11th Grade, High School

Age: 16-17

January 2009

…

Vince huffs as he slams into the chair at the breakfast table. He sets his study guide on the table and keeps his eyes focused on the notes while he eats. It isn't fair. What teacher in their right mind schedules a test for the first day back to school after winter break? When does he expect his students to study between Christmas and New Year's? Don't they all deserve a break?

He hears Chad chuckle across the table from him and glares.

"Physics?" Chad asks with a smirk. "Glad to know some things don't change."

Vince just huffs again and turns back to his study guide. Chad is home for break for two more weeks, getting an entire month off of school rather than the twelve days Vince got. Not that Chad minds school. In fact, his brother is probably counting down the days until he can get back to learning. He can't even sleep in, already awake and dressed for the day despite having nothing on his agenda.

Vince slurps the remainder of his cereal out of the bowl and keeps focused on his notes as he cleans his dishes. He waves goodbye to Chad without looking up, knowing that these are his last few precious moments to have anything stick in his brain for the test. He and Gretchen will probably discuss concepts on their walk to school, but once the school day starts, he won't be able to study any more and Vince wants to do well on this. He needs to do well on it.

Well, he doesn't need to. His grades are fine. Actually, his grades have been excellent since he started spending more time studying with Gretchen. Once he started working with her, he managed to pick up on some of her study habits and the results have been rewarding. When he started sophomore year, he was ranked fifth in their class. On his most recent report card sent home from school over break, he is now third.

There are other reasons why he wants to do well on this test.

He keeps scanning his notes, wishing he had a photographic memory, as he walks to where he meets Gretchen at the top of the street. When he arrives, she is already there as always, her notes put away and not appearing the least bit nervous. But Gretchen could probably take this test with her eyes closed.

"Ready to get this show on the road?" he asks as he approaches, stuffing his notes into the side pocket of his backpack.

Gretchen gives him a small smile as they start walking side-by-side.

"Junior spring is a big semester," she says. "We'll take our ACTs. Plus, it's the last semester of grades that colleges have if we apply early."

He had meant more about the physics test, not having thought that far in advance yet, but she does have a point. Chad had applied early to Stanford and he had spent the spring semester of his junior year making sure all of his ducks were in a row. For as long as Vince could remember, Chad had wanted to go to Stanford. Whereas Vince's room was covered in sports and movie posters, Chad decorated his walls with the periodic table and a small Stanford pennant above his bed. He had worked extremely hard, ensuring that his spot as valedictorian was solidified and he was president of the mathletes club. Then that summer he had taken some college classes.

Gretchen, he knows, has similar aspirations. Although she doesn't mention it like Chad had – nearly every conversation starting the summer before Chad's senior year until he left for California had been connected in some way to Stanford – Gretchen has mentioned MIT more than any other college on her very long list of contenders.

"Are you applying early to MIT?" he asks.

She gives a small nod.

"MIT does early action, so it's non-binding," she says. "If it was early decision, I probably wouldn't."

"Really?" he asks. "But I thought MIT was your first choice?"

"It's a very strong contender and right now it ranks extremely high on my list, but there are pros and cons to every school," she tells him. "I want to be able to look objectively at all of the choices I have and make decisions with all of my options on the table."

"How many do you think you'll apply to?"

"I'm trying to narrow my list to twelve." She shakes her head, more to herself than to Vince. "It's proving rather difficult."

Vince chuckles and nudges her shoulder as they wait to cross at the Third Street crosswalk.

"Of course it is," he jokes. "You started with a list of over a hundred."

She gives him a hard look, but the corners of her lips upturn.

"I'm slowly ticking them off, but I have to admit, it's starting to feel somewhat superficial," she says. She gives him a shrug. "I crossed one off yesterday because of their mascot."

Vince snorts and raises his eyebrows when Gretchen doesn't claim to be kidding.

"Wait, seriously?"

"Well, I'm still at thirty-five schools," she says, starting to giggle as well. "I have to cut some off somehow."

They're both still laughing as they cross the street and continue on their way, the sounds of the elementary school kids screaming on the playground before school joining in with their laughter. It's a noisy part of their walk, but as soon as they pass, it'll be quiet once again as they trek through the neighborhoods.

They are just beyond the schoolyard when Vince can start to hear above the screams of the children. At first, he thinks he can hear his name and he frowns, looking around. But it's only when he hears Gretchen's name that he turns around fully. Spinelli is running toward them, her backpack slamming against her back as she sprints to catch up with them. As she runs by the Third Street fence, he can see a small group of girls playing with Barbies turn to watch the older girl run by, their heads comically turning in unison as Spinelli runs by.

When she meets up with them, she puts her hands on her knees and catches her breath.

"Geez, you guys walk fast," she says between huffs.

"Where's Teej?" Vince asks, looking beyond her to see if he can find their friend in the distance. "Leave him in the dust?"

Spinelli shakes her head and adjusts her beanie so it isn't falling into her eyes.

"He's home yakking." She mimics throwing up and Gretchen curls her nose at the imagery. "Caught that stomach bug going around Floppy Burger. So I'm glad I caught up to you guys – now I don't have to walk alone!"

Spinelli takes up Gretchen's other side and gives a warm grin. Vince clenches his teeth as he gives a toothless smile in return.

"So, what are we talking about?" Spinelli asks.

"Just colleges," Gretchen says.

Spinelli rolls her eyes. "Have you crossed any more off? If not, you're gonna be writing application essays until you graduate."

Vince turns his head to the side as he starts to feel his smile drop, not wanting either of the girls to see. He knows that he was already in a bad mood with the physics test on his schedule, but now his gut bubbles uncomfortably. He keeps his eyes focused on the sidewalk as the girls begin talking back and forth, counting the cracks as he tries not to make his displeasure apparent.

Since basketball season started in November, he has made it a point to stay after his practices to do his free throws so he can walk to school with Gretchen. It gives them a nice blocked period of time where they can talk without being in class or around their other students. It is always a nice start to his day, even when he isn't looking forward to what the day has to bring.

Spinelli joining them shouldn't be a big deal.

But it is.

And the truly unfortunate part of it is that he knows that if it were TJ, Gus, or Mikey who had stumbled upon them this morning, he wouldn't be half as annoyed as he is right now. So he just bites his tongue and nods along as the girls continue to talk.

He isn't able to wrap his head around why she annoys him so much lately. He knows he was jealous of her when they were younger, when she and TJ first started dating, but that's long over. And, while having her duck out on him during the homecoming prep was inconvenient, the Ashleys did most of his work anyway. He knows that it must be a bunch of little things adding up. Things that have probably been festering for years.

But he knows the others can't find out, not with everything that just happened. He would look like a complete asshole.

So, while Spinelli and Gretchen talk, he pulls his notes from his side pocket and continues to study as they walk. Gretchen must think he's extremely nervous about the test because she doesn't mention him not joining into the conversation once Spinelli waves goodbye on her way to her first class. Instead she just eyes his papers and gives him a smile.

…

The physics test is harder than he was expecting. Usually, Vince blows right through it. Today he works right up until the end of the period.

On one side of him, Gus scribbles furiously and then erases, scribbles and then erases, and then taps the eraser end of his pencil against his forehead. On Vince's other side, Gretchen has already turned in her test and has her nose pressed in her latest read, Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time. Which, he notes as he looks away from his test, is not from their school library or even the town library. The back cover has a little sticker from the University of Arkansas, where her parents are both professors. He wonders which one of them checked it out for her.

He feels a hand on his head, pushing his head down toward the paper.

"Mr. LaSalle," the teacher hisses. "I know Miss Grundler is very fascinating, but looking at someone who has already finished her test is an ineffective way of cheating."

The honors physics teacher is a small, squat man with a receding hairline and dry sense of humor. The rest of the class chuckles under their breaths, keeping their eyes down, but Vince lifts his gaze to glare at the man. He really can't stand this guy, mostly because he always picks on Vince. He always seems surprised when Vince does well on his assignments and, more than once, has insinuated that his good grades are due to his friendship with Gretchen, who must help him. He doesn't insinuate the same thing about Gus. He doesn't ask Gus to come by after class to discuss how he attained a perfect score on the homework or on a lab assignment.

It's been getting worse lately too. He picked on Vince at the beginning of the year, but not nearly as much as he has been since November. He vaguely remembers Chad complaining about him as well for similar reasons, complaining that the teacher only singled him out when other kids in their class said the same thing or asked the same questions. At the time though Vince had been in seventh grade and any talk about school at the dinner table bored him to tears.

The teacher sits back down at his desk, not bothering to push down anyone else's head, even though Ryan Flaherty has clearly been cheating off Phil all test and Phil has spent the majority of the testing period trying to cover his paper.

Vince turns back to his test, determined to get the second best grade after Gretchen, just to show his teacher up. When the bell rings, signaling the end of the class period, he thinks he has most of the questions right.

"That was so hard," Gus groans as they walk out of the classroom.

"I do concur that the material on the test did not match the material on the study guide," Gretchen says.

Vince crosses his arms and grumbles, "I'll just be glad to be done with this class."

"And, unless you pick a science or math major, you'll never have to take physics again," Gus says. "Do you know what you're going to do yet?"

Vince glances at Gus and sees his friend's bright eyes and just shakes his head. Physics is not the problem, but of course Gus wouldn't see that.

"Well, my guidance counselor told me a ton of people start college as one major and change to another," Gus rambles on. "Or they just go in undecided. Although she recommended against that because, you know, the college admissions committee might think you're wishy-washy. Although, you probably won't have a big problem since you'll get recruited for basketball. You could definitely go in undecided if that's the case."

Vince bites his tongue and tightly squeezes at the straps of his backpack. "Yeah, sure."

If he's being honest, Vince hasn't thought much about his future major. He has spent much more time on his recruitment process. Over the summer, he received plenty of first sweep letters from coaches – basic letters sent en masse to talented players across the country to inform the player that the coach has at least heard of him. It doesn't necessarily mean that they'll move forward with recruitment, but it's a halfway decent sign.

In response, Vince sent out letters and videos of his own, hoping to stand out. He knows he isn't a top recruit by any means. There are guys his age that are already being scouted for the NBA draft. But he thinks he's good enough to play in the NCAA. He has serious interest from a couple dozen Division II programs and a few small Division I schools, but the big name programs have seemingly been evasive. The University of Arkansas has expressed their interest. They went to March Madness the previous year and he knows that he should be grateful.

But he supposes going to Arkansas feels like…staying home. They aren't a bad team, but they aren't Kansas. They aren't UNC or Duke. They certainly aren't UCLA or Kentucky.

If the Razorbacks are the only Division I school that wants him, so be it, but until then he can at least hope for some other interest. It isn't like it's unheard of to have players from their area play for Division I programs. He knows that Vance Lombardi is getting heavily recruited by schools for football and if that blockhead can get recruited, why can't he?

He says goodbye to his friends and starts to head to the locker room. His practice is a little delayed this afternoon, given that their coach had an appointment, so he can get his free throws in and shoot around for a bit. Doing that should help clear his head so he can be more levelheaded before the practice starts. He doesn't want to come off their break looking frazzled.

He walks to the line in the gym with the rack of balls, deciding to do some rapid fire free throws until he goes through all the basketballs. Once the rack is empty, he'll run around to collect them and then rapid fire again. His first set flies well and he makes a good ninety percent of the shots he throws. He grabs a couple of balls at a time as he collects them, dribbling one with a few under his other arm as he places them back on the rack.

His second set sees all of them in the basket except for one. Swish.

After a few rounds, he hears the gym door slam and figures that some of his teammates must be showing up to practice. He turns to wave and his eyes narrow when he sees it isn't any of his teammates at all. Instead, he sees Randall, the curly haired boy hovering nervously in the doorway before he seems to catch a burst of confidence and starts walking toward Vince.

He has never been friendly with Randall. Once upon a time, he shared the same recess with him, but other than that Vince couldn't say much one way or the other about the boy in front of him. Back then he was an annoying tattletale. Now Vince isn't sure what makes the kid tick.

"What do you want, Weems?" he asks.

"I need you to come with me," the boy says quickly. He fidgets slightly and then adds. "I need help."

Vince raises an eyebrow. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"Please," Randall begs.

The sincerity in his voice gives Vince pause. He looks up at the clock and sighs, gesturing for Randall to lead the way.

"This better be quick."

Randall turns on his heel and scurries toward the gym doors, constantly looking over his shoulder as if he's afraid Vince is going to suddenly disappear. Which is probably not unwarranted, as Vince grumbles and crosses his arms, making a show of his displeasure as he follows the boy through the now deserted school hallways. More than a few times he considers turning around. He doesn't owe Randall the time of day, let alone the opportunity to waste his time.

Randall opens a door to a back hallway near the band room and Vince glances around, trying to see if he is being tricked. However, this hall is just as quiet as the rest of the school, with only student athletes still roaming the halls on the first day back to class after break.

"Randall," Vince says, in a warning tone.

The snitch turns around, his eyes widened in fear. "Don't leave. We're almost there."

"Almost where?" Vince demands.

Randall sighs and keeps moving, talking over his shoulder as he leads Vince through a little side door.

"I know TJ was sick today, and I figured that Gretchen, Gus, and Mikey were already gone. You were the only one I could think of that would still be here," the boy says as they walk through the doorway.

Vince looks around. The door led to another hallway, this one dusty and dark, the walls lined with old bits of fabric, paint brushes, and wooden planks. The ceiling is much higher than the other school hallway and at the very end of the hall, he can see a small circular window, probably fifteen feet up, covered with cobwebs. There are boxes on the ground, taped up with writing on them.

Annie, 2003
Beauty and the Beast, 2004
Our Town, 2007

He turns the corner behind Randall and quickly realizes he was backstage of the auditorium stage. This is the first time that he has been on the stage in the auditorium and he can see that it is a cluster of set designs, some half-finished and some in the process of being recycled from a previous show. He sees ladders to balconies with different levers and pulley systems. Despite going to the theater productions to support Mikey throughout the years, he had never realized the extent of the behind-the-scenes work that went into creating the show.

He glances over his shoulder to see where Randall went and frowns as he watches the boy kneel besides someone else on the other side of the stage. The girl is covered in thick red paint, as if it was dropped from a height on top of her, and when Vince scans the stage, he can see splatters on the flooring, a large splat toward center stage and then smaller drips as she seems to have made her way off to the side. When he looks up into the rafters, he can see a thin balcony, hidden from view of the audience, that the theater uses for special effects.

Vince groans and walks over.

"What the hell happened?" he asks. Spinelli doesn't even look up at him. Instead, she just wipes dripping paint away from her eyes, and Vince asks again, directing it to Randall this time. "What happened?"

Randall stands up and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

"I didn't see the whole thing," he says. "I was just kind of walking by and I heard a scream. I know she likes to dance here after school now that she's not going to ballet and so I knew it was her so I rushed in and I just…she wouldn't move or let me help her so I…tried to find someone that might be able to help."

Vince narrows his eyes. "You were just walking by."

"Okay," Randall says, looking down. "I may have been watching, but it's a free auditorium."

Vince rolls his eyes and turns back to Spinelli, letting out a groan. What does Randall expect him to do? She must have an entire gallon of paint dripping down her face, all in her hair and covering her clothes. She can't walk home like that and it isn't like he has a car anyway. Besides, he has practice that is going to start soon. He doesn't have time to deal with this.

He pulls out his phone and tries Gretchen, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. She must already be home, doing something in her bedroom lab. It's the only time she ever turns her phone off.

"What are you doing?" Randall asks.

He grunts and debates between Mikey and Gus. Gus is probably best equipped to deal with Spinelli emotionally, but Mikey at least has a car. He clicks on Mikey's name and listens to it ring a few times before his, again, goes to voicemail.

"Damnit," he groans. He turns to Randall. "I'm trying to find someone who can deal with this."

Randall gives him a look. "You're right here."

"I have practice," Vince bites back, calling Gus. He listens to the ringing as he continues, "I don't have time to deal with her right now."

Gus doesn't pick up either and Vince nearly chucks his phone. Of course. And he can't call TJ because TJ would definitely come, upchucking the whole way to the school. He groans and looks down at Spinelli, shaking his head as he watches her rub more paint out of her eyes.

"Get up," he says to her. "Let's go."

"I already tried. She won't move," Randall says.

Vince shakes his head and leans over, grabbing her around the waist to lift her to her feet.

"Who the hell did this?" he asks.

"I don't know," Randall says. "I have my theories."

Vince glares at him. "Well spill it, Sherlock."

Randall glares back at him. "If you're just going to be nasty about it, I could have done this myself."

"I mean, you were already watching her like a creepy stalker, you didn't want to grab all the glory too?" Vince grumbles, under his breath but loud enough for Randall to hear.

The boy's cheeks flush red and Vince turns back to Spinelli, seeing the paint on her cheeks being diluted by tears. He glances at the clock on the back of the auditorium wall and shakes his head. He doesn't have time to deal with this and it is clouding his judgment. He also knows that he should feel sympathy, but all he feels is annoyance and frustration at the fact that this is going to cut into his practice. He is going to deal with the consequences of being late to help her if he stays to help.

He glances down at his phone, wishing one of his friends would suddenly call him back, but it doesn't ring. He stuffs it into the pocket of his gym shorts.

"Come on," he says, gesturing with his head and starting to lead her toward the hall. "Let's get you in the shower."

There is a back door to the boys' locker room, but he doesn't think there is one for the girls. He makes a quick assessment of the teams as he figures out his route back to the gym. Most of the teams will have already used the locker rooms. He had seen the track teams already in the halls doing hurdles. The hockey team practices at the town rink in the mornings. The girls basketball team has an away game they've already left the school for and his practice is the only one left to start. If he can sneak her in the back entry and into the single stall, hopefully no one will see her. She can grab a pair of gym clothes he knows TJ keeps in his locker and wait for him to finish practice. Or walk home herself.

He doesn't really care.

"Vince!"

When he stops to look at Randall, Spinelli stops too. The two kids both turn toward Randall, who pulls Vince off to the side.

"Look, I, uh, don't know what you and TJ and the rest know, but," Randall says, his eyes glancing over Vince's shoulder. He rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't see who did it, but my English class had to read Carrie over break for our assignment. Megan King is in my class and I promised Spinelli I wouldn't say anything, but those girls have been harassing her for a while. If I had to bet, I would bet on them for who did this."

Vince grinds his teeth and shakes his head. Of course, Spinelli got herself wrapped up in some nonsense drama with the Megans, girls who basically don't exist anymore in the general hierarchy. There's only one spot at the top for a group of popular girls and the Ashleys had firmly solidified themselves in that position.

"Wonderful," he says sarcastically.

He turns and walks back to Spinelli, leading her in silence toward the auditorium exit. He eyes her as they quickly make their way through the hallways. She has her head down, clearly embarrassed.

"So, what'd you do to piss them off?"

He is curious, but his tone comes out more accusatory.

"I don't know," she mumbles. He frowns at the lack of fire in her voice. She shrugs and adds, "I exist."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. It's such a typical Spinelli response to not take any blame or accountability for her actions. This is how it has always been. Perfect Princess Spinelli can never do anything wrong.

She lifts her hand and tucks a stand of hair behind her ear, the thick coating of paint making the action audible.

"They used to just ignore me at school," she says quietly. "I guess now that I quit ballet, they're getting bored."

He remembers what Randall had just told him and he tries to see any sort of telltale sign that she's exaggerating. Spinelli has always been known to overemphasize. She did have the whole playground believing her father was a member of the Mafia until they all found out he was just a cop in sixth grade.

But if anything, she looks nervous and maybe a bit resigned. Maybe there's more truth to Randall's snooping than Vince wants to delve into at the moment. What if his friends don't know either? He doesn't want to sit on this information. He already feels guilty enough for knowing she was having panic attacks long before she made it known to the group that she was having trouble. He doesn't want to know that there's more to the story. He doesn't have the time to help her right now more than he's already doing.

So instead of asking more questions, he just makes an acknowledging noise in the back of his throat.

The back entry to the boys locker room is open just as Vince suspected. He peeks his head in to hear if there's any commotion and is met with the sounds of his teammates talking as they get changed.

"I'll grab TJ's sweats and leave them by the stalled shower in the back for you," he says to her, glancing up at the clock tower for the time. "Give it about five, ten minutes and they'll all be out. You should be clear to go in without any interruptions."

He hands Spinelli his phone.

"I'm gonna go to practice. If anyone calls, I called them all trying to find you a ride," he says. "Maybe someone can come pick you up."

"Sure," she says.

He nods and turns to leave, but then looks over his shoulder before he leaves completely.

"You're okay, right?" he asks.

It is ridiculous to even ask. Spinelli is standing behind him, covered in red paint that is beginning to dry in her hair and stain her cheeks.

Any of their other friends would drop whatever they were doing to help her clean up, but he tells himself that it's not the same. He is going to go to college on a basketball scholarship and he can't skip practice. The rest of them are just doing hobbies or homework that they could do at any other time. It's not the same. She isn't his responsibility.

Spinelli shrugs at his question. "Yeah," she mumbles.

"Great," he says. "I have to get to practice."

She isn't his responsibility. He did his duty. But as he walks to practice, he can't shake the feeling that everyone is going to be mad at him for not putting her first. Because everyone puts Spinelli first. Shouldn't he also put Spinelli first, even ahead of himself? Shouldn't he be used to being second by now?

Well, he won't be second today. He just hopes he doesn't lose his friends in the process.

…

Notes

Recruitment for NCAA basketball is extremely competitive and very complex in that there are strict periods when players can be contacted, etc. I'm going to try my best, but I was not an NCAA athlete and have no good way of knowing what the process looked like in 2008-2010, which is when Vince would be getting recruited. Most of the material I can find online is for the modern recruitment schedule, which I'm assuming is similar. If there are any errors, I'm sorry.

The University of Arkansas Razorbacks have won one National Championship in 1994. When Vince starts listing teams he mentions UCLA, Kentucky, UNC, Duke, and Kansas. These are some of the winningest teams in NCAA tournament history. Kansas won the 2008 tournament, which would be why Vince would think of them first.

In a previous review, Blueroses0308 hit the nail on the head for how I was writing Vince. If you're still reading, I think you'll be satisfied with this upcoming arc.

Thanks for reading!