Page 45 of Big Man on Campus

“Phoebe should know,” I say. “They’re dating.” And the charade grows into a drama. “Kace and Phoebe are the hot couple on campus.” It’s a blatant attempt to seal her cooperation with an appeal to her vanity. Phoebe’s eyes widen, but she’s a cool one because she slides right into the role and puts out her hand to say hello to Tamara.

“You’ll have to join us for dinner after the game,” the new Mrs. Jennings says. “I’m trying to talk Nick into taking us all out to dinner. Do some bonding because I don’t really know Kace very well.”

My heart stops the instant she says join us for dinner and dizziness floods me, weakening my knees so that I grip the sink to keep myself from falling to the floor. I should have known they’d spend time after the game.

What is wrong with me? Why did I tell her Phoebe is dating Kace? Because it’s too easy to imagine? Too convenient a cover? Because I know Phoebe might have made a whole lot of trouble for Kace if she blew my cover. And no matter what, I don’t want to make Kace’s relationship with his parents any worse than it is.

Better they think he’s seeing Phoebe than me. Shit. I’m going to need to have a long conversation with Phoebe before I let her go anywhere after this game. I’ll need to give Kace a heads-up somehow too. How the hell I’m going to do that without getting caught, I have no idea.

But Dools will know. He’s the most diabolical schemer I ever met. Reminds me a lot of Sky. No wonder he’s my new best friend.

“Nice to meet you. I better get going,” Tamara says. “You want to come with me and say hello to Nick--Mr. Jennings?” She gives Phoebe an inviting look with an irresistible temptation.

“No.” I say faster than a contestant buzzing in on a quiz show. “She can’t. I...” Don’t have any idea what to say. “I need her to help me with a wardrobe emergency. You understand.” I latch onto Phoebe’s arm and press my fingers in, hoping she cooperates, hoping her curiosity about what the hell I’m doing overrides her need to worm her way into Kace’s family, if illegitimately. Luckily her curiosity wins out.

“I’ll catch up with you after the game,” she says and stays behind with me as Tamara leaves. More than a few girls in the lady’s room are staring and Phoebe pries my fingers from her arm.

“Are you out of your mind?” she says under her breath, half laughing. “Have you been drinking?”

I stiffen. “No.” I didn’t even have one beer. No nips, so I feel pride in my answer. I glance around and the place thins out. The second period has already started. I can hear it.

“We need to talk, Phoebe.”

“Apparently. You have some secrets, don’t you?”

I drag her into the handicap stall and sit her down. She goes along, eyes wide and half laughing, curiosity and expectation vibrating from her.

I’m actually wringing my hands the way I used to see my grandma do and I tuck them into my armpits to stop myself. Phoebe blows out an exasperated breath.

“I know about the accident,” she says.

My vision goes blurry and dark and I almost pass out as I hold onto the coat hook to save myself.

“Relax. I would never say anything about it because I don’t want to get Kace in trouble. I have no idea why he’s lying for you. Maybe you can tell me that little secret?”

I laugh. “Oh, that…” she knows about the BMOC House accident. Not the accident with Sky. But I’m going to have to tell her the same thing I told Dooley, though with Phoebe I feel like a sleazy stripper baring myself for all the wrong reasons.

“Yeah. So…,” I bite my tongue and force myself to get on with it. “A while back I was in an accident with Kace’s sister Sky, and she was killed. So now his parents hate me.” It’s going to be harder to get away with telling Phoebe only the short version. She doesn’t even have a right to rip that much from me. Her eyes pop wide, her mouth opens and it takes a second for her to speak.

“His sister? Sky?”

I nod. “So just go along with it. It was a tragedy and we’re all still getting over it.”

“So you and Kace—”

“Have a bond, but it goes back before the—Sky’s death. We’re connected indelibly,” I say. I’ve always believed it and I hold onto the truth of it, tuning into all the nuances we know about each other, and all those countless small things we love about each other, his hockey history trivia, my need to dance instead of sit. I smile

“That’s… so sad.” She touches my arm and I see the sympathy in her eyes. She feels sorry for me, like I’m a poor tragic figure instead of a flesh and blood alive person. And I hate it. I liked it better when she saw me as a threat, when she wanted to claw my eyes out.

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve done enough of that. I’m trying to move on. We both are.”

She’s silent for a few beats.

“There’s a lot you’re not telling me. Like why Kace’s parents would hate you just because you were in an accident together with—”

“You’ll have to take my word for it. That’s all I’m saying.” Kace may hate me for saying this much, but we can’t go around hiding everything forever. Part of moving on is acknowledging and being able to deal with the facts. Not brushing them under the rug, pretending there’s nothing there.

“I feel bad for Kace. And I do feel sorry for you whether you like it or not.” Her pity is the one thing I can’t stand and she knows it, but I don’t rise to her bait.