Keanen is so eager to get gone, his foot is already a step down the hallway when he turns back to me. “Yeah, not really. Coach went through the motions, but the positions were already filled.”
“You any good?”
He nods yes before the idea of humility occurs to him and he tries to walk it back. “I’m okay.”
“There’s a training game tomorrow night that’s at an awkward time.” Like every other practice and most of the competition games. I took a spot to help fit in when I first shifted into Kingswood, but those days are long behind me. “Feel like subbing in for me?”
His expression turns eager, and he nods. “Sure.” Then he frowns. “But won’t coach have to approve—”
This time I’m the one cutting him off. “Coach’ll be fine with it. Trust me.”
I shoo him away and close the door, frowning. George might think he’s a friend, but the dude didn’t come to my room because he’s interested in making sure his gal pal can still be his platonic date to the ball.
He’s into her.
If this was a fair competition, I wouldn’t be worried. There’s nothing Keanen brings to the table that I can’t outdo. But with my relationship with Kari already stuck in her craw, he could look like a next-best alternative.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Keanen’s about to find he can’t make a move in this school without me or one of my friends there to guide and support him. Just so long as those moves are in the opposite direction to George.
She thinks he’s a friend and in the friend zone he better stay.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GEORGE
“I’m fired?”I stare at Sione, my boss. Or rather, the man who used to be my boss if I understood the gist of what he just told me, and I really hope I didn’t.
It’s hard enough to earn money. How I’ll earn it without my bargain-basement employment is something I really don’t want to think about.
“You’re not fired,” he reassures me, and my heartbeat settles. “It’s just that I can’t give you any hours. Not for the foreseeable future. I thought it easiest to let you know so you don’t wait around hoping.” He sucks air through his teeth during a lengthy pause, then shamefacedly admits, “I just don’t have the payroll budget I thought I did.”
I mean, I know the restaurant isn’t the most popular venue in town but it’s crazy to think they’ll manage with one team member less.
“You know I’ll give you a glowing reference,” he adds, stillgiving me that embarrassed smile. “If there were any other way…”
He trails off but I nod, more than capable of filling in the blanks.
Sione caught me at my locker, about to tie on my apron for a four-hour shift. Four hours of work I’d been dreading until confronted by the reality that there wouldn’t be any more hours, not for me. Now, I kind of miss it already.
“That’s okay,” I say because that’s what I’m meant to do, isn’t it? Pretend that it’s water off a duck’s back so Sione doesn’t have to add guilt to whatever other burdens he’s carrying. “I was actually thinking of trying to get another role closer to home, so this’ll probably work out well.”
It’s not a lie exactly. I’d spend every day looking for a better job if I thought the gambit might play out in my favour. The reason I’m still here, six weeks down the line, begging for more hours is because it’s not.
Still, the expression of relief on Sione’s face is better than his upset. And at least he’s nice about the whole thing. He could have just strung me along—my casual contract doesn’t allow any bargaining room from my end.
“I’ll pay you out for today,” he continues now, ushering me towards the rear exit. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to come all this way for nothing.”
That at least is something I can be grateful for. As I’m ejected out the back door, I try to take comfort from it.
A stance that lasts the two seconds until the exit door closes, then disappears as exhaustion tugs me into a bout of tears.
Half of it’s self-pity and the rest…? Well, it’s just been a while since I had a good cry and all the while there’s been a plethora of things to cry about.
However silly I feel, having a breakdown next to thestinking rubbish in the skip, it’s a release that’s well overdue. Endorphins scamper around, cheering me up even as my sobs grow worse.
“If you’re going to cry every time we meet, I’ll get a complex,” Patrick calls out. He must have been smoking around the corner because the rich scent of pipe tobacco clings to him as he wanders nearer.
