Page 61 of Romance Languages

“Cool,” I said.

“Chase was the best of the bunch. I still don’t know how that happened,” Everett said. “But we’re proud of you, Chasey.” He rubbed Chase’s head, blond hair going everywhere.

“It’s quite simple. Throwing any object is merely about calculating its velocity and parabola of trajectory. Skill is secondary. But for the sake of this discussion, I easily whooped all your asses.” Chase fixed his glasses, smiling in victory.

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Hutch found a gift card he’d won in the Christmas party raffle that expired that night. We had to use it or we’d lose it,” Amos explained. “I texted you, but you didn’t answer. Too ensconced in the ashes of Must See TV.”

Amos had texted while I was at the batting cage, but I’d promptly silenced my phone. I was paranoid my friends would be able to see where I was. Still, axe throwing sounded fun.

“You didn’t even text me back, which isn’t like you,” Amos said. He crinkled his brow. Wheels were turning in his head.

“I was just really tired,” I said, another twist in my gut.

“Everyone, shush.” Everett fanned his hands to halt our conversation. “The pep rally is starting.”

Everett used to hate pep rallies like they were his mortal enemy. He used to hate anything related to sports. Until he started dating South Rock’s football coach.

The bleachers erupted in cheers as the basketball players jogged onto the stage erected at half court, Raleigh following behind them.

“Why is Raleigh up there? He doesn’t coach basketball,” I said.

“Because he gives good pep,” Everett said, swoony eyes fixated on his boyfriend.

Raleigh strode up to the microphone. Some people would rather boil in a vat of oil than have to speak in public. Raleigh was not one of those people. Come to think of it, neither was Everett. They really were a perfect match.

“What’s up South Rock High? Make some noise!” Raleigh commanded.

Everett yelled and clapped so loud I thought I went deaf in one ear.

“Hey, guys, remember when Everett hated these things?” Amos asked.

“I never hated pep rallies. I simply misjudged their entertainment value.”

“Is that a euphemism for playing with Raleigh’s graphing calculator?” Chase asked. We’d developed a code language to talk about sex in school so as not to scandalize the students. But frankly, this wasn’t the Enigma. Most teenagers could probably decipher what we were saying.

“Chase, I can’t reach. Can you smack your head for me?” Everett zinged.

“Coach Robolard is out sick today, so I’m here to get you pumpcited. Pumped and excited. Our South Rock basketball team is headed to the regional playoffs this week. They’ve had an amazing season.”

“Yeah they have!” Everett yelled out.

Chase, Amos, and I traded a look. It was official. Raleigh’s dick had possessed our friend and was slowly turning him into a jock.

“Everett, if you start calling any of us ‘bro,’ that’s grounds for ex-communication,” Amos said.

“Now we’re in the crunch time.” Raleigh paced on stage, holding the school in the palm of his hand. I wondered if Everett gave him tips to up his stage presence. “Our guys are facing the toughest games of their basketball career. Against North Point High.”

The crowd erupted in boos, Everett the loudest of them all.

“North Point sucks!” Everett shouted.

“Everett!” I whisper-yelled. “We’re not supposed to encourage bad sportsmanship.”

“I didn’t say they sucked ass,” he shot back, as if that made a difference.

“This is the first time in four years that South Rock has made it to the playoffs. It’s been a long haul, but our men have worked incredibly hard. They’ve logged the man-hours, the grit, the sweat. We could be looking at state champions,” Raleigh said, Everett mouthing along.

The bleachers went wild, and it swept me up, too. I whooped and hollered, throwing up a fist. I supposed I was part jock, too. I wanted South Rock to kick ass just like everyone else. Our students worked hard; they deserved to taste victory.

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