I take a deep breath and blow it out through puffed cheeks at the sky above us. “My brother was driving me crazy.”
Rachel laughs. “Send your brother to my house. He can deal with my sisters and I’ll move in with you.”
“Deal. He can be such a moron.”
“He’ll fit right in,” she says.
“What’d he do?” Christy wants to know. “Don’t you two usually get along?”
The breeze is chilly, but it feels good blowing across the sweat on my forehead. I can smell the dirt in the bare spots around the field. This poor grass. We’ll rip it to shreds starting Monday, no matter how much they fertilize it.
I roll over on my side, propped up on an elbow, and run my fingers through the tufts of green. “He was posting stupid crap on Facebook.”
“Like what?” asks Lindsey.
“He and his friend on the JV team were ranking the girls in their class.”
Christy sits up fast, the gleam of nearby gossip in her eyes. “Who’d they say was the hottest?”
“Not the girl they were giving a seven to when I stopped him,” I say.
Christy laughs, and I shoot her a look. “What?” she says. “Boys will be boys.”
“That’s bullshit.” All three of us turn to look at Lindsey.
“Lighten up,” says Rachel.
Lindsey isn’t having it. “‘Boys will be boys’ is what people say to excuse guys when they do something awful.”
“What are you so upset about?” Christy asks. “They didn’t rank you.”
Lindsey faces Christy full on, sitting up on her knees. “Can you honestly tell me you’d find it funny if someone posted a rank on your profile picture?”
Christy just looks away and picks another handful of grass. “Depends on my rank.”
“Bring it,” says Rachel. “I’d be a ten.” She tries to make this a cute joke, flipping her ponytail.
Only Christy laughs. “C’mon. Don’t you remember when Dooney was doing that last fall? He and Deacon would sit at lunch and scribble a score for every girl that picked up a tray in the cafeteria line?”
A small jolt of memory. It was the very first week of school. I was paying so much attention to Ben I’d barely noticed Dooney and Deacon scribbling big numbers with Sharpies in spiral notebooks, holding them up in the air. I hadn’t even realized they were rating girls. What did they rate me? No wonder Ms. Speck marched over on her high heels and told them to knock it off. I’d forgotten all about it.
“That’s just the way guys are,” says Christy.
“Is it?” asks Rachel quietly. “Or is that just the way these guys are?”
“Yeah,” says Lindsey. “I can’t imagine my dad doing stuff like that with his buddies.”
“Ben would never act like that.” But as the words leave my lips, the tiny voice whispering questions clicks up one more notch on the volume dial.
Christy groans. “Yes, your knight in shining armor is practically perfect in every way.” She lies on her back, both hands on her right calf, pulling her knee toward her chest. “Also, we’re not talking about our dads. We’re talking about a bunch of high school goofballs.”
“Dooney and his gang aren’t ‘goofballs,’” Lindsey says. “They’re creeps.”
I frown. “Ben isn’t a creep.” It comes out defensive.
“Sorry.” Lindsey means it. “I just think you should tell Will to be careful. He clearly thinks Ben and Dooney are the bee’s knees.”
Christy and Rachel start giggles when she says this. I can’t help but laugh myself. “The what?” I ask.
Lindsey laughs with us. “The bee’s knees?”
“Oh my god,” chortles Christy. “Who are you right now? My grandpa?”
Rachel stands up. “Well, thanks for the memories, you guys. See you on Monday.”
She has to drop Christy off and pick up her sisters from a birthday party. Lindsey and I watch them pull out of the parking lot, driving past the news vans that still linger by the front entrance.
“Will acted like I was a huge wet blanket because I didn’t want him ranking the girls in his class. It was like I was this big . . .” I search for the right word.
“Bitch?” Lindsey asks.
It stings even coming from her mouth. “Yeah,” I say. “I just want him to be a good guy, you know?”
Lindsey nods, but doesn’t say anything. Sometimes, I think most of friendship is knowing when to keep your mouth shut and your ears open. Lindsey is an expert where this is concerned. She flips onto her back and stretches her hamstring, waiting for me to continue.
“What bothered me most was how Will didn’t get it. He didn’t understand why I was upset that he was telling these girls they don’t measure up. He acts like he has some natural right to tell them they should look a certain way. Why? Because he’s a dude?”
“It’s not just your brother.” Lindsey stands up and stretches her arms above her head. “Seen a Hardee’s commercial lately? The whole planet is wired that way.”
We walk to our cars, and when I tell Lindsey I’ll see her on Monday, she hugs me. She’s not much of a hugger.