Adorkable (15 page)

“Oh,” I said, reaching out to touch the final picture.

“Yes,” Mrs. Kent said, “that’s my favorite, too.”

There we were, Becks at seven years old, me just barely turned. It was taken on the playground by the monkey bars where Becks had gotten stuck and I’d talked him down. My arm was already in a bright pink cast, so it must’ve been at least a week or two afterward, but Becks looked just as he had that first day. Wavy black hair hanging low into his eyes, same boyish grin he wore to this day. We were both looking at each other, but I was laughing, tears streaming from my eyes as I gazed back at Becks.

I loved him even then.

“Oh, I’ve got to have that one, Carole,” Mom said. “Just look at how he’s looking at her.”

Mrs. Kent nodded in agreement, but I couldn’t see that Becks was looking at me in any particular way. Sure, his eyes were smiling like they did sometimes. But he always looked at me like that.

“And here’s the best part,” Mrs. Kent smiled, slipping something from behind the photo and holding it up. “It’s to Sally, from Becks, but he never got around to giving it to her.”

“Mom,” Becks exclaimed. He made a grab for the paper but was too slow. Clayton had it in his hands, unfolded, and was clearing his throat to read aloud as Becks sank back into his chair, face red. I’d never seen him look so embarrassed.

“To Sal, from Becks,” Clayton read aloud. “Listen up, Sally, you’re not going to want to miss this.”

Becks closed his eyes.

Okay, so now I was really curious—and confused. What could possibly make Becks act this way?

Clayton cleared his throat a second time then repeated, “To Sal, From Becks. There is a girl I like. She rides a yellow bike. Her hair is long. Her eyes are round. Her voice is nice. I like the sound.”

Thad leaned toward Becks and said, “That’s good, man, real good.”

I saw Becks wave him off out of my peripheral but couldn’t take my eyes away from Clayton.

“I broke her arm when we met. She was nice; I signed her cast.” Clayton took a time-out to say, “You could’ve done better than that. ‘Met’ and ‘cast’ don’t exactly rhyme, but I guess you were young.”

“Here’s where it gets good,” Leo said to me.

With that Clayton read the last three lines. “She is my friend. Her name is Sal. I hope one day she’ll be my gal.” A lot of oohing and aahing followed. Clayton refolded the paper and handed it back to his mother. “Guess you got your wish, didn’t you brother?”

It was just a poem, but it meant so much more. I wasn’t alone. At one time, even if we’d only been kids, Becks had loved me back.

Turning to him, I could feel tears filling my eyes.

“You wrote that?” I asked.

Becks wouldn’t look at me. “Yep.”

“For me?”

He nodded, but still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Leaning in, I kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” I murmured.

Becks looked at me then, surprised. “What’s that for?”

“It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Catching myself, I lowered my voice so only he could hear. “Plus, our parents are watching, remember?”

“Sure,” he said, lifting my hand for a kiss, but there was something strange in his tone. “You coming to the game? It’s the last one before sectionals.”

“Of course,” I smiled. “I want to see you kick Boulder High’s butt as much as anyone.” Raising my voice again, I added, “Besides, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

His face seemed to close off, but I put that down to embarrassment. Before I left, I pulled Mrs. Kent aside and asked for the poem. She said it was mine anyway and gave it up without question. By the time I went to sleep that night, I’d read it thirteen times.

I hope one day she’ll be my gal.

Ah Becks, I thought on the verge of sleep. I always have been.

Guilt. It was eating me up from the inside out, and all I could do was sit there and rot while Becks made his third goal of the night. The crowd cheered, he pumped his fist, the fans on Boulder’s side groaned. The boy was on fire. Girls were giving him the eye, catcalls flying left and right, the loudest coming from a pretty brunette about two rows down, holding a sign that read, “Becks, will you marry me?” encased in a big, glittery pink heart.

“You gonna let her get away with that?” Hooker asked at my side.

“What can I do about it?” I mumbled. “She’s not hurting anyone.”

Hooker frowned at me. “I tell you what I’d do. If Becks was my man, I’d rip that sign right up and throw it back in her face, teach her what’s what.”

“I can’t do that.”

“It’d serve her right.”

I was a bad person, a full-on hypocrite, because that’s what I’d been itching to do ever since I spotted the poster. The urge came on extra-strong when the girl tried to flash Becks as he turned around at halftime, scanning the stands.

“Hey, Becks,” Ollie shouted, “I don’t think the guys from Penn saw that one. You want to make it an even four?”

“Yeah,” Thad said. “UCLA was looking, though. Maybe they want you more.”

“My vote’s Michigan,” Clayton called from the bench.

“UNC,” someone hollered and was greeted by a round of cheers.

“Indiana!”

“Gotta be Louisville!”

“No way, Ohio!”

“So, what’s it gonna be, son?”

Becks shrugged as the crowd called out more schools, and the recruiters tried to look unruffled. They were doing a poor job of it. Every single one of them was on the edge of their seats, straight-back, tense, waiting to hear Becks’s answer. It was due any day now. They’d been waiting for months. Apart from scoring three, Becks had already made five steals, two assists and blocked a couple goals. It was one of the main reasons they wanted him. He was just as strong on defense as he was on offense.

“Becks, you’re so
hot
!” The brunette’s voice was loud and high like a siren. The sound made the hairs on my neck stand up. “Come to my party this Saturday?”

“No, come home with me,” this from a fiery redhead a few seats away. “I’ll show you a good time.”

I decided then and there I disliked the color red.

“Hey,” the brunette shrieked. “He’s mine!”

Red flipped her hair. “Keep dreamin’ honey.”

“Hey.” Hooker stood, glaring at the two of them until they turned. “Becks is the property of Sally Sue Spitz. This girl—” She pointed at me, and I cringed. “—He’s her boyfriend, you got that? Leave him be.”

“Yeah, lay off,” Leo added. A couple more “yeahs” came from the surrounding area, people I didn’t even know. I sank further into my seat.

The girls scoffed, but stopped arguing.

“Good.” Hooker eased back down, satisfied.

Locking eyes with me, Becks smiled and held up his palms as if to say, “They love me. What’re you going to do?” before Crenshaw dragged him back to the group.

“It’s alright.” Leo patted my shoulder. “Becks would never go for them anyway.”

“Got that right,” Thad agreed. “He’s all yours, Sally.”

“Even if the redhead was pretty hot,” Ollie added, which earned him a slap on the head from Mr. Kent. “Holy cow, I was just saying he’s loyal. That’s all.”

This seemed to satisfy the parents, and Mrs. Kent went back to talking with my mom, who shot me a wink and gave Hooker an approving nod.

My return smile was part grimace.

Sitting there in my Gryffindor jersey, I felt like the lowest of the low, a fraud, a scoundrel.

A Slytherin.

After all, only a Slytherin would tell lies for their own gain. Only a Slytherin would take advantage of a friend and ask them to do something so dishonest. And nobody but a Slytherin would keep this thing going simply because they were too scared, too much of a coward, to call it off. Even when it meant keeping her friend from doing what he wanted, seeing who he wanted.

Like the hot redhead who’d just given him an open invitation.

I wasn’t sure why this was hitting me now. Becks and I had been lying for weeks. We’d convinced everyone that we were a couple, soul mates, made for each other. With Becks doing such a spectacular job on the F.B.F. front and me falling for him more each day, it hadn’t been hard. But here in the stands, watching Becks singlehandedly knock out the competition, hearing an endless supply of girls call his name, listening to Hooker claim Becks as mine, I couldn’t stand myself.

It was that poem, had to be. The words, beautiful and heartfelt, were also guilt-inducing. If I really loved Becks, how could I do this to him? Wouldn’t the right thing be to let him go?

The attack on my conscience was so great it made me want to confess everything. I could do it. It’d make a lot of people mad, and I’d probably be condemning myself to a lifetime of matchmaking hell, but I could do it. Becks would be angry at first, but he’d get over it. Like he’d said, there were girls who wanted to date him for real. I was holding him back. Maybe it’d be best to come clean before he started to resent me—or worse, before I did something stupid and gave myself away. I didn’t want him feeling sorry for me. Becks was my best friend and I loved him, but I’d jump off a skyscraper before I let him tie himself to me out of pity.

I’ve got to do it, I thought. Confess everything, fess up for Becks’s sake. For mine.

It was what any good Gryffindor would do.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth and…

“Sally?”

The interruption startled me, the words trapped in my throat.

“I think that boy’s calling you,” Mrs. Kent whispered.

Oh my God.

A whistle blew. The game restarted.

My throat closed up tight. Sense returned with a vengeance, piercing my flimsy shield of courage and replacing it with dread. All the reasons why I shouldn’t confess slapped me in the face, one after the other, leaving me dazed. Lord, what was I thinking?

“Sally Spitz?”

“Slytherin,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?” Hooker asked, but I stayed quiet.

Forget Gryffindor. My middle name wasn’t Sue; it was Chicken. My favorite color wasn’t blue but green. I was nothing but a big old, shaking-in-my-boots snake in the grass. I sighed. When in the world had I become such a first-class coward?

“Sally?” The voice was much closer now.

“Uh oh,” Hooker said, “it’s Mr. Sexy Surfer in his Chinos. Want me to get rid of him?”

I followed her gaze and saw Austin Harris, Mr. Sexy Surfer as Hooker called him, standing at the end of our row, smiling at me. Our first (and only) date had been short but memorable. It’s not every day you see a guy declare his undying love to a girl. Especially when you’re the girl. And the guy’s only known you for three hours. I fondly remembered Austin as a wackadoo with a heart. That night seemed like it happened ages ago, to someone else.

“Hey,” he said, “I thought it was you. Love the shirt by the way.”

“Thanks,” I said, making my way over. I tried not to feel like too much of an impostor. When I reached him, I gestured to his chest. “Where’s your tie?”

“Left it at home,” he said. “So, how are you?”

Was that a trick question? “I’m good, and you?”

“Oh, I’m great. Actually I—”

Just then, the crowd erupted.

Thad jumped up, thrusting his hand out to encompass the field. “Are you blind? That was a flagrant. Call something ref!”

“Do your damn job,” Ollie yelled.

This time Mrs. Kent tagged him with a hard pinch to the ear. Judging by the sounds he was making, that had to hurt.

Austin tilted his head toward the game. “Is that your boyfriend down there? He’s killing us.”

“You mean, Becks,” I swallowed, feeling the lie stick in my throat. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Man.” Austin shook his head as play resumed, and Becks made a breakaway. “It’s probably a good thing it didn’t work out between us,” he sighed dramatically. “I could’ve never competed with that.”

I laughed. No one could compete with Becks, at least in my view. “Not a big soccer fan?”

He grinned. “No, I’m more into role playing. Final Fantasy, World of Warcraft, that kind of thing. Actually that’s where I met my girlfriend. She’s right down there, front row, toward the middle.”

I saw where he was pointing and did a double take. The girl was gorgeous, almost as gorgeous as Austin, and that was saying something. Flashing the two of us a grin, she blew him a kiss, and he pretended to catch and tuck it into his pocket.

“Isn’t she great?” he said.

“Great,” I repeated then got serious. “But I thought you said you loved me?”

He blushed, rocked back on his heels. “Well…about that, I—”

“I’m just kidding,” I said, punching him in the shoulder. “I’m glad you found someone. She’s beautiful.”

“Oh, good,” he said, capturing my hand. The twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable as he bent forward. “But you know you’ll always be my first, Sally.” Bowing low, he dropped a quick kiss to my hand and looked up through his lashes, causing us both to laugh.

Someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

Glancing over, I saw Hooker, her boyfriend Will, my mom, Becks’s parents, and all the brothers watching us. Actually, the boys were giving Austin looks that ranged anywhere from dirty to threatening. I guess we’d taken their attention away from the game. Yippee.

I blushed as Austin released my hand and stood upright.

“Guess I’ll see you around,” he said, throwing nervous glances at the Kents.

I felt their stares shift to me. “Okay, I’ll—”

A thousand gasps seemed to ripple through the stadium at once.

I turned my head, heard Mrs. Kent scream as the others rushed by me to get to the stairs—but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“Sally?”

“Spitz, you okay?”

Austin and Hooker were calling my name, but I couldn’t focus. All my attention was on the chilling scene below.

Becks was on his back, clutching his right leg to his chest, face contorted in agony, as Clayton tried to get him to straighten out.

“No, no, no...”

Was that my voice?

Tripping over my own feet, I was vaguely aware of the hands steadying me down the stairs.

“He’ll be okay.” Hooker’s voice at my ear. “Don’t worry, Spitz. He’ll be fine.”