The beginning of December brought the snow. But not the aesthetic, fluffy, pristine white kind of snow. The mucky, tar-colored, smelled like old gasoline snow that caked the sides of the roads and left a crusty white residue all over the red hood of my car. I cranked the heat in my car higher as Chris and I sat in the drive-thru line at Wendy's.
"So walk me through this again," Chris said as he leaned back in his seat. "You just...randomly changed your mind about Jordyn?"
It had taken me a while to come to grips with everything that happened after Halloween, and between double practices for the playoffs, AP test prep, and doing nothing but sleep during my fleeting moments of free time, I hadn't gotten much alone time with Chris in the last few weeks. But it didn't take a genius to pick up on the momentum shift between Jordyn and I. We made out in the hallway for fucks sake.
I left Kaia out of the equation, mostly because I was still having trouble working out how something intangible and unexplainable between us had propelled me into this mess. She'd more or less gotten back together with Jackson, and their giggling outside of our AP Lit class nauseated me. There was a momentum shift there too, just less obvious. She and I rarely fought in class anymore. We just ignored each other, and somehow that felt worse.
"I only really changed my mind about being public about everything," I let out a sigh as I raked my hand through my hair. "I mean yeah maybe at one point I wanted to stop hooking up with her but like...why bother? Sneaking around is the only thing I don't have the time or energy for, so whatever. We'll play house, I'll take her to prom, and then I'll be gone and so will she. It just seems like the least complicated option for me right now."
At least that part was true. Was it really lying if I was only conveniently leaving out information?
"I admire your self-awareness," Chris chuckled. "Does she know where she's going to school yet?"
I shook my head. "She got into Binghamton, but I think she's waiting to hear from Syracuse. Honestly...I don't even know what she wants to do. I couldn't tell you one thing she's actually interested in beyond like...drawing stuff."
"She's interested in you," Chris jabbed with a grin. "In fact, I'm pretty sure if she could major in you, she would."
I groaned. "Not funny."
But Chris laughed anyway. "Seriously, are your parents like, planning the wedding now?"
I groaned. "Basically. On top of everything else, I've been eating dinner at her house every Tuesday night the last few weeks, and they eat weird hippie healthy shit."
We finally pulled up to the order screen on the drive-thru, and a woman's voice crackled through the speaker, exhaustingly asking for our order. I rattled off my usual 20 piece nuggets and large fries, but given my mood I added a chocolate Frosty for good measure. As usual, Chris had modifications for everything, and god forbid a tomato even touched any of his food, he'd lose his shit.
I housed my Frosty so fast I'd almost given myself a brain freeze.
"Well..." Chris sighed as we pulled back into the school parking lot. "I know this probably isn't what you want to hear, but it is kind of nice to feel loved."
I didn't really know what being loved felt like. I just knew right now, I felt like a trophy - something to be paraded around and put on a pedestal to be admired from afar. But maybe resigning myself to that would make my life as it was now a hell of a lot easier, and maybe one day I'd actually believe it was something like love.
Most of the seniors had returned by now if they had gone out for lunch, leaving Chris and I inconspicuously parked in our usual spot among the rest of the cars. No one would think twice to bother us, and no one would care.
I kept the engine running so when we cracked the windows the slightest to let the smoke out, we wouldn't freeze. Chris grabbed the mason jar of joints from my center console while I fished a lighter out of the inside pocket of my varsity jacket. I probably should have known better than to smoke in my jacket and risk the leather sleeves smelling like pot, but I only had the mental real estate to worry about so much.
I lit the joint and inhaled like I wanted to set my lungs on fire. As I blew a thin stream of smoke out of the sliver of open window, I tried to expel everything I'd been holding in with it. I passed the joint to Chris, and he did the same. I felt my body start to melt into the seat, and as the rattling of my heart began to settle, I let my eyes flutter shut. I lost myself in the chorus of the Third Eye Blind song playing on my aux.
And I'm hanging on your words like I always used to do, the words they use so lightly, I only feel for you.
I knew we needed to get back in and to our classes, but these were the kind of moments I wanted to pause, where literally nothing mattered except a blunt and some good music. So we sat and smoked and tried to pretend we were normal teenagers, even if it was just for a moment or two.
"Hey, Dallas," Chris mumbled.
"Yeah?" I opened one eye to glance over at him.
"I'm really gonna miss you man."
A warmth washed over me. Maybe it was just the buzz, but the realization hit me all the same. I was really gonna miss him too.
Before I could answer, a tapping sound captured my attention. At first I thought I was hearing things. Then it got louder.
I didn't know what possessed me to look over my left shoulder and out my now foggy window, but I was about to need an exorcism. I sucked the joint into my mouth and clamped my jaw shut before unrolling my window to see our AP History teacher Mr. Gibbs glowering down into the car at us.
"You boys are going to need to come with me."
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Athletic Director Sutter Kane was more concept than reality. More entity than person. He was like the tower of Sauron that watched over his lands from way up above, and even though you couldn't always see him, you could always feel him watching.
I got a prickling at the back of my neck as Chris and I sat on the wooden benches outside of Principal Maddox's office, and sure enough, Kane stalked up to us in his perfectly pressed suit, black as midnight with the exception of his pearly cufflinks.
Chris and I sat up rigid straight when he approached us. I was still sort of stoned, and I knew I looked it, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to talk myself out of shit like I always did.
"Mr. Kane, if I could just explain-"
He held his hand up, and even though it was a simple gesture, it silenced me immediately.
"I don't need to hear it." His voice was calm but authoritative in a way I could only ever hope to sound like in an offensive huddle.
I slumped back into the bench and nodded.
"Coach Knox and I are going to handle this." He gave us one more once over with his dark gaze. "Don't go anywhere."
Coach Knox and Mr. Gibbs had gone into Principal Maddox's office as soon as Chris and I gave her our pleading sentiment, and then shooed us away while they waited for Kane to arrive. He slipped into the large mahogany door and closed it behind him with a gentle click.
Beside me, Chris began to fidget. His knee bobbed up and down restlessly while he pulled at the sleeves of his varsity jacket. Raised voices could faintly be heard on the other side of the door.
"I need you to relax," I said to him.
"Do you know what the consequences are?" he asked, keeping his head down towards his shoes. "I mean, for getting caught with illegal contraband on school property. Suspension at minimum, or worse - game bans."
I shifted my body to face Chris, putting one leg up on the bench. "Listen, Kane is going to handle this, okay? He handled the situation at my birthday party, and he'll handle this too." I paused and jabbed at him with a faint grin. "Besides, I heard Saban lets guys play even if they have a criminal record."
"This is no time for laughter," Chris moaned. "We're so dumb. Why did we think this was a good idea?"
Despite the hysterics, Chris already knew the answer to that question, which was why I shifted back away from him and folded my arms over my chest. There was no need to coddle him.
Besides the fact that we'd never actually been caught before, we had been gifted something sacred our freshman year. The moment we put those varsity football jerseys on, it was like a forcefield made up of pure, cosmic immunity. It transcended everything.
The door to Principal Maddox's office swung open, and Mr. Gibbs stormed out in a huff, his puffy round face redder than a traffic light.
"If these boys weren't football players, they'd be suspended without a second thought, and you know it Helen!"
Chris and I snickered at his use of Principal Maddox's first name, but it only drew his fiery gaze to us like a heat seeking missile.
"Your life won't be like this forever, you know," he hissed. "One day people are going to stop taking your crap and boy, you better be prepared for it."
He stomped away, and Chris and I let out a collective exhale. Our reprieve was short lived as Kane and Coach Knox came out next. They motioned for us to join them, and we jumped to our feet as we followed them out of the administrative wing of the building, with our heads down and our tails between our legs.
"Principal Maddox has agreed we are to keep this incident private," Kane said as we stopped at a split in the hallway.
"And you boys owe me about 150 laps at practice today," Coach Knox added with a low growl.
"Yes sir," came mine and Chris's collective response.
Coach Knox walked Chris in the other direction to his Spanish class, and I followed Kane down the other hallway. The tenseness in the air was so thick I could have reached out and grabbed it with my bare hands. I knew Kane at least liked me enough to consistently rescue me from graves I was digging myself, but that didn't change the fact that being in his presence unnerved me in ways I couldn't explain.
"What did you do?" I asked him, maybe just hoping that knowing would absolve a little bit of my guilt. "I mean, what did you say to her?"
"I simply instilled in her what the magnitude of you two missing a playoff game would be." He kept his gaze forward as he spoke, but when we reached the doorway of my classroom, he looked at me with a hardened gaze. "Don't make me regret sticking my neck out for you again."
I felt the weight of his backhanded threat press down on my entire body. He didn't mean don't get caught doing something stupid again. He meant you better win state and prove you're worth all this trouble.
isn't like i did it on purpose
i just forget the second i learned it
everything i get, i deserve
bloodshot / julien baker
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not me naming the athletic director after a character in one of my favorite culty horror movies. that's just the vibes these days. bonus points if you can name the movie.
anyway, welcome to part iii. shit's about to get real.
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