NOT ANOTHER TEEN MOVIE ∙ Peter Parker

☆ Chapter Forty: Fire and Water

Art gave her a sharp look for the joke as she threw her sweatshirt onto the bench with her backpack. The softball dugout at Midtown's athletic field was home to her, but it was also directly next to the lacrosse and track field. When she got a wake-up call at five-thirty, she thought it may have been the ghost of Sharon Carter coming to haunt her. Then, she opened her eyes enough to see 'ART.' Needless to say, she shot out of bed all the same.

Lizzie could count on one hand the number of times he'd messaged her asking to go for a run. She, on the other hand, made countless calls (not all were taken up) to her friend if she needed the company. What she knew was that Arthur only enjoyed running when he wanted to get his mind off something. Any other time was his worst nightmare. A five-a.m. phone call came after giving up on sleep.

"What time do the teams get here for conditioning?" Art asked with a yawn as he trudged across the turf.

She glanced once at her watch. 6:08 AM. "Not sure about the others, but Coach still has the girls show up at six-thirty for weights."

"This is why I'm grateful my coach hates mornings." Lizzie grinned as she began stretching, all while Arthur tried to figure out which was his left foot and which was right. "I know it's a touchy subject, but how's the team doing this season without you? I haven't caught a game yet."

"They're down one-three this season. C.T.'s still captain. Taylor's still ready to kill her every time she says something to her," she said, clenching her jaw as she thought about her softball team. When Lizzie stood up straight, Art was just beginning to stretch. "Higgins told me she's not giving out my number 'til I graduate. She asked me if I wanted to come back as a sub this season."

Art's eyes widened. "Really? That's awesome. What did you—oh, okay. You said no?"

Lizzie shook her head, swallowing hard as she pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail. Not all of the pieces were long enough, leaving some to pester her against the wind when it caught in her eyes. She hated her hair. But the shorter, the darker, the better.

"I said she can put my name on the roster, but only for emergencies."

"So, like, if Taylor kills C.T.?"

Lizzie hummed as a yes, then she looked longingly ahead at the empty track. Art must have noticed because he snorted. "You can run if you want. I'm just going to walk today. I've got a headache."

Shoes planted themselves in place at the admission. Lizzie nodded ahead, grabbing his elbow and indicating for the two to begin walking. Not everything needed to be a race. They settled into a comfortable pace, and around six-thirty after their first mile was complete, Lizzie saw the headlights start to appear in the parking lot. Arthur must have noticed the incoming student-athletes as well.

A new thought triggered, Arthur clacked his tongue in feigned casualty. "...so...how're things going with Ayla?"

Since Valentine's Day, their cafeteria table heard lots about Ayla Bennett supplied by her number-one-supporter, Taylor. Unfortunately, the victim's love life she'd gotten her hooks into was her best friend's. While the curly-haired Cupid may be convinced the senior volleyball player was Lizzie's match, Arthur wasn't. Three years of being friends with Lizzie Carter gave him enough time to see the difference between her casually flirting and her showing genuine interest in someone.

"Fine," was Lizzie's short response, the word stale on her tongue as she set her eyes forward to the track again. Then, they narrowed. "We're just friends, Art."

"I know that. Does Taylor know that?"

"You know how Taylor is," she sighed. Art payed attention to her hands flexing into a fist before she stuck them into her pockets. Defense-mechanisms were becoming an easy catch for him now that he knew what to look for. "She just wants me to be happy, and me not being with anyone since C.T. doesn't exactly convince her I've moved on—"