I just stood there, trying not to fall apart.
“This essay was worth thirty percent,” she continued. “And with this low of a mark, your grade for this class has dropped to a C, Brett. I informed your coach and you’ll have to start sitting out of football games until this changes.”
“I’ll bring my grade back up,” I said. And this time it wasn’t so I could play football for my dad. It was because I had an entire team relying on me.
“I trust that you will. And Brett?” Then she had that look on her face. The same pitiful one every other teacher was throwing me. Becca was right—the entire school knowing about my parents did suck. “If you need an extension in the future—”
“I won’t. Thank you, Miss Copper,” I said quickly before running out of class. I hated how everyone treated me like I was broken, like they had to speak softer to make sure I wouldn’t completely lose it. The only person treating me the same was Jeff, who was waiting in the hallway, eyes bugging out of his head.
“What happened?” he asked, following me to calculus.
“I failed that essay,” I said, gripping the straps of my backpack. “My grade dropped to a C.”
Jeff stopped walking. I kept walking until he tugged me backward. “You’re off the team?”
“Would you keep your voice down?” I shoved him into the corner of the hall. “I’m not off the team. Just suspended until I bring my grade back up.”
“So get a tutor. We need you on the team.”
“There’s a lot going on right now. I don’t have time for a tutor.”
He swore under his breath. “Right. I forgot. How’s your mom doing?”
I shook my head. “She’s a mess” was all I said. I didn’t like talking about my family at school. “I have to get to class.”
I made to turn around when his arm grabbed my shoulder. “Brett . . . are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“You can tell me. We’ve been friends since we were kids.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “I won’t tell the team. It’ll stay between us.”
There were too many people in the halls, too many eyes on us. I didn’t want to talk about this with him. Not now. Preferably not ever. The only person I wanted to confide in was Becca, and I’d lost that too.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, pushing past Jeff and running down the stairs.
Maybe if I said it enough I could trick myself into believing it.
Becca
THE REVIVAL OF MY FRIENDSHIP with Jenny put a new spring in my step. It made me realize that ignoring Brett at school wasn’t the way to deal with my problems. It was only going to widen the space that had opened up between us. I decided that it was time for me to take back the reins on my life and speak to Brett. He said he needed time to think, and a week was plenty of time, right? He had to have reached some conclusion on his feelings toward me. And whether good or bad, I was ready to find out. No more moping around for me. I had to take action.
So, on Monday morning, I walked into school with my head held high and one goal in mind.
Only Brett’s seat in English class was empty.
All my determination and positive thinking was for nothing. Great.
I tried to pay attention to Miss Copper’s lesson, but my eyes kept drifting to his desk, waiting for him to materialize out of thin air. My notes were suffering too. An hour had passed by and I had written one sentence. One!
During lunch, I ate at my usual table outside. Which, pathetically, felt a little lonelier without Brett there. I even had to throw half my fries out because he wasn’t there to eat the rest. I was watching the doors, waiting for him to show up late. When the bell rang, I realized he wasn’t just ghosting me. He was ghosting his entire education. And the thought made this knot grow in the pit of my stomach, because Brett wasn’t the type to skip school. He’d only do that if he was desperate. Like if things had gotten worse at home.
I should have called him to check in. We were kind of allies in the broken-family department. And allies don’t abandon each other.
After school, I plopped myself down on the grass beneath the oak tree and waited for football practice to start. The doors to the locker room opened and the players trickled out. I watched, waiting to see Brett and that head of golden hair. Jeff was out first, then a bunch of other players whose names I didn’t know and who I had never spoken to. The door shut, the coach blew his whistle, and they all huddled in the center of the field.
I took out my book and read a page, waiting. Maybe Brett was running late.
I read a chapter. Still waiting. He had to show up. He specifically said he wasn’t going to quit the team.
I read until one hour had passed. Their shirts were off now, and they were all lying on their backs in the grass, splashing water on their faces. Brett was nowhere to be found.
I picked up my book and my bag and walked down the hill, across the field, and toward the metal bench that Jeff was sitting on. “Hey, Jeff,” I said. His eyes squinted in the sun when they met mine. “Have you seen Brett?”
He set his phone aside. “You don’t know?”
Oh god. The knot in my stomach doubled. “Know what?”
“He’s off the team.” My mouth literally dropped open like a puppet. “Not permanently,” he added quickly. “Just till he brings his grade up. This happened a few days ago. . . . He hasn’t told you?”
Clearly Brett hadn’t filled his best friend in on our breakup.
“We haven’t spoken in a while” was all I said.
“Last I heard he was looking for someone to tutor him in English.”
“He’s failing English?” My heart dropped. That was my best subject and he didn’t ask for my help? Of course he didn’t, a voice in my head said. You’ve been hiding from him for a week. Shut up shut up shut up.
“How has he been?” I asked then, lowering my voice. “With his family.”
Jeff kicked stubbornly at the grass. “I don’t know. He won’t talk to me about it.”
But I knew he’d talk to me.
“You think he’s home right now?” I checked my phone for the time. “I can walk there in twenty minutes if I take the side roads,” I said, thinking out loud.
“I can give you a ride,” Jeff said, nodding toward the field. “We’re almost done here. Mind waiting fifteen?”
I told him that no, I didn’t, then made a beeline inside. With half the contents of my locker piled into my backpack and my arms, I sat on the front steps and waited. Twenty minutes had passed when Jeff showed up. “This way,” he said, leading me to an old red pickup truck that was equal parts car and rust. It looked like it was going to crumble apart at any moment. Suddenly, walking to Brett’s house felt like a better option.
“The car’s fine,” Jeff said, reading my mind. “I got the brakes fixed last week.” How reassuring. I sat down anyway. Desperate times and all that.
“You’ve met Brett’s parents?” I asked when we were driving through town.
“Loads of times.”
“What do you think of them?”