Warning: Hold on to your hearts, lovers. Someone's must break.
…
We Fall Between
…
February.
February is strange, unfairly sandwiched between winter and spring. The sun rises early and filters in through windows with curtains forgetfully drawn back. It's freezing, the kind of cold that keeps teenage girls wrapped up in their Egyptian cotton sheets on early weekday mornings. That's how Lauren Tanner starts every single school day.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Her fingers seek the off button of that devil-incarnate device, nails with intricate zebra design, perfect and professionally applied. She gropes the edge of the bedside table and when she finally finds the digital clock, Lauren forms a fist and pounds the top.
Lauren remembers a time—just last year in fact—where she couldn't wait to get up and go to school. First she'd spend hours pouring over her appearance, picking the best makeup for her outfit that day and styling her hair to satisfy her mood. She couldn't wait to make her grand entrance, ready to hear the latest gossip and start new rumors.
Nowadays, dropping out and studying for the GED seems like a more appealing idea.
"Lauren! You're going to be late again! The last thing I want is my secretary interrupting another meeting with Matsui wanting to discuss how tardiness leads to an 'unfulfilled life' and all that other trash where he implies you're going to become a go-go dancer!"
Lauren tucks her sheets even tighter around her body. Usually, once she shuts off the demon alarm, relief and silence floods in and gives her an extra fifteen minutes, a slice of heaven if Lauren's ever known one. Now she has her dad barking at her, talking about go-go dancers.
Steve Tanner is a big name in Boulder, in the United States and even internationally. Lauren doesn't know what he does exactly, what Tanner International is, but it paid for the house and the cute car that's all hers. Though he still works around the clock, Steve is never gone for longer than a week at a time. With him home, them spending quality time, Lauren doesn't think her home life has ever been this stable.
"Lauren! Did you hear me?"
"But daddy!" she shouts back. "Go-go dancers are classy! Their outfits are totally sexy and it isn't like they take their clothes off! They dance in cages, not on guys with—"
"Lauren Tanner, I don't want you finishing that sentence! I don't even want to know how you know that…" Her father's voice grows closer. Pulling the sheets off from over her head, Lauren sees Steve poke his head through her door, another day and another suit.
"Television. Duh."
"Coffee's already brewing," he says. "Now, up! The way I see it, another week of school means you're just that much closer to summer."
"And they say all Tanners are cynics," Lauren purrs, her arm hanging over the side of her bed and swaying. In a softer, sleepy voice, she whispers, "I'll be right down, daddy."
"Don't take too long," he warns. "I mean it about this being late for school business. I buy you a car so you can get around easier and still, still you're late for homeroom!"
Eyes closed, her head on her pillow, Lauren listens to her father's loafers against the smooth marble floor go farther and quieter. Another minute and Lauren reaches for her iPhone. One new text and she knows exactly who from. Lauren smiles before she even reads it.
"The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you will see." – Winston Churchill / Good morning, Lo. :-)
This daily routine, waking up to a text, is what's known as Razor Inspires Awesome. Apparently, with Damon MIA and their drummer, Bats, buckling down before all his friends graduate and leave him behind, the Sheltered Pups is no more, which leaves Razor with a lot of free time. He fills it with marathons of Criminal Minds. The episodes are loaded with quotes that are, in Razor's words, "too good not to share."
Basically, Razor is like one of those Word of the Day calendars except Lauren gets as many words as he can fit in a text. It's not so much about these supposedly life-altering quotes from life-altering people, but the fact that Razor has her on his mind day-to-day. It would totally ruin it if Razor mass texts everyone the same quote so Lauren doesn't ask. That's as much fantasy as she'll allow in her life.
Lauren texts back: I hate Mondays.
Groaning, Lauren finally gets out of bed, not ready to start the day, but left with no choice. After spending some quality time with the mirror, a touch of eyeshadow here, eyeliner there, and turning her hair into loose curls of gold, Lauren changes her clothes and heads downstairs where her mug of coffee awaits. Steve has the morning paper open on the kitchen counter, sneaking peeks at the comics between babble about the economy. Sliding beside her dad, Lauren opens her newest text from Razor.
I bet Mondays hate you just as much. Just do what I do. Show it whos its daddy n make it yr bitch.
After texting back a simple, "always," Lauren dives straight into her coffee. She's never been a big coffee-drinker, but during the summer AJ had fresh coffee waiting every time she woke up and drinking it became a habit. Staring into her mug reminds her of the black sheep in the Cruz family and how she has no idea what he's up to.
"I should get going. Another long day at the office."
"Hold up!" Lauren stops him. "Do you really have a long day at the office or are you just trying to avoid talking about you and Chloe Kmetko practically dry humping at the Keeler's?"
A loud gurgling sound erupts in his throat and Steve nearly spits up his coffee. "Dry humping?" Steve opens his eyes as wide as go. "First go-go dancers and now we're talking about dry humping? Why do I get the feeling Mark and Payson don't talk about these sort of things at their breakfast table?"
"You brought up go-go dancers and avoidance is useless. Dad, if you want my opinion, there are few things I'd love more than to be Emily's Evil Stepsister or, her other Evil Stepsister, but you and Chloe Kmetko? A certain Kanye song comes to mind…"
Lauren hums a few bars of "Gold Digger" and loudly sips her coffee.
"Ow, that is horrible and not to mention wrong. It's not what you think." Steve pulls out what might be the worst cliché line in the history of cliché lines. So much so that Lauren makes her appall visible. "It was just two old friends catching up. Plus, she's dating someone. Even asked me if I could help find him a job."
"Shamelessly begging for a handout? Tacky."
Steve gives his daughter that look, brows narrowed, eyes squinted almost to the point of being closed. Lauren gets variations of this look from different people throughout the day and they're all telling her the exact same thing.
Staring into her coffee, Lauren sighs. "I know. I know. Lauren, be nice."
"Exactly." After a quick glance at the face of his expensive Rolex, Steve curses. "Alrighty. Nice chat. I want you at school on time and if you're going to come home late the least you can do is text to let me know. Okay?"
She nods. "Same goes for you."
Steve plants a kiss on his daughter's forehead, letting his fingers smooth down her shoulder as he pulls away. Though she plays casual, Lauren adores moments like this, with Steve parenting. Though her goal of the summer had been to get her mother back, this unexpected outcome, having her father, is much better.
"Have a good day, daddy!"
"You too, sweetie."
While Steve speeds off, Lauren stays a bit longer, texting Razor and finishing her coffee. So far it doesn't seem like such a bad routine. She waits for the very last second, until she absolutely has to go to the prison known as Taft High School. It's only a prison in the sense that the law requires them to be there from eight to three (though on Wednesday they start at nine) for five days a week from August to May.
In actuality, it reminds Lauren a lot more of the Lion King, how the lions all lounge on Pride Rock while all the other animals remain below, forced to bow to those higher on the food chain. Then there are the outer limits, the Wastelands, the Elephant Graveyard, Home of the Rejects, where the rogue lions stalk. Lauren's new territory.
The drive isn't too long, especially with how her need for speed wins out over her reluctance to go to school. Parking her little car in its usual spot across from the football field, Lauren shoves her Principals of Economics textbook into her bag and shoulders it. Before pushing her door open, Lauren takes a minute to look over her reflection in the mirror. Force of habit is all.
There's tapping on her window, but Lauren doesn't stop to acknowledge it until she smoothes down every flyaway. Ike can wait. He's outside her door, wearing the same olive green jacket he's worn every time they've hung out since last summer. It never ceases to amaze her how she manages to overlook his lack of taste in clothes, especially in public.
It isn't that Ike is ugly. He has all his fingers and all his toes, no horrible disfigurement as far as the eye can see. His hair is still longish, falls into his eyes a lot, but it's less scraggly since Lauren took a pair of scissors to it (she still can't believe he agreed to that) and he actually washes it now. He's on the shorter side and pencil-skinny with a troublesome smile. He's so Ike. Lauren doesn't mind him around, but she can't even imagine dating him.
"Good day, Miss Tanner," he greets her.
She nods to him as she gets out of her car. Ike closes the door after her and Lauren presses her finger firmly against the button on the keychain, sure to lock it, alarm set. "There isn't anything good about a Monday morning spent at school. Totes a combo from hell."
"Runs with the gutter punks, but still talks like a Royal."
Lauren laughs. "Last I checked you went by Rejects. Plain and simple. Or, well, there's Laguna Losers if you'd rather be called that."
The irony of one of Boulder's slums having the same name as California's precious ocean-side city (and once reality show) doesn't escape anyone. It gives the Royals something to laugh about. Laguna, whose poverty rate is greater than even University Hills and Lafayette, is right on the edge of the district, mixing Taft High's student body with both the richest and the poorest in Boulder. The dividing line is precise and the tension is thick.
"But whatever. Labels are lame and people who sit around thinking up labels are even lamer," Lauren continues. "Who refers to you as 'gutter punks' again?"
"I do," Ike says. Apparently he's choosing to completely ignore everything Lauren just said. "What? You don't think it'll catch on?"
No. Shut it down. Because her reasoning should be obvious, Lauren doesn't even address it and changes the subject. "So, Operation Soul Skater?"
"Is a go!" Ike bounces up on the tips of his combat boots. "I checked with Marlene, the chick whose face you said looks like a pincushion, yeah, she serves her work study in the caf, hates Alison just as much and agreed to help. Our plan is set in motion. It's all going down tomorrow."
"Perfect." As they walk towards school, Lauren insists they take the long way. It'd be easy and quick to cut across the football field, but not at the expense of Lauren's cute new sandals so they take the sidewalk that winds between the fields and the senior parking lot.
This is also apart of the routine, meeting up with Ike and walking to the administration building. A part of the routine that makes Lauren resent herself is the way her eyes automatically search the senior lot for a red convertible. Every day Kaylie rides to school with Maeve Benson. Her usual stall is empty, meaning Kaylie isn't at school yet.
Lauren has half a mind to seek Kaylie out and talk about what happened at the Keeler's. When it comes to the two of them, things spin out of control too easily and Lauren isn't proud of it. She loathes the idea of having to apologize in front of Kaylie's new Royal crew, but then again, nothing can top her Livestream confession.
"Yo, LoTan! Lo—Tan!"
"How many times have I told you not to call me that?"
"Well, you didn't seem to mind the first ten times I said it in the last minute." Ike smiles. "Where's your head at?"
"Nothing. Nowhere. You were saying?"
"My board got tapped." Ike steps on the tail of his scratched skateboard and catches the front. Turning it over, there's a giant eye painted on the deck. It isn't as clean as the ones painted all around Boulder. The paint bled—a rush job. "Big Brother is definitely watching," he says in his best zombie voice.
"Creepy," Lauren says, more about the eye than Ike's fail voice. "See, Benny, that's what happens when you just leave your things around. Didn't your mom ever teach you that?"
"She was a little busy getting high."
"Mine too."
He groans. "And by the way, I prefer Ikey B. Benny is not cool."
"Neither is LoTan and the fact that you prefer Ikey B over Benny explains a lot." Lauren's phone buzzes and she checks it immediately. "Emily is looking for us."
"Crap. I didn't get a chance to finish my practice questions." Ike rummages through the pockets of his Goodwill jeans and pulls out a handful of crumpled dollar bills and a tin of mints. "Miss Tanner, I will give you all of these little treasures if you'll do it for me. It's math. Rhombus and cumulous and shapes and stars, things like that."
"Aren't you in Algebra?"
Ike tilts his head. "Is that not Algebra…?"
Lauren doesn't know why Emily even bothers with this one. "Just look in the back of the book for the answers."
"No," he says. "This isn't homework. It's extra equations Emily assigned me to do in addition to my regular homework and, well, I didn't do my regular homework so why would I do the extra stuff, know what I mean?"
Lauren laughs. "What I know is Tutor Girl is going to be pissed."
"Yep. I figured as much."
As they walk down the concrete path leading to the front entrance, all the heads turn to stare. Lauren Tanner, the former queen, the fallen. Despite her loss of popularity, Lauren hasn't been forgotten. She's still a showstopper, demanding attention everywhere she goes. Now instead of masking their fear with empty flattery, they show their outward fear and disgust.
Ike rushes ahead so he can open the door for Lauren like the little manservant he is. She walks right through and it's just her luck that the first face she sees is one she can't stand. That's another con with living in Boulder. Not only does everyone know everyone, but also everyone sees everyone too often.
Carter Anderson is across the way, near a bank of metal lockers with a basketball tucked between his hip and the inside of his arm. There had once been a time where Lauren adored his laugh and his smile. Now she feels nauseous at the sound of his annoying turkey gobble and feels the need to refer him to a teeth whitening professional.
When Carter looks her way, Lauren turns her head in the opposite direction, a fake laugh at whatever it is Ike is going on about now. She hasn't talked to Carter since last summer and that's exactly how things should be.
…
Running is as close to drugs as Kaylie Cruz has ever and will ever get. It makes her heart beat fast in her chest, her breath quicken, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. It makes her feel alive.
Mondays and Wednesdays at 5 a.m. Kaylie meets Payson for an early morning run. It's their own personal form of bonding like how Lauren and Emily watch TV for hours, talking about fictional characters like they're real. With Kaylie and Payson they run side by side and it surprises Kaylie when she manages to keep up with the Payson Keeler.
If asked, Kaylie could probably map out her life with the same activates on the same days every week. She doesn't like to think of it as predictable or boring. Kaylie sees it as stable. After the roller coaster her life has proven to be in the past, Kaylie likes stable.
"So, you aren't still upset, right?" Payson asks. "About the other day with the jeans?"
"Over it," Kaylie answers, leaning forward with hands bracing her knees. "Lauren turned down my proposal because she, I don't know, has some weird thing for undermining everything I try to do."
"Kaylie, I don't think Lauren is purposefully trying to undermine you."
"Really?"
Payson stretches and answers, "It's just how Lo is. You know that."
"You know, Pay, I'm getting really tired of letting her get away with everything, using that same lame excuse every time," Kaylie says with a huff. She's hyperaware of how she's sweating buckets while Payson has barely broken a sweat. So not fair.
"I get what you're saying, but Lauren's been through a lot," Payson says, always with such levelheaded honesty. "She's always struggled with her impulses, but at least now she's really making an effort. I think we can all cut her some slack. Your date with Nicky will be fine. Pants or no pants." Kaylie laughs and Payson realizes what she said. "You know what I meant."
"You would have sided with me, right?"
"Honestly?" Payson gulps, hoping Kaylie doesn't ask for something she doesn't want to know. "The whole thing came off really creepy. You did sort of plan losing your virginity while wearing jeans that belong to all of us."
"I wouldn't be wearing them during…"
"Not what I want to hear and not exactly my point," Payson says with a laugh. "Maybe if you just stopped at wanting to wear them to the Valentine's Day dance it could have worked out."
"I just thought I'd be honest. You know what a big step this is and how much it means to me. I was just looking to my best friends to understand and be supportive."
"Why do you even need the pants?"
"Mostly, for the magic," Kaylie says quietly. "Things with Nicky are great, but it isn't the same, which only makes sense because Barcelona was vacation and now we're back to our real lives, but I miss that feeling. I was hoping wearing the jeans would bring that feeling back."
"He cares about you. Even my parents can see that," Payson says, "which brings me to the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Kelly and Faith. Nicky cares about you and them, but in different ways. I don't think it has to be you or them in his life. The other night, what you said about Faith and Kelly and Nicky getting them out of his system."
"Did it come out sounding bad?" Looking down at the gravel path, Kaylie kicks a stone with the toe of her pink and white running shoes. "I'm sorry, Payson. I had no idea."
"I know you didn't mean it like that," Payson says. "You didn't mean it like that, right?"
"I didn't mean to sound offensive, but you know they aren't friends like we're friends, right?" Kaylie says. "We aren't codependent like they are or were. Nicky tattooed himself for Kelly. Faith has her own room at Nicky's house. I accidentally walked in the other day and he told me it's hers, decorated and everything. You have to admit that's weird."
"It's just as weird as the four of us sharing a pair of magic jeans."
"True," Kaylie admits. "Nicky, he used to hold back a lot and I always thought that it was because he had Faith and Kelly and took their feelings and reactions into consideration and now that they aren't friends anymore things would get easier."
"And how is that going for you?"
"I really care about him and I know he cares about me," Kaylie says. "I trust him more than I thought I'd ever trust a guy after Carter and I meant it when I said I think I'm ready."
"It sounds like you have everything figured out. Good for you. I think you deserve it."
"Thanks, Pay."
Once they reach the parking lot, the girls are met with a beautiful sight. The lavender haze of the early morning colors the sky, a few rays of light filtering through, bathing the mountains, making them take on a soft shade pink, Kaylie's favorite color.
"It's nice to start the day looking at this," Payson says, eyes out in the distance.
"Sure is."
After taking time to admire a sight only Colorado could offer, Kaylie and Payson go their separate ways. Always finding new ways to push herself (the overachiever) Payson jogs the rest of the way home, but Kaylie prefers a leisurely walk. When she returns to the Cruz castle, Kaylie goes straight to the shower and prepares for another day.
Ronnie decided to give this mother gig another try (third time's the charm) and so far it's been working. Kaylie doesn't let herself believe it. Preparing for the worst has become a reflex.
With her phone pressed to her ear, Ronnie maneuvers the kitchen, letting the stove sizzle. There's a bowl of yogurt on the counter, sprinkled with granola, slices of kiwis and strawberries neatly arranged atop. Pressing her phone into her shoulder, Ronnie whispers, "I'm making eggs if you want."
"No, yogurt's fine," Kaylie assures her. She knows Ronnie takes cooking classes in Denver and takes every opportunity to show off the skills she's picked up.
With just Kaylie and Ronnie in the house, they usually just eat at the kitchen counter. Sitting at the dinner table in the next room with all those empty seats just reminds Kaylie how lonely the house can be. Though they fight mercilessly whenever together, Kaylie does miss her brothers. Leo is at school and AJ relocated to Palm Springs for Amelia.
Right as Kaylie slips a spoon of yogurt past her lips, Ronnie finishes her phone conversation and joins her daughter. Though time has been good to her, making Ronnie look younger than the age on her driver's license, she's been so stressed lately and it doesn't help.
"Tired out already?" Kaylie asks.
"It's this merger. We're getting a batch of new artists shipped in and there's mixed up and missing paperwork that needs to be sorted. You think my job is all fun and games, hanging out with rock stars all day? As unbelievable as it sounds, your mom is going to be hard at work, dealing with managers over the phone, sorting this out and fitting in meetings."
"I'd gladly take that over falling asleep in Marcus—I mean—Mr. Simon's English class," Kaylie says. Seeing Ronnie's face come alive with interest, Kaylie takes a bigger spoonful of yogurt into her mouth and swallows slowly.
"Marcus, huh? Do all your teachers let you call them by their first name?"
"No. Just him and he does it with everyone as long as it's hush-hush in front of the faculty," Kaylie explains. "Younger, naïve, thinks if he can get us to trust him that we might actually learn in his class. It is Boulder, mom. Did I mention he's a vegan?"
"Which explains it all," Ronnie says. "So is he cute?"
Ronnie—her friend—starts to take over instead of Ronnie—her mom—and Kaylie stabs at a piece of fruit. "Mom, remember the boundaries we talked about?"
"Kaylie, you aren't any fun," Ronnie says, her finger tracing rings around the rim of her coffee mug. "Tell me you're at least learning something."
"I've gotten really good at texting under the desk," Kaylie says. "With one hand."
"Astounding. I knew we should have put you in private school," Ronnie teases. "Texting. Ha. AJ's chosen major if he ever made it to college." Her words are coated in such negative energy, a reminder of the lingering tension between Ronnie and her middle son. "Speaking of your brothers, they should be home by the end of the week."
"Right." Kaylie nods. "Amelia's baptism."
"Leo, AJ and even that Shauna, all staying here. Just call us Hotel de la Cruz. Your father hasn't returned any of my calls. All I know is he better show. It is his first-born grandchild's baptism and the only reason we're even doing this is because his mother insisted. Oh, and I almost forgot. You can invite Nicky if you want."
Ronnie's approval of her boyfriend draws out a small smile. Asking him to join her crazy family for a milestone like this is big. The last thing Kaylie wants is to get her hopes up, freak him out and be disappointed. Instead of letting her excitement get the best of her, Kaylie casually answers, "I'll see if he isn't busy."
The doorbell rings right on schedule. It echoes through the house, but Kaylie doesn't look up from her yogurt and Ronnie goes on eating her plate of egg whites and fruit. Neither acknowledges the echoing ring. That's what the help is for.
"Knock, knock!" a singsong voice comes from the door, accompanied by the rhythmic click of heels against polished hardwood floors. "Kaylie Cruz's chauffer reporting for duty!"
Maeve Benson, high school senior and aspiring model, moves like she's on a runway, long legs taking such poised steps. Her dark hair falls like a glossy waterfall, nearly reaching her waist. Maeve is the most popular girl at Taft and it's obvious why, from her beauty to her carefully assembled outfit. She has star quality and people aren't stupid, they see that and cling on.
"Good morning!" Maeve greets the Cruz women. Ronnie stands and the two embrace, air kisses on each cheek. Maeve curls a lock of Kaylie's hair around her finger in her personal way of saying hello and Kaylie returns the sentiments with a smile. "Ready for another Monday?"
Bringing up her hand in front of her lips, Kaylie, with food in her mouth, replies, "Almost."
"Have you eaten, Maeve?" Ronnie inquires. "Don't be shy. I can whip something up."
"Oh, you know I'm far from shy. That's kind of you, ma'am, but I ate before I left the house," Maeve says. "Like mom always says, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but I'm sure you're a fantastic cook. No doubt judging by the way my Kaylie-cakes is stuffing herself."
"Hey," Kaylie says. "Did you wake up before five to go running this morning? I didn't think so."
"Touché," Maeve volleys. "Maybe I should. Bikini season is just around the corner."
"Exactly what I was thinking and I cannot wait," Kaylie says. Honestly, she longs to leave the house without needing a scarf and layered clothes. It's been too long.
Maeve laughs the way you'd expect Miss America to. "Ready to show off the bod for the boo?"
"Maeve."
"What? Your mom is cool," Maeve says. Ronnie's face brightens and Maeve continues to dazzle with her contest-winning smile. Kaylie starts to eat faster, eager to get going.
"Okay, done. We are so out of here." Kaylie slides off the tall chair and takes the bowl and spoon to the sink. "Thanks for breakfast, mom. I'll see you tonight."
"Have fun at school, girls."
"Bye!" Maeve waves elegantly even with Kaylie literally dragging her to the front door. Maeve's movement is less graceful, more like the clunky sled to Kaylie's determined sled dog and this doesn't stop until they're in the driveway, standing at Maeve's hotrod red convertible.
There isn't anything Kaylie wants more than her own car. It drives her insane that her brothers' cars are in the garage, collecting dust, but to use them is a crime punishable by humiliation in Nicky's presence.
"So your mom is in love with me. No need to be jealous, Kaylie. Most people are."
"Oh, my God." Kaylie slams the door after getting in. "I don't think I've ever met someone more conceited."
Maeve laughs, adjusting her mirror. "It's not conceit. It's confidence. And it's all Maeve."
"Good Lord."
Maeve pulls out of the driveway and is on to their next stop. Kaylie has always found it a little funny how Maeve picks Kaylie up first and reserve the passenger seat for her then go to get her boyfriend, Max, and exile him to the backseat. When they pull up in front of his apartment complex, Maeve doesn't even get out. She simply honks the horn and puts the top down.
"Max, let's go!" Maeve shouts. "I swear, my boyfriend takes longer to get ready than the two of us combined. I'm dating a metro."
Max Spencer, dashing and debonair (at least for a high school senior) walks out in a polo that clings to his athletic body and fitted jeans, accessorized with leather shoes and dark sunglasses. He lifts his professional camera and snaps pictures of Maeve and Kaylie who automatically pull dramatic poses.
Once their little photo shoot is over, Max kisses his girlfriend. Kaylie watches them for a moment, thinking about what a perfect, adorable couple they are, and when she sees Maeve slip him the tongue, Kaylie has seen enough. Max and Maeve are the epitome of young love, emphasized by their fearless way of showing it.
When they finally pull away, Maeve swipes her fingers against the moist corner of her lips. "Get in, loser, we're going to be late."
Max obediently hops in the backseat. "Can we hit up a McDonald's on the way? I'm starving."
"What?" Maeve backs the car out of the driveway. "Mommy didn't make you breakfast?"
"It's February. She's in New York for Fashion Week," Max replies. That bit of information turns Maeve's head and Kaylie has to grab and steady the steering wheel before they crash into the neighbor's mailbox. "And I can't even toast bread without it burning."
"Do you know how lucky you are?" Maeve asks, squeezing her fingers around the wheel. "You've been to Paris and seen runway shows! While your mom's off, sipping champie with Michael Kors, you want to eat a sausage McMuffin for breakfast. How do you even have abs?"
"Because boys can eat anything and still look like Taylor Lautner," Kaylie says. "I'll order a salad and Nicky gets a bacon burger, greasy onion rings, a milkshake and not gain a pound."
"God must have been a women-hater."
Kaylie's eyes widen instinctively. "Maeve."
"What? Even the Bible says he created woman as an afterthought or because his perfect little man was lonely, like, we're just here to serve the 'superior' sex, which is not true."
"I, for one, am glad God created women," Max says sweetly.
"Because if God didn't, you'd be taking the bus," Maeve replies just as sweetly, "and Adam would've gotten super horny and defiled one of God's animals. Then all the Bible stories would be about bestiality. Ha, that would've made Sunday school so much more interesting."
Kaylie's closed lips pull to one side, perplexed. "I thought neither of you believe in God?"
"We don't," Maeve and Max answer in unison.
With Amelia's impending baptismal, Kaylie finds herself thinking more and more about religion. She thinks of going to church with her grandparents every Sunday during her summer in Spain and her talks with Nicky. Though she wouldn't consider herself devout, Kaylie does like the idea of believing in something. She just hasn't figured out what that is yet. Before she can ponder any longer, Kaylie sees a new text waiting for her on her phone.
It's from Emily: Hang before homeroom?
Sliding down in her seat, Kaylie doesn't know how to reply. It isn't that she doesn't want to hang out with Emily. Kaylie just can't help that she's still bitter over the other day. While Maeve tries to order Max something semi-healthier and Max tries to shout over her, wanting pancakes and a McMuffin, Kaylie texts back: Can't, but see u in English.
Swallowing the guilt, Kaylie gives her attention to Maeve who gives in and lets Max eat whatever he wants. Once they get to school, Maeve's parking space is waiting just like it always is. Kaylie looks through her day planner while Maeve flips through the most recent issue of Cosmopolitan and Max stuffs his face.
"Well, well, if it isn't the important peeps. Too cool to hang out with the rest of the animals in the quad?" Alison DiLaurentis asks as she walks by.
"You know it," Maeve says confidently. She is the designated queen bee with Kaylie as her second in command. That would make Alison the jealous lady in waiting, plotting to poison them both. "But if you hear any good gossip don't be afraid to text it along."
"Will do," Alison agrees. "Morning, Max. Kaylie."
Max raises his hand to greet the blonde, busy chewing. Kaylie doesn't say a word. Alison is smart enough to turn away, not expecting any more. Watching the girl go, Kaylie murmurs, "May, I don't know why you tolerate her."
"I wasn't at her party last summer so I didn't experience the whole stomach bug fiasco. Never thought I'd be grateful my parents dragged me along on a Benson Family Vacation to the freaking Grand Canyon. Plus, instead of embracing the humiliation like Lauren Tanner, Alison fought for it, desperate but respectable. She is the reason I'm student body president."
"Making deals with the devil."
"What's life without a few risks?" Maeve giggles. "If I'm not mistaken, Alison told you about everything Lauren did behind your back. Can you imagine if someone didn't step up and let you know? How you'd feel? I'm not saying we should trust A, but she can be useful."
"Hey, Shane!" Max shouts. After shoving the last bits of his food into his mouth, he hurriedly grabs his things and jumps the side of the car. "Gotta go, babe. I'd kiss you, but I'm pretty sure I taste like carbs and processed grease."
"I think I'll chance it," Maeve says. Max backpedals and kisses her. His boys behind him holler and catcall, but neither Max nor Maeve pays them any attention.
"Till hell freezes over," Max whispers, but loud enough for Kaylie to overhear.
"Till hell freezes over."
Max softly pecks Maeve's lips one last time before he goes over to join his friends. Maeve stares after him like she's the luckiest girl in the world, which she kind of is.
"I think you and Max are a shoe-in for cutest couple in the yearbook," Kaylie says. That's the only reason Kaylie is glad Maeve is a year older and a grade above. She never has to compete with Maeve, especially for the coveted Prom Queen crown. Thank God.
"Duh, Kay. My boyfriend is the yearbook editor. It's all set. This year has been perfect so far. I've got you, my bestie, my boyfriend and my bestie dating my boyfriend's cousin. I don't think God could create a better fab four."
Kaylie smiles. "I couldn't agree more."
…
"You know what? You can make your own breakfast, Bruce! Better yet, you can buy your own groceries to make your own breakfast instead of taking all of ours!"
"What did you say to me? Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!"
With her heart violently thumping in her chest, Emily dashes out the front door, slamming it loudly once she's out. She comes to an abrupt stop, scuffed Chucks scraping the battleship gray hallway carpet. Right on the door across from her is an eye in black spray paint. It isn't surprising. She does live in Laguna. The entire neighborhood is a giant dumpsite.
The door behind Emily flies open with Bruce filling the frame. Wearing a tight, stained wifebeater, Bruce's gut sticks out and his face is unshaven, growing a wild beard. He has a fat, flat nose, thin snarling lips and dark, soulless eyes. One thing is for certain—Chloe cannot be dating this gorilla of a man for his looks.
"Now I know your mamma taught you to respect your superiors!" Bruce glowers. "And don't you forget that I am superior!" Emily's refusal to meet his eyes as he talks makes Bruce even angrier. His arm shoots out like a snake, venomous fangs for fingers curling around Emily's arm. "Don't ignore me, girl!"
His fingers dig into her skin to the point where she suspects a bruise. Emily doesn't make things any easier on herself with the way she twists, trying to get away.
"HEY!"
Emily watches Bruce and sees fear flashes across his face. It disappears as quickly as it appeared, but Emily knows she saw it. Bruce's grip loosens and Emily yanks away.
Bruce has completely forgotten about Emily, staring down the hall. When she chases his gaze, Emily sees one of her neighbors. Though she doesn't know his name, Emily knows they go to school together. One glance and anyone could guess he's from Laguna.
He's her age or maybe older (it isn't a surprise if you're from Laguna and on your fifth year of high school), very tall with big hands in fingerless gloves and big feet in tattered sneakers. He's dressed in baggy jeans and a giant navy doorman's jacket with faded gold trim and two lines of silver buttons. He stares straight at Bruce and Emily stares at his red beanie sagged on the back of his head, a fringe of brown hair peeking out from beneath it.
"Do we have a problem?"
Seeing that it's just some stupid kid, Bruce builds back his tough guy front. "Even if we did, it wouldn't be any of your damn business."
"There's no problem," Emily speaks up. She tugs on the sleeve of her sweater, covering her wrist that's still buzzing from when Bruce grabbed her. "I was just leaving."
"We'll talk when you come home."
It makes Emily so mad to hear him refer to her apartment as home. Ignoring Bruce, Emily shoves the strap of her bag higher up her shoulder and starts down the hallway, towards the neighbor boy who holds Bruce's gaze until the king of unemployment scowls and returns to the apartment. The whole extreme male dominance thing is also a trademark of Laguna.
As she shuffles down the hallway, Emily hears wheels turning and glances back to see Mr. Red Beanie wheeling his bike behind her. He walks slowly and Emily suspects he has a blatant dislike for awkward conversation. Instead of feeling self-conscious about it, Emily inwardly curses. She was in such a hurry she forgot her bike.
While Mr. Red Beanie presses the elevator button (that doesn't light up) Emily veers for the stairwell. Swinging her backpack in front of her to check the pockets for bus money, Emily wonders if she should thank him. Most people would just walk away, but he didn't.
"Hey!" Emily shouts, hanging back for a second. He looks at her. She looks back. "Thanks for that. I, um, what you did was—"
The elevator forces out a shrill noise that sounds like a cat dying and Mr. Red Beanie just gives Emily a nod before he wheels his bike into the elevator and the doors shaking close.
There's another eye painted on the elevator, but this time in red paint against the black doors. Emily is convinced the culprit lives in her building, the Meadows Heights Apartments. Maintenance is nonexistent, which explains the cracks in the ceiling that leak every time it rains, splitting countertops, grout falling out of the tile, unsafe railings and people constantly getting stuck in the elevator. It really is paradise.
Emily regrets finding the two loose dollar bills in her backpack, wishing she could just call Lauren for a ride. Shaking it off, Emily takes the stairs down and goes to the bus stop.
Bruce is a jerk. There's no denying how scuffles with him have become somewhat routine. For months Emily kept her mouth shut with every one of Bruce's rude comments and every time he shows up drunk, making a mess of everything. Chloe just takes it for reasons unknown and Brian is in denial. When it all becomes too much for Emily, she fights back.
Her mom is usually passed out in her room during these early mornings, exhausted from her bartending shift at Bodacious Boulder, catching a few hours of sleep before her shift at the diner. Brian leaves earlier for school since he has to wheel himself four blocks and out of Laguna to carpool to his private school for the gifted. That leaves Emily and Bruce. Emily isn't too sure how her life has become this.
Chloe sees something completely different compared to Emily and everyone else. Chloe sees possibilities instead of reality, something she shares with Kaylie and a why Emily spends a significant amount of time worrying.
Sitting at the bus stop, Emily digs around in her backpack for breakfast—an apple. Bruce demands she cook him breakfast when Emily doesn't even cook for herself. Rubbing the fruit against her sweater, Emily notices a homeless man poking around in the nearest trashcan.
Pay it forward. Mr. Red Beanie helps out Emily so Emily helps Mr. Hobo.
After shouldering her backpack, Emily stands from the cold medal bench and walks over. Homeless people aren't rare in Boulder. They're everywhere. Most turn up their nose, pretending they don't notice and don't care. Emily can't. If she were in his place, she'd want someone to show her the same kindness.
"Are you hungry?" Emily asks. The man stops, a crushed aluminum can in his grasp. "I, um, I didn't do anything, I swear. I just think…I think you could use it more than me."
The man eyes her a second and Emily holds out the apple. Without moving from where he is, the homeless man extends his hand. It doesn't escape Emily how spasms travel up and down his arm, making him tremor. She places the apple in his palm and smiles. Just as she's about to turn away, the man loudly clears his throat, wanting her attention.
Emily watches as Mr. Hobo returns to his cart and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He holds it out to Emily. "Thank you," she says, and takes it.
Unfolding the piece of paper, Emily reads it in her head.
Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings, are.
Eyes tracing every letter, every line, once and then a second time, a chill runs down her spine. Emily isn't so sure it's due to the early February weather. It sounds familiar, like she's read it before, but Emily can't place it. She looks for the homeless man, about to ask him, but he's gone. The bus pulls up to the curb and Emily rushes to catch it.
The entire ride she pours over the poem. Emily finds it hard to concentrate with the younger, giggly girls towards the back singing Damon's single at the top of their lungs and badly.
You're the song in my head
You're the one on repeat
You're that girl who I call
When I can't go to sleep
You're the one who I need
When I break and I bleed
Take my hand and we'll leave
You're everything to me
Emily is so caught up in the lyrics, imagining her voice in his head, remembering how nervous he'd been about having to compromise on his lyrics and his sound with his producers. He wrote the original with her in mind. That was her Damon, the guy who bought a homeless man an entire meal last summer and all on his own accord.
She recalls the random people who would come up to her when Damon's popularity skyrocketed and they noticed their synched Facebook pages. It looked a little something like:
RANDOM: You're Emily Kmetko, right?
EMILY: …Yes.
RANDOM: So you're, like, dating Damon Young, the musician, right?
EMILY: Yes.
RANDOM: Oh.
And then they'd walk away and Lauren would tease the crap out of them as they go. The first few times it happened Emily found it entertaining. After a while, though, it got tiring. Now Emily prays that no one asks her. What is she supposed to say?
EMILY: Actually, we broke up. Well, we didn't really break up. One day, while I was seriously contemplating running away to escape totalBRUCEtarianism, going to live with my real dad in California, I got a call from my boyfriend's manager who then proceeded to break up with me for him. I know! She hung up and then I cried for three days straight, lived off ice cream and let Lauren posted rude comments on his YouTube videos. So…that's the long answer. Short answer: No. I'm not dating Damon Young. Not anymore.
She'd die if she had to actually use that, but has it in her back pocket just incase.
Damon is a mysterious and he always played it up, but something doesn't feel right about this. Emily could feel them growing apart, the distance proving to be a great nemesis of commitment.
"Emily Kmetko, you know I wouldn't mind picking you up for school, right?" Lauren meets her like every morning. "Plus, with all the biking you do, your legs are going to be majorly sculpted and hotter than mine come time to show them off. Not something I want."
"And you driving through Laguna in your new car is something you want? I'd pay to see that," Emily says. "But then I wouldn't be able to actually pay you because I took the bus."
"Why? Bike got stolen?"
"No," Emily says, though she admits the assumption isn't completely farfetched. "I don't want to talk about it." She looks to Lauren's other side, but finds it empty. "Where's Ike?"
"He's trying to finish those practice questions you assigned him. He told me not to tell you he didn't even try to do them, but boo-hoo for him. Hoes before bros."
It's so great to have Lauren on her side. To think before last summer they weren't close at all. There was always that disconnect between Lauren and Emily, them always being on opposite ends of the spectrum. What they went through, both individually and together, bridged the gap. As odd as it sounds, sometimes Emily feels like Lauren Tanner keeps her grounded.
Naturally, when a good moment is ruined it's by Carter Anderson.
"Hey co-worker!" Carter bounces up to the two girls right when they reach Emily's locker.
"Hey," Emily says reluctantly. She spins the dial, hoping Carter will take a hint and leave, but by the way he remains there, that isn't likely. "Um, do you need something, Carter?"
"Besides one of those dog shock collars?" Lauren asks. Emily stares at her. Six months of the silent treatment broken and for that?
"Oh, Lauren, I didn't see you there," Carter says. "Actually, I completely forgot you go here."
Before Lauren can respond, eyes already lit with resentment, Emily slams her metal locker, drawing both their attention. "What is it you need, Carter?"
"I have a dentist appointment this afternoon and Pete says I need to find someone willing to cover my shift. Could you? It's slow in the afternoons, but I figure it runs right into your evening shift. The tips could be better, but the tips can always be better. What do you say?"
"Sure," Emily agrees. "I'm always looking for extra shifts."
"I knew I could count on you. Thanks," Carter says. He lightly pounds a closed fist against Emily's shoulder before he walks off, ready to rejoin his jock flock.
"Em, did I seriously do that guy? His hair has more personality than he does."
"Yes, you did," Emily reminds her. "But at least you took off the jeans yourself…?"
"I did, didn't I?" Lauren smiles proudly. "So I guess I'm hanging out at the Shack today."
"I'd appreciate the ride. Thanks." Emily loves how it's automatic. No planning or persuading needed. "Lo, do you know how many times since I started working there that you come to hang out, but don't eat anything?"
"Um, every time I've ever walked in there," she answers. "As if I'd even touch that stuff after you told me the calorie count of a slice of your specialty cardboard with cheese? I'll pass."
"Lame," Emily says, looking at her cell phone. "I texted Kay to see if she wants to hang out, maybe talk about the other day, but she does not."
"Don't worry about it. I'm better company anyways."
Still managing a smile even when her life feels like a house of cards about to collapse, Emily links arms with Lauren in an off to see the wizard fashion and head to homeroom.
…
"So how was your run with Kaylie?"
"Good."
Payson takes another bite of her apple, the crisp sound filling the silence that follows a question and answer. She sits at the table in the kitchen with her dad at the head, perusing the classifieds, Becca eating oatmeal and Kim busying herself in the kitchen as always.
"I couldn't help, but notice the tension during dinner the other night," Kim goes on. "What exactly happened when you four were upstairs? I almost felt bad for sending Nixon as a messenger. I didn't know I was sending him straight into the eye of the storm."
Mark lowers his newspaper and lifts his brows. "Tension?"
Kim laughs. "Just like a man to not read into the subtext."
"Subtext?" Mark looks even more confused. "What subtext?"
A man in a house of women. God bless him.
"Subtext aside," Becca interrupts. "He goes by Nicky now, remember?"
Who could forget? Kaylie only corrected the Keelers last night during dinner. Nicky had quickly jumped in, insisting he didn't mind, nervously explaining that he goes by both, but with how insistent Kaylie was, Mark and Kim agreed to go with Nicky for now on.
"Right," Kim says slowly, "but isn't that a little confusing with his twin sister?"
Thank you, Faith, for setting them up for this situation and not even being here to diffuse it.
"That…isn't important. And just so you don't worry, it wasn't a storm," Payson says, tossing the core of her apple into the trash. A storm would leave everything in ruins much like last summer. In comparison, the barbeque was barely a blimp on the Friendship Destruction radar. "Shouldn't we be going soon?"
Kim nods. "We probably should. Becca, hurry it up."
"Look at my girls, off to save the world one rotation at a time," Mark stands to give each of his daughters a hug and a kiss before turning his full attention to his wife. "Meanwhile, your dad is on the hunt for a new job, hopefully something that doesn't keep me away from my family."
"Good luck, dad," Payson says softly. There's nothing she could possibly want more, not even to go to the Olympics, which is really saying something considering it is her lifetime dream.
Payson and Becca head out, giving Mark and Kim a few minutes. They climb into the car and sit with the occasional 'ooo' and 'ahhh' from Becca as she flips through the latest issue of All-Around Magazine, one of the most known and reliable sources for everything gymnastics. When Kim finally joins them, starting the car, she asks, "Okay, Pay, what happened?"
She blinks and unsurely asks, "What happened with what?"
"Your friends. The barbeque. The tension."
"Yeah, I want to know!" Becca chimes in from the backseat.
"Official best friend business," Payson answers. When Kim's prying eyes don't let up, the gymnast sighs. "Just Lauren and Kaylie bickering. There's that and Kaylie might have said something about Kelly and Faith and…I don't know. And I'm not too sure how, but you two tricked me into gossiping with you again."
"Tricked?" Kim wears a little, accomplished smile. "Tricked is a little strong, Payson."
"And girl talk isn't gossip if it's true," Becca adds in her bratty thirteen-year-old way.
"Precisely," Kim agrees with her youngest. They'd probably high-five if Kim wasn't driving. "Now, you were saying? What did Kaylie say about Kelly and Faith?"
"It isn't important," Payson insists. "We talked about it this morning. Kaylie didn't mean anything by it. She just doesn't like sharing her boyfriend with Faith, which doesn't even matter anymore because Faith is, you know, gone."
Payson hates acknowledging the fact, but it is fact.
"Which is understandable. Before we found out he was dating Kaylie, your father and I were convinced there was something more between Faith and Nicky, but that feels like such a long time ago. And, Pay, you can go easy on Kaylie. With her mom and dad always coming and going, you can see why she would have a tendency to hold on tight to what she has. I can't say I blame her if she saw the way Faith and Nicky are together. Faith Giancana can inspire a scary level of devotion in just about anyone."
"I guess…"
"Now, what's this about you lying to me about Kelly?" Kim asks. "Did you even invite her?"
"Trust me, mom. If you thought things were tense when it was just the four of us, adding Kelly to the equation would have been a disaster. A storm-quality disaster," Payson explains, as vague as it is. "Plus, I haven't talked to Kelly at all. Not since Worlds."
Becca has her face between the pages of her magazine, Kim keeps her eyes forward and Payson stares out the window at the roadside slush. The tension they had just been talking about fills the car at the mention of Kelly Parker. Payson prays her mom doesn't push because what they're all thinking, but reluctant to discuss is something Payson doesn't want to touch.
"You know gym moms and how they talk," Kim says. "Kelly Parker is a popular topic and it doesn't sound anything like the girl I know." Payson hears the talk too. It's hard not to. "I just worry sometimes. That's all."
Kim isn't alone. Payson worries too.
They turn into the Rock parking lot, bringing their conversation to an end. Sasha Belov's airstream is parked in its usual spot off to the side. With the Rock's head coach living in the parking lot, it's definitely harder to sneak in for their summer tradition, but not impossible.
Though the Rock has always been a great gym, known for producing great athletes, Sasha's presence and Austin's, along with Conrad and Payson's success at Worlds has catapulted the Rock's reputation, making it a household name in the gymnastics world. Sasha runs the gym like a well-oiled machine, pushing everyone beyond their best.
"Oh, look, Pay! Your banner's up!"
Payson feels the embarrassment swell with a mix of pride. The parents insisted on the banners. The first reads "Home of Olympic Gold Medalist Austin Tucker" the second, newer one spells: "Congratulations Worlds Gold Medalists Payson Keeler and Conrad Cooper!" Once Kim pulls into their reserved stall, Payson steps out for a better view.
"Not too humiliating, you think?"
Payson turns and finds her coach, Sasha Belov. It's a change to see him lose the gymnastics camp polo shirts in favor of fleece pullovers and windbreakers with the Rock logo. His blonde hair is short and his face is scruffy, but it's his eyes demand attention, intense, piercing and blue. Payson would like to say she's used to being around one of her idols on a daily basis, but still finds herself at a happy medium between starstruck and desensitized.
"It could be tackier, but thankfully it's not," Payson says.
"My sentiments exactly," Sasha agrees. "Seems I put the right woman in charge."
"I can only imagine what it'd look like if it was in your hands, Belov." Kim laughs with such girth, joining the two to stare up at the banners. "I'm glad they were able set it up so soon. That reminds me, if I'm not mistaken there are people waiting for you in your office."
"What people?" Payson asks.
"Nothing for you to worry about," Sasha says quickly. "Kim, a word? I'll see you inside, Payson."
Payson nods and watches her coach and her mom walk ahead, talking gym business. Ready to start her day, Payson grabs her gym bag when she notices her sister combing down her hair and checking her teeth.
"Becca, what are you doing?"
"I have to look nice."
"What's the point?" Payson asks. "You're just going to get all sweat while you're in there. We aren't practicing for a beauty pageant. It's gymnastics."
"I know, but Conrad's inside. I have to look somewhat presentable!"
The older of the two crosses her arms and shakes her head. "You know that's never going to happen, right? First, there's the obvious. He's too old for you. Dad would probably think he's too old for me."
"And what would dad think of you and Austin? Isn't he even older than Conrad?"
Payson stays quiet after that one, letting Becca do whatever primping she finds necessary. Becca knows, but luckily a Jackson or two keeps her lips sealed. When she's finally done, the sisters make their way into the gym that's a second home to them both. Payson tries not to pay too much attention to NGO suits in the glass office. The last time she was meant to show off she landed herself in a hospital bed.
Everyone else seems to be taking advantage of the fact that Sasha's distracted. He wouldn't be too pleased with how many issues of All-Around Magazine are floating around. Though Payson often sides with Sasha on every aspect of life, she can definitely understand the buzz about this issue. After all, one of their very own is featured.
Though the men's team barely scraped by in the teams category, bringing home bronze, the individual events were a whole other battle. Though Romania and China (both of whom beat the US in teams) put up a valiant effort, it was clear the real battle was between Conrad Cooper and a Denver Elite gymnast, Darrell "Flex" Jordan. Reaping the rewards of their talent, the two are featured on this month's cover.
Payson has yet to look through it with the way Becca hordes their only copy, drooling over the pictures of Conrad. Seriously, this little crush is getting a little out of hand.
Pushing the thought away, Payson goes into the locker room to change, thinking about how she doesn't have lasting bonds with the other girls. There's Violet who's good, but not as good as she thinks and Scarlet who's creeping with Violet's boyfriend and everyone knows except Violet and Sasha. Payson can work with them because Sasha makes them, but she always stays at a distance, not wanting any involvement when everything explodes. The emptiness of it just makes her miss Faith and Kelly and their odd camaraderie even more.
When she walks out, Payson goes to where Conrad is stretching on the mats. Austin is with him, holding an issue of All-Around Mag, with a smile that makes Payson unexplainably happy. The only more amusing sight is how red Conrad's lightly freckled face is turning.
In a really bad, stereotypical "Southern" accent, Austin reads, "I'm just a Texas grown boy happy for the opportunity to represent the good ol' US of A. As much as I love gold I'm thinkin' o' pawnin' ma medal to buy myself a new horse and maybe a couple chickens and a good ol' bag o' tobacco."
"Payson!" Conrad shouts. "Yer boy is an idiot. I didn't say any of that."
"I could have guessed."
"But it's what Con wanted to say. See, I know your head, bro." Austin flips more pages. "Hmm. They really played up the whole Denver Elite vs. the Rock home gym thing and you coming from Denver. I'm assuming you pulled the 'no comment' every time they asked you why you switched over?"
"Yup," Conrad confirms. "I made my manager proud."
"Speaking of managers, how is yours?" Payson asks. "I've been getting calls from different agencies wanting to represent me and now that my dad is back in town it's finally time to sit down and talk about it."
"She's professional enough, a real hardass, but the business demands it," Conrad explains. "Man is she pissed at me for breaking my contract. We've even considered getting an alarm system for the house just incase she decides to pop by unannounced…with a Jason mask and chainsaw. Good ol' Sheila. I wouldn't recommend her, but you didn't hear that from me."
"Wait," Payson says, "why are you breaking your contract?"
Before Conrad can answer, Austin interrupts him with a long whistle, still looking through the magazine. "Man, this Flex punk is a piece of work. Listen to this. 'Conrad Cooper? It must be dumb luck that he took gold and me silver. An eighth of a point was all it was. You can bet I'll have him the next time we meet. I've been told I'm a perfect human specimen and there's no argument there. When I want something there ain't no one who can stop me. If my competition doesn't fear me then they envy me. Flex Jordan: the god of gymnastics.' Damn."
"He's as cocky in person as he is on paper," Conrad says irritably. "Every damn day at DE I'd have to listen to Flex run his mouth, acting like no one is worthy of breathing his air. Well, everyone except maybe Kelly Parker."
"Flex and Kelly?" Payson asks. She feels a little hopeful at the idea that maybe Kelly has moved on even if moving on to Flex is without a doubt a step in the wrong direction.
"It's the whole social politics 'best' two gymnasts in the gym thing, King and Queen of DE," Conrad explains. "From talk I hear from my buddies over there, Kelly ain't interested, but as you can imagine, Flex is persistent. Boy threw a twenty minute tantrum when he found out he had to share the mag cover with me."
Payson snorts. "But he came in second."
"Yeah," Austin agrees. "He's lucky you shared the cover with him."
Conrad shrugs his broad shoulders. "You know me. Didn't mean a thing, but management would've cut off my balls if I passed up PR like that."
"Have you heard anything else about Kelly? How she's doing?" Payson asks eagerly. Her tone draws Austin's attention and he lowers the magazine, obviously concerned over Payson's concern. Conrad doesn't talk about Denver Elite much, but seeing the opportunity, Payson has to try.
"With how she did at Worlds? Probably even more of a hot mess than before." Conrad sets his eyes on the blue mat beneath them and rubs his arm, smiling goofily. "But still with an emphasis on the hot."
Blinking, Payson asks, "What?"
"You didn't know?" Austin chuckles. "Connie has the biggest crush on KP."
"Really?"
"What? I ain't ashamed. She's an amazing gymnast and she's got edge. Not exactly my type, but did I mention she's hot?" Conrad laughs, his face back to red. "I don't know. She's always so moody. She could be happy if she wanted and I never got why she never was."
Moving over to Payson, Austin sits at her side. "So I'm gonna hook them up."
Payson immediately shakes her head. "That's a horrible idea."
Conrad looks straight at Austin and turns very serious. "I'm with Payson on this one."
Austin looks between the two, finding their refusal boring. "C'mon! Conrad, you've been moping over your ex for too long now. You should be reaping the benefits of being World Champ. And KP, we gave her enough time to lick her wounds. I bounced back after Worlds. It's her turn. Plus, she deserves better than some Jerk-Off who didn't appreciate her. Keeler, Connie digs her edge. You think twenty bucks is too little of a starting price for her digits?"
Payson gives him a look as if to ask if he's kidding. "To sell out our friend? Yes, Austin."
"I was kidding-ish about the last part." Austin playfully wraps around her shoulders.
"Playing matchmaker, Austin?" Payson asks, only the slightest bit amused.
"Call me cupid."
"As fun—and by fun I mean mortifying—as this conversation is, boss man at ten o'clock and he does not look happy," Conrad interrupts, spying over at the door to Sasha's glass office. "Time to get to work."
Austin bounces to his feet and reaches down to take Payson's hand to help her up. From there, the three go their separate ways to train. When Payson goes into gymnastics mode it's like nothing else matters, nothing else exists. She sees what needs to be done and in what way and then she executes. With her focus and determination, the day speeds by and before she even realizes, it's time to call it a day.
Before last summer, Payson never paid much attention to how dating is discouraged, especially between gymnasts. Now it only figures that when Austin Tucker comes to train at the Rock, Sasha issues the official No Dating Rule. Naturally, parents complained, not seeing how Sasha can waltz in and put restrictions on their kids' personal lives, but Sasha's point was that if they're serious about being gymnasts then they'll do whatever it takes. Payson agrees with Sasha, but then Austin smiles and she sort of, kind of melts.
At the end of the day, Payson walks out of the girls' locker room (finding the subtext underneath Violet and Scarlett's casual conversation too annoying) and Austin is across the way. He paces back and forth, kicking his feet and staring at the ceiling, holding his phone to his ear. He seems stressed—not a good look for him.
"Probably his sister complaining about his parents or his parents complaining about his sister. One or the other," Conrad says, reading Payson's concern and doing his best to sooth it. "Used to be once a week, but it seems like the calls are coming in more often lately."
"Does he ever talk about his family with you?"
"More like he does everything in his power to avoid talking about his family. I don't ask," Conrad says, though his expression says he wishes he did. "You?"
"Not at all."
"It's kinda scary, ain't it? How someone so open can be so closed." When Conrad sees her curiosity, he gives her a wide smile. "I just got all profound and shit on you, huh?" Payson laughs when Conrad does. "Anyways, we on for Wednesday?"
"Yup. Wouldn't miss it."
"Miss what?" Becca asks, walking over to the two top gymnasts at the Rock.
"Hey, you!" Conrad calls out to her and it sends Becca straight into a lovesick state. Payson prays she doesn't look that way when she's with Austin. "Your big sis and I were just talking about Wednesday. You're coming with us, right?"
"Yes! Nothing could stop me," Becca says, bouncing on her heels. "This Wednesday and next Wednesday and the Wednesday after that!"
"I like your enthusiasm, trooper." Conrad winks at her, just encouraging her little crush. He holds out his hand for a high-five and Becca claps her palm against his. Payson rolls her eyes, debating whether she should put an end to this or ignore it.
"Um, Conrad, would you sign my magazine?"
Payson actually laughs aloud much to Becca's annoyance.
"Sure thing," Conrad says. "Believe it or not, you're the first and only one to ask."
Becca is overjoyed. Payson hasn't seen her little sister this happy since she got the okay to sit at the adult table during family holidays. All Becca sees is Conrad as he takes the magazine and the Sharpie, crawling his name across the cover, two big C's and scribbles in between.
"Great," Payson says, playing her part as the older, annoyed sister. "Good job, Coop. Now she's probably going to sleep with it on her pillow. The least you could have done is let me look through it earlier. Now that Conrad signed it, I'm guessing I won't even get a peek at it."
"Payson!"
Conrad laughs at the sisterly exchange. "I could bring a copy for you tomorrow. We got about a million of 'em at the lake house and I'm tired of Austin using 'em to mock me. Okay. I'm gonna grab Aus and head home. See yah, girls."
Waving, Conrad goes to find Austin who isn't where he was a minute ago. Payson reminds herself to call Austin tonight to see what's up. The Keeler sisters make their way to their mom's car and Payson teases Becca the entire way. When they get there, two large baskets of assorted fruits and goodies sit on the hood, wrapped in plastic and ribbons.
"Um, Pay, do you see gift baskets on the hood of mom's car?"
"Strangely, I do," Payson says. "It has to be a mistake or something, right?"
When her need to know gets the best of her, Payson goes to investigate and finds a card attached. It reads:
Looking forward to finally meeting the World Champion! -Sheila Baboyon
...
Authors' Note: So Make It or Break It got renewed for a season 3. We were both pretty surprised until we found out it was only for eight episodes, which only makes sense. As LCTD put it, the whole thing screams, "Here's a mop. Now, clean up your mess." Stick around for the next chapter. Everyone's favorite Denver Death Eater is in it and, boy, Conrad was not lying when he said she's a hot mess…
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