“I will,” she responds, and then Holden’s taking my hand, leading me back to his room, where we crawl into bed, not a single word spoken, and he wraps me in his arms, envelopes me in his warmth, drowns me in his scent, and we…
Wesleep.
31
Holden
Jamie:I looked up the results on my break. Sorry you guys suck.
I smileas I read Jamie’s text. It was the first game of the season, and after the physical beating from Lakewood High and the verbal beatdown from Coach, any form of communication with her is exactly what I need to pull me out of my headspace.
It’s been over a week since Jamie and I have had any proper time together. We had the hour or so at Esme’s on Wednesday, but Esme had gotten a delivery of sod, so we were busy working, and we couldn’t even hang out when we’d finished because she’d picked up an extra shift right after. Besides the few minutes in the morning where I throw out wisecracks about her clothes, and she retorts with her usual insults, we don’t really speak. We don’t call. We don’t text. Her schedule doesn’t give her much time for a social life, and I guess I’ve been busy, too. The day after their little heart-to-heart, my mom and I had dinner, and we talked. It was the first time in months that she seemed fully present. Her eyes were clear, and maybe… maybe, her mind was, too. When we got to chatting about school and the Outreach Club, I told her all about Esme and the work Jamie and I are doing. Atinyspark lit up in her eyes, and she asked me to draft out the layout of Esme’s yard and what I’d planned to do. She gave me advice, told me what I could change to suit the surroundings better, and because I hadn’t seen her interested in much of anything lately, I jumped at the chance to show her in person. So, that’s what we’ve been doing in our free time, Mom and me—working on Esme’s yard. I don’t know how long it will last, but even without the work itself, Mom and Esme seem to have formed a bond, and at least… at least she’s doing something, and that’s all I could’ve hoped for.
Sitting down on the bench in front of the lockers, I type back a reply:
Holden:The team sucked. *I* did phenomenally. Check the stats.
Her response is instant.
Jamie:Pass. Even if I cared enough to look, I don’t understand football. Big men fighting over small ball. What’s to like?
I laugh, then stop myself quickly, eyeing my surroundings. The locker room’s still filled with my teammates, most of them in various levels of undress, and I really don’t want to bethatguy oversome girlon the other end of the phone.
I school my features, shoot back another message.
Holden:I’ll have to teach you someday.
Jamie:Oh yay! Can’t wait.
I’m about to ask her what time she gets off work, but Billy Butler—the same motherfucker who literallydroppedDean on my front lawn—approaches, sits down right beside me. The bench groans beneath his weight, and he says, “What’s the deal with you and Griffith?”
I shove my phone back in my locker and look behind me, where Dean’s just getting out of the shower. “What do you mean?” Dean and I haven’t said a word to each other since his little admission, and I haven’t missed his presence in my lifeone bit. Personally, I don’t give enough of a shit about him to talk crap behind his back. But maybe he doesn’t feel the same. Either way, we have to play on the same team, so I’ve made an effort to keep things civil.
“That party at mine tonight?” Billy says. “I just asked him if he was going, and he said he’d go if you don’t.”
What a petty little bitch.
“I kind of want the whole team there,” Billy adds.
“Fuck him, man. It’s your house, your party. I’ll be there.”
He slaps my back. “Good man.”
Once he’s gone, I reach for my phone again.
Holden:What time do you get off work?
Jamie:11
Holden:Feel like coming to a party?
Jamie:I’d rather shotgun copious amounts of horse tranquilizer.
* * *
I’m high.
Maybe a little drunk, but mainly high.
