“All right,” Coach stands, his voice resigned. “You’re suspended for the season. Take the rest of the year to get your shit together.”
I knew it was coming. Practically dared him to kick me off the team. Disappointment settles over me, and it’s almost a relief. I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. This life wasn’t meant to be mine. It never felt real anyway. College. Sports. This shit isn’t me, no matter how hard I try.
When I leave the office, the rest of the team has cleared out. Everyone but Riley, and judging by his dejected expression, I’m guessing he heard enough to know what went down.
“Just like that?” he asks, hands braced on his sides.
“Just like that,” I confirm. He scoffs as I walk past him to clear out my locker.
“Did you even try to fight it?”
“No.”
“Why the fuck not?”
I slam my locker shut, slinging my bag over my shoulder. I force a casual stride as I make my way outside. Riley jogs to catch up to me, and I know words are coming out of his mouth, but I don’t hear anything once my eyes lock onto Travers. He glances up, cocky expression plastered to his mug before blowing me a kiss.
I flex my fingers, wanting nothing more than to knock his fucking teeth out. And now, I don’t have any reason to reel it in.
I drop my bag, prowling straight for him. He stands his ground, confident that I won’t possibly do anything to get myself in even hotter water. What he doesn’t know is that I’m already done, and I’m prepared to go out with a bang. I see the moment the fear sets in. He tries to conceal it, but his eyes widen once he realizes I’m not stopping. I send my fist into his jaw as hard as I can, and he drops like a sack of fucking rocks.
“What the fuck!” he shouts, cupping a hand under his chin to catch the tooth he spits out. Well, whaddya know? My wish came true.
“Shep!” Coach hollers, marching toward us. “Get the fuck out of here!”
I huff out a humorless laugh before spitting on the floor next to Travers. “I’m gone.”
* * *
“YOU WHAT?” MY SISTER, LO, shrieks. I curl my fists at my side, forcing myself not to react. I knew she wasn’t going to take the news well. Should’ve done it over a phone call to give her a chance to calm the hell down before I got here.
“I dropped out,” I say again.
“I heard you. I just can’t figure out how you could do something so goddamn stupid,” she snaps. She starts walking around her living room, picking up random things and roughly putting them away. It’s what she does when she’s mad. She’s an angry cleaner. And finding out her little brother is dropping out of college when she worked so hard to make it happen is right at the top of the list of things that would piss her off.
“Changed my mind,” I say simply. Lo stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind, her eyebrows pulling together as her expression morphs from shocked to infuriated. She doesn’t speak, and a silent Logan Shepherd is the one thing I’ve learned to fear, which says a lot considering I grew up in the worst part of Oakland where drive-bys and break-ins were a weekly occurrence.
“Lo,” I say, stepping forward, but before I have a chance to explain, the front door opens and her boyfriend, Dare, walks in. His eyes dart between us, taking notice of the look on Lo’s face.
“Fuck.”
“Nice to see you, too,” I mutter.
Dare makes his way over to the kitchen and tosses his keys onto the counter before grabbing three bottles of beer from the fridge. He looks up at me and I give a slight shake of my head, silently conveying to him that this calls for something stronger. He raises an eyebrow and puts the beers back, opting for a bottle of Jack from on top of the fridge. I nod, and he curses under his breath, knowing this isn’t going to be pretty. The last time I broke out the whiskey, I ended up drunk, naked, and bleeding in his hot tub.
Dare unscrews the cap, taking a big gulp straight from the bottle, before walking it over to me. Lo is still staring daggers at me, jaw clenched tight, as I take a swig. It burns my throat, warming my insides as it goes down. Dare makes his way back over to Lo and presses a kiss to her forehead, but her eyes stay pinned on me, arms folded across her chest.
“Someone going to tell me what the fuck happened?” Dare asks. Lo ignores his question, directing her words toward me.
“After everything I sacrificed.”
“Figures you’d make this about you,” I say, working my jaw back and forth. I knew she’d be pissed, but she’ll get over it. We’ve been through worse. It’s always been us against the world. Drug addict parents. Drug dealing. Abuse. Poverty. Countless fights over the years. None of it has ever been enough to make Lo turn her back on me. That’s not what we do.
“Is it not about me? I dropped out to take care of you. I made sure you got to school every day. I made sure you had food and a bed to come home to.”
“I didn’t come here for another Lo lecture,” I say, my voice devoid of any emotion.
“No,” she agrees, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You just came here to tell me you’re pissing away your shot. You came here to tell me you’re going back to the fucking life we had to crawl our way out of.”
I swallow hard, the guilt hitting my gut like a brick. “I got kicked off the team, okay?” I shout. Her mouth snaps shut.
“It was only a matter of time, right?” I take another swig. “I’m not meant for that life anyway. I’m not meant for college. Besides, you have Dare to take care of you now.” My meaning is clear. She always said I was the only one who could amount to anything. I was supposed to be our ticket out of that life, but Dare swooped in like a goddamn Disney prince, fixing all our problems.
Something flashes in Lo’s eyes, but before she can respond, I pick up the duffle bag at my feet, shrug it over my shoulder, and raise the bottle of Jack in Dare’s direction. “I’m taking this.”
“For such a smart kid, you’re being a dumbass,” Dare says, disappointment written all over his face. I bob my head. Fair assessment. Lifting the hand with the bottle, I give them a salute before walking out the door.
* * *
THE ONE GOOD THING ABOUT working nights at Blackbear Bar? The fact that I get to be in charge of the music selection. Green Day blares from the speakers as I make my rounds, making sure the remaining customers are set before last call. I applied the day I met Dylan here, and the manager, Lo, hired me on the spot.
As soon as the last person pays his ticket, I crank the music louder. Technically, we’re open for another hour, but it’s Thursday, so it’s probably safe to start closing down. Jake, the owner slash bartender, shakes his head, amused, as he holds out the bowl of suckers, knowing my routine. I pluck out my favorite flavor—butterscotch—before I set to wiping down the tables.
“You can take off, Allison,” Jake tells me as he slaps a stack of bills onto the bar top for me. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You sure?” I ask. I don’t want to skip out early. I’m still the new girl.
Before he gets the chance to answer, the door flies open. I startle, head whipping in the direction to find a group of people stumbling in. They’re loud and, by the looks of it, drunk. My eyes widen before narrowing with annoyance when they meet a familiar pair of hazel ones.