chapter 7
Lizzie
The next day my history teacher Mr. Shay stood over me, his shadow dropping over my paper, which was filled with nothing but the swirls and doodles I had been drawing during class.
“Ms. Lawrence, I appreciate art as much as the next person, but doodling won’t get your classwork done.”
I sighed and nodded. “Sorry, I’m getting on it...” I trailed off into silence. There was no concentrating on my work. What I really wanted to say was, “If you had Death of the Four Horsemen in your back yard you wouldn’t be doing you work either, hon!”
Of course, I didn’t say that.
“Does anyone know what the major current event, happening in the world today, is?” Mr. Shay asked, leaning back on his desk and taking a bite out of his apple.
From the front row, a girl’s arm shot up. “There is a war in Israel and no one knows the cause.”
He nodded and slapped her desk. “Yes. Thank God, one of you watches the news.”
“Yeah, better be doing more than thanking God, better be praying to him,” I mumbled below my breath.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. Millie got grounded that afternoon so I couldn’t hang out with her, Trevor had football practice for the game the next day, and Darrton was...well not at home. All I could do was homework and watch TV. When you had Death of the Four Horsemen in your backyard...TV started to get really old. He never left so suddenly. I wasn’t sure why he had. Maybe he was gone forever? The thought made my stomach hurt, and I wasn’t sure why. I hated that I cared, but I did. He was still injured. His side was in bad shape. Why would he leave? Had I made him mad? Why the hell did I care?
It was already Friday and I hadn’t spoken to Darrton since Wednesday. Although he sure as hell ate the stuff I left for him, I never saw him. He wasn’t there when I went to school, or when I went to bed. There was a nervousness building because of the situation that was starting to make me shake. Where could he be? Why did he leave? And why the hell did I care? My phone beeped. I pulled it out and read the text from Trevor. No telling when Trevor had actually sent it. My mother had gotten me a new phone, and it took three freaking hours to get a text message. She’d said, “This phone is better than no phone.”
See you after the game 2night?
Of course.
You ready to go tailgating afterwards?
Can’t wait.
I wasn’t lying. I would love to go. But there was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Fear? Loss? Hurt? None of those were it. It was something deeper, more imbedded in me. The torture of it was that it was right there, roaming around my mind, touching ground, and then speeding off right when I thought I knew what it was. It others words, it was a tease.
Millie had her face painted half red and half white, and had a shirt that said, These seagulls won’t leave anything but skulls! I cocked an eyebrow as she pointed to her back which had Brett’s number painted onto it.
“Where is yours?” she asked as she pulled out of our driveway, clearly not looking behind us at the motorcycle that was slamming on its brakes to keep from hitting her. She flipped him the bird out of the window.
“Mine is back at home with your dignity.”
“Funny, comrade! You know you want to rep yo man!”
No matter what the situation was Mille could make me laugh. Even if our world was actually spinning to an end and I couldn’t tell anyone about it. I laughed anyway. “Okay, Malibu, let’s just try to get to the game in one piece.”
“I’ve got this, babe. I am an excellent driver.”
I snorted. “Right.”
The stadium lights were shining brightly as we pulled into the parking lot. “Whoa! Game time, bitches!” Millie yelled, and I secretly wished to be any place else. “We are so going to get—Hey!” she screamed as a white motorcycle skidded toward us, stopping only a foot away. “Listen, punkass, I can fight and I’m not afraid to beat your ass!”
“Millie,” I whispered. “It’s the guy you flipped off. I would tone the gangster shiznit down a bit, hon.”
The rider kicked out the kickstand, propped his bike up, and tossed his helmet on the back of his bike. “Ladies, I think we might need to learn some manners. Girls are not supposed to act like that, now are they?” the guy asked. His light eyes were squinted and looking directly at us. He then flashed a brilliant smile, stood up, and walked toward us, his long, lean body graceful and nonchalant.
Millie scoffed and rolled her eyes. “So, ‘big dog,’ you think you’re a charmer, now do you? Why don’t you go get some ass or smoke a joint?”
He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, stroking his chin. I tried to make a mental picture of him. He had short blonde hair, a ring on his ring finger. He had a wide nose and was good looking. “You’re not very nice, now are you? Lucky for you, I don’t like nice.”
“Not so lucky for you that I am about two seconds away from keying that nice little white bike over there.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. It was sing-song like. “You,” he said, nodding in my direction, “why is a pretty, respectable—” He looked at Millie. “—girl like you hanging around with a hoodlum like that?”
My mouth felt dry all of the sudden and I felt threatened. There was something off about this guy. The way his smile seemed to creep up his face. He took a step forward and my body shivered. He was bad, and somehow he oozed menace, but I couldn’t put my finger on how I knew. I picked up a piece of gravel and threw it at him. “Leave us alone!” I said, loudly.
Millie gawked and the guy, with his bright eyes, grabbed his jaw and glared back at me.
“Hey, is there a problem over here?” A police car from the school crept up beside us, with its window rolled down.
“None at all, officer,” the guy said. “Just going to watch these Seagulls whoop some tail.”
The officer moved off. The guy gave us the finger and left.
“Jerk,” I mumbled.
Millie slapped my back and laughed. “Remind me not to ever get on your bad side you might hit me with a rock.”
The stands were crowded with high school kids making out, throwing popcorn, or screaming at the top of their lungs. Rachel was a few rows in front of us. She and her “posse” would look back at us and laugh.
“I’m sure it’s not that funny,” Millie said, yelling over to them.
The team ran onto the field a blur of red and white, the crowd roared. Millie was screaming when the referee blew his first whistle. Then an utter silence fell over the crowd as the first play went down. I knew Trevor. How could I not? He was the tall and lean one. He was the fastest one out there. He ran, looking back over his shoulder, and caught the ball. Everyone began to scream again and, I can’t lie, I was a little excited myself. Then he fell. The crowed groaned.
“Maybe next time,” Millie said. And it seemed like she said that the entire game. There wasn’t a play where Trevor didn’t fall on his face, get tackled from out of nowhere, drop the ball, or get smashed by ten guys. I was beginning to think the only reason girls liked him was because he was cute. He was so not doing well.
Glancing around the crowd, I looked over at the visiting side. There were black and white shirts and cheerleading uniforms jumping up and down in the stands. It wasn’t until I looked toward the field house in the near distance that I notice Darrton. He was leaning up against the fence leading toward the bathroom. Darrton’s head was slightly tilted in an arrogant position. His shirt was tight to his chest and his jeans low on his hips Out of all the people in the stands, he was looking at me and smiling. It wasn’t until Trevor tripped again that I realized what was happening. The douche bag was making him fall.
What an ass.
I had all the best intentions in the world to get up and go after him, but when I looked back over to the fence, he was gone.
My mouth opened to say something to Millie but I shut it, remembering I couldn’t tell her anything. It tore a little piece of my heart out. She was my best friend and she knew nothing about what was happening right next to her. On the other hand I couldn’t have said anything to her anyway. She was too busy in her own little football world. Mille was an awesome friend but not an awesome football partner. She laughed when the other team’s players got injured and would stand up at random times and scream, “We love the Seagulls! Go, Number 35!”
She always wondered when she sat down why she had to scoot closer to me to tell me something. I’d been scooting away from her every time she stood up and screamed. She was steadily munching on Cheez-Its she’d brought from home and laughing every time someone fell or fumbled. I smiled to myself. Maybe she is better off not knowing.
I watched Trevor run back to the bench and take a seat. I frowned as the coach walked toward him and started yelling. Trevor had his head in his hands. “Poor, Trevor,” I mumbled. When the whistle blew Millie started laughing. When I looked back at the field there was one of the other team’s players lying on the field. “Millie, that’s not funny.”
She was bent over, laughing. “Brett tackled his ass.”
I rolled my eyes and glanced around again, looking for Darrton. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. When I looked back over at Millie I noticed the crazy motorcycle guy sitting a few rows down from us. He was sitting by himself and eating some popcorn. A shiver ran down to my toes. Something isn’t right about him.
Millie was still laughing when the guy turned around and looked up at me. There was a white glare in his eyes. I dropped my drink bottle, which was in my hands, and it snapped Millie out of her laughter. She followed my gaze and snarled. She flipped him off and yelled, “See that guy out on the field? My boyfriend did that to him. You’re going to be next if you don’t turn your ass around.” She made a sound of disgust as the guy winked at us. Bending down, she picked up my drink, because I was still frozen in place looking at the guy. “Don’t worry about him, he is a creeper,” she said. “Oh hey, Trevor is playing again.” She clapped her hands and yelled, “Go Trevor!”
I tried to steady my nerves. There was still something bothering me about that guy. He wasn’t normal.
Trevor and Brett were high-fiving some of the other players and walking toward the field house when we met them on the field. Brett wrapped Millie into a bear hug and showed the same enthusiasm as she had been, minus the screaming.
Trevor was smiling at me and then he stopped. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Why?”
He took a step closer to me. “You seem down?”
“Ah! Some guy was harassing us in the parking lot earlier.”
“Who?” he asked.
I shrugged and placed my head on his sweaty shoulder. “Have no idea and right now, I don’t care. Let’s go to this bonfire and have fun.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I like the sound of that.”
“Hey, are you okay?” I asked. “You seemed to be off tonight.”
He scratched his forehead, pushing his matted, sweaty hair out of his face. “Yeah, it’s like the ball was slicked with grease and so were my shoes. I couldn’t stay up or catch anything. I kind of feel like an ass.”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter to me, anyway.”
He smiled. “That’s what I like about you.”