Chapter 4: Who You Were, Who You Are, And Who You're Meant To Be

Lucas

There was a time in my life when English class was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. I dreaded going so much that I would come up with every excuse in the book to get out of it. My dog ate my homework, I think I was bitten by a zombie, I'm moving out of the country. You name it, I've used it. And the saddest part of all is that every single one of those excuses worked. Now, I'm not naïve. I knew that my teachers weren't stupid enough to believe such terrible excuses. It was because I was the team captain of the number one lacrosse team in the state. Plain and simple. I'm not proud if it, but I used this to my advantage when it came to English class as often as I could. Extensions on papers, excused absences if we had a game that night, exemption from lengthy assignments that took too much time away from practice. I used them all. Then something changed.

2 Months Ago

"Um. Hi. I'm Riley? I'm your new tutor," a girl with long brown hair and Violent Femmes t-shirt was saying. I was sitting at a table in the very back of the library, hidden behind the tallest stacks of books. I couldn't risk anyone seeing me with a tutor. The guys on the team wouldn't understand, and I wasn't in the mood to explain it to them.

"Oh, yeah. Hey," I replied, avoiding her gaze. I cleared a place for her to sit across from me at the table. "So, Mr. Larson wanted me to work on identifying the central theme in a novel. I understand what that means, I just can't-"

"What's your favorite book?" Riley interrupted me.

"Sorry?" I asked, surprised by the abruptness of the question and a little unsure of why she was asking me it.

"Your favorite book? The one book you could read over and over again and never get tired of it. The one book you would take with you on a long train ride. The book you could talk about for hours and hours and never run out of things to say because it's just so good," Riley explained. She was serious. No one had ever asked me a question like this before. No one had thought past my record on the lacrosse field long enough to even consider that I was interested in other things.

"I… I don't really have one," I stammered, feeling a little embarrassed. The truth was that I was intimidated. No one had ever intimidated me before. But here was Riley Matthews, the smart girl with the big questions that I couldn't answer. I had just met her and she was already leaving me fumbling for my words.

"Everyone has a favorite book Lucas," Riley insisted. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her on the table. This looked so natural for her, yet with anyone else her age it would look out of place.

"I… Why are you asking me this?"

Riley was right. I did have a favorite book. But I felt weird admitting it out loud. Lucas Friar didn't have a favorite book. At least that's what everyone assumed.

"Because knowing someone's favorite book is the way I get to know them. It helps me see past the surface, block out the outside noise, and really see them for who they are. Once I know a person's favorite book, I can tell how we're going to get along and how well we're going to work together," Riley told me, glancing down at her notebook and biting her bottom lip.

"That's a pretty dangerous weapon you have there. You could learn people's deepest secrets if your'e not careful," I warned her, hoping my tone was coming off as light and goodnatured.

Riley looked at me then, her brows furrowed, and her expression curious.

"You're right. Sometimes people hide their darkest secrets in books. Maybe that's my angle," Riley joked, raising her eyebrows at me and smirking.

"What if I'm not ready for you to know my darkest secrets yet?" I smirked back. There was something different about Riley Matthews. I couldn't explain it in words. But I felt it.

"Fair enough. Don't think I'm going to give up though. I'll get it out of you," Riley promised, reaching to pull something out of her backpack.

"I don't doubt that for a second," I agreed, watching her as she took her copy of the book we were reading in English class this month out of her backpack.

"Mr. Larson let me choose the book we're going to read this month. He thought that if I picked one that I was the most comfortable with, you'd have a better chance of doing well this quarter. So. To Kill a Mockingbird," Riley read as she examined the front cover of the book. "Have you read it before?"

She could have picked any book. Any book in the world for me to read on her first day as my tutor. But she chose the one book that I would choose to bring with me on a long train ride. The one book I could talk about for hours and hours and never run out of things to say.

"Yeah, you could say that." I knew then that Riley Matthews would change the way I thought about books. Granted, she would change the way I thought about a lot of things. But I had no idea she would change my whole world.

–

"The Great Gatsby," Mr. Larson was saying that afternoon in 6th period English. "You were assigned the first 2 chapters for homework. So give me a summary. What did you read?"

Several people turned to look around the room, as if trying to find the one person who actually read the book. Surprisingly, that someone was me. I raised my hand and everyone turned to look at me.

"Mr. Friar. A pleasant surprise. Please, tell us what you read," Mr. Larson instructed, gesturing for me to take over the conversation.

"Okay, well. I actually ended up reading the whole book last night," I began, clearing my throat and looking down at my copy of the book.

"Dude, why would you do that when Sparknotes exists?" Jason asked, and the rest of the class laughed in response.

"I actually really liked it. I couldn't put it down," I explained, feeling a little annoyed that I had to give a reason for liking a book. "The central theme is the downfall of the American Dream in a time where the rich were prone to spending their money on luxuries that they didn't necessarily need. The narrator of the story is Nick Carraway. He moves to West Egg and learns that his neighbor, Jay Gatsby, is one of those people who lives a life of luxury and throws grandiose parties every Saturday night."

"Very good, Lucas. I see Ms. Matthews has been a great help to you," Mr. Larson complimented. A few months ago I would have been embarrassed by that comment. I would have sunk down in my seat and pretended that I didn't hear him. But a lot had changed since then. And so had I.

"Yes, she has. Thank you, sir," I told him, avoiding the looks I was getting from Jason and the rest of the team.

"Well, looks like Golden Boy here has it covered. Guess we're done here," Jason announced, standing up and gathering his backpack in his hands.

"Mr. Daniels, sit back down," Mr. Larson demanded. His voice was impatient and I could see the anger rising up in his cheeks.

"Oh, sorry sir. Didn't Coach Morris tell you? We have a game tomorrow night. Special practice. We have to prepare and all," Jason lied, a smug look creeping across his face.

I knew where this was going because I had been a part of it only a few months ago. Any time one or all of the lacrosse players wanted to get out of class, they used game preparation or extra practice as an excuse. The twisted part was that Coach Morris and the principal backed us up every time. No one questioned it. And no one tried to stop it.

"Call Coach, he'll explain everything to you," Jason informed him. Several other teammates joined him, but I stayed right where I was. "Lucas, come on."

My grandfather once said that there would be a moment in our lives where we're forced to choose between who we were, who we are, and who we're meant to be. What I decided in this moment would define who I was for the rest of my life. Or at least for the rest of high school.

"I think I'm going to stay," I announced, my voice firm and sure of itself.

"Suit yourself, Golden Boy," Jason muttered as he grabbed the book off of his desk and walked out with the rest of the team.

Mr. Larson looked at me and smiled, relieved that he had reached at least one of us.

"Good choice, Mr. Friar. Now, what Lucas was saying was a good place to start, who wants to add to that?" Mr. Larson continued.

The Lucas Friar who sat in this class two months ago would have left. The Lucas Friar I was now chose to stay put and learn from someone who believed in him. I didn't know what the Lucas Friar I was meant to be would do, but I hoped that he would learn from the other two versions and speak up about how wrong it all was. I wasn't there yet. But I hoped that some day I would be.

–

Riley Matthews was standing at her locker, flipping through her AP Calculus book. Her brows were furrowed and she turned each page very deliberately, like she was purposefully avoiding finding what she was looking for.

"Whatever you're looking for in that book isn't worth that distraught look on your face," I teased, nudging her lightly in the arm.

She looked up briefly, her expression unchanged, and then moved her gaze right back down to her book.

"Okay… Tough crowd. Is something wrong?" I asked, genuinely concerned. I hadn't known her long, but I knew enough to know that this wasn't like her.

"Nope. I'm just looking for this theorem that I need to know for the test today and I can't find it," she muttered, flipping faster and more aggressively.

"Riley, come on. I know something is bothering you. You can tell me," I assured her, touching her arm in an attempt to get her to look me in the eye.

She slammed her book shut and turned to face me, her eyes blazing.

"I heard the lacrosse team cut English class today," Riley blurted out.

"Oh. That. Yeah, they did, but-" I began, and she abruptly cut me off.

"I can't believe it. You've been working so hard and you've been doing so well! How could you do that?"

"Riley, I didn't-"

"I've worked so hard to help you and you're just perfectly content falling right back into your old habits!"

"Riley, listen to me I-"

"I can't help you anymore if you're not going to take this seriously!"

"RILEY!" I yelled, hoping this would get her attention. It did. "I didn't leave with them."

"What?" Her voice was back to normal now and her eyes were a shade less crazy.

"Jason and the other guys on the team made up an excuse about there being a special lacrosse practice this afternoon to prepare for the game tomorrow, but I stayed put. I wanted to stay actually. I really liked the Great Gatsby and I was enjoying talking about it," I told her, hoping she had calmed down enough not to rip my head off.

"You finished the whole book?" she asked, clearly impressed.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep last night. I think I found the quote you were talking about by the way. I'll let you tell me if I'm right this afternoon. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure… God. I'm really sorry Lucas," Riley said in almost a whisper. "I'm really impressed though. I didn't think you'd like the Great Gatsby enough to read one chapter let alone the entire book in one night," she admitted, shutting her locker and leaning against it. "Wait I take that back. I know that I don't know you well enough to make that sort of assumption. I should really stop doing that."

"Riley, it's okay. Really. I think you're starting to figure out who I am. You were dead on with that quote. And it scares me a little. Because I didn't even know that I felt that way about my life. But you did," I told her, looking her directly in the eyes.

"I mean I didn't really know, I just… It was just a guess based on what I've seen. And it's how I feel about my own life sometimes too," Riley confessed, breaking my gaze and bending down to pick up her backpack.

"Huh. Guess we have more in common than we thought," I joked, smiling at her from ear to ear. Part of me was flirting, I admit. But that wasn't necessarily my intention with Riley. Sometimes I just couldn't help it. I think I liked her. I think I liked her a lot.

"Guess so," she agreed, smiling back at me. "See you after school. Don't be late," she warned.

"I wouldn't dare," I assured her.

Riley turned to walk down the hallway. I didn't want her to think that the only reason I needed her was because she was my tutor. I wanted her to know that she was my friend. I wanted her to know that I liked who I was when I was with her. And I wanted her to know that she meant more to me than just those things alone. But there was the complicated fact that I was still with Merritt. And until I ended things with her, Riley and I had to remain what we were. She was my tutor. And I was the dumb jock she was forced to talk about books with every day after school. And that was all it was. At least, for now.