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When another guy jogged up beside Wick and said something to him, Wick lurched to a startled stop and faced him. But when his friend said something Wick didn’t seem to like, Wick took off again. The friend followed. He must’ve said something else to tick Wick off, because Wick stopped again and whirled toward him savagely, and they had a standoff right there in the quad.
I squinted at the other person a moment before recognizing him as J.J. McCannon, another defensive player on the football team—a pass rusher, I think—but not someone from Topher’s group of friends. Actually, I think the one time I’d ever talked to J.J., he’d been sitting next to Wick.
It’d been a year ago, if I remembered correctly. I’d had plans with Topher early one evening, so I’d gone to the football stadium where he was practicing to wait for him to finish so we could leave from there together. When I’d started to jog my way up into the stands to find a place to sit and wait, a couple of other players, all sweating and exhausted-looking, had been sitting in the bleachers already, maybe taking a break or just waiting for their turn to practice again. I had sat a row below and a little to the left of Wick and his friend J.J.
J.J. had been doing all the talking, pointing out people on the field and mentioning what they’d been doing right or wrong. Wick had silently just been watching. They both glanced my way when I sat down.
Offering them an uneasy smile since I knew Topher didn’t get along with either of them, I turned away again just as quickly and dug my phone from my bag so I could pretend to check messages. But a second later, a foot nudged my bag that I’d set down next to me, jostling it into my thigh. I looked up, only to find J.J. snickering.
“Nice chicken,” he said.
I gaped in utter confusion until he hitched his chin toward my bag, so I looked down at the huge chicken that had been sewn on to the side of the cloth.
“Oh!” I knew J.J. was making fun of it, but I grinned up at him anyway. “Thanks. It’s Heihei from the movie Moana,” I explained.
“Okay,” he said slowly, appearing, confused. “So, why’s it on your bag?”
“Because my family calls me HayHay.” When he blinked cluelessly, I went on, “Because Heihei and HayHay sound the same, and HayHay is, you know, derived from Haven.” When he kept staring at me stupidly, I felt the need to add, “Which is my name,” in case he didn’t know.
He snorted. “I know your fucking name.”
“Oh,” I said lamely, not sure what to say to that. Glancing at my bag, I began to trace the outline of the chicken with my finger. “Well, my cousin made the bag for my birthday last year,” I told him. “As kind of a gag gift, I think, except I loved it, so…” I shrugged, not sure why I was still talking to him since he was looking at me as if I were a mental case. Lamely, I finished with, “I guess the joke was on her, huh?” I offered him one of my cute smiles I always used when I felt self-conscious and I wanted someone to like me.
But J.J. McCannon merely blinked at me as if I were an alien. Next to him, Wick rose abruptly to his feet without looking at either of us and he jogged down the bleacher benches, abandoning us.
J.J. snapped his attention that way and scowled in confusion. “Hey, where you going?” Popping to his feet, he hurried after Wick, abandoning me there as if we hadn’t just been in the middle of a really awkward, strange conversation.
And that was the extent of the one encounter I’d ever had with Wick’s friend J.J.
I wondered if Wick was telling him all about the night he’d just had with me.
Wait, what was I thinking? Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he? I certainly would’ve spilled all the details to my best friend if, you know, I had one.
But these days, I was kind of a floater. I was close to my family, sure. But they all lived so far away from the university; I didn’t keep in touch as I had before leaving for college. And I thought I’d started to build some nice relationships when I’d first arrived on campus. But then I’d met Topher and got sucked into his crowd, which hadn’t meshed well with the one I had been forming.
For a while, I’d tried to be a part of both worlds. But whenever Topher had wanted to do something with me, the friends had gotten out of joint. And whenever the friends had wanted to go out, Topher had gotten out of joint. I’d felt pulled in two directions, and when I overheard my friends talking about a party they’d gone to together without even inviting me, I’d let Topher win the tug-of-war. Eventually, I had become friends with the girls in his group but I’d never really felt that close to any of them.
These past few years, Topher had probably been my best friend, not that I’d really opened up all my deepest, darkest thoughts to him because I think a part of me had always known he’d reject me if he saw the whole picture, which now told me we hadn’t been best friends at all… And we probably never should’ve dated as long as we had either, since I hadn’t even felt like I could show him who I truly was.
Huh. That thought was kind of an eye-opener. A sad, depressing one, but still…
Refocusing on Wick and J.J. as they entered the business building together—seeming to have settled whatever argument they’d had—I blew out a long, gloomy sigh, wishing I had someone close to unload on right now.
I turned away, gripping the straps of my book bag, only to fall short when I caught sight of Topher across campus, staring at me. He looked murderous with rage, and when he slowly swiveled his attention toward the business building where Wick had just disappeared, I knew why.
Great. Who knew what he was thinking about Wick right now?
I spun away and jogged off, hoping he didn’t take up chase, because I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him, or answer questions, or listen to accusations, or deal with whatever awful confrontation I’m sure he wanted to have.
And thank God, he didn’t follow me. That gave me a bit of freedom to breathe through the rest of the day.
12
Henry
Issue 3 of “Hopeless Henry”
By Alice Bennet
