Page 15 of Come As You Are
“My parents are making me try out for the basketball team, okay?” Salem spits. “Now shut up, both of you.”
I try not to laugh. I really do. But the image of the skinny goth boy next to me ambling slowly up the court in a jersey and shorts is way too much.
“Oh, fuck you.” Salem starts to gather up his stuff again, but this time I push him back down.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I use my free hand to dig my nails into my thigh, which finally helps me stop laughing. “Anyway, isn’t basketball a winter sport? Why are there tryouts already?”
“It’s for the intramural team, technically,” Matt explains. “We play Tuesday and Thursday nights. But Coach basically handpicks players from it to make varsity in November and uses those games as preseason training. He’s not supposed to, but.” He gives a big, showy shrug. “Anyway, your boy here’sjust lucky to have a roommate who knows the ins and outs and convinced him of the importance of showing up.”
“Strategic thinking,” I say, tapping my temple. “I dig it.” I turn to Salem. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s awesome that you’re trying out, and I will definitely come cheer you on.”
“Please don’t.”
“He doesn’t mean that,” Matt assures me.
“Oh, I know. What time are tryouts?”
“After your bedtime,” says Salem at the same time Matt says, “Seven.”
“Great!” I smile toothily at Salem, whose eyes are absolutely brimming with murder. “Oh, and I’ll bring Sabrina! I bet she’d love to cheer on her bro.”
“I will kill you in your sleep.”
“Thursday night, seven o’clock,” I confirm, taking another huge bite of eggs. “Can. Not. Wait.”
At GHS, the extracurricular offerings were pretty standard, and since I didn’t have the athletic ability to do volleyball like Sierra, or the musical talent to do marching band like Claire, I resigned myself to afternoons of studying, crappy TV, watching Craig and his friends play video games in his basement, or playing poker, when I could get a decent game together. (And before people got sick of me taking their money.)
At Camden, extracurriculars—well, cocurriculars, technically—are mandatory from four to five every weekdayafternoon, and judging by the club fair, there’s plenty to fill the time. Who needs tennis or debate when you’ve got baking and board games? (Yes, I obviously sign up for both of these.)
I’m trying to size up both the Book Club and Quiz Bowl tables at once when I realize I know the pair standing in front of the Business Investors League booth. Sure enough, there’s a French braid grazing the sign-up sheet as Heather bends over to scrawl her name, and next to her, Lucas’s deep dimples are in high relief as he chats with the besuited upperclassman rep.
I immediately head in the opposite direction, but I don’t get far before I hear my name being called, and slowly turn to find Heather smiling and waving me over. I have no choice but to drag myself to the Business Investors League table. “Hey, Heather. I didn’t take you for the investor type.”
“I’m not—yet,” she says with a hint of the warm smile that seems permanently affixed to her face. “But it seems like something I could stand to learn. My mom’s always saying she wishes she knew more about the stock market, so I figured I could learn for us both.”
“Love that,” I say, and the way Lucas is looking at her, it seems like he loves that too.
Or maybe he’s simply trying to avoid eye contact.
And then, because the bile in my stomach hasn’t come all the way up yet, her smile widens and she says, “Evie, have you met Lucas?”
“Met” is just such an interesting word for what I’ve done with Lucas, and when I meet his eyes, I expect to see them widen in fear or prayer orsomething.But there’s no reaction,like either he’s so confident I’ll play along, or he’s already forgotten who I am.
Either way, fuck that guy.
“He’s in my English class.”
He swallows, nods, jerks his thumb toward the table. “You joining up too?”
“Not my type of gambling, personally. But I expect to make a mean cinnamon bun by the end of a semester of Baking Club.”
“Definitely a worthy choice,” he drawls, as if I care about his approval. Heather’s already checked out of this conversation, eagerly flipping through different binders and pamphlets laid out on the table, and I take that as a sign that I’ve put in enough time.
I glance around for a smooth exit strategy, my eyes lighting on a familiar face on the row of athletic booths. “Speaking of worthy,” I say, infusing my voice with as much “unlike my present company” as I can, “I see a friend I’ve got to say hi to. Good to see you, Heather.” And then I turn my back on Lucas Burke to sail right over to Matt Haley, and I can feel him watching me every step of the way.
“Dormie!” Matt throws his arms wide when he sees me walking up to the basketball booth, where he sits next to a hot Asian dude whose jaw could cut glass. His teammate is staring at his phone as if it holds the secrets of the universe, but every ten seconds or so, he glances up at the absolutely stunning girl standing across from them, looking like he wishes he could literally drown himself in her strawberry-blond waves. “You coming to join the team? Iknewyou were a Cougar at heart.”
“Yes, Matthew. I’ve decided to join the boys’ basketball team to add further confusion and ensure I will never get out of Rumson. I thought you guys would really benefit from my extra height.”
