Chapter Fourteen
Head In The Game?

You knew things weren't good when your life could be summed up with a Taylor Swift song.

I guess it was my fault. Like, I should have seen this coming since the day Thalia had first showed up to babysit me and my younger brothers, Luke in tow.

And there they were six years later, walking down the hallway hand in hand. He whispered something to her and she smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. Trouble in paradise?

One could only hope.

I didn't get it. One day he hated her, and the next they were inseparable. I didn't have friends who could tell me what was going on with them, and no way did I have the nerve to actually talk to him.

Really, I didn't get how she could make him happy. Even when they were younger, all they ever seemed to do was argue – about anything and everything. They both had the same bullheaded personality; obviously, they were bound to clash.

So all I had to do was wait for them to break up. My sixth hour study hall had a bet going on when it would happen, and who would break up with whom. Most people hadn't wagered past two weeks. Unfortunately, they were going on four.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't realize I was about to run right into someone until it was too late. My geometry book and papers went flying everywhere. "Really?" I huffed.

"Sorry…ummm…" Percy Jackson.

Life really didn't get any better.

Out of all the people I could have told my life's sob story to, I picked him. Yes, it had taken an incredibly stupid lack of judgment on my part. I'd been trying to avoid him ever since, but that was easier said than done in a small school.

I tried grabbing my papers as fast as possible. He grabbed a few sheets and tentatively offered them to me. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I demanded. Okay, that came off a little harsh.

He shrugged and fixed his gaze on the floor, mumbled something, and kept walking.

If I was Taylor Swift, I could have written a song about the whole thing, the song would go triple platinum, and I'd end up getting whatever guy I wanted at the moment.

But I'm not a princess. This ain't a fairytale.

Oh my God. I was quoting her.

Hopefully geometry was something impossibly hard. Anything to get my mind out of lala land.

November was the worst month of the year. All of the sports were done, unless you managed to qualify for playoff games.

Yeah, Shallow Lake's worst sports were all in the fall. We'd gotten the state championship in every sport at least once since our school had been founded…except football and volleyball. It was our shitty fall sports legacy.

Basketball practice didn't start until we got back from Thanksgiving break. Games didn't start until late December. I would have died of boredom if Shallow Lake didn't do open gym after school three times a week.

On this Friday, there was a group of middle school girls playing volleyball on one side of the gym, and some guys had started a game of basketball on the other. Real hard choice to decide who to play with.

One of the Stoll brothers saw me come over and waved. "La Rue! Grab a jersey – your team's down by 12."

A bag of yellow mesh jerseys was sitting on the sidelines. We used them for practice to keep track of teams. Most girls hated them because they stunk like sweat no matter how many times you washed them. I could care less.

The boys had been regional champs last year, and their team had been primarily sophomores and juniors. They were bound to make it to state this year unless their key players got hurt.

But focusing on the game at hand, it was obvious why one team had such a big lead. They had Chris Rodriguez and both Stoll brothers, who weren't all that great, but they made up for their lack of skills with their height. Travis was easily six and a half feet tall, and his brother wasn't far behind.

"Heads up!"

I caught the ball inches from my face and took off. The last time I'd played basketball had been at a local tournament last summer, and I was feeling pretty rusty. Not that I'd tell the guys that.

I went up for a layup and Chris was right there, easily tall enough to block me. I pivoted and passed the ball to the first flash of yellow I saw.

Was it just me or did Chris wait just a second too long before running off back into the action?

Half an hour later, most people had all but dropped out. When you ran an average of eight miles a day for three months, you still had energy left to burn. There was a reason I opted for cross country instead of volleyball.

Chris had even more energy left than me. And he definitely had his height going for him – at barely five and a half feet, most of the competition in basketball could tower over me. Another reason I'd decided volleyball wasn't for me.

"We're tied," he said, breathing slightly heavily. His shirt was soaked through with sweat. "Next point gets it."

Without another word, he was off. I chased after him, getting the rebound when he missed his shot and running down the court. I could do this. There was no one between me and the hoop.

Until Chris got too close and we both tripped over each other. I ended up right on top of him.

I stood up as quickly as possible and helped him up. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." I would have died right there if he'd sprained an ankle. It was obvious after watching him play that he was bound to be one of our team's key players this year. "But I think we better leave this game at tied for now."

Normally, I never would have agreed to that.

But he was still holding the hand I'd used to help him up.

"Yeah. Agreed."

I'd only been to a funeral home twice. The first time had been when I was five and my great-aunt Girda had died. The second had been a few weeks ago, at the di Angelo Halloween party.

I had to say, without a horde of weeping relatives or drunken party kids, the mood was completely different. But then again, I was trying not to remember that just below my feet was a room where countless dead people were brought in and out.

The upstairs, aka the living area (bad choice of words…), looked normal, albeit a bit impersonal. It kind of reminded me of a big hotel suite. There were no seasonal art projects made in kindergarten up on display, family pictures on the fridge, or anything that showed that people regularly lived here.

Apparently that's what happened when you grew up without a mom.

Bianca strode past us into the kitchen. "Hi, Grover. Dad forgot to leave money for groceries…again. We could make…" She started rummaging through cupboards. "…mac and cheese with spaghetti noodles, cereal – wait, we don't have any milk. Or, we could…just get takeout," she finished, reaching her hand into a cookie jar and pulling out a wad of small bills.

"Let's get Chinese food," Nico immediately said.

Bianca quickly counted the money, then pulled out her cell phone and hit a number. "Yeah, we'll have an order of fried rice, two orders of mandarin chicken, and…" She looked at me. I shrugged. My family never had money for takeout, and my parents would never want to eat at a place so…un-American. "And an order of cashew chicken. Don't forget the fortune cookies."

I assumed their dad forgot to give Bianca grocery money a lot if she had the number for a Chinese restaurant on speed dial.

"I have to drive to Cramville to pick it up. I can trust you two alone for an hour, right?" Bianca fixed her brother with a glare.

Nico shrugged innocently. "We'll be fine."

She looked less than convinced, but she still left.

"I think she likes you," Nico said. "And she thinks it's right that you don't want to tell people in high school."

At least someone did. "My parents think I'm at Percy Jackson's house."

"Do they know you're out for jazz choir?"

"No. They don't come to my band concerts, either."

Nico gave me a look. "Are you one of those people who plans on hiding everything until you go to college in California and end up famous one day?"

Hiding: yes. Famous: me? Really? I couldn't get in front of my English class to give a speech without getting sick.

"I kind of don't want my parents to disown me," I said. Every one of my siblings had had some rebellious phase at one point or another. Gabby had dated a guy twelve years older than her when she was a senior in high school, Gram went through an obsession with all things Marilyn Manson, and Glenn had nearly blown up the school during a science experiment.

But that was all forgivable, because they grew out of it.

"Hey," Nico said, pulling me back to earth. "I get it."

He decided that we should play Xbox until his sister got home. I was happy for anything that didn't involve too much talking, even though blowing up zombies didn't make my list of top ten things to do.

And I learned that Chinese food was definitely not one of my favorite things to eat. But the fortune cookies were kind of cool…until I read mine.

Happiness and love follow those who don't keep secrets.