Chapter 6: I should've just stayed home

LEO

Up until junior year of high school, I'd been pretty good about limiting my partying to Friday and Saturday nights. During football season, of course, Coach was strict about us sticking to a curfew during the week leading up to a Friday night or Saturday afternoon game. But there were ways around that, and I'd become an expert in figuring out those ways.

This week, we were playing on Saturday, which meant no one was too worried about Thursday night. I used the excuse of a history group project meeting to convince my parents I needed to be out. In the interest of maintaining plausibility, I did go to the meeting, made some contributions ...and then when it ended, I headed over to Matt's house.

Matt Lampert and I had been buddies for years. Not close friends, like Nate and Quinn and me, but more casual-the way only boys seem to be able to manage. We didn't have deep conversations, but we played baseball or soccer or football together-pick-up games, usually-and joked around, like pals do.

When we'd started high school, we'd both made the football team. Matt played quarterback for our freshman squad, and I started out as a halfback, until the end of the year, when Coach noticed my speed and moved me to wide receiver. The varsity quarterback was young, only a year ahead of us, which meant Matt was stuck in JV. On the other hand, they were down receivers, which meant I got bumped up to varsity as a sophomore.

Matt had spent a lot of time grousing about the situation, but we'd worked together, both in regular practice and on our own time, so that when the varsity quarterback, Cole Hampton, was hurt toward the end of the season that year, Matt was able to take over. Since then, we'd been a fairly unstoppable duo, breaking a couple of county records already this year.

Matt was nicknamed Houdini, thanks to his ability to get out of any tight situation on the field, and I'd been labeled the Lion, which I knew came from my name more than any resemblance to that animal. That name had stuck after I'd made my third touchdown in one game and out of pure adrenaline-fueled glee, had let out a primal roar. Now the cheerleaders had made up a special cheer that ended in something like, "We want to hear our lion ROAR!" It was embarrassing as all hell, but then again ...I wasn't going to complain.

Matter of fact, I really had nothing to complain about. Being one of the school's football stars meant I got away with all kinds of shit and had girls throwing themselves at me every weekend. Matt and I were enjoying ourselves for sure, living the high life, as he put it. And even though we still didn't have deep conversations or anything like that, I definitely considered him more than just a buddy.

We hung out at his house most of the time. Matt had, as my mother wryly put it, a unique family situation. Neither of his parents were in the picture; he'd told me when we were in elementary school that his mom and dad had "checked out" when he was pretty young. I learned later that he'd never really known his dad, and that his mother was a hard-core drug addict. Matt's grandparents had custody of him, which sounded like a good thing-and it was, mostly. They were nice people, but they weren't around much. Matt's grandfather was active in state politics, and his grandmother did a lot of charity work. By the time we were in high school, they were gone more than they were home, which worked out okay for us. Matt had the use of their huge house on the edge of town, with access to a fully-stocked liquor cabinet. There was a housekeeper who lived in, but as long as we didn't get too rowdy, she stayed in her room and let us do what we wanted.

So on that Thursday night after study group ended, I'd texted my mom that I had to review some plays with Matt and then I'd driven over to his house, where we'd played Madden and drunk beer and done shots until after midnight. It was what I'd needed after that afternoon, with Quinn. What she'd said when she'd lashed out ...it had struck a nerve. Her words had made me think about how I felt about both Nate and her, but mostly about Quinn herself. Part of me had been banking on the belief that I could hold onto her, keep her in reserve, I guessed. I'd been telling myself all along that I didn't want her as anything more than a friend, but now it felt like that was a lie. I wasn't ready to think about that too deeply yet.

Getting drunk with Matt was the perfect way to drive both Quinn and what she'd said out of my brain. But I knew better than to drive home when I was wasted, so I'd walked the couple of miles instead, staggering through the pitch black and cursing myself for forgetting my jacket.

Once I got home, the house was silent, with both my parents asleep. I'd fallen into bed fully dressed, forgetting to set my alarm, which was why I hadn't opened my eyes until ten-thirty this morning. My mom and dad were already at work; being the last kid in the house meant that they had high expectations of my ability to get myself up and out to school every day. I'd jogged back over to Matt's, stopping to toss my cookies along the way, and then driven my car back home before I got ready for school.

I figured I'd slide in at lunch and get through the rest of the afternoon, just hoping that none of my teachers from the morning classes reported my absence to the office-yet. I could deal with a detention or whatever on Monday. Hell, I'd probably be able to talk my mother around to writing me a note of excuse if I explained I'd just overslept. But in order to play in the game the next day, I was required to be in school all day on Friday, unless I had a valid reason for missing.

Nabbing a spot in the front of the lot-most of the juniors and seniors left campus over lunch, making their parking places fair game-I made my way across the grass toward the side doors. I had gym right after lunch, and the way I figured it, I had time to go to my locker, stop at the cafeteria to make an appearance with my friends and still make it back in time for PE.

I was nearly to the building when I caught sight of Nate. He was standing on the walkway, staring at me, and I felt uncomfortable right away. I wondered how much Quinn had said to him about our spat the day before.

I got my answer when he snarled at me, snapping about me being late, and then within a few minutes, he blasted me for being a dick to Quinn, as he put it.

And that was when I lost it. We got into a shouting match, the kind we hadn't had since we were kids. My temper, which always tended to get out of control, got the better of me, and before I knew it, I was jeering at him about his feelings toward Quinn, taunting him that even if she did ever date him, it would only be out of pity.

But it was in course of my outburst that I said something that rattled me. I heard the words come out of my mouth, and they jarred me as much as they did Nate.

"Because I'd disagree. I think Quinn wants ...even more than friendship. That's the real issue here, isn't it? It's eating you up because even when we're fighting about something, she still wants me more than she'll ever want you."

I hadn't acknowledged that hunch before-the suspicion I had that Quinn was harboring a secret crush on me-and saying it out loud shook me up. I could tell by the look on his face that it didn't come as a surprise to Nate, though. He was livid, and in any other guy, I'd have ducked for the inevitable punch. But Nate was smart. I watched his eyes move from fury to calculating to a sort of flat realization. That was when I put my glasses back on and took off.

I yanked open the doors so hard they banged against the outside of the building, and then I strode blindly through the hallway, heading toward my locker. My little encounter with Nate meant I didn't have time to stop in the cafeteria, but that was okay, because I had a feeling I would've made lousy company. I lingered at my locker for a while, hoping to calm down before it was time to head for the gym.

The bell rang, and I was on my way down the hall when I spotted Quinn coming out of a classroom. She saw me at the same time, and a mix of pain and anger flashed across her face before she shuttered it.

"Quinn." I grabbed for her arm, but she shrugged me off. "Mia, please."

I felt her soften. "What do you want, Leo?"

I ran my hand over my hair. "Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I don't know what I said that made you so mad, but whatever it was, I'm sorry. Can we just get over this?"

One side of her mouth curled up, but she wasn't smiling, not really. "Sure, Leo. Let's just get over it. Which I guess actually means I'll get over it, right? I'll stop being such a pain in your neck and start making friends with the rah-rah squad. Won't that be swell for everyone?"

I clenched my jaw. "I don't get it, Quinn. What do you want from me? What do I need to do?"

The bell rang again, signaling the start of the next period. Quinn glanced down the hall, which was now almost empty, and I knew she was stressing over being late. That was my Quinn, conscientious and responsible.

My Quinn? Where the hell had that come from? I shook my head a little and pushed away the thought as she leaned against the wall of lockers and hugged a book to her chest.

"I don't want anything from you, Leo. I guess I have to accept that things are changing, right?"

"But that doesn't have to mean-" I paused, frowning as I heard something from down the adjacent corridor. When I leaned around the corner, my heart plunged and I groaned. "Shit."

Quinn's forehead wrinkled. "What?"

"Nate-he's-crap." Not waiting to explain any further, I took off toward the gym. "Hey-what the fuck?"

About thirty feet away, in front of the steps that led down to the gym, three of my teammates had formed a sort of triangle. And right in the center of that triangle was Nate. I'd seen Tim shove him toward Karl, and just before I'd yelled, Karl had pushed him to Brent.

But at the sound of my voice, Brent had looked up, a guilty look on his face, and whether it was out of instinct or deliberate, he took a step to the right, getting out of Nate's way and leaving him hurtling helplessly down the short staircase.

It was like something out of a nightmare. On the football field, I had a reputation for making moves that were so quick and decisive that a few local writers called me the Flash. But here, in a hallway in our school, I couldn't move fast enough to grab Nate before he fell. I was close enough to hear the sickening thud of his head against the iron railing and see his face go slack and blank before his limp body rolled to a halt at the bottom of the steps.