The Jock Trap

Chapter 3

There was a rustling on the other line, and what sounded like the opening of a bag of chips. When Isak spoke again, it was through a ridiculously big mouthful. “Maybe you should,” he said. “There might be free food.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be free food.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s a party, Isak. A party for popular people. I don’t think free food is on their agenda.”

I was beginning to regret consulting him for advice; he often fell short on that front. While he was good enough at support in the form of video game therapy, or teaching me the most explicit words of the Swedish language, genuine guidance was a lot harder to come by.

“You don’t know that.” More rustling, and more chips being shoveled into his mouth. “It’s probably worth the risk.”

“I didn’t call you to be told to take advantage of the nonexistent possibility of food,” I told him.

“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Then why did you call me?”

“Because I need help. I don’t know what to do.”

All of a sudden, the video game noises stopped, and I realized he’d paused his game. He’d actually paused it for me. “Here’s the thing, Meredith: only a fool would turn down free food. Even the potential of free food. Are you a fool?”

“Isak, I really don’t think there’s going to be—”

“Are you a fool?”

I stopped. “No.”

“Then you’re going to the party, you’re going to scout out the food, and then leave. How does that sound?”

I rolled my eyes again, trying not to feel a sense of comfort when my reflection did the same. It was official: I desperately needed money for plane tickets to Sweden, for the sake of my sanity. “Isak, I am never coming to you for advice again.”

“Fine by me,” he said cheerily. “Less effort that way. Go to the party, though. I want to hear more about this Finn dude. Specifically what happens when you sass him and tell him to shove his friendship up his ass, because I’m the only best friend you need in your life.”

“I’ll let you know how that one goes,” I told him, and I could hear his laughter even as I hung up the phone.

***

Isak’s advice may have been kind of stupid, but I couldn’t fault his words of wisdom entirely - seeing as I ended up not ignoring them.

I didn’t know what happened. I had been so convinced I wasn’t going to show – even preparing my excuse for Finn the following Monday about how I had gotten sick – but, in the middle of it all, something had changed, something that continued to perplex me long after I changed my mind.

If only I could work out what stationed me in front of my mirror, armed with a hairbrush and a resolution to tame my wild curls into something more presentable. Or what had sent me rifling through every inch of my closet, digging right to the back in the hope of finding something both suitable and forgotten.

But my top suspicion was one I preferred not to think about. In the back of my mind was that niggling possibility: the thought that maybe I was doing this because of Finn. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but somewhere, I knew his pleading look had weaselled its way into my head.

He had given me the address the Friday before; Reagan’s house was within walking distance. At first, I assumed this gave me a free escape from an interrogation by either dad, provided I slipped out quietly enough. It wasn’t that I was trying to hide my plans for the night – just that it was easier to avoid any questions with a potential lead back to Finn.