking is you, and sometimes it ‘kills your soul’ like your mom said.”

  “Then why do it?”

  I shrug. “I guess the pros outweigh the cons.”

  “Do they?”

  “Sometimes.” They used to. I never questioned it. Going along with expectations was easy. I never thought about what I really wanted. The praise, the admiration, the respect; they were enough. Besides, I never knew what I wanted to do anyway. I still don’t. I just did what Garret did because he’s my best friend and it was always fun when we did stuff together.

  I park at school, hoping Izzy won’t ask why the car’s in a different spot. But Daphne and I don’t get out right away.

  “Russ?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for taking me with you.”

  I nod. “Thank you, too.”

  “For what?”

  “For trusting me with your secrets.”

  She smiles wide, not a shred of her previous sadness or anger anywhere. “You know, it’s a shame you feel like you have to be someone you’re not.” She pulls the door handle. “If I had to pick between fake Russ and real Russ, I’d pick the real one every time.”

  Daphne is gone before I can answer, not that I have I good reply. All I know is what she said makes me smile.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I suck in weight lifting. Garret spots me as I do bench presses and actually has to help me finish off ten. “You okay, dude?”

  “Tired.” I sit up and put my hands on my knees for support. “Really hope Coach calls off practice.”

  Garret looks out the window. It’s pouring. The first good rain of the winter. “I don’t think any of us want to go out in that. I hate trying to catch in a storm. Remember the November semifinal last year?”

  “Don’t remind me.” It rained so hard even our families left for the shelter of their cars. It was our worst game ever—seven fumbles between us. And Sean, the kicker, slipped on the last field goal attempt, costing us the game and a chance at state. Losing to the weather? Not cool.

  Coach comes in five minutes before school ends, wearing a heavy green raincoat. We all groan before he even opens his mouth. “We are not losing to a storm in the semifinal again. You’re gonna play in the rain until it’s second nature. Suit up.”

  This is the longest day of my life. I drag my feet through the halls, my shoulder pads weighing me down.

  Garret slaps my back. “This sucks.”

  “If I die out there, tell Izzy she can have my laptop,” I say.

  He laughs. “I wanted that!”

  And then, as if washed off by the rain, Garret’s smile drops. I follow his gaze, finding Mercedes and Holly at the end of the hall with Dallas, who calls, “Hey, guys, get over here!”

  The first post-breakup encounter—always a party.

  Garret sucks in a breath. “You got my back, right?”

  “Of course.” We head over. It’s my job to make this as painless as possible. I want to help him out of this, despite all the Keira crap. “Dallas, Coach’ll kill us if we don’t get out there soon.”

  He waves me off. “In a sec. The girls and I were planning Halloween shit. We’re thinking a big party at Mercedes’s.”

  “My parents are going to some kiddie thing at my grandparents’ house.” Mercedes stares at the ground, but then she looks at me. “They said I could have some friends over. You wanna come, Russ?”

  She doesn’t invite Garret. Doesn’t even glance at Garret. Ouch.

  “Uh…” I look at Garret, who suddenly finds the locker graffiti fascinating. I can’t say yes, not when my best friend isn’t invited. “I’ll think about it. We might go to the school dance and see what all the losers dress up as. Something different, you know?”

  Mercedes laughs way too loudly and play-shoves me. “That actually sounds kind of fun.”

  “Cool. Maybe we’ll see you there.” I step back, trying to end this disaster.

  She waves as we go. “Any chance to dance with you.”

  I give her a nod, hoping my smile doesn’t look as fake as it feels.

  “Damn.” Dallas elbows me. “Mercedes practically jumped in your pants.”

  “Whatever.”

  Garret is silent. He knows I won’t mess with Mercedes, but it can’t feel good to watch your ex flirt with your best friend while completely ignoring you. He doesn’t act like it, but breakups have to hurt him on some level. It can’t be easy to just remove someone from your life.

  “Let’s get this over with, my peons.” Dallas shoves his helmet on and we run into the rain.

  I’m soaked through before we even start the scrimmage, but Coach has no mercy. He just stands there under his umbrella, yelling at us. I usually enjoy practice, but all I can think about is how much I’m going to sleep when this is over.

  “Damn it, Russ!” Dallas kicks the ground, splashing mud all over me. “All you have to do is grab the ball! Get it together.”

  “I know.” I don’t have the energy to fight. There was no reason for me to miss that pass.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know what Mercedes sees in such a worthless piece of shit.”

  I wipe the water from my eyes. “Are you seriously riding my ass because of a girl?”

  He doesn’t answer, which basically means yes.

  “Dude, there’s no way in hell I’m going after Mercedes, so just chill.”

  Coach calls us in.

  “Good, burger boy.” Dallas shoves the ball into my chest way harder than necessary. I swear he has some kind of grudge against me. Why, I don’t know, but I’m sick of it.

  Once we get back to the locker room, we pull off our wet gear, shower, and dry off. Hardly anyone talks. The rain and mud wore us all out. By the time Garret pulls into his driveway, I barely have the energy to wave to him before I tromp to my house. I make it as far as the couch, crashing there in one big flop. Even my growling stomach isn’t enough to move me.

  “Russ?” Mom pokes her head out from the kitchen.

  “Hey.”

  She frowns. “Oh, hon, did
he really make you guys practice in the rain?”

  I manage a nod.

  “I was hoping you were just at Garret’s. Let me get you something.” She disappears, and I smile a bit. I’d never say it out loud, but I like when my mom takes care of me. She might have her own stuff to do, but when she is around she totally makes up for it.

  The garage door slams while I wait and Dad appears, still in his pilot’s uniform. He sets his luggage by the loveseat and plops down much like I did. “Had a long day?”

  “Beyond,” I say. “Looks like you did, too.”

  He smiles. “Almost twenty hours straight flying.”

  “Ouch.”

  “So.” He pauses, which is always a sign that he’s about to bring up something I may not want to talk about. “You picked any colleges to scout out?”

  I sigh. College is the absolute furthest thing from my mind at this point. “No.”

  He purses his lips. “What are you not saying, son?”

  I’ve been avoiding this conversation for years. Now that we’re mere months from the Big Decisions, I’m forced to face it. “Maybe I don’t want to go.”

  Dad shakes his head. “I know it all seems overwhelming, but college is great. You’ll love it once you get there.”

  “But you didn’t even use your degree.” My dad majored in history. He went to flight school for fun, racked up a bunch of hours, and got lucky when a friend hooked him up with his first job flying for United. He’s kind of the last person who should be telling me I have to go to college.

  “Maybe not, but it was still a great experience to get out on my own and figure out life. Besides, I met your mom in school.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “So I should go to college to…get married?”

  “No!” He laughs, but then he goes quiet, watching me. His face isn’t hard, only sympathetic. My dad has never been the kind to get mad. He’s always been chill, with ample sides of cheesy and awkward. But that almost makes it worse because he doesn’t deserve to be disappointed. “You know what? How about we make a deal?”

  “A deal?”

  “If you really don’t want to go to college, then I need to see some kind of alternative plan from you. I don’t want to see you working a drive-through at twenty-four, you know?”

  My stomach sinks. If he only knew. “I get that.”

  “So think about what else you’d do, and if nothing comes to mind by December, then maybe we should talk college. How’s that sound?”

  It doesn’t sound great, mostly because I still don’t have a clue what I want the rest of my life to be. What idiot thought it was a good idea to put such gigantic, life-altering choices in the hands of teenagers? I rub my eyes, just wanting this to be over. “Sounds fair.”

  He smiles, and that’s when Mom comes in with two beautiful turkey sandwiches, loaded with lettuce, tomatoes, and—sweet mercy—bacon. Maybe those cooking classes weren’t totally lost on her.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She tousles my hair like I’m five. “Make sure Izzy gets home at a reasonable hour. Your father and I are going out shopping, and then dinner and a movie.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I say through the sandwich. It needs mustard, but other than that it’s great.

  #

  The next thing I know, someone’s sitting on me. I groan. “Izzy, seriously, leave me alone.”

  The laugh jolts me awake. That is not Izzy’s laugh, but hers is somewhere in the ones that follow. I arch my head back, since I’m lying on my stomach, and there’s Keira, her hair wild and her smile playful. “Oh, hey.”

  She leans down. “As cute as it is to watch you sleep, we kind of need the couch.”

  Damn, she’s so sexy.

  “I’m not moving until I know what you need it for.”

  Izzy puts her hands on her hips, clearly not pleased with me. “We’re watching a movie, you big ox.”

  “A movie? That’s new.” As much as I don’t want to move, I push myself up. Keira slides off me, leaning back on the opposite side of the couch.

  “How would you know?” Daphne sits in the recliner, arms folded. “Not like you’re here for everything we watch.”

  Trent flicks her head. “Dude, you’re in my drawing chair.”

  Daphne doesn’t move.

  “It’s kind of late, and this won’t take all night,” Izzy says as she and Colin commandeer the loveseat. They’re doing that a lot lately. I’m not sure I like it, but I keep my mouth shut.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  Trent gives up on the recliner and sits next to me. “Almost ten.”

  “Shit, I gotta go.” I stand so fast I almost lose my balance. Sure hope Old Man Parker won’t make me scrub the floor with a toothbrush for being late.

  Keira frowns. “Where?”

  “Uhh…I was supposed to go to that party, remember?”

  Daphne rolls her eyes. Trent smirks. Keira seems to notice, but all she says is, “Can’t you ditch it?”

  Her eyes beg me to stay, and if I really was meeting up with friends I would ditch them in a heartbeat. But then my deal with Trent would be off, and Old Man Parker would think I’m a flake. I sigh. “Sorry, I can’t. Not tonight.”

  “Fine.” Her shoulders slump and I get the feeling I just missed my opportunity.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I park Puke in the back, the bacon scent making me feel a little better about missing anime night. I hate that Garret might have Keira all to himself while I’m “hanging out with the guys,” but there’s nothing I can do now. When I enter the kitchen, the Parker men are huddled around the table. It must be burger-testing night again.

  “Russ, we’re just about to start. C’mon.” Old Man Parker waves me over with a pleasant smile. He’s not so scary anymore. Actually, I think he likes me. The other day he told me I was a hundred times more useful than Trent. I kind of felt bad for Trent, but it felt nice, too, to be acknowledged for being good at something.

  There are two burgers laid out, both cut into five pieces. I hold back a smile, realizing they planned to include me in this, that they were waiting for me.

  “Alrighty, boys, we got two new green chili burgers to test out. Buck’s sweet Thai chili burger and Fred’s breakfast chili burger.” He holds out his hand to Fred, who’s in his thirties and the thinnest of the Parkers save Trent. “Since you’re the oldest.”

  “Okay.” He rubs his hands together. “This is a green chili with a fried egg and some salsa. You should get a breakfast burrito kind of feel.”

  We each take our bites. I chew a few times then take another bite. It definitely tastes like that, but it’s…

  “Mushy,” Charlie says. “Need some crunch in there, otherwise I think it’s a contender.”

  They nod.

  “Grilled onions?” Buck says.

  “That’s basically the same texture as the chilies,” Old Man Parker says. “If we’re goin’ breakfast, what about a crunchy hash brown patty?”

  They all grunt in agreement, and I’m surprised I find myself doing the same thing, like I belong here. “But how well would it sell past breakfast?”

  They all stare at me, and then Fred says, “Good point.”

  Old Man Parker nods. “Buck, your turn.”

  “Okay, this is a Thai chili take, with peanuts on there for that signature Thai feel, not to mention crunch.” He eyes Fred, as if he’s beaten him at this competition.

  We all take a slice of the burger and bite. The chili is freaking hot. I like hot, but I’m not sure the average customer would want their mouth on fire while eating. That, and it’s kind of disgusting, but I won’t say so until the others weigh in.

  Old Man Parker spits his out. “That’s the burger from hell.”

  I don’t think he means it as a compliment.

  Charlie laughs. “No one will order that unless we give them a T-shirt for finishing and put their picture up on our wall.”

  “We could do that!” Buck lights up. “The Burger from Hell! If
you finish, your meal is free. People like those kind of challenges.”

  The Old Man shakes his head. “We don’t do gimmicks. We make good, quality food. That’s enough.”

  “Damn straight.” I freeze, realizing I said that out loud.

  Everyone laughs but Buck. “You got any ideas, kid? You sure talk a lot for a scrub.”

  I tip my chin up. “I do, actually.”

  Not really, but I can’t help taking a challenge. I guess that’s the ball player in me, or maybe it’s just the guy who always comes in second. And maybe I’m hoping they’ll let me use the grill instead of chopping vegetables until my hand cramps.

  Old Man Parker raises his bushy, gray eyebrows. “Well, have at it, boy.”

  Smiling, I head for the fridge. As I scan the contents, I hope for inspiration to strike. I can do better than that nasty Thai burger. Buck won’t call me a scrub again. Ah, there it is. I can’t believe they haven’t thought of it yet. It’s so obvious, and it has Parker’s written all over it. I grab a slab of the sweet maple bacon, onions, green chilies, and some sharp white cheddar. My mouth waters at the thought of this burger, so I hope they’ll like it, too.

  I start with the bacon, chopping it up and crisping it well. Then I work on the chilies, making sure to take the seed pods out so it won’t be too hot. I dice those up along with the onions, and then I sauté them until the onions are caramelized, adding yet another undercurrent of sweet. The pepper, garlic, and cumin come next. Then the tiniest bit of salt, since the bacon will compensate.

  The entire time, I can feel Old Man Parker watching me. Even while he grills up orders. His expression doesn’t say if I’m succeeding or not, but there’s no turning back.

  I throw the bacon in with the green chilies and onion, and then grab a fresh burger from the fridge. I put it on the grill and let it sizzle until the bottom looks done. After I flip it, I put a slice of the white cheddar on to melt. A quick toasting of the bun, and I’m ready to assemble.

  “Okay, it’s done,” I say when I have it cut. For a second I worry it’s too simple, but sometimes simple is best. The Parkers gather and the nerves kick in. Who do I think I am? Coming into Parker’s—a legendary drive-in—and saying I can make a better burger?