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I look back, my face a huge question mark.
“You were never a drizzle, Penn Scully. When I fell for you, you came beating down, and I felt you everywhere. You were hail.”
Why didn’t you tell me we were in love?
Why did you wait for me to find out
When you broke my heart?
I show up on Cam’s doorstep the same night looking like death and probably not smelling much better.
Kannon is peeking behind him, as well as Cam’s sister, brother, mother…his entire neighborhood, basically, stares back at me like I’m fucking ET, complete with the bike and white knitted throw. Naturally, I’d have an audience on the worst day of my life. Karma has a sick sense of humor like that.
“I haven’t been living with Rhett for a while now.” I jump straight to the bottom line, pleasantries be damned.
“We know.” Cam opens the door wider, stepping sideways so I can enter. “Everyone knows, Penn. You think no one tried to drop by? Leave a message? Even your hookups were wondering where you were. No one said anything because we figured you had your reasons. Where were you?”
“The Followhills,” I say. “Via’s there now. She’s back.”
“And how do you feel about it?” Kannon asks.
“Shit.” I smile tiredly.
Everyone nods. Cam’s sister jerks me by the hole in my shirt.
“Little punk, you really got in over your head.”
The week is unadulterated torture. I don’t even bother showing up to the Followhills’ for food and sleep. I sleep on Camilo’s couch, ghosting a worried Mel and a furious Jaime. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, probably on my ass, when Jaime finally confronts me about touching his daughter. But so far, he seems more irritated than cross.
Jaime: You can’t avoid this forever.
Watch me.
Jaime: You realize I’ll see you at the game, right, Einstein?
Good point, but I’m eighteen. I don’t think further than what’s going to happen in the next ten minutes.
Jaime: Daria’s been asking about you.
Of course, I’m dumb enough to take the bait.
You BS-ing me, sir?
Jaime: Yes. But you need to come home if you want to see her before she gets on that plane.
What I don’t tell him is that I can no longer see planes in the sky without being filled with hatred toward those fuckers. Every jet is a personal offense against me. Whenever Via tries to call, I send her to voicemail. When she shows up at Camilo’s with her horrid Jeep, I slam the door in her face, regretting it didn’t hit her ass in the process.
Since we’re tapering toward the end of the season, Huggins is giving me shit for hitting it too hard and not backing off. I have so much pent-up rage in me I could give the biblical Samson a run for his money. Coach Higgins is trying to make sure that by the time we get on the field Friday night, we’re so hungry and ready, failure is not an option.
Gus has been sending sporadic text messages with question marks. I don’t know how much Via has told him, but I do not negotiate with terrorists. On Thursday, a mass message goes out from Colin, Gus’s goon, that there’s a spontaneous gathering at the snake pit for special pre-play-off fights.
I lock the football team in the locker room as soon as I get it.
“If I hear any of you miserable fucks have been fighting, I’ll raise hell, you hear me?”
Everyone nods. Everyone but an angry Camilo. “They’ve been talking trash about us all season.”
“So what? They’re just words,” Kannon replies.
“Words are everything,” Camilo responds. “They called me a fucking beaner.”
I shake my head. “Your future is everything. Don’t throw it away because Gus is trying to get under your skin.”
Later that day, I decide to show my face at the Followhill household, knowing I can no longer prolong what could be my last one on one with Daria before she moves away. I’m still at the don’t-go negotiation stage although I should probably try to focus on getting her to tell me where she is going. Not that I will have much success in that department, either, by the looks of it. In the movies, the bullshit ends once the guy reaches the realization that he loves the girl and makes some grand announcement.
In our story, it’s just one twist out of many.
I park in front of the house, use my key, and stroll inside. I’m downplaying the fact I haven’t been here in days. I find Bailey and Via sitting on the sofa with books in their hands. Daria is on the other side of the room, filling out a document—an application?—and Mel is next to her, staring at the pages Daria is filling out like they are actively trying to stab her. Everyone hears the door close behind me, but Jaime is the one who descends the stairs and volunteers to deal with the clusterfuck also known as my arrival.
