Hooked (Harlequin Teen) (21 page)

Chapter 39
Fred

I RODE HOME
from the golf tournament wedged between Kelly and Yolanda in the cab of
Kelly’s gray pickup truck.

Sam, Pete and Vernon sat with George Trueblood in the truck
bed. He shouted greetings and blessings at the other passing cars and trucks on
the freeway over the throaty roar of the truck’s engine in a language that no
one recognized. When I turned to look at them, Sam caught my eye and smiled at
me, just a tiny apologetic grin, and shrugged his shoulders. Even though I was
still angry at him for the fight Saturday night, I could never hate Sam Tracy.
It would be like hating Trevor. I returned a sad smile because I hardly had the
energy for a happy one.

“Don’t worry, Fred,” Kelly said for the second time, her arm
draped over the steering wheel. “We saw you win. And we know you did your best.
And you’re still my little sister’s hero. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

“But that wasn’t my club in the bag,” I said through
still-cloudy eyes. “I won that tournament. Fair and square.”

Yolanda snorted. “One of those white fuckers did it.
Guaranteed.”

Kelly glared across the seat at Yolanda. “Seriously, Yo. Do you
ever hear yourself?”

“Can’t help it,” Yolanda said. “Those shits remind me of
bloodsuckers.”

“Not helping,” Kelly warned. “Enough with the drama, okay?”

“What?” Yolanda said. “You know it’s true. They’re just
jealous.” She paused. “Too bad we can’t have our own Rez golf team. Wouldn’t
that be better, Fred?”

My head felt as heavy as a bowling ball. “Who would I play
with?”

Yolanda didn’t say anything. But I already knew the answer.

Kelly’s voice turned softer. “We saw you, Fred. We watched you
at every hole. We know you won that tournament. That’s all that matters. That’s
what we’ll tell everybody. They’ll believe us.” And by everybody, she meant
everybody on the Rez.

“But I didn’t cheat. I’d never cheat,” I said, mostly to
myself. I sank lower in the torn leather seat and sighed heavily, inhaling a
mixture of stale cigarette smoke and peppermint. I said nothing for the rest of
the ride home.

When Kelly dropped me off at my front door, the carport was
empty. Only the Labs greeted us. George Trueblood carried my golf bag to the
putting green next to the trailer. Sam hopped out of the back of the truck when
I opened the passenger door, while everyone else stayed with the truck. Kelly
pulled forward underneath a shade tree near the road to give Sam and me a little
privacy.

I’d been expecting something like this—with Sam, I mean. We’d
been kind of dancing around it the past few weeks.

Sam stood next to me on the stoop, his hands jammed in his
front pockets. Finally, his eyes met mine, and he said, “You played real good
today.”

“Thanks.” I swallowed.

He paused. “And I’m real sorry about Saturday night. I just
lost it when Pete told me Ryan was waiting for you outside the restaurant. Then
I saw him pull your arm...”

“You didn’t have to hit him.”

“I know.”

“Or throw him.”

“True.”

Without another word, Sam sighed. Then he reached for my
shoulders, lowered his head and kissed me. His kiss came at me fast, like a
water blast, but then it lingered, sweetlike, just like it had that first time
when everything changed between us. Slowly, he pulled back with his eyes still
closed, like he was afraid to see my reaction. Finally his eyes opened, and he
looked straight into mine.

I looked straight back at him.

“Anything?” He winced.

I swallowed and then allowed myself a breath. My answer was
going to hurt. “No,” I replied quietly. I did not see stars when I kissed Sam
Tracy. My knees did not go all wobbly. My stomach did not do flip-flops. It
would be so much easier if they did.

“Not even a little?”

“Sam, you’re one of my best friends. I love you. You know
that.”

“But that’s it, right? Just friends?”

I swallowed again. Then I nodded once.

His lips sputtered. “You really like that dude, don’t you?”

I sighed, unable to answer. Everything was so messed up.

Sam paused. “Still friends?”

“Always.”

“Well, I’m not giving up. You can’t get rid of me. I might as
well warn you now.”

I smiled up at him, grateful to be loved so much. But my head
was spinning.

With a heavy sigh, Sam stuffed his hands back in his pockets,
tilted his head and began to walk backward toward the truck. “See you
tomorrow.”

I nodded just as George Trueblood rounded the corner of the
trailer and met me at the door. He pressed something small and soft between my
fingers. “For you, little sister.”

I looked down at the palm of my hand. A white feather rested in
the middle of it. My face turned up. “What’s this?”

“A falcon feather,” he said. “A reminder that your journey is
long but not impossible.”

“Isn’t it?” I half laughed.

“Don’t give up. You can’t give up,” he said over his shoulder,
walking back to the truck. With one easy leap, his long legs landed back inside
the bed next to the rest of the boys. His voice turned louder, at least for him.
“You made us all proud today. Your journey has become bigger than you, Fred.
Others live through you now. Don’t forget that.” He slapped the side of the
truck, and Kelly dutifully put the vehicle in Drive.

“But—” I said.

George Trueblood just smiled as Kelly tooted the horn.

I watched the truck chug its way to the road. The Labs barked
and chased it all the way to the edge of the driveway, oblivious to the dirt
clouds swirling behind the mostly bald truck tires. I watched till everyone was
completely out of sight. Only the sound of the phone ringing inside broke my
concentration.

Mom must have paid the phone bill this
month.
I sighed with relief.

I stuffed the white feather inside my front pocket and reached
for the door.

It was unlocked, as usual. I ran the three steps to the green
wall phone in the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Fred?” The voice was deep.

My eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

“It’s Coach Lannon.”

I closed my eyes, leaned all my weight against the wall and
then very slowly sank to the floor, one muscle at a time. “Hi, Coach,” I said
with forced enthusiasm.

“I’ve got some strange news to report. It couldn’t wait. Got a
minute?”

“Sure,” I murmured, unsure if I wanted to hear it. Had the
judges found something else wrong with my bag? Did I forget to sign my
scorecard? Was there another reason why I should have been disqualified?

“One of your teammates came forward,” he started.

Teammates. That’s a stretch.
“For
what?”

“To say that the club in your bag wasn’t yours.”

“What?” My eyes popped open. My voice filled the tiny kitchen.
“Who?”

Coach Lannon paused like he was hesitant to tell me.

“Who?” I said again, sitting straighter against the wall. “I
need to know. I have a right to know.”

Coach Lannon exhaled heavily into the phone. “It was Ryan
Berenger. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Fred. I know he’s your
partner.”

My brow furrowed. “Ryan? But that’s not possible....”

“He told the judges when he turned in his scorecard.”

“He confessed? But that would mean he’s disqualified, too—”

“Correction.” Coach Lannon drew out each syllable. “That means
that
he’s
disqualified, and
you
won the tournament.”

Silence.

“Fred?”

I swallowed. “Yes?” I began massaging my temple, closing my
eyes.

“Are you going to be all right?”

Hardly.
“Um. Sure, Coach.” But that
was a lie. If anything, I was far from all right.

“Look, Fred, I may be a teacher and all, but I wasn’t born
yesterday. I’ve got two eyes.”

I stayed silent, still processing.

“I know some of the guys have been giving you a hard time. And
I know what’s going on between you and Ryan. I’m a little slow sometimes but not
entirely blind.”

Oh, god. I could barely speak. I didn’t want to talk about Ryan
with Coach Lannon. I could barely discuss him with Kelly and Yolanda.

“Would you like me to talk to the other guys? Maybe have a
special meeting—”

“No!” It came out like a shout. “I mean, please don’t.”

He paused. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will.”
Make that, never.
The
last thing I wanted was some kind of intervention.

“Well, anyway, I just want to say how sorry I am. How hurt you
must be, about Ryan.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, but it came out like a whisper.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I am.” I swallowed. “Really.”

“Hmm,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, maybe this will cheer you
up....” He paused to exhale again. “I got calls today from recruiters from ASU
and U of A. They’re sending reps to the tournament next week.”

“Why?” My eyes flew open again.

The coach laughed, and I had to move the phone away from my ear
by about six inches. “Because they’re interested in watching you play, Fred.
You’re making an impression. You hold your own against boys twice as strong.
That’s why.”

“Oh,” I said numbly. “That’s nice.”
That’s
nice?
That was the whole reason I’d joined the team. It was supposed
to change my life. Unfortunately, it had, but in ways that I’d never
dreamed.

“Nice?” He tsked at me like I was a child. “Anyway, I’ll see
you at practice tomorrow.” Another phone rang somewhere in the background of his
office. “Gotta run. Let’s talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“But what about Ryan?”

“He’s off the team. I didn’t have a choice.”

“But he’s one of our best players.”

Coach Lannon sighed into the phone. I could tell he wasn’t
happy about his decision. “I know, but the school has strict rules about
cheating.”

“But what if it was an accident? Maybe his club just wound up
in my bag by mistake.”

“Fred,” the coach said slowly, like he had more bad news. “I’m
sorry, but that was no accident.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Ryan said so.”

My throat tightened.

“Look, I didn’t mean to lay all this on you. But I did want you
to know that you won the tournament. That’s all. That’s what you should focus
on. That’s all that matters.”

If only that were true.

“Okay, Coach,” I said. I wasn’t sure if he heard me.

“See you tomorrow.” Coach Lannon hung up and I continued to
stare numbly at the silver-speckled linoleum floor, the phone still pressed
against my shoulder. I opened my palm for George Trueblood’s feather.

Your journey has become bigger than you,
Fred.

Finally, I blinked when my eyeballs turned dry.

The dial tone buzzed near my ear. Standing, I placed the phone
back in its cradle.

Now I had no choice but to talk to Ryan, once and for all.

Chapter 40
Ryan

“WOULD SOMEONE
MIND EXPLAINING TO ME
why I just got a call from Coach Lannon kicking
my son
off the golf team? And he informs me in a
voice mail?
”

Angry blotchy red spots covered Mom’s cheeks when I walked
into the kitchen from the garage. She looked as stressed-out as ever. Her cell
phone was still clutched in her hand, and she was pointing it at me. I hated
when my parents talked about me in the third person, even when we were in the
same room.

“What?” Dad had this panicked look on his face like we had
just received instructions to evacuate the neighborhood or something.

“Great,” I muttered to myself. The one night I needed them
to work late like they normally did, and they picked tonight, of all nights, to
pretend we were the Cleavers. And Coach Lannon. Why did he have to call Mom? She
handled bad news about as well as Dad, despite dealing with worse at work.
Strangely, she’d been calmer when the police had called Dad last month to report
my partying at the house when I should have been in school. She expected that, I
guess. Walking away with only a police warning had softened the blow. But an
unexpected voice mail from a teacher or a coach? Mom went ballistic.

My car keys skidded across the kitchen counter, filling the
silence.

Before I answered, I scanned the kitchen table. It was set
for an actual sit-down dinner, with plates and folded napkins and everything.
Not a microwavable box anywhere. There was even an orange candle burning in the
middle that smelled like grapefruit. If it were any other night, it might have
been...nice. For a change.

Riley sat cross-legged in her usual spot at the table,
studying me. She twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers. When our eyes
met, she smiled, an unspoken promise that she was on my side no matter how badly
I screwed up.

I shot her a grateful smirk.

“Well?” Mom said, louder. “Can you explain what’s happening
here?”

“Can I take a shower first?” I said, even though I already
knew the answer.

“I don’t think so, young man. You’re not leaving this
kitchen until you tell me what is going on.”

“Yeah,” Dad said behind her, his hands on his hips. “Come
on, Ryan. Talk to us.” It was the first time that I’d seen them together since
the birthday party at the Wild Horse Restaurant.

Cornered, I scratched the side of my head. “It’s true,” I
said finally. “I got kicked off the team.” My shoulders shrugged as if dudes got
kicked off varsity sports teams all the time.

“Yes, Ryan. I gathered that,” Mom said. “But
why?
”

I exhaled with the weight of the news. “I got disqualified
from the tournament today.”

Dad’s gaze pulled back another notch. “Disqualified?” He
said it like he didn’t understand the meaning of the word.

“Seems one of my clubs wound up in my partner’s bag.”
Another shoulder shrug. Truthfully, telling my parents didn’t feel as bad as I’d
thought it would. In fact, it felt pretty good. At least it was the truth this
time.

Mom’s face crumpled. “How did that happen?”

A nervous chuckle. “I guess I put it there.”

“You put it there?” Dad said. “On purpose?”

I didn’t answer.

“Do you realize what this might do to your chances for
getting into U of A? Or any college?”

I shrugged my shoulders again. I hadn’t given it a thought.
College wasn’t exactly high on my list.

“Do you realize the strings I’ll have to pull for you now?
How could you be so careless?”

My head turned numb.

“Who was your partner?” Dad asked.

I opened my mouth but then thought better of it.

“Who?” he prodded.

“Fred Oday,” I said finally.

“That Indian girl?”

I nodded.

“I had a bad feeling about her,” Dad said, turning to Mom.
“But your son never listens to me. Never.”

“
My
son?” Mom’s eyes widened.

I knew that I should have stayed quiet, but I chuckled
again. “Kinda hard to stay away from her, Dad. We’re on the same team—well,
were.”

Dad turned his angry gaze on me. “Don’t be flippant.”

I knew it was weird and all wrong, but it felt good to
disappoint him for once, at least when I meant to. I was finally living up to
their low expectations. And Mom was so crazy pissed that she didn’t know whether
to speak or blink. Finally, she just gave up and covered her mouth with her hand
while shaking her head at me.

“Well, I’m going to call the coach first thing tomorrow and
get this whole thing straightened—” Dad began.

“No, Dad,” I said, the only calm one in the kitchen besides
Riley. “Don’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“Because I deserved it.”

At least that part was one hundred percent true.