Courtside Crush: Varsity Girlfriends Book One Page 3

  I looked at Daria through the corner of my eye. “You mean so you could be the one telling Veronica all about it?”

  “Oh, shut up. You know it’s not like that.”

  The thing was, I did know that, but being back on campus after the weekend made me feel angry about the entire situation all over again. And sadly, I was taking it out on Daria.

  “Sorry, you’re right. But why did you want to know what happened so badly?”

  She snorted. “To defend your honor when I saw people posting crap online.”

  “And are they?”

  Daria didn’t get a chance to answer because Anderson took that exact moment to peel into the parking lot. The sound of his tires squealing drew our attention to his car, not to mention the attention of the fifteen or so other students walking up to the building. My handiwork was on full display, and a couple of nearby juniors looked over in our direction. They whispered and giggled as they continued to make their way to the school.

  “I take that back,” Daria said from behind a wide smile. “You don’t need any help defending yourself.”

  I started walking faster, not wanting to come face-to-face with my ex yet. “And that’s why I have Saturday work detail.”

  Daria gasped. ”You do?”

  Apparently, Veronica hadn’t filled her in on that part.

  I put my hand on her back and pushed her forward when she tried to slow our pace. “Come on. I’ll tell you the rest, but only if we get inside before Anderson has a chance to catch up with us.”

  She complied, and soon we walked through the front doors of our school and down the hallway filled with students heading to their first class of the day. I recounted Friday’s events and quickly learned Veronica knew nothing beyond the video that Linzie took on her phone.

  When I mentioned the part about my athletic probation, Daria stopped dead in her tracks. “What?” she screeched, drawing the gazes of everyone near us.

  She flipped off the gawkers and pulled me to the side of the hall, right against the lockers that lined it. “But tryouts are coming up.”

  As if I didn’t have October 22nd circled in bright red on my calendar. I’d been counting down the days, almost as eager as Preston to get started. “Yep.”

  “Well, did Mr. Richards say whether or not you could still be on the team and practice with us?”

  I tapped my finger against my lips. “Silly me, I didn’t think to ask him while he was threatening to expel me.”

  “I'm serious, Charlie. This is serious.”

  “I know it’s serious, but there’s a lot more I gotta worry about right now besides basketball.”

  Daria gasped dramatically, but I could see the subtle smile on her lips. “More than basketball? Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

  I gave her shoulder a shove, and her expression became somber. “Seriously, Charlie. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’m facing expulsion.” I rubbed my hand over my face. “It won’t matter if I get to try out for the team if I don’t get to stay at Rosemark.”

  Daria continued to stare at me. “I can understand you being freaked out. But it sounds like as long as you do your time with Helping Hands, everything should be fine, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “So, it wouldn’t hurt to ask Mr. Richards about tryouts.” Daria lifted both of her brows and nodded her head encouragingly.

  I slowly blinked at my friend.

  “We need you as our point guard!”

  I shook my head. “You know I’m not the only point guard on the team, right?”

  “Yeah, but you’re the best.”

  And I was.

  It wasn’t arrogance or some kind of puffed up ego. I’d been part of the starting five since my sophomore year. It was why I had basically been named the captain this season before everything happened with Anderson. If we wanted any shot of getting to state this year, I’d need to be on the team.

  I let loose a resigned sigh. “I’ll see what I can find out after school. But only because I love you.”

  “Obviously.”

  Satisfied, Daria started walking again. We pushed through the crowd as we made it to our homeroom class. I got a few dirty looks from the cheerleading squad as we passed by, and I could have sworn I heard someone call me a certain five-letter word.

  I wanted to yell and scream at them but remembered the contract—and my probation. I took a deep breath and settled for a saucy wink instead.

  “So what are you going to do about Anderson?” Daria asked as we neared our destination.

  “What do you mean?”

  Daria stuck her hands out in front of her. “Like, are you guys breaking up? Are you getting back together?”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “You guys have been dating forever.”

  I didn’t answer right away but instead walked into our class. I went straight to my desk near the back of the room. It was directly in front of Daria’s. Once seated, I swiveled to face her. “He kissed Linzie. We are not getting back together.”

  She lifted her brows.

  “I consider what he did with Linzie an intentional foul.” I lifted my hands over my head and joined them at the wrist like I was refereeing my life. Someone had to. “I’m not letting him back in the game.”

  The tardy bell rang, and everyone got in their seats.

  Daria still didn’t say anything but watched me with a skeptical expression.

  “I’m not,” I assured her.

  “Okay.”

  “All eyes up here, please,” Mrs. Whitmore’s voice called from the front of the room.

  I gave Daria one last pointed stare. “I’m not.”

  She nodded, but I swore I heard her whisper, “If you say so,” as I turned back around.

  Apparently, Daria wasn’t the only one who thought Anderson and I were getting back together. Gossip spread through campus faster than Linzie’s lips. Between texting, social media, and good old-fashioned word of mouth (aka Veronica O’Rourke), everyone knew what was going on by lunchtime. I heard the whispers and, since my mom conceded I needed my phone at school, even snuck a glance at Snapchat between classes. I knew there were several different versions of the story going around, and very few of them were accurate. Or, at least, I hoped they weren’t.

  I felt like I was going to be sick when I walked into the cafeteria that afternoon, but I did it because I had to. Everyone would be watching and waiting to see what happened next in the Anderson and Charlie show. I had no desire to star in another low-budget high school documentary—after the first one landed me with Saturday work detail and athletic probation—but, I also refused to back down. If I hid out in the library, the rumors would only get worse.

  So, I walked in, head held high, with Daria beside me. We grabbed our lunches from the line and made our way to our seat. In no time, Pres and his girlfriend, Beth, sat down next to Daria and me, blue plastic trays in hand. My brother sat down in the seat normally reserved for Anderson making a loud statement to everyone without saying a word.

  Anderson wasn’t welcome at our table anymore.

  He shoved a massive bite of shepherd’s pie into his mouth. “Anderson talked to me yesterday,” he said around the mouthful like it wasn’t a big deal.

  I looked up from where I was moving mashed potatoes around on my plate. I remembered Preston leaving the house on Sunday afternoon, but he hadn’t said anything about Anderson, so I figured it was just another Taco Bell run. “What did he say?”

  Preston shrugged. “He wanted to know whose side I was on.”

  I sat up. “And what did you say?”

  Preston pressed his lips together as he fought a smile.

  Beth smacked him in the arm. “He acted like an idiot. What is it about guys and throwing punches?”

  My eyes widened. “You didn’t!”

  He pointed to where Anderson sat. When I looked over, my ex-boyfriend was watching me with u
nrestrained malice in his eyes. Even from here, I could see his bottom lip was swollen and had a large gash in it.

  I turned back to Preston. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I cried. “Mr. Richards is going to put you on athletic probation too.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry, Brooks isn’t getting off that easy.”

  “Of course, you’d make this about you and your stupid rivalry, but I don’t want to see you get in trouble.”

  “Don’t worry. Anderson isn’t going to say anything, and I’m not going to get in trouble.”

  “But—”

  “First of all,” he interrupted. “Everyone knows it’s my duty as your brother to protect your honor.” I rolled my eyes. What was it about everyone and my honor? “And second of all, if Anderson went and tattled like some little baby and made it so one of the starting five couldn’t actually, you know, start, there’d be quite a few angry teammates to deal with.”

  “Okay.” I sighed. “But I still don’t like the idea of you punching someone, Pres. Violence never solved anything.”

  My brother chuckled. “Says the girl who vandalized his car.”

  “Says the girl with Saturday work detail.” My voice was little more than a mumble. I grabbed the roll from my plate and took a bite. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m going to be completely straitlaced from here on out.”

  Unfortunately, the erupting laughter from everyone at the table wasn’t exactly encouraging.

  Chapter Four

  My phone buzzed loudly on my nightstand.

  Was it seriously Saturday morning again? Already?

  I grabbed it to turn off the 7:30 alarm, only to see my screen lit up with a bunch of texts from Anderson that were sent in the middle of the night. It was way too freaking early to deal with this.

  3:46 AM

  Anderson: We should talk.

  Anderson: I’m sorry.

  Anderson: I miss you.

  Anderson: Linzie doesn’t mean anything.

  Anderson: Are we still going to Homecoming together?

  The time stamp was from just a couple of hours ago, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was up late drinking and partying. His desire to take everything too far was one of the things that had bugged me about Anderson when we were dating. Now that we were officially over, I hated it.

  I sent a string of texts his way and crossed my fingers that he was hungover.

  7:33 AM

  Charlie: We

  Charlie: Are

  Charlie: Not

  Charlie: Dating

  Charlie: And there is no way I’m going to Homecoming with you!!! Don’t text me again. Do you understand???

  I could only hope that made it clear enough for him.

  I'd spent the week grateful he was ignoring me, and that we somehow had avoided a huge blowout. By Wednesday, people had given up hope for anything beyond his graffitied car door, and I'd focused on being the best-behaved student on probation I could be. Sure, I was still pretty pissed, but I had priorities.

  I needed to stay at Rosemark High, and I needed to play on the varsity team.

  I quickly got dressed in similar clothing as the week before, choosing a simple Nike hat instead of my sarcastic one. Hopefully, Mrs. Gibbs wouldn’t put me in BFE that way. I did give myself more than a passing look in the mirror, however. I wasn’t sure if Jackson would be there again, but wanted to look okay, just in case.

  I quickly left my room, walked past Preston’s closed door and out to the kitchen. Like the previous Saturday, my mom was sitting at the kitchen table. Only this time, there was a homemade egg and cheese sandwich on a plate in front of her.

  “I knew you’d be racing out of here again and wanted to make sure you had something hearty this morning.”

  This woman might not have given birth to me, but she loved me as if I were her own daughter. And she was truly Mom to me—not Carol, or Mrs. Royce. I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and the fact that she kept waking up early on Saturday to make sure I was well fed warmed my heart.

  I grabbed the still-warm sandwich from the plate and took a bite. “This is perfect,” I said while still chewing. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She smiled up at me. “Be good.”

  “I make no promises,” I teased before I leaned in and kissed her cheek. I grabbed my keys from the hook and left for another fun-filled day with Marlowe Junction’s Helping Hands.

  When I pulled up to Saunders Park, I was surprised to see most of the kids were different from the previous Saturday. There were a couple of new people I recognized from Rosemark and several completely unfamiliar faces. Whether they were from Pinebrook, or even the private school on the edge of town, St. Joseph’s, I couldn’t be sure.

  Like last time, Mrs. Gibbs wasted no time barking orders to everyone. She looked me up and down as I put on my best sugary-sweet smile. With a grunt of approval, she sent me to paint picnic tables alone under a pavilion. I sent a quick thanks heavenward and grabbed a bucket of white paint and a brush.

  I listened as quite a few people went to the “north quadrant” and wondered if that was where all new recruits were sent. Maybe my assignment had nothing to do with the hat I wore last time. Not that it mattered. I’d had a good time after all.

  I got started, ignoring the small pang that formed in my stomach. It was ridiculous to think I’d get to work with Jackson again this week, and more than a little embarrassing that I wanted to so badly.

  I pulled my earbuds from my pocket and cranked my music up.

  It took me a couple of minutes, and three broken stir sticks, before I finally got the can of paint open. But once I got past that, it was smooth sailing. I started with the table part of the bench so I could sit down while I worked. Once I did the seats, it would be standing room only under the pavilion.

  I danced in my seat and hummed under my breath as I finished the first coat. When I stood up to admire my work and move on to the next section, I bumped into something. Or, more accurately, someone.

  “Ahhh!” I yelled, startled to realize I wasn’t alone. I ripped out my earbuds and was met with the pleasant and familiar sound of Jackson laughing.

  I smacked his arm. “You scared me!” I hit him again. “You can’t just walk up on people like that.”

  He lifted his hands in surrender, and I noticed that he had a paintbrush in one of them. “Sorry.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

  “Wait,” I said slowly. “How long have you been standing there?”

  He looked down at his feet, but I could see the stupid smile still stuck to his face.

  “Oh, my goodness!” My cheeks warmed, and I was sure they were bright red. “Please tell me you didn’t see me singing and dancing.”

  “Would it help if I said it was super adorable?”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No, it most definitely wouldn’t.”

  “What if I said you were off-tune and have no rhythm?”

  My eyes snapped open, and I was met with his smiling face once more. His green eyes twinkled with humor and any embarrassment I’d felt melted away. It had only been a week, but I’d already forgotten how cute Jackson was.

  Darn him.

  Today, he was sans hat, so his brown hair was on full display. It stuck out in a couple different places, and I wondered if he rolled out of bed and came straight to the park. He wore a Lakers tee and gym shorts.

  I smiled at him and tipped my head toward the paintbrush. “Does that mean I’m saddled with you again today?”

  His hand went to his chest. “Ouch, Charlie. I’m crushed.”

  I snorted. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure you’re really broken up inside.”

  He laughed and lifted his paintbrush. “Actually, I’m here to help.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “Help? Or keep an eye on me again?”

  “Can it be a little bit of both?”

  “I guess. As long as you come over here and actually pull your weight.”

  He playfully sh
ook his head as he came over. And, in no time, we were painting the seat I’d just occupied.

  “So, what gives with all the new faces today?” I asked as I dipped my brush into the paint can once again.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Um, that there are a ton of different people than last week. I don’t recognize anyone except for you.”

  Jackson shrugged. “Yeah, most people are only here for a week or two.”

  A week or two? And here, I’d been sentenced for two months of this crap!

  “Really?” I asked, somewhat disbelieving.

  He nodded, though his gaze was still focused on the task at hand. “I was actually surprised to see you again this week. I figured you would be done after last Saturday.”

  “Is that why you disappeared so quickly?”

  I grimaced at how accusatory I sounded. Not that I had any right to be upset that he didn’t hang out and talk to me after we’d finished picking up trash.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. My...” he cleared his throat. “Um, Mrs. Gibbs needed to talk to me about something.”

  “Did you give her the full report on me?”

  “Something like that,” he smiled at me. “It took a little longer than I thought, and when I went back, you were gone.”

  “Well, don’t worry. I’ve got six more weeks after today.”

  “Then, I look forward to seeing you for six more weeks.”

  Wow. What had this guy done?

  He’d admitted he’d been doing this for a while, and he thought he’d still be here at least as long as me? That alone should have made me cautious, but for some reason, I felt safe around him.

  “So, what’s up with all the Lakers stuff?” I asked. When he looked at me in question, I clarified. “Well, last week you wore a Lakers hat, today it’s a shirt. What gives?”

  “Why are you paying so much attention to what I’m wearing? Have you been checking me out? I’m more than some piece of meat for your viewing pleasure, you know.”

  “You are such a dork.”

  He laughed. “I don’t know. I’m a big LeBron fan.”

  “Ugh.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you would pick him. People who don’t know anything about basketball always pick LeBron as their favorite player.” I leaned in and stage-whispered: “He’s my mom’s favorite too.”