Because You Exist(13)

“Come on. Details, Middleton.”

“I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”

“There’s no way you’re hanging out with Scary Carrie unless you’re getting some. I can see the appeal. A girl like that would do all sorts of wild things, like torture and stuff. Probably a nice break after Missionary Jenna.”

I stopped abruptly and turned to face Alec. “I suggest you stop talking. Now.”

If it came down to a fight I would lose, but we both knew it wouldn’t. If we got in a fight it would mean suspension. Which would lead to no game on Friday. We weren’t complete idiots.

“Now don’t get yourself into a hissy fit, Middleton. I was just helping. Bernie told me you called him last night and asked him to try and get her number. And here it is,” he said, slapping a piece of paper into my palm.

I had to devise a plan to get a hold of Carrie. Er. Josephine. I couldn’t well talk to her openly in class, not while all of Shepherd High was looking on.

“Also, you might want to remember that while you’re the quarterback of this team, I’m the defensive captain. Bernie’s been vying for a defensive position since last year. If you’re secretly slumming it with Scary, you might want to be a little more discreet.”

I clenched my jaw to keep from telling Alec off because I was in his debt now. And we both knew it. There was a code among teammates when it came to cheating, real or imagined—we would keep our mouths shut, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t make you pay for the silence.

Last year, I lied to Mary Simpkins, a friend and fellow cheerleader of Jenna’s. Lance, her boyfriend since sixth grade, had gotten a blow job from some tourist staying at the Oceanfront. The team had rented a few hotel rooms to celebrate our win at State. We only had one rule: no girlfriends. We told the girls it was because we didn’t want their drama, and that it was an all boys weekend. Half the team ended up calling other Shepherd High girls down, or hooking up with some tourist who was too poor to stay during peak season. I mean who vacations in Virginia Beach in February?

A lot of guys cheated that weekend but Lance was the worst. Mary was one of Jenna’s best friends, and lying to Mary meant lying to Jenna. Jenna knew I was lying of course, and I knew she knew. Yet, I continued to lie for a kid I didn’t even really like. I’m not sure why I did it. Jenna and me almost broke up over it. She kept saying that she couldn’t trust me. I promised her I never did or would ever do anything of the sort, but she said when people start lying they begin to have a hard time deciphering the truth from the lie. Something about lying to yourself most of all.

She was always saying stuff like that which completely went over my head.

I made Lance pay for it though. He did my biology homework for the rest of the year, or he got some cheerleader to do it. Either way my homework was always done and correct.

With a sigh, I pushed Josephine’s number into my pocket. “Thanks,” I mumbled to Alec, refusing to look up at the smirk I knew was all over his face.

“No problem, QB1. Oh. And only pussies drink frappuccinos. Grow some balls.”

Alec. Reason one for not trying to save the world.





Chapter 9





“Thanks for meeting me.”

“No problem. I’ve just been dying for some boy to ask me to secretly meet him in a Taco Bell attached to a gas station. I can’t wait to go write about it in my dream journal. I mean this tops the dream I had the other night about making this boy who hated me fall in love with me amidst end of the world carnage and destruction,” Josephine said, infusing her words with as much fake enthusiasm as any soap opera actress could only hope to muster.

I rolled my eyes and shoved the tray containing the two hard shell tacos, nachos, quesadilla, and large soda that Josephine demanded I buy her during our brief text battle across the table. When I texted Josephine in one of the bathroom stalls in between Spanish and history, time was of the essence. A guy only went into the stall for one thing...well, maybe two. I’d rather someone thought I was doing either of those things than for him to know I was texting the school’s new dominatrix. Apparently, the whole team knew of my supposed fling with Josephine, and the stories kept getting crazier and crazier. Dungeons. Chains. Safety words—all the things teenage guys claimed to be doing but only ever saw on some movie channel late at night. It took everything in me to stop myself from going off on those dickheads every time of one of them gave me a thumbs up or a knowing nod. Josephine was okay to screw, but beyond that she still remained a social outcast. I had to be careful when it came to anyone thinking sex wasn’t the basis of our relationship. Friendship. Doomed partnership.