“Spellman,” his waxy voice calls out as I throw the hoodie on that Mom snagged from her church swap last weekend.
“Sup,” I nod, quickly running my hands through my hair, eager to get out of here. Sloane texted me that her and Carm were waiting in the lot behind the locker room, the one for athletes and their loved ones. Something about Sloane parking there felt good. Better than good, it felt right.
“When the fuck are we going out dude? I heard Will’s downtown.”
My eyes narrow in Scott’s direction, because I know he’s bluffing. There’s no way in hell Will texted, much less gave his location, to this douche bag.
“I haven’t heard that. I haven’t heard from him at all, actually.” I slide my duffle over my shoulder slamming my locker shut.
“Just what I heard.” Scott shrugs, but his irritation is palpable.
“What are you nerds talking about?” Josiah slides in between us, opening his locker.
“Trying to convince Spellman to go out with us tonight.” Scott’s eyes are clouded with suspicion as he looks me over and Josiah seems confused by the newfound tension between us.
“Sorry boys. Can’t tonight.” I clasp a hand on Josiah’s shoulder and start moving toward the door.
“You hangin’ out with Ian again?” I hear Scott call out from behind me and I freeze. Turning around slowly I meet his eyes, and normally when I look at Scott I can feel my brain cells begin to waste away, but tonight, something's different.
He knows something.
“I don’t know what you're talking about.” It comes out like a growl.
“I think you do, Andy. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” His features form a sinister grin as he bumps me with his shoulder and strolls to the showers.
“That dude is a freak,” Josiah mutters, shutting his own locker and I let a small breath move through my nose.
“Definitely,” I nod, anxiety roiling in my stomach because somehow Scott knows I’ve been sneaking around with Ian. Whether or not he knowswhyremains to be seen.
It feels like the walk in freezer at the club when I open the door that leads outside and I wish I had something warmer than a hand me down hoodie as I approach the various cars sprawled throughout the lot. I hear Carmen before I see her, loudly belting the words to some song from High School Musical. I mistakenly allowed Sloane to show her; she hasn’t stopped singing it since.
Sloane leans against Delilah’s hood, her jeans hugging every curve as her head bobs along to the timber of Carmen's voice. She reaches her hands out, grabbing my sister and twirling her, and I can see that spark of happiness in Carmen that I feel in myself. Like this—Sloane—was the piece that’s been missing for so long.
“Andy!” Carmen practically screeches when they finally see me and Sloane lets out that soft throaty laugh that makes my stomach dip.
“If it ain’t the Lion’s most valuable player!” Her toothy smile has my stomach somersaulting.
“Ah, I don’t know about that,” I breathe out as Carmen slams her tiny body into me for a full blown bear hug.
“Sloane said we could get pizza,” she squeaks out.
“Oh did she?” I laugh and look at Sloane, her sheepish smile and the way her thick lashes brush her high cheekbonespulling a warmth up my neck that I wish my sweatshirt did a better job of hiding.
“I may have said somethin’ like that.” She kicks the toe of her red cowboy boots against the pavement.
“Then I think,” I ruffle Carmen's hair, “that can be arranged.”
“There. I took a bite,” Carm whines, mozzarella cheese making a bridge between her and the slice of pizza she just bit into. I sigh, rolling my eyes and Sloane giggles, handing her at least ten dollars of quarters she just broke at the bar. Carmen’s eyes widen like Sloane just handed her a small fortune and I guess to Carm, she kinda did.
“Have fun,” Sloane winks and I watch as Carmen skips over to the large arcade connected to the pizza restaurant.
Dozens of other kids surround the pinball and claw machines and the more I look, the more I feel that tug of youth slipping away, the ambient glow of the machines reminding me of the summers Luis would take me to play ski ball. ‘Boy’s night’ he’d call it.
I watch Sloane watching those same kids slot quarters into the arcade games, an almost haunted expression on her face.
“Hey—you good?” I use the spatula to push another large slice onto Sloane’s plate and she snaps out of it. She grabs the canister of red pepper flakes shaking until her pizza is almost drowning in them before smiling down at it, satisfied. “Sloane?” She looks up, her eyes glassy, face slightly flushed. “Oh shit. What happened?”
“Nothing, nothing. I’m fine.” Her smile is sad as she inhales a sharp breath, picking up her slice of pizza and taking a large bite. I watch her, trying to see any sign in her face of whatshe might be feeling. She must feel me watching because she wipes her eyes and then rolls them playfully, carefully chewing her pizza before taking a sip of her beer. “Wish this place had something stronger,” she chuckles almost to herself before looking at me. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to look at someone so hard?” The glassiness is gone but that twinge of sadness is still there.
