“You’re an idiot if you think this is going to end well, Quinn. Leo doesn’t do girlfriends. Don’t you remember all the girls we saw him, ah, date over the last few years? Is that what you want, to become another in a long list of his conquests? You want to be another notch on his bedpost?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Nate. Just stop it. You’re being rude and you’re being offensive.” She jumped to her feet. “And if this is how you’re going to talk to me, I’m leaving. I don’t need to listen to this.”
Panic seeped into my chest. I couldn’t let her leave. I was furious, but if Quinn walked out that door, I didn’t know what it would take to get her to come back.
This thing with Leo—whatever it was—would run its course. And when it was over and her heart was broken, Quinn would need me, her best friend, to help her heal. To pick up the pieces.
“Quinn, no. Don’t leave. Please. I’m sorry. I was just—surprised. And I’m still on those steroids. They make me a little insane, remember.”
She hesitated. “I’m not going to stay if you’re going to give me a hard time about Leo. But if you can talk to me like a rational person, I won’t leave yet.”
I nodded. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
“All right.” She pulled out her phone and checked the time. “I can stay about another ten minutes, and then I need to head out. I’m having dinner with Leo, and he has curfew tonight, since they’re playing tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I heard about that, about the team being the playoffs. Pretty amazing, huh?”
Quinn’s smile lit up her whole face. “It really is. If you could see how Leo’s playing ... it’s incredible. Coach said he thinks Leo is going to be able to write his own ticket when it comes to college.”
“Good for him.” I wasn’t going to say anything mean and risk Quinn running away, but damned if I had to pretend to be his best friend. “How’s everything going at the newspaper? You write anything interesting lately?”
“Oh, this and that. I did a column about student safety, and I’m working on a piece that talks about bullying on campus.” She held up one hand. “No mention of you or of what happened with you. Nothing about the football team, even. Just some facts and some recommendations from the experts on how to defuse bullying in schools.”
“You told me you weren’t going to write about that.”
“No, I told you I wouldn’t write about you. I’m not. I haven’t mentioned Brent or anyone else.” She paused. “But speaking of Brent, you might be interested to know that he pulled me aside in the hall one day while you were in the hospital. He asked me if your fall had anything to do with this illness. And he told me that he was very sorry about what had gone down, and that he’d like a chance to talk to you in person and apologize.”
“That’s big of him.”
“He’s trying to be nice, Nate. Trying to be a better person, maybe. You could at least give him a chance.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” I twisted my fingers. “So now you’re buddies with all the football players, too? What’s next, Quinn? Gonna try out for cheerleading?”
“No, but I don’t think it’s fair to label all of them just because we’ve met some who are ... less than decent. Some of the cheerleaders are really nice.”
“Huh.” I kicked at a seam in the carpet where it was beginning to pull up. “Did my mom tell you I had to quit crew?”
“Yeah.” Quinn rested her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry, Nate. I know you’re going to miss it.”
“Yep.” I stared at the floor, my mind whirling. “Listen, Quinn, I’m getting tired. I think I’ll grab a nap. But if Leo wants to come over later ... then yeah, I guess I’ll see him. I can’t promise I’ll be friendly, but I’ll listen.”
“That’s all we ask.” Quinn smiled, relief evident. “Okay. I’ll text Leo, and then you boys can talk.”
As it turned out, Leo came over that evening, after he’d dropped Quinn at her own house. I hadn’t seen him in weeks, and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been at my house. He looked bigger than ever when he appeared in the living room where I was sitting, and that irritated me. Leo had a way of making me painfully aware that although I was technically older than him, I looked younger. I always felt immature and behind the curve when he was around.
“Nate.” He hesitated in the doorway, as though he was afraid I wouldn’t let him come all the way in. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” I motioned to the sofa. “You can sit down if you want.”
He sank into the couch, right in the center, spreading out in that way he had. He just sort of sprawled, then sat forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
“I’m glad you’re better. You scared the shit out of all of us.”
I shrugged. “It’s all part of the disease.” I was echoing what I’d been hearing the doctors say for the last month. “Ups and downs. We control what we can. Deal with what we can’t.”
Leo nodded. “So I wanted to tell you ... I’m sorry for what happened the day you were hurt. I never got a chance to say that. I mean, before it happened. I said shit I didn’t mean. I was—uh, well, to be honest, I was hung over, and I didn’t mean any of it.”
“Yeah.” If he expected me to apologize, too, he was going to be waiting a long time. And I wasn’t going to say I’d spoken in anger—I’d meant every single word.
