Bound Together (6 page)

She pushed her shoulders back and looked straight up at him. “
Of course
I told them. They. Couldn’t. Come,” she said, enunciating each word.

He gripped the
papers
tighter in his hands. “Well, no parents, no trip.” He stepped passed her desk and handed a flyer to Jared’
s mom, seated behind her.

Zoey
stood up suddenly, bumping against the top of the desk. “What the hell? You can’t do that!” She took the papers from his hands. “Just give me one. I’ll give it to my dad when I get home.”

He pulled the papers back from her. “It’s not that easy. I always talk with the parents before this trip, calm their worries and explain the itinerary.”

Zoey
continued looking straight at Mr. Rhinehart. “Well, trust me, my parents won’t be worried and they’d probably instantly lose the paper you gave them.”

Mr. Rhinehart shifted his weight. “
Zoey
, this isn’t up for discussion. Go home, get
a
parent and come back.”
All eyes were on them now and he knew it.
He continue
d past
Zoey
,
pass
ing
out the papers
.
Zoey
seemed i
ndifferent. She stood watching him hand out the papers, then hurried to keep up with him.

“
This is bullshit. Y
ou can’t do this–you can’t take this away from me. I did all the fundraising, I paid for everything.
” She actuall
y
looked nervous, something I’d never seen on her. She took a deep breath.
“
I don’t think
you understand–
my parents aren’t going to come.”

He studied her for a minute and nodded. “Sit down,
Zoey
. We’ll talk after.”

She returned to her desk and sat down, looking bored.

The hour passed with Mr. Rhinehart droning on about travel tips. I couldn’t help glancing back at
Zoey
, trying to figure out why
she said
her parent’s wouldn’t come. I caught only bits of
what Mr. Rhinehart was saying
…m
oney belts
,
generally safe
, but pick
-
pockets in
touristy areas,
electrical socket
adapters
, exchanging money.

He clapped his hands together, pulling my attention back to the front. “And that’s pretty much it. Our meet
-
up place at the airport will be in front of the
Air France ticket counter at seven
fifteen.”

Zoey
was the first one out of the room. I smirked when I saw Mr. Rhinehart’s face turn red. She must’ve
forgotten
he told her to stay after. Maybe I’d be doing the assignment
by
myself
after all
.

*****

A few minutes before three,
I parked and got out of my truck,
basketball
tucked
under my arm and walked up to join the guys who were messing around on the court.

“Mat
-
ty
,” Justin called, tossing a ball straight for my head. I ducked at the last second
rather than catching
it so he’d have to jog after it. “Dick,” he jogged past me.

I rolled
the extra
ball
I was holding
to the sidelines and joined the guys on the court to pick teams. Bryce, Jake and
Conner
were on the
South Lake
basketball team
and
Tim was on the JV football team.

“Hey bro, those sophomore girls were
mackin
’ last night, why’d you leave?” Justin asked
,
jogging back up.

Of course
he noticed that
. The other guys looked at me, waiting to hear my answer. “
Yeah,
I had to go.”

“Well, let’s just say you missed out. Someone had a happy ending at the end of the night.” He smiled.

“Good for you.” I
shoved
the ball
in
to his chest.

We divided into teams, and I landed with Jake and Conner. I didn’t want to be on Justin’s team anyway
—
that way I could check him with an elbow to the ribs for throwing that ball at me.

“We’re skins,”
Bryce said,
pulling
his shirt over his head.
Tim tossed the ball at him and he easily plucked it from th
e air
,
showing
off, dribbling
between his legs. Bryce and I went to the free
-
throw line and each took a shot to see which team got the ball first.

We both missed our first shot, but Bryce
sunk
the second one and Justin jogged
after it
to get
the
rebound.
He palmed the ball and dribbled once, forcing it
under his le
g
,
then
headed down the court with it.

He took a shot and missed.

I jumped and grabbed the ball
, holding it to my side while
Bryce and Justin
swarmed
me
. I ducked to the side to get away from them, and dribbled out to center court, giving myself more space.
And then suddenly, Bryce was
on me, w
hen I went right, he went right,
and
when I went left,
so did he
. I had no shot, so I dribbled out to center court,
trying to
get some room
. I watched his foot work, trying to predict which way he’d go next and guessed right. He shifted
on the balls of his feet
and I sprung past him
to take a shot.
I missed.

We played for a little while longer, th
en took a break on the benches once it was tied twenty
-
one, twenty
-
one.
I swigged from a bottle of Gatorade and wiped the sweat off my forehead with the
sleeve
of my T
-
shirt. The afternoon sun was glaring down on us.

“Look at those jackasses
.
” Justin pointed at the group of skaters ove
r at the
skate park
.
We glanced over at the
half
-
pipe and a few small rails
—
our town’
s attempt at being hip
. It was
mostly frequented by the stoners and their girlfriends.
“Hey, Matt, isn’t that
Zoey
Marshall
, your
Parisian
lover?”

I glanced over and saw
Zoey
sitting cross
-
legged in the grass
watching the guys skate. “F
-
off, Justin.” I shoved him from the end of the bench.

“You tapping that?” Bryce asked.

“Uh, no.”
I shook my head.
I looked
over
at
Zoey
again. She was watching Jordan on the half
-
pipe. I wondered a
f
ter
what happened in Rhinehart’s class if
she’d be at the airport in the morning.

Chapter Seven

Zoey

“Damn, Matt
Parker
looks like sex on a stick,” Morgan said, shielding her eyes from the sun. I followed her gaze across the park and watched him get out of his SUV and walk towards the basketball courts. He was wearing mesh shorts and a faded black Interpol T
-
shirt. So maybe his taste in music wasn’t completely tragic.
“
Zoey
, are you looking?” She elbowed me in the side without taking her eyes from him.

“I see him,” I said. He ducked and a ball sailed over his head.

“Did you see that, babe?” Jordan asked, calling my attention back to him. He was standing beside the rail he’d been trying to grind on
,
and failing at
,
all afternoon.

“Sorry, I missed it,” I said.

He glanced over and caught onto what we’d been looking at.
A few of the guys had now stripped off their shirts, but to my disappointment, Matt wasn’t one of them. Jordan walked over to us and sat down, taking a swig of my Diet Coke.

“What’ve they got that I don’t?” he asked, puffing out his chest.

Morgan looked hi
m over with an eye brow raised, h
er mouth quirked up. “Let’s see, for starters, pectorals, trimmed nose hair
,
actual
athleticism
…”

“
Nevermind
.”
Jordan held up his hand in front of her face.
He pulled a cigarette out of hi
s pocket and lit it, then bl
ew the smoke
in Morgan’s
direction
.

She wav
ed a hand in front of her face, clearing the puff of smoke
, then took the cigarette from him and took a drag.
“
Zoey
’
s
gonna
get with that.” She pointed at Matt with
the
cigarette.

I rolled my eyes. Morgan was seriously delusional sometimes.
“I’m going
—
I’ve still
go
tta
pack,” I said, standing up and dusting the grass from my jeans.
I left them with Jordan
glancing between Matt and his
own
flexed bicep
with a confused look on his face
.
I
looked
over once more to see Matt take a shot and miss.
Guess he wasn’t so lucky after all.

*****

After stuffing most of what I owned into our ratty black suitcase, I sat down at my desk
and wrote
out
a detailed itinerary
of
that week’s household routine
.
Ty had band practice after soccer on Tuesdays and wasn’t home until nine, Cora had swim lessons on Wednesday, Charlie should play outside, not sit in front of his video games after school and Pete needed reminders about studying his spelling words and had a diorama due on Thursday
for social studies
. Charlie needed a refill on his ADD meds and needed to hav
e
his
paper
on Egypt finished by Thursday
, since he was giving an oral book report on Friday, a
nd there were parent
-
teacher conferences at the middle school on Tuesday night. The chances
of
all of this be
ing
accomplished with me gone were slim to none. I tried not to think about that as I jogged down the stairs to start
the
macaroni and cheese for dinner.

Chapter Eight

Matt

We pulled up to the airport, and I assumed I’d just jump out at the curb, but my
dad pulled into the covered ramp and took twent
y minutes finding a spot to park
just so they could walk
me in
side
.
It was already almost 7:20 and I hoped the group was still waiting by the Air France counter.

We were about to walk through the sliding doors
into the airport when a
commotion at
the curbside drop
-
off caught my
attention.
Zoey
was
being accosted by a little girl
—
the same one that had been with her at the Laundromat.

Zoey
dropped down on her knees, smoothing the little girl’s
wild
h
air back from her face and talked
to her in a low voice I couldn’t
understand
.
She
stood up and
handed her dad a sheet of paper, which he folded and tucked into his back pocket.
They looked like they were arguing about something, and when I got closer, I heard
Zoey
say something about staying home.