We’re all waiting for something to happen, I guess.
After gym something does, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me. My friends and I are heading for the locker room after playing soccer, lagging behind everyone else, and Luis is going on about some new junior girl he’s got his eye on. Our gym teacher opens the door to let a bunch of kids inside when Jake suddenly whirls around, grabs TJ by the shoulder, and punches him in the face.
Of course. “TF” from About That is TJ Forrester. The lack of a J confused me.
I grab Jake’s arms, pulling him back before he can throw another punch, but he’s so furious he almost gets away from me before Luis steps in to help. Even then, two of us can barely hold him. “You asshole,” Jake spits at TJ, who staggers but doesn’t fall. TJ puts a hand to his bloody, probably broken mess of a nose. He doesn’t make any effort to go after Jake.
“Jake, come on, man,” I say as the gym teacher races toward us. “You’re gonna get suspended.”
“Worth it,” Jake says bitterly.
So instead of today’s big story being Simon, it’s about how Jake Riordan got sent home for punching TJ Forrester after gym class. And since Jake refused to speak to Addy before he left and she’s practically in tears, everyone’s pretty sure they know why.
“How could she?” Keely murmurs in the lunch line as Addy shuffles around like a sleepwalker.
“We don’t know the whole story,” I remind her.
I guess it’s good Jake’s not here since Addy sits with us at lunch like usual. I’m not sure she’d have the nerve otherwise. But she doesn’t talk to anybody, and nobody talks to her. They’re pretty obvious about it. Vanessa, who’s always been the bitchiest girl in our group, physically turns away when Addy takes the chair next to her. Even Keely doesn’t make any effort to include Addy in the conversation.
Bunch of hypocrites. Luis was on Simon’s app for the same damn thing and Vanessa tried to give me a hand job at a pool party last month, so they shouldn’t be judging anyone.
“How’s it goin’, Addy?” I ask, ignoring the stares of the rest of the table.
“Don’t be nice, Cooper.” She keeps her head down, her voice so low I can hardly hear it. “It’s worse if you’re nice.”
“Addy.” All the frustration and fear I’ve been feeling finds its way into my voice, and when Addy looks up a jolt of understanding passes between us. There’re a million things we should be talking about, but we can’t say any of them. “It’ll be all right.”
Keely puts her hand on my arm, asking, “What do you think?” and I realize I’ve missed an entire conversation.
“About what?”
She gives me a little shake. “About Halloween! What should we be for Vanessa’s party?”
I’m disoriented, like I just got yanked into some shiny video-game version of the world where everything’s too bright and I don’t understand the rules. “God, Keely, I don’t know. Whatever. That’s almost a month away.”
Olivia clucks her tongue disapprovingly. “Typical guy. You have no idea how hard it is to find a costume that’s sexy but not slutty.”
Luis waggles his brows at her. “Just be slutty, then,” he suggests, and Olivia smacks his arm. The cafeteria’s too warm, almost hot, and I wipe my damp brow as Addy and I exchange another look.
Keely pokes me. “Give me your phone.”
“What?”
“I want to look at that picture we took last week, at Seaport Village? That woman in the flapper dress. She looked amazing. Maybe I could do something like that.” I shrug and pull out my phone, unlocking it and handing it over. She squeezes my arm as she opens my photos. “You’d look totally hot in one of those gangster suits.”
She hands the phone to Vanessa, who gives an exaggerated, breathless “Ohhh!” Addy pushes food around on her plate without ever lifting her fork to her mouth, and I’m about to ask her if she wants me to get her something else when my phone rings.
Vanessa keeps hold of it and snorts, “Who calls during lunch? Everybody you know is already here!” She looks at the screen, then at me. “Ooh, Cooper. Who’s Kris? Should Keely be jealous?”
I don’t answer for a few seconds too long, then too fast. “Just, um, a guy I know. From baseball.” My whole face feels hot and prickly as I take the phone from Vanessa and send it to voice mail. I wish like hell I could take that call, but now’s not the time.
Vanessa raises an eyebrow. “A boy who spells Chris with a K?”
“Yeah. He’s … German.” God. Stop talking. I put my phone in my pocket and turn to Keely, whose lips are slightly parted like she’s about to ask a question. “I’ll call him back later. So. A flapper, huh?”
I’m about to head home after the last bell when Coach Ruffalo stops me in the hall. “You didn’t forget about our meeting, did you?”
I exhale in frustration because yeah, I did. Pop’s leaving work early so we can meet with a lawyer, but Coach Ruffalo wants to talk college recruiting. I’m torn, because I’m pretty sure Pop would want me to do both at the same time. Since that’s not possible, I follow Coach Ruffalo and figure I’ll make it quick. His office is next to the gym and smells like twenty years’ worth of student athletes passing through. In other words, not good.
“My phone’s ringing off the hook for you, Cooper,” he says as I sit across from him in a lopsided metal chair that creaks under my weight. “UCLA, Louisville, and Illinois are putting together full-scholarship offers. They’re all pushing for a November commitment even though I told them there’s no way you’ll make a decision before spring.” He catches my expression and adds, “It’s good to keep your options open. Obviously the draft’s a real possibility but the more interest there is on the college level, the better you’ll look to the majors.”
“Yes, sir.” It’s not draft strategy I’m worried about. It’s how these colleges will react if the stuff on Simon’s app gets out. Or if this whole thing spirals and I keep getting investigated by the police. Are all these offers gonna dry up, or am I innocent until proven guilty? I’m not sure if I should be telling any of this to Coach Ruffalo. “It’s just … hard to keep ’em all straight.”
He picks up a thin sheaf of stapled-together papers, waving them at me. “I’ve done it for you. Here’s a list of every college I’ve been in touch with and their current offer. I’ve highlighted the ones I think are the best fit or will be most impressive to the majors. I wouldn’t necessarily put Cal State or UC Santa Barbara on the short list, but they’re both local and offering facility tours. You want to schedule those some weekend, let me know.”
“Okay. I … I have some family stuff coming up, so I might be kinda busy for a while.”
“Sure, sure. No rush, no pressure. It’s entirely up to you, Cooper.”
People always say that but it doesn’t feel true. About anything.
I thank Coach Ruffalo and head into the almost-empty hallway. I have my phone in one hand and Coach’s list in the other, and I’m so lost in thought as I look between them that I almost mow someone over in my path.
“Sorry,” I say, taking in a slight figure with his arms wrapped around a box. “Uh … hey, Mr. Avery. You need help carrying that?”
“No thank you, Cooper.” I’m a lot taller than he is, and when I look down I don’t see anything but folders in the box. I guess he can manage those. Mr. Avery’s watery eyes narrow when he sees my phone. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your texting.”
“I was just …” I trail off, since explaining the lawyer appointment I’m almost late for won’t win me any points.
Mr. Avery sniffs and adjusts his grip on the box. “I don’t understand you kids. So obsessed with your screens and your gossip.” He grimaces like the word tastes bad, and I’m not sure what to say. Is he making a reference to Simon? I wonder if the police bothered questioning Mr. Avery this weekend, or if he’s been disqualified by virtue of not having a motive. That they know of, anyway.