Chapter 2: Is This Really Who You Want To Be?

Lucas

I hated lacrosse. The game, the uniforms, the coach, the players themselves. I hated every second of it. And I wish I could tell you that I wasn't staying on the team just to keep the friends and life that I had at this school. But that would be a lie. And I hated that most of all.

"Friar! Get out on that field right now! I want to see sprints, let's go!" Coach Morris yelled from behind me in the locker room.

"Yes, Coach!" I called back to him. Talk to me like a human being next time.

I placed my gym bag and my copy of the Great Gatsby carefully in my gym locker. Riley Matthews would have never let someone talk to her like that. In fact, she would never have stayed stuck in this life that she hated. She was exactly who she was and never apologized for it. I wished more than anything that I could be the same way. But I wasn't. And that is why I needed her as my tutor. I needed to be surrounded by that kind of thinking. I needed to be surrounded by who she was.

When I got to the field, things were exactly the way they were yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. Jason was acting like an idiot and trying to start a water fight with a few of the other guys by squirting them with his water bottle. Grayson and Michael were flirting with the cheerleaders. Coach was drilling Zay about why I was taking so long in the locker room. And that girl with the curly blonde hair was trying, once again, to get Coach to let her interview players for the school newspaper. It was all so predictable. And I had no choice but to live it.

"Well, now that his Highness has graced us with his presence, we can get started with practice. Sprints! Go!" Coach blew his whistle and we all fell into formation.

"Coach, if you could just allow me to ask the players a few-"

"Like I told you yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, we don't have time for your silly interviews Miss Haverty," Coach told the girl with the curly blonde hair.

"It's Hart, Maya Hart. This is for the school newspaper, sir. And we really need an interview with one or two players to make this week's issue perfect," she pleaded with him, desperation in her voice. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the pleading look she gave him; maybe it was the thrill of breaking this endless cycle of predictability, but before I even knew what was happening, I stopped running and took a step towards them.

"I'll do it," I told her. The minute I said it aloud, I knew I was going to regret this. Her eyes lit up and she threw her arms around me.

"THANK YOU! Oh wow, I was just hoping to talk to a few second strings, but I didn't expect the team captain to agree to this. Okay, let's set up a time before practice-"

"Over my dead body! He's already late enough as it is, you will not be the reason my star player is late to practice Miss Hart," Coach intervened.

"Oh no, of course not sir. How about after practice then?" Maya asked me, her eyes bright and her tone insistent.

"Um… Yeah, after practice will work," I agreed, reluctantly.

"Yay! Okay, I'll tell Riley that I have you for the interview and-" Maya began, but I cut her off.

"Riley?"

"Riley Matthews? She's the editor of the school newspaper. She'll be so happy I finally got one of you to do an interview, and the fact that it's Lucas Friar will be the icing on the cake!" She was doing this weird flailing motion with her arms as she spoke. How was she so perky?

I know it was stupid, but I didn't like the idea of Riley hearing me talk about lacrosse. I felt like I always needed to tell her the truth for some reason, and hearing me say how much I loved playing for this team and how my teammates were like brothers to me would be the biggest lie I could tell her. But I had already said yes. And I was afraid of seeing the disappointed look on Maya Hart's face the minute I went back on my word.

"Great. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow then," I told her, turning back around to finish my set of sprints.

"Awesome! I'll meet you here at 6:00!" Maya called back to me as I ran to catch up with the rest of my teammates. I could practically feel the joy radiating off her from all the way across the field.

The good news was that this interview delayed my going home for at least another 45 minutes. It also meant I had an excuse to talk to Riley about something other than tutoring. The bad news was that I had to come up with positive things to say about this sport I could care less about to make myself and the team look good. Oh. And it also gave my girlfriend more time to sneak around with my brother behind my back. So. I guess you could say it was a win/lose situation.

–

It started about three months ago. My brother, Holden, and I were playing this stupid zombie assassination video game in the living room of our family's apartment. My best friend Zay was in the kitchen fixing himself a bowl of cereal. My girlfriend, Merritt, had just gotten done with dance practice and Marta, our housekeeper, had let her in. The whole scene was like a movie. I could see it happening in slow motion and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Her hair was down, and framed her face perfectly. She had a flushed look to her, like she had rushed over here as fast as she could. Holden looked up from ferociously slamming buttons on the controller and I could just see it in his eyes. He was falling in love with her. And I couldn't really blame him. Merritt was beautiful in the way a sunset was beautiful. She never looked the same, but no matter how she looked, you never got tired of looking at her because she was so perfect. She was kind, she was smart, she was popular. She was everything she needed to be to be on top of the world and you couldn't help but let yourself get sucked into her whirlwind of being because you wanted to be a part of it too.

So, yes, I knew my girlfriend was cheating on me with my brother. But the twisted part of it all was that I didn't even care. I was actually relieved. Because that was one less thing I had to lie to myself about. So why haven't I said anything? Well, that's the million dollar question isn't it?

"Hey, there you are! What took you so long?" Merritt asked as I walked out of the building and towards the sidewalk after practice. She was leaning against the brick wall that lined the front entrance of our high school. This is what she did everyday. She would try so hard to act causal that she ended up looking even more suspicious. Her dance bag would be placed neatly in front of her, in the effort to make sure I knew where she had just come from. But I knew where she really was. And it wasn't dance practice.

"Sorry, got caught up. Let's go," I muttered, walking past her and heading towards her apartment.

"Wait, I was thinking we could go to that bakery you loved so much. Topanga's or whatever it's called?" Merritt asked hopefully. There was one thing that always impressed me about Merritt that I felt kind of ashamed to admit out loud. She knew what your weaknesses were and used them to her advantage as often as she could.

"No, I, uh, have a lot of homework. Maybe some other time," I tried to argue, but Merritt was not having any of it.

"Lucas, come on, we never spend any alone time together anymore. Let's just get something to go," Merritt insisted. I didn't have the energy to argue anymore, so I nodded and let her drag me off to Topanga's Bakery.

Topanga's was one of those places you found when you weren't looking for it. It was tucked away neatly behind an old metal railing and a thick line of bushes, but it was just as welcoming as it would have been if it were placed out in the open. I had found it by chance. And it had slowly become my favorite place in the world. It was my safe haven from the life I couldn't stand and I appreciated it more than I could express in words.

"It's cuter than I remember!" Merritt exclaimed. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I opened the door for her and she shuffled inside, making a whole ordeal about pointing out the retro furniture with a modern touch and swooning over the "darling" light fixtures. "I see why you like this place, Lucas. What's good here? Have you had their scones? What kinds of flavors do they have?"

"We have Blueberry, Strawberry Shortcake, Lemon, and Chocolate Drizzle. The lemon scones are mine and my daughter's personal favorite, but I found that most customers your age prefer the chocolate drizzle," the woman behind the counter chimed in. She had extremely long hair and a polished look to her that made me believe that she strived for nothing less than perfection her entire life.

"I think I'll go for the Chocolate Drizzle then," Merritt told her, smiling that million dollar smile of hers.

"Okay, coming right up. And what about you? Chocolate Drizzle for you too?" she asked, looking right at me. There was something familiar about her, other than the look of familiarity you get when you see someone everyday after school.

"No thanks, I'll have the… lemon. And a black coffee," I told her, feeling proud of myself for picking the least obvious choice.

The woman smiled and turned around to get our scones. Just then the door slammed behind us, the noise echoing off the walls in the otherwise quiet bakery.

"Mom! I'm freaking out! You'll never believe what-." Someone, a girl, was shouting from the bakery's front entrance. Curious, I turned around and saw Riley Matthews staring at me with her mouth wide open.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, sounding confused. Like I was the wrong piece to the puzzle she was trying so hard to fit into this part of her life.

"I'm just… Getting a scone. What about you?" I glanced at Merritt. She was still smiling, but there was something hidden beneath the surface that wasn't there before. I just couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

"Um…" Riley started to say, but the woman behind the counter interrupted her.

"Here are your scones. And a black coffee for the gentlemen," she told us, handing us our orders. "Riley! Hi honey, I thought you were working late at the paper today?"

"We got out earlier than I thought we would," Riley told her mother. She looked from me, to her mom, and then back to me. "Mom. This is Lucas, the boy I'm tutoring after school," she explained. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. She was nervous.

"Oh! Lucas, it's so nice to meet you!" Mrs. Matthews exclaimed, sticking out her hand for me to shake it. "I've seen you in here before haven't I?"

"Yes, ma'am. I come in here after lacrosse practice sometimes. You have a wonderful place here. It's the perfect place to be alone when you don't really want to be alone… That doesn't make any sense," I blurted out awkwardly.

"It makes perfect sense Lucas. That's what we were trying to do with this place when we bought it, so I'm glad that you feel comfortable here," Mrs. Matthews revealed.

"So you're the owner?" Merritt chimed in from beside me. I had forgotten she was there. It had been nice to just be here with Riley and her mother without the chaos of my messed up life interrupting us.

"Yes, I am. So… You're Lucas' girlfriend?" Mrs. Matthews inquired.

"Yes! Two years, in fact," Merritt told her, linking her arm with mine and looking up at me affectionately. "Well, you have a lovely bakery Mrs…?"

"Matthews," Riley finished for her, not unkindly.

"Right. Well, we should get going. Let's go sweetie," Merritt cooed, trying her best to coax me away from Riley and her mother.

I didn't want to leave, but I didn't want to stay here with Merritt either. It felt wrong somehow. Like being here with her was proving to Riley that I was exactly who she thought I was. Probably worse.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Riley. Don't worry, I'll be sure to read those chapters when I get home," I promised, smiling at her and hoping she would see that I wished that I could stay right where I was.

Riley smiled slightly. "Good. There's a quote on page 66. I want you to figure out what it is and then explain to me why I had you find it," Riley instructed, a tone of amusement to her voice.

"Okay, challenge accepted. Bye, Riley," I told her. "It was nice to finally meet you Mrs. Matthews."

"You too Lucas," Mrs. Matthews called back as she turned to walk into the storage room.

I reluctantly turned to walk out of Topanga's Bakery. It seemed like some form of fate or divine intervention that my favorite place to escape my life was owned by Riley Matthews' family. Being with her during our tutoring sessions was how I escaped everything else. It occurred to me just then that I owed Riley Matthews way more than she realized. I owed her everything.