Cover

1

NATHAN

“Of all the asinine, stupid, foolish, goddamn selfish, ridiculous…” Coach’s tirade continues as he stands and faces the wall behind him, muttering his expletives in that staccato fashion that he slips into when he’s really, truly good and pissed. My heart punches my chest, matching the rhythm.

I glance to my buddy Wes, who stands with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall to my left, hoping for some solidarity among friends, but he’s in hardcore assistant coach mode and his expression is as angry as Coach Daniels’.

Their disappointment sits heavy on my shoulders, and I switch my gaze to the floor. How did it come to this? The answer isn’t simple, but it’s not all that complicated either.

A knock at the door brings my eyes up. Matt, another of the four assistant coaches, waits for Coach Daniels to turn around before he gives him a thumbs up signaling that my drug test was clean, which I already knew and swore to the fact an hour ago when Coach called me into his office, but it’s a relief anyway. One less disappointment to the man who’s been like a father to me since I arrived at Valley U.

Matt walks away and Coach lets out a long breath and takes a seat back in his creaky desk chair. He runs a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. It’s a few weeks before the season starts, and he still has that hopeful, optimistic look in his eye and fresh, put-together appearance… or he did.

“I’m not going to ask you any questions because it doesn’t matter and frankly, the wrong answer could put you in a whole heap more trouble.” He picks up the open textbook where my pills and weed are stashed inside a cutout in the middle of the pages. He snaps the book shut and tosses it to Wes. “Flush those, would you? And destroy the book.” He mutters a few more remarks about how goddamn stupid I am before he adds, “I need a few more minutes with Nathan.”

Wes offers a tight smile as he nods to Coach and steps out, shutting the door behind him.

“By the look on Wes’ face, I’m guessing your teammates weren’t aware of this any more than I was?”

“No—”

He holds his hand up for me to stop speaking. “Please don’t say anything. If you tell me those drugs are yours, then I have to call the athletic director and maybe the police.” He pins me with a hard gaze. “You get how serious this is?”

This time, I keep my mouth shut.

“I don’t understand why you’d risk it all with something like this. You’re a bright kid, Nathan, well-liked, and a huge asset to this team. Now, I know basketball is probably the last thing on your mind right now, but we’re going to need you this year. Losing Zeke, Wes, and Malone all to graduation leaves us with a lot of re-building to do. I’m hoping you want to be a part of that.”

I think he wants me to answer this time, but my throat feels like I swallowed cotton. At the risk of my voice croaking like a twelve-year-old boy, I nod firmly. He’s wrong about basketball not being on my mind—it’s the only thing on my mind. I cannot lose my scholarship. Without it, there’s no way I can pay for school or stay in Valley.

Even with it, I’ve only survived thanks to my friends looking out for me. Joel stocks our pantry with food I know he doesn’t even like, and Wes is always covering me at the bar and giving me his old textbooks to sell for cash. The one coach just handed him was one of his own. Ain’t that some shit. My friends mean well, and they try to play it off like it’s nothing, but every handout chips away a little more at the normalcy of my life.

“Good.” He leans back in his chair. “Until further notice, I want you to report in with Coach Matt every week for testing.”

“But—”

He holds up a hand, and I fall silent.

“Weekly drug testing until I’m convinced today’s negative result wasn’t a fluke, and...”

Here it comes. I brace myself for the suspension I’m sure is coming. Goodbye, Valley.

“I’m making you co-captain.” His jaw flexes.

Mine hits the floor, and my heart sputters. Excitement, confusion, dread—I run through the gamut as his words sink in. I’d been uncertain about making captain before, unsure I even wanted the responsibility. The moment I walked through the door and saw my stash on his desk, that uncertainty went up in smoke. And surprisingly, I’d been sad about it. Being named captain is a huge honor that’s only put on the best and brightest on the team. I’ve proven time and again that I’m not either of those, but I guess a part of me still strives for it.

“Why would you do that?”

He smiles for the first time today. “Because it’s the best way I know to teach you some responsibility.” The expression on his face quickly falls back to anger. “This isn’t a three strikes and you’re out situation, Nathan. Next time, I’ll be forced to take much more extreme measures that won’t be good for you or the team. You hear me?”

I nod and try to swallow but my mouth is so dry.

“Do you hear me?” he asks again more sternly.

“Yes, sir.”

When Coach dismisses me, I shuffle out of his office on shaky legs and collapse in the chair in front of my open locker. The contents, mostly dirty clothes and toiletries, lie on the floor scattered around my feet.

What a shit-tastic start to the week. It’s the final week before classes start, and I was pumped to enjoy the last days of summer getting back into the swing of things before the campus, including Ray Fieldhouse, is overrun with students.

I know I should probably feel relief that I’m not kicked off the team or out of school or in fucking handcuffs, but instead, what I’m feeling is more like panic. Without those drugs, I’m not only out of a job, but I’m also out of money. I broke rule number one in dealing—don’t get caught. I can’t exactly go back to it with Coach watching over my shoulder. I may not have liked how I felt about selling drugs, but it provided money I need to survive and keep my little brother from falling into a similar situation.

Angry footsteps interrupt my spiraling thoughts and Wes’ brooding frame casts a shadow over me.

“Didn’t happen to save any of it, did ya?” I ask without looking up. “If I were going to start doing drugs, now seems like the perfect time.”

“How can you possibly joke at a time like this?” he snaps.

Instead of answering him, I stand and scoop my shit off the floor and toss it in the locker, slamming it shut when I’m through. I head out of the locker room with Wes hot on my heels.

“Dude, stop.”

I don’t.

“Nathan.”

Stilling, I count to three and school my features before I face him. Wes’ expression has gone from angry to looking like I kicked his dog. He shoves both hands in his pants pockets and lowers his voice. “Are you alright?”

Laughter bubbles in my chest, and a strained chuckle escapes. “Nah, man, I don’t think I am.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I don’t know if this is my buddy asking or assistant coach Wes, but he looks about as excited to have a heart to heart as I do to dump my problems on his lap.

“Can’t. I gotta go figure out how I’m gonna make up for the money I just lost.”

“Wait. Just… wait a minute.” Wes shifts his weight from one foot to the other and lets out an exasperated groan. His blue eyes darken, and he pulls at his dirty blond hair. “Will you talk to me? Tell me what the hell is going on?”

“What’s going on is I needed the money from selling the shit you flushed down the bowl.” I lift a shoulder and let it fall. I could explain further, but he won’t understand, no matter how I break it down. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go see if I can sell plasma or sperm or maybe an organ.”

He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t know what, and I don’t give him time to come up with something. I leave him standing there without the answers I know he’s looking for that’ll explain it all away. If only it were that easy.

Outside of the fieldhouse, I take off in a run, sun beating down on me, and I’m sweating instantly. It’s late morning but the summer temp is still hovering above one hundred degrees. I live just across the street, but I don’t head there. I pump my legs hard in the opposite direction of the gym. It’s not until I’ve hit the mile mark that the burn in my chest dulls everything else and I can think straight. I slow as Joel’s Tesla comes into view.

“I should’ve known,” I mutter as the car screeches to a halt beside me.

Joel tilts his head down so his eyes peer over the top of his sunglasses. “Get in, loser. We’re going shopping.”

I look past him to Wes sitting in the passenger seat. He avoids my gaze, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize he ran straight to Joel and told him what happened.

“No thanks, and shitty Regina George impersonation, bro.”

Joel chuckles. “Don’t be an asshole, that was spot on Mean Girls. Now get in the car. We’re going day drinking.”

With a defeated sigh and a tiredness I feel deep in my soul, I give in and slide into the back seat and sink into the leather. The comfort annoys me. I don’t want cushy. I want to erase the pain with pain.

Joel takes off, glancing in the rearview mirror as he does. “Sooo… how’s your day?”

“Awesome. My day is going awesome.”

He looks from Wes to me. “Hey, anyone got any weed or Xannies—could really help take the edge off, ya know?”

Wes glares.

“Too soon?” Joel smirks. The tightness around his shit-brown eyes gives him away though. He knows I’ve screwed up royally, and this is just his way of being here for me. I appreciate it… or I will when I’m not so angry at myself for letting things go this far.

No one speaks again until we’re at the Prickly Pear, a dive that’s more popular with townies than college students. It’s early, so the place is empty except a lone guy sitting at the bar.

I slump into a chair at our usual table while Joel and Wes get drinks. I can’t afford to buy my own beer and for the first time, I don’t give a shit if they cover me. This was their idea. If they want me to drink with them and pretend this is just another day hanging with friends, they’re gonna have to pony up.

Wes drops a pitcher in the middle of the table and divvies out the mugs. Joel’s three steps behind carrying six shots precariously in his hands.

“Dude, we have the athletic mixer tonight.” Wes raises both brows and his tone is all serious and adult-y. He’s become a total bore since he graduated and became an assistant coach.

“It’s barely noon. Lots of time to sober up before then.” Joel lifts a shot glass and reluctantly, Wes and I do the same. “Bottoms up.”

2

CHLOE

Cracking open your textbooks a week before classes start has to be some sort of warning sign. Caution: fragile emotional state or Caution: bored completely out of her mind.

Maybe I’d been that eager freshman year but definitely not since then. Senior year starting over at a new school… not how I planned it.

I flip the page in my new Applied Communications book and skim a couple of paragraphs before I give up and toss it aside and resign myself to death by boredom. Caution: prone to dramatics.

The last one isn’t strictly true, but it’s another side effect of being cooped up with no one to talk to. I’m all in my head with no outlet. Volleyball practices don’t even start for a few more days, so I have nothing to occupy my time.

I could call my bestie back home, Camila, but admitting how worried I am that I made a huge mistake in coming here will only make her feel sorry for me. Besides, she’s probably off having fun with our friends and teammates back at Golden U soaking up the sun on the beach. I guess former teammates now.

My current teammates, three of them anyway, are in the common room of our suite. I can hear them through the wall that separates it from our bedroom. That’s another thing I never thought I’d do again—dorm living.

I grab another textbook and flip through it without even looking to see which class it’s for. Bri’s voice gets louder and more animated and then there’s laughter.

I miss laughing. I miss talking. I miss that feeling in your chest when you’re so in the moment everything inside expands and tightens and somehow makes you feel light, too. Good conversation, I definitely miss that.

Closing the book with my thumb holding my place, like it’s really imperative I keep my spot for all the reading I’m not going to do, I rest it on my stomach and close my eyes, trying to hear them more clearly and imagine what it’d be like to be out there with them.

Bri’s voice is the only one I can make out word for word. Her high-pitched disdain carries through the thin walls, and I can picture her blunt-cut bob swinging around her face as she shakes it disapprovingly. “It’s a total waste of time. I can think of a million better ways to spend the night than prancing around in dresses as eye candy for alumni who couldn’t care less about us. They’re just here for the football and basketball teams.”

“Well, I’m excited. It’ll be a good chance for all of us to hang out before classes start. Plus, we can check out all the new recruits.”

I smile at Sydney’s retort. She’s the opposite of Bri in every way. From her long blonde hair to her sweet, gentle voice, and, more importantly, her desire, or lack thereof, to make my life as miserable as possible.

Transferring to Valley for my senior year after being kicked out of my previous school doesn’t exactly make the type of impression that beckons people to welcome you with open arms. I get that, but I hadn’t expected it to be quite this bad five hundred miles from home. I mean, it’s not like I tried to buy my way into Valley. Technically, I didn’t buy my way in anywhere, but that’s not how the media portrayed it.

Untalented Wannabe Begs Mommy and Daddy to Get Her a Spot on Top-Ranked Beach Volleyball Team. That’s almost word for word the headline from one of the nastier writeups. They didn’t use the words untalented or wannabe, but they all but implied it by highlighting, in excruciating detail, every fault I’ve made in my entire volleyball career.

In some ways it was great that they’d focused more on me and less on my dad, the hotel mogul. He’s had a record high year. Go figure. People seem to be more forgiving of rich CEOs than of their college-aged daughters or maybe that’s just my perspective.

I had hoped that coming to Valley would be a fresh start, but Bri is standing squarely in the way of that. It’s one thing to dislike me; it’s another to make sure the rest of the team alienates me. She has made it very clear that talking to me is in direct violation of their loyalty to her and the team.

She might be a total bitch, but she is one of the best blockers in the conference. She also happens to be the captain of the Valley U beach volleyball team. Also, I don’t really think she’s a bitch to anyone but me. Overbearing, yes, but I seem to be the only person to get her full wrath.

“What are you two going to wear?” Bri asks them. “I think we should keep it simple and classy. Nothing too flashy or short. Let’s see your dresses.”

I register Bri’s request and Sydney’s footsteps too late. The door to our room flies open. I fumble with my book, open it, and pretend I’m reading as Sydney enters. Her big, brown eyes flit to me, and a guilty expression crosses her face. She gives a small smile, bites on her lower lip, and then disappears into our closet.

If it weren’t for Bri and her fiery hatred of me, I think Sydney and I could be friends. Close friends even. We haven’t spoken much at all, but I can usually tell within a few minutes of meeting someone if they’re my kind of people, and Sydney gives me all those vibes.

When she comes back into view, she’s carrying two dresses. Standing in front of our full-length mirror, she holds the first one, a short black cotton dress, in front of her. Then she drops it and holds up the other option. Her face automatically pulls into a smile at her reflection.

I admire her adventurous fashion sense with the neon pink and green band dress that shouldn’t look good on anyone but will on her because she could duct tape a neon green poster board around her body and pull it off. Sydney is gorgeous and even more so because she doesn’t seem to realize it. Long blonde hair, giant brown eyes, tall and thin with an athletic frame. She’s a knockout in anything.

“I like that one,” I tell her, giving up any pretense that I’m reading and not watching her with rapt interest. Also, I’m tired of the silence.

And I really do like the dress. Bonus that I know it’ll make Bri’s head spin. She has certain ideas about how we should look and conduct ourselves to best represent the team. I get it, kind of, but this is a college mixer we’re talking about not tea with the queen.

She’s even instituted a dress code for practices just in case anyone decides to drop in and watch, which I’m told next to never happens. But on the off chance, we’re to be in standard-issued Valley blue and yellow only. You’d think she’s the one who grew up with parents who wanted everything to appear perfect. Perfection is non-existent. She’d be happier if she accepted that. I’d offer her that tidbit if I thought she’d actually listen.

Sydney lets the dress fall to her side and tosses it on her bed. “Thanks.” It’s no more than a whisper and then she hurries out of our room carrying the black dress. I give the neon dress an apologetic smile. Poor dress. I’ve probably just ensured it never gets worn again.

Our room is set up with each of our twin beds pushed against the far walls and there might as well be a piece of tape dividing our halves for how much either of us has crossed into the other’s space. Bri and Emily share a room on the other side of the suite with a similar setup.

I shove off my bed and decide to plan my own outfit for the night. The athletic mixer is mandatory for the entire team—free drinks and appetizers, mingling with alumni and boosters. Under normal circumstances, I’d be excited about a night of dressing up and going out, but since I have zero friends here, I’m not jumping for joy about being the social leper standing in the corner all night. It’s embarrassing enough to hide away in my room, but I’ve never walked into a party alone like I know I will tonight.

I close the closet door behind me and pull the cardboard box labeled Misc Junk from the top shelf. Settling on the floor, I tug the flaps open and let out a sigh at the contents. Every overpriced piece of clothing I own is carefully folded and safely stored inside a plastic, zippered bag.

When I transferred to Valley, I thought it would be best if I left all traces of my life in California behind. It’s not like I was walking around campus in couture, but I had nice, designer brand clothes, an off-campus apartment in an area that college kids shouldn’t be able to afford, and money to blow on pretty much anything I wanted thanks to the allowance my parents transfer to my checking account like clockwork on the first and fifteenth of every month.

I don’t fancy myself some sort of saint for attempting to rough it at college by wearing cheaper clothes and only buying necessities—this is all about self-preservation, but I’m sort of proud of how easy it’s been to give up the things I thought I couldn’t live without just a few months ago.

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