Pep Talks (Pepper Jones #4) (15 page)

Jace

I’ve walked up and down the hallway of Pepper’s dorm suite too many times to count. I made her a fucking friendship bracelet. What was I thinking? It’s sitting in an envelope taped to her door, and I really want her to have it. Even more, I want her to wear it. It’s extra long so it will wrap around her wrist a couple times and hopefully never come off, but fuck I feel like such a weirdo doing this. She’s moving on, and it’s killing me. I want her to move on more than anything, to forget about me entirely. To give up on us. To stop threatening to crack me open every time I see her looking at me like she does. But now that I see her actually getting over me, all I want is to bring her back to me. I’m such an asshole.

I’ve taped the damn envelope with the bracelet on her door, left, started down the stairs, and returned to take it down three times now. But I keep taping it back up again, wanting Pepper to have a piece of me on her at all times. Not wanting to let her go but knowing I have to. This time, after I’ve taped it back up and turned to attempt leaving, I run into her roommate Gina Waters coming up the staircase.

She offers a tight, unwelcoming smile before averting her eyes from me.  Damn, the girl definitely needs to eat a slice of pizza. She is skin and bone, and looks sick. When she passes me I do a double-take and watch her from behind until she reaches the door, and, ignoring the envelope, goes inside. I never really knew Gina but from what I’ve observed, she’s a pretty weird girl. Kind of standoffish or something. But I definitely do not remember her being this skinny. The girl’s got problems, and I hate that her issues are undoubtedly stressing Pepper out. I wish Pepper could talk to me about it, wish I could support her somehow. But I can’t. I don’t have the capacity to do it, no matter how much I want it. The bracelet will have to do.

Pepper

The day before we fly to Indiana for Nationals, I find an envelope with my name on it taped to the main door of our dorm suite. Inside, there’s a friendship bracelet. It’s rough and looks like it was made by a child, but I know better. My box with string and beads is in my dorm room, so unless Jace broke in to borrow it, he must have gone to the craft store himself to get the black and gold colors.

The one he made me my junior year of high school finally fell off this summer, after I’d worn it for a year and a half. I made one with the UC colors for Jace when he went to college last year, and as far as I know, he still has it. This one is long enough to wrap around my wrist twice, and I don’t hesitate asking Lexi to tie the knot tight, knowing it won’t come off for a long time, and only when it’s good and ready, worn through all the way.

There’s nothing else in the envelope, just the bracelet, but he doesn’t need words to communicate his message. Friendship bracelets might be silly and childish, but the reminder of our childhood, of how many times I made these for Jace, Wes, and Gran, it fills me with a peace I haven’t felt in months. It’s like warm water, gentle and soothing, cleansing and renewing.

Yet the peace doesn’t last, because this symbol around my wrist – which I can’t stop playing with when I go to sleep, on the flight, or when I line up behind Kiki and Sienna at the start of the race – it feels like it’s also a return to our past. A truce of sorts. It feels like maybe he’s telling me we can be friends again, but only if we go back to two years ago, before we took a different path. And I don’t think we can do that.

Still, when the gun goes off and the crowds of runners stampede around me, the feel of the soft fabric on my skin grounds me. It makes me feel strong, like I can do anything. The way Jace used to make me feel, and I guess still does, despite his rejection.

Gran couldn’t fly out to watch with her hip, so I don’t have any family cheering me on this time. I know it’s just a stupid bracelet, but it connects me to my family in Brockton, to my past, and to everything that’s gotten me to where I am in this moment.

Nationals in college is nothing like high school Nationals. Unlike in high school, where everyone qualifies individually, almost everyone qualifies as a team. I like that. It takes the pressure off me personally. There are also about four times as many runners, and the course is wide enough to accommodate everyone.

Somehow, my teammates have managed to stick together in the swarms of runners. All seven of us are very close together at each practice and race, but it’s still fairly remarkable when we remain in a cluster with only one kilometer to go. I keep looking from side to side, shocked to see the same familiar faces I train with each day beside me. The crowds of people along the sidelines of the course roar with enthusiasm at our solidarity, amazed that even as we gain momentum going up the final hill, no one pulls ahead or drops back. As a team, we pick off other runners until we reach the top, and then the large finish banner is ahead of us.

When Sienna drops the hammer, sprinting with no restraint, I open up my stride with her, knowing that my teammates are all doing the same. It’s not easy to reach that next level of pain, and I know I’m not the only one wanting to just give in, back off, and get some reprieve. It reminds me of the hill sprints we did when half the team was hungover. If one of us had given up that afternoon, none of us could have done it. We were in it together then, and we are again now. I just hope I’m not the one to puke this time.

We spread out a little as we each cross the finish, our sprinting abilities not equally matched, but the commentator and the crowds have an emotional response to watching teammates finish one after the other like this in a huge competition with over two hundred runners.

As soon as we’ve caught our breath, we’re a mess of sweaty arms hugging each other. Lexi finds the energy to jump on me and my shaky legs can’t hold me up. We tumble to the ground and before I know it, all seven of us are heaped in a pile. It’s mostly giggles, but I notice a few tears from our captains. Racing together like we did wasn’t planned or expected, which makes it even more special.

I’ve never witnessed Coach Harding lose his cool, but he’s a blubbering disaster when we find him by the team’s tent. The boys are warming up for their race, and he’s trying to collect himself.

“I’m never going to forget watching the seven of you pace together the entire race. And I think some of the guys on the team might have lost it when you were sprinting to finish in a group like that.”

It’s not something I’ll ever forget either. Our goal at the beginning of this season was simply to qualify as a team for this meet. As the season progressed, it became clear that qualifying wouldn’t be much of a challenge, and Coach thought we might even be able to shoot for a podium finish. We didn’t have any standout top finishers today, but it’s nearly unheard of for everyone on a team to place in the top forty like we did.

After cheering on the boys, we wait anxiously for the award ceremony. With so many competitors, it’s hard to get a feel for what place we got overall. Hundreds of runners, fans and coaches sit on a wide hill overlooking the podium, and the energy shifts when an announcer steps forward carrying a clipboard. He delivers individual awards first, naming off the top twenty-five, who earn All-American honors. Sienna finished first for our team, and just made the cut for All-American, but the rest of us missed the cutoff. That might be a cruel irony for some teams, but most of us cheer loudly, far from disappointed. Gina remains quiet, and I’m sure after winning the Conference championship, she hoped to hear her name listed amongst the All-Americans today.

When the announcer finally gets to the team awards, he begins with fifth place. At first, we glance around at each other nervously when he announces third place and we still haven’t heard our team. We were certain after our finish today that we’d be up there in the top five, holding our trophy and grinning. Second place is the University of Oregon, and all of us tense up before he announces first. It couldn’t be, could it? But there are no other teams who had as many runners in the top half of the race.

“And this year’s Women National Cross Country Champion is the University of Colorado!” he finally declares. We’re up on our feet, a new round of hugs and giggles and tears erupting as we make our way down the hill.

When we stand on the wood platform, arms slung around each other’s shoulders and cameras flashing, I don’t think I’ve ever felt prouder. Not when I won high school Nationals individually the first time. Or the second. Not when Brockton Public won State. The collective effort that went into this spot on top of the podium, looking out at hundreds of cross country runners and fans, it makes the win so much sweeter.

It’s late by the time we get back to campus that night. After racing our hearts out and traveling for several hours, I’d wrongly assumed we’d postpone the celebration to another night. The girls have been talking for weeks about how we’re going to have one last awesome party after Nationals and before final exams start. It’s been months since anyone on the team has been out, and I know they’re all going to be in rare form when that party goes down. I just didn’t expect it to happen tonight. But I suppose when you win the National Cross Country Championship, you can muster up the energy to celebrate.  The boys didn’t win, but they got their podium finish with third place.

I am also unprepared for the welcome party that greets us in the field house parking lot. After flying back from Indiana, I found myself falling asleep on the hour-long bus ride from the airport, and I’m rubbing my eyes, trying to rally the energy to keep up with my teammates’ enthusiasm to party tonight, when I see the crowds gathered. It’s mostly comprised of our teammates who didn’t get to compete at Nationals, but I recognize a few others who compete on the track and field team. And of course, Gran is there, waving her arms and wolf whistling as we descend the stairs.

She hugs each of us before asking our shoe size. When she begins fishing out slipper socks for both the men’s and women’s team members, I notice the broad-shouldered Wilder frame holding out the giant bag for her. But it’s not Jace, it’s Jim. And beside him, his other son, Wes.

Grinning, I rush up to Wes and throw myself in his arms.

“Man, I have
missed
you!” I tell him.

When we finally pull away, I give Jim a hug too, but not with nearly as much enthusiasm. “I didn’t really miss you Jim, sorry.”

He laughs. “No hard feelings here, Pep. You did just see me a couple of weeks ago.”

“Wait, why aren’t you guys at Jace’s game? Wasn’t today the Conference championship?” I may not be speaking to him, but I do pay attention to his football schedule.

“It’s been over for a couple hours, Pep,” Jim tells me. “They won.”

“Nice. That’s awesome.” My voice falls flat. It’s a huge accomplishment. The UC football team had no chance at this title before Jace joined the team, and I’m proud of him. But I don’t feel I have a right to feel pride, because he’s not mine anymore. We won’t be celebrating anything together tonight.

“Did you come all the way back to watch the game?” I ask Wes.

“No, we have final exams earlier than you guys and I’m home for winter break. I just happened to get in right before the game.”

“We’re celebrating tonight, if you want to come hang out,” I offer.

“Sure, that’d be cool.”

I’m surprised by his response, not expecting he’d actually want to hang with a bunch of cross runners his first night back, instead of his friends from Lincoln Academy or with Jace and the football team. Maybe the football team is still lying low since their season isn’t over yet.

With howling winds and freezing temperatures, the gathering in the parking lot is short-lived. Wes offers to drive some of us to the yellow house, where a keg is waiting. I’ve never been with Wes when he doesn’t know anyone, but it takes all of two minutes before most of the girls on my team are lusting after him, and the guys are trying to be his buddy. It’s a trait he shares with Jace, and the familiarity of the social dynamic with him in the room is comforting. I’ve kind of missed having a people-magnet as a sidekick.

We find some stools in the kitchen at the center of traffic and where we can see everyone. We’re settling in when Ryan pulls up a stool beside us.

“Hey man, how’s Princeton? Are you missing Brockton?” Ryan asks.

“Princeton’s fun. Between classes and football I haven’t had too much time to get real homesick, but it feels good to be back now that I’m here.”

“Have you even been to your house yet?” I wonder, remembering he went straight to the game.

“Nope,” Wes says easily with a smile. I hate what I know is underneath that smile. There’s probably no one there waiting for him, even if his mom and dad are home, which is unlikely.

“When did you get in?” Ryan asks.

“Earlier today, but I went right to the football field to watch the game.”

“Oh, yeah. Their win kind of overshadowed the girls’ today, but that’s cool for Jace. I heard he won MVP for the conference.”

Ryan’s eyes dart to mine briefly, like I might have the answer. I shrug, trying to hide my hurt. I should know this information. It’s huge.

“Yeah man, his phone was blowing up after the game from reporters,” Wes says. “We didn’t get to spend much time with him because the team is getting him wasted.”

My heart tenses and I glance down at my beer as I feel Ryan’s eyes on me. I’m pretty sure everyone knows by now that Jace broke up with me, but given that neither of us are talking about it, no one really knows how or why it ended. I’m not sure I really understand it myself. Sometimes people try to bring him up in conversations with me to see what I’ll say, but I know Wes isn’t trying to do that. If anything, he’s trying to fill me in on what’s going on with Jace so I’m not caught off-guard.

Kiki approaches us then, sitting down on Ryan’s lap with an ease that says she’s done it dozens of times. I know they hooked up at one point, but I didn’t know it was still going on. If so, it’s been months, and I’m surprised a casual no-strings hookup can last so long. Or maybe it’s more serious than that. Either way, Kiki’s giving him all the signals and it isn’t long before they escape upstairs.

Wes charms my teammates for a while longer before a text message comes through, and he looks at me apologetically. “I’m going to take off to meet up with Jace, Pep, hope you don’t mind.”

I desperately want to know what Jace is doing, how he’s doing, where he is. But I don’t ask. I just nod. “Yeah, thanks for hanging with us tonight.”

“It’s late, but there’s still a rager going on at Sig Beta,” Wes says. “Or, the old Sig Beta,” he amends.

Brax overhears our conversation and before I know it, the entire team is trekking across campus to Sig Beta. My anxiety builds the closer we get to Jace. I guess we’ll be celebrating at the same place tonight, after all.