“Did you just call me Kennedy?” I asked.
Tristan shook his head. “No. I was talking about you in third person, or whatever. Doesn’t count.”
I smirked. “Okay. And assuming I believe any of this, I still don’t understand why you care about football. Every time I see you out there, you just look mad. Like you want to hurt someone.”
Tristan knelt down, plucking idly at some weeds growing out of the dirt. “Football is like revenge to me, I guess.”
“Against who?”
“Nah. Forget it. That’s just how I play. It’s easier when you’re pissed. Easier not to think about what could go wrong or if you’re worried about taking a big hit. When you’re pissed, even the pain feels good.”
I squeezed my eyebrows together, watching him. “Is it your dad?”
He laughed humorlessly. “You heard him. What do you think?” Tristan got up and started walking to his car. I felt like I’d said something wrong—maybe pushed for too much.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t—”
Tristan stopped, half-turning. “You’re the last person who needs to apologize to me, Wheels. By the way, you realize those things you’re watering are just weeds, right?”
I frowned. “Well, the only difference between a weed and a flower is whether somebody loves it, right?”
“Uh,” Tristan said. “I don’t think that’s exactly how it works. No.”
“These are my little weeds. And you know what? I think I like them even more because of it.”
Tristan grinned. “You’re a strange one. And try not to kill yourself with any of those tools I got you. My fingerprints are all over them, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be suspect number one if you off yourself.”16TristanI twirled the hall pass on my finger, walking slowly through the upstairs corridor of classrooms. I’d been bored out of my mind in history class, so I was taking a break. By pure chance, I happened to find myself walking toward Mr. Frankie’s classroom, where Wheels had her videography class.
I stopped at the window in the door and looked inside, curious to see what she was doing.
I frowned when I spotted her. She was at the back of the room smiling about something with a guy. I pulled the door open.
Mr. Frankie looked up expectantly at me. “Yes?”
“I need to talk to… Kennedy about our project.” Saying her actual name felt foreign, but not in an entirely bad way.
Kennedy was watching me with clear skepticism written in her expression.
“Okay,” Mr. Frankie said. “Go ahead, Kennedy.”
I waited in the hallway until she came out and let the door close behind us.
“Who’s that guy?” I asked.
“What?”
“The one you were smiling with.”
“That’s Trevor… We are working in groups. Did you actually have something you wanted to talk to me about?”
I searched my thoughts. “You’ll be at the game tonight?”
She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Yes. I already told you I would after practice yesterday.”
“That guy.” I nodded toward the door. “You realize he’s just trying to hook up with you, right?”
Kennedy shook her head in disbelief. “Tristan. I’m not your property. Your girlfriend. Your… anything. Maybe someday we could be friends, but I don’t even know about that.”
My nostrils flared. “You’d better get back to class.”
She looked like she wanted to apologize for what she’d just said, but she sighed, nodding. “Yeah. I probably should. Good luck tonight.”
I found myself walking faster. My thoughts kept turning to my parents—to the conversation we’d had when I was fifteen and they’d found out about the alcohol and the fights. I cringed to think about how I’d apologized and how pathetic I must’ve sounded. Not that it mattered.
Thinking about Wheels made me feel just as helpless. She wasn’t wrong to push me away either, and that pissed me off even more.
My problem was that I’d been so fixated on her, whether it was trying to keep her quiet or my more recent attempts to… Shit. I didn’t even know what to call the past few days. Whatever it was, I needed to clear my head. Like a reset button.
I found Abbie’s class after a few tries of looking through windows. I got her attention, then motioned for her to come out to the hallway.
She raised her hand, said something a few seconds later, and then walked out into the hallway with a grin and a flick of her eyebrows. “Hey.”
“Come on.” I took her hand and led her to the girl’s bathroom. There was a freshman girl checking her makeup in the mirror when we walked in.
“Out.” My voice slashed through the air in a single, deep note.
The girl practically fell over herself trying to leave.
I took Abbie into one of the stalls and pushed her back against the door. She bit her lip, smiling up at me.
I closed my eyes before I leaned in, but Kennedy’s face popped into my mind. I could see her blue eyes and the smear of freckles across the bridge of her nose—the way she always looked so defiant.