“Speaking of dads, mine is planning to be in town next week.”
“In La Jolla?”
“Either here or in LA. It’s not definite yet. Depends on how his shoot goes this week.” He pauses. “Shit.”
“What?”
“My lawyer just texted. He says the cops want me to go in and talk to them next week.”
“About what?”
“Probably the same shit they asked me before. I need to call this guy back. The call could go on awhile. You want to just talk tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll text you when I get to the party.”
We end the call, and I text Shayla, telling her the plan for tomorrow. After the game, I’ll walk down the road to the gas station. We’ll meet there, and she’ll take me to the party. I’m already looking forward to it. I get to see Jackson again!
* * *
The next day at school seems to drag on like it’s never going to end. When it finally does, I go home, change clothes, and ride back to school with Trystan. I skipped dinner. I wasn’t hungry. I’m too nervous that something will happen that’ll ruin my plans with Jackson later.
When I get to the game, Peyton finds me and makes me sit next to her again because Alyssa is on the field with the other cheerleaders, and Peyton didn’t want to sit alone. She isn’t cheering tonight because she has a migraine, although if that were true, I don’t know how she could be surrounded by screaming fans.
“Go out with us after the game,” Peyton says, chomping on her gum.
“I’m tired. I’m going home after the game.”
“You’re so boring,” she says, kicking her feet up on the bleacher in front of us. “You never want to go out.”
“I do. Just not tonight.” I know she’ll keep pushing the issue if I don’t distract her with something else, so I change topics. “How’s the old guy with the sailboat? You still seeing him?”
“Yes.” She smiles and pulls her necklace out from under her sweater. “He gave me this. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
It’s a silver chain with a big diamond on it.
“Is that real?” I ask.
“Of course it’s real. He’s loaded.” She jumps up, her eyes on the field. “Shit, they just scored again.”
It’s the third quarter, and the other team is ahead. Braden keeps kicking the grass and muttering to himself. Then, when the team is in a huddle, he throws his hands in the air, probably yelling at them for screwing up.
“I heard this is a tough team,” I say.
Peyton sits back down. “How would you know? You just moved here.”
“I heard the players talking about it.”
She turns to me, smiling. “Why do you sit at their table? If you like girls, why are you sitting at the football table?”
“I don’t like girls. I mean, I like them as friends but not to date.”
“I heard you had a girlfriend.”
“Someone just made that up and it spread.”
She sits back, looking out at the field. “Then why aren’t you dating one of the players? You could have your pick. They all want you.”
“No they don’t. Half of them have girlfriends.”
