“What?” he said then groaned. “Oh God, this is so embarrassing.”
“No, it’s not, Becks. You’re a movie star.”
Becks cursed, but I paid no mind. I was listening to the interview. The main subject seemed to be where Becks would play college ball. I was waiting for the answer to that one myself.
Erica Pinkerton, former Miss North Carolina, current anchorwoman at large, smiled. “Welcome, Becks Kent to our program. It’s great to have you.”
“Great to be here,” the TV Becks said.
“Awww,” I crooned, “aren’t you just the cutest thing?”
Becks grumbled something unintelligible, but the newscaster seemed to agree.
“You’re sweet,” she said, smile widening, “and talented. You’ve already led your team to one undefeated season, and the Chariot Trojans seem on track for another. That’s never been done, Becks. How do you feel going into the qualifying rounds? Confident? Nervous?”
“A little of both actually,” he laughed. “We are confident, but we’re just going to have to wait and see how everything plays out. Our team’s well-conditioned. We’ve got a deep bench and solid coaching. I’m hoping we’ll make it to the end.”
“And so is the rest of Chariot.” She winked to camera then turned back to Becks. “So Becks, where’s it going to be? We’ve heard reports all over town. All the top schools have offered. Naturally, most of us want you to stay right here in North Carolina, but for a successful athlete like you, the choices are limitless.”
She held the microphone out to him and licked her lips, making sure to brush him with her arm. Very subtle.
“Well, I don’t know,” Becks said, gifting her with one of his killer grins. “There are a lot of great schools out there.”
“You’re a real sweetheart,” Pinkerton said. “Any of those schools would be lucky to have you, of course. But what our viewers want to know is how will you choose? With so many offers on the table, what’s it going to take to set that school apart, make it the one?”
Again she brushed him with her arm, and again I gritted my teeth. The woman had to be at least forty. The cougar was out of her cage and preying on my Becks. It was just wrong.
“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Becks said cryptically.
“Ah, come on, Becks.” The woman would not be denied. “The two favorites seem to be Penn State and Ohio. Couldn’t you at least tell us the one you’re leaning toward?”
The thought of Becks going so far away made me feel sick—and then mad about feeling that way. Even if Becks decided on Penn—a great distance from Duke no matter how you spun it—as his friend, as his best friend, I should support him, right? Right?
The Becks on TV shook his head. “They both have great teams and coaching. Every school I’ve heard from does. All I can say is this: I’m looking for something extraordinary. That one special spark that no other school has. That’ll be what makes my decision.”
“Well, there you go, ladies and gentlemen.” Pinkerton took the ball and ran, seeing he wouldn’t give her anymore details. “It’s going to take that special spark to get Becks Kent through the door. We’ll have the answer to which school has it in a couple of weeks.”
As they went to commercial, I turned off the screen.
Trying to sound carefree, feeling anything but, I repeated Pinkerton’s words. “So Becks,” I said to the silence on the other end, “where’s it going to be?”
“We talked about this, Sal.” I couldn’t see it, but I knew he was shaking his head.
“But Becks—”
“You’ll find out when everyone else does.”
“But I’m your best friend,” I protested.
“Yeah,” Becks said, “and you promised you wouldn’t nag me about this.”
“I just don’t see why I have to wait,” I said. “At least tell me this. Have you made your decision?”
“I have an idea,” Becks said, which told me nothing. “Have you gotten your letter from Duke, yet?”
“Way to change the subject, and no. I haven’t heard.”
“You’ll get in.”
I forced a laugh. “Don’t be so sure.” It would take a miracle. Mom was a middle-income single-parent, and I’d need a scholarship to fit the bill. I’d worked on my writing samples for months in advance, editing, perfecting, until everything was spit-shined. Problem was I wasn’t the only Salutatorian applying to major in creative writing with nothing but a few clubs, good grades and a dream to her name.