Colin steps forward. He runs his fingers through his hair, exhaling sharply.
“Gus told me to go for your quarterback’s leg,” he says. “That’s my secret. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I haven’t slept in two days. Haven’t eaten, either, which might explain why we were so crappy back there on the field. The truth is, my brother got drafted to the NFL, yet I’m a subpar player. My parents don’t even bother coming to our games. I wanted this championship so badly. I just wanted them to see me for once in my miserable life.”
Esme steps forward. It feels like a huge purge of feelings, secrets, and sins. The snake pit has never been more crowded…or poisonous. Yet the antidote to all the venom is honesty.
Esme huffs, taking off her high heels and throwing them across the field, leaving her barefoot.
“Shit. Ugh. I hate these!” she exclaims, laughing. “God, I hate heels. And those miniskirts.” She wiggles her butt as she tries pulling her very short skirt down her thighs. Blythe is beside her, eyeing her with a look I decode as fear.
“My secret? Ha. Where do I even begin? My mom told me I was fat when I was, like, probably five or something, and I pretty much haven’t eaten a carb since. Not that she cares anymore. She’s on husband number three right now and too busy traveling the world with him. I hate anyone and everyone with a semi-functioning family and therefore loathed Daria before she even opened her mouth. Then she started talking smack about her mom—who bakes cupcakes for us when we had pool parties at her house and used to braid Daria’s hair before school and send her with home-cooked food until this semester—and I had a really good reason to hate her. I want everyone to feel the pain I feel. All. The. Time. Maybe that’s why I’ve been fucking Vaughn Spencer since the beginning of the semester. Sorry, Bly—”
The slap comes before she can even complete the sentence. Blythe growls in her face and rushes toward me, flinging her arms over my shoulders. I freeze.
“I’m so sorry, Daria. Esme never should’ve gotten your title. I’m sorry I took her side. My secret is that I’m insecure, probably too insecure, to stand up against bullies. To tell people how I feel about them.” She sniffs, chancing a glance at Vaughn. “I don’t know. I sometimes feel like I’m too afraid to live.”
Esme looks up at me hesitantly, and I shake my head while drawing Blythe into a deeper hug. I feel bad for both girls, but that doesn’t mean I can forgive so quickly.
“I…uhm…” Adriana takes a step forward, wiping her sweaty palms on the back of her jeans. “I’m probably going to regret this as soon as it leaves my mouth, but I care too much about Penn not to say this when I have the balls to do it. Harper is not his, okay? I can’t say more than that, but Penn’s been sticking around because he is good, and responsible, and my best friend. Not because he should’ve or had any responsibility to. I outstayed my welcome in his life, even when it was so painfully clear that his heart wanted something I could never give him.” She looks up at him and chuckles to herself. “I’m sorry, Scully. I hope it’s not too late for you guys.”
He gives her a slight nod without looking at me.
“Hey, guys, I have a confession, too.” Knight steps forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “My dick is not six inches long. It is actually a full seven and a half inches. When flaccid. It’s really uncomfortable, and my junk gets hit practically anytime anyone goes for my legs on the field. It’s been really hard for me. All puns intended.”
Everyone bursts out laughing, other than Gus. Gus just keeps on standing and looking like his life is over. And I guess now that the truth about the rigged games is out, it kind of is.
“You forgot to give us a secret, Bauer.” Penn folds his arms on his chest.
“That makes the two of us.” Gus tilts his chin up.
“Tell you what, you go first, and if it’s good enough, we’ll strike a deal, and you’ll get out of here without a broken nose. That is if Daria gives me permission not to kill you.” Penn looks over at me, and I nod.
Gus blows out air. “You want a secret? One that’d save my skin? All right.” He looks over at Via, regret in his eyes. She sees it, too, and coils into herself, preparing for the blow.
“When I was born, my mama put me on the steps of our local church. The pastor knew her from around the neighborhood, so instead of doing the right thing and handing me over to the police, he gave me back to her. I guess she was too embarrassed not to take me back. He said he and the church would help us, but of course, the fucker never did. Your, er, stepdad, Rhett…” He coughs. Starts walking around in circles. Marx, no wonder we were all so terrible to each other. “He came to see us often. He used to talk about Penn like he was the next Jerry Rice. That’s what got me into football in the first place. Said Penn’s gonna make it big and buy his entire family mansions, and I wanted it, too. I started pursuing Via because I wanted to be close to Penn, but Penn was never close to anyone other than Cam and Kannon. Years passed. We all went our separate ways. And when Penn came to the snake pit months ago, drunk off his ass…” He trails off. “I gave him my best fighter, Vaughn, because I was hoping—praying, maybe—that he’d kill him. I didn’t want the competition. I need a scholarship, goddammit. Need out of this shithole before I become the help to the same people I grew up with in high school.”
There’s a beat of silence as his words soak into everyone’s brains.
“Your turn, Scully.” Knight grins beside me, squeezing my shoulder.
Penn turns around to look at me, so everyone else does, too. Even though I should be embarrassed because of everything that went down, and because practically everyone here knows all of my secrets, I’m surprisingly calm.
“I owe you two truths. One, I’ll give you now, Skull Eyes. But the other…” He takes a deep breath. “The other you’ll get if you decide to stick around. If Lady ends up with Tramp.”
He walks over to me and lifts my chin up with his finger. I stop breathing. Everyone circles us in a backdrop of faces and blurred figures. He’s the only thing I see, and maybe it’s always been this way. Maybe I needed to look for him when I still could and demand he took all my firsts as if I owed them to him.
“The truth about the holes in my shirts is as follows: My last recollection of Stan, my dad, was when he left us. I was five, and I’d been climbing on the tree in our backyard, trying to create a makeshift treehouse. I was fucking obsessed with treehouses. And forts. And sand castles. Looking back, I probably just wanted a real home, something I didn’t have. My dad didn’t want to spoil us, so he refused to help me build one. Anyway, I ended up falling on my ass, but on the way down, my shirt got caught on a branch, and a huge hole opened right where my heart is. It was a close call, for sure. My mother was already halfway addicted, so she just told me to be more careful next time. My dad’s mom, though, went berserk. Ioanna Scully is every shade of insane in the coloring book. The kind of religion that believes in curses and spells. She said I was an unruly boy, and I called her an old hag because that’s what my mom called her. Of course, I didn’t realize Mom was saying those things behind her back for a reason. At any rate, Ioanna cast a spell on me. She said my heart will be broken until I find the one. That I’m going to walk around with holes in my shirts to symbolize what I don’t have until I experience true love. But until then, I will be miserable. Naturally, I thought it to be bullshit. But then weird things started happening to me every time I didn’t wear the holed shirt. One time, I almost got run over. The other, the money I stole from my mom mysteriously disappeared from my pocket. A dog bit me, my bikes got stolen…so I started cutting holes in all my shirts as a safety measure. I had no choice. I got a lot of mouthfuls from my dad about it, obviously, but it worked.”