Serves Me Wright

“They’re something,” I muttered to Blaire.

“Tell me about it.”

“What the hell happened?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing as far as I know.”

We headed toward the fields. No sign of Julian or Jordan or any other Wrights for that matter. Isaac and Annie were already on the field, kicking the ball back and forth. Cézanne’s box braids were swinging as she tried to get around her boyfriend and the goalie, Gerome. He laughed and blocked her easily, even as he pulled his locs up out of his face. Nora was sitting on the bleachers, next to her best friend, Tamara. August stood between them, smiling at both girls as if he had a very dirty dream in front of him. We were just missing Julian.

“Going to warm up,” Blaire said, dropping her bag. “Julian will be here. He never misses without letting us know.”

I nodded. I didn’t know why I hadn’t gone over to his house yesterday. It wasn’t like I needed an invitation. But he also always responded to my messages. I was overthinking, overreacting, but my anxiety did that. The Xanax was keeping me calm as I waited.

“Two minutes, y’all,” Isaac called. The rest of the team moved onto the field toward him. His brow furrowed as he looked around for Julian. But there was no Julian. “Where the hell is he?”

Everyone shrugged. The whistle blew to get into position for the game to start. And then they were off, playing one man down without Julian, one of their best players. What the hell?

“Here!” Julian called. He was dashing toward the field, his soccer bag banging into his thigh. He flashed me a smile as he passed, but he didn’t stop. “Sorry.”

“Get your ass out here, Wright,” Isaac called from his midfield position.

“Yep. Yep,” he said, sliding into his cleats and stuffing shin guards into his socks. “My bad.”

And then he was jogging in place while he waited for the ref to let him on. He hadn’t even said a word to me. Just one slightly manic smile. And he had been late. Julian Wright was never late.

I sank into a seat next to Piper. She was lathering sunscreen onto her tan skin, a hat atop her head to block her face. She offered the bottle to me. “Mi abuelita always says, ‘Better safe than sorry.’ ”

“Thanks. I burn like a lobster.”

“What’s with your boy?”

“What’s with yours?” I countered.

She arched an eyebrow. “Bradley and I are off-again.”

“We both know that’s not who I meant.”

She huffed. “Hollin can go fuck himself.”

I smirked. “You know he likes to see your reaction.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She eyed me again. “And Julian? I saw that deflection.”

“No idea, honestly. He hasn’t returned my messages since yesterday, and he’s never late, but here he is.”

“Late.”

I nodded.

“Well, boy needs to get his shit together. If he hurts my friend, I’ll cut him.”

I saw something savage cross her face and didn’t doubt her for a second. But the thought of Julian hurting me made my insides twist.

“Maybe it’s a misunderstanding.”

She shot me a look that said I couldn’t be that naive. And she was right. My anxiety never let me think the best of someone.

So, I sat and watched the game. Blaire was a force to be reckoned with. Her feet were quick, and her shots were on fire today. August kept getting in her way, not passing the ball, but somehow, she made up for him. Hollin made a few incredible stops, and Gerome saved more balls than I’d ever seen. In fact, this might be the first match that I’d seen an even competition with the other team.

And it was the wrong day for that to be the case. Because Julian was off his game. Completely off of his game. I’d never seen him flub so many passes and seemingly trip over his own feet. He usually had mad ball skills, toying with the other team. Today, two times in a row, the ball had been stolen from him by a tiny girl about Nora’s size. She was good, but she wasn’t better than Julian on a good day.

I frowned at the display. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, your boy sucks.” Piper laughed when I frowned at her. “I mean, arguably, I know nothing about soccer, but he looks bad out there.”

He did. And the team couldn’t recover from him screwing up. At the end of the day, we lost, and it was hard to place the blame anywhere else.

Everyone trudged off the field, exhausted and dejected. Isaac tried for a pep talk, but no one was really listening. They downed their water bottles and changed out of their cleats.

Blaire plopped onto the seat next to Piper. “Well, that blew.”

“Better luck next time,” Piper said.

I patted Blaire on the shoulder. “Sorry.”

She laughed and shrugged it off. “No big deal.” She was looking down at her phone.