Page 61 of The Alternate Captain
“Say something,” he says down the line, and a prickle of tension runs through me, straight to my stomach. An actual date with Johnny? Where we have to... be on a date? Or pretend to be on a date.
“I didn’t realise she was seeing anyone,” I say, trying to sound breezy. “Did she tell you her name?”
Johnny scoffs, “I don’t know any more than what I’ve told you.” Typical. “I told her we’re free tomorrow evening, since I remembered you’re not scheduled to work...”
This sends me into a frenzy. Because pretending to be my boyfriend to get me out of a shitty situation is one thing, doing it twice is a step beyond, but accepting a double date—this is wild. I want to ask him why he didn’t tell Charlotte we’d broken up, but my heart is screaming at me to accept my fate and shut the hell up. But I try not to sound overly keen.
“Well, I guess we can go. But I can’t promise I’ll be in a good mood.”
Three times this weekend, Darren has called me to find out when we can meet, and since I couldn’t think of any other excuse, I agreed to meet him after my last lecture on Monday in the campus library. I tell Johnny and he says that he’ll also be in the library tomorrow.
“And I know you said something about mentioning to him that we ‘broke up,’ but do what you need to do to keep him where you need him to be,” he says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks, Johnny. So, how are things going there? I guess you’re on the road now?”
I hear him take a sharp intake of breath. “I had this argument with my sister, that’s all. About my dad coming to visit. He’s got his new girlfriend and apparently, she’s keen to meet us both, so he’s flying her over to have dinner. And he’ll probably want to check out a game or whatever. My sister isn’t overly excited about it, and she said I was taking sides and then started crying and it was awful. I ended up yelling at her and it all turned to shit.”
As I listen to him, I can hear the sorrow in his voice. A rare show of Johnny’s emotions swims down the phone line, and all I can do is listen.
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” I ask.
“Hopefully. I mean, I guess we’re not overly different in that respect. We get on with things.”
“When people hurt, they push away the people nearest to them,” I say.
It sounded better in my head, but Johnny seems relieved to hear it.
“Are you sure you’re only eighteen because—”
“Uh, no. I’m nineteen now. I had mybirthday in July.”
“Shit. I’m sorry I missed that,” he says, and my heart thumps in my chest. Would he even care about a birthday? Most guys don’t. “I’ll—shit. I gotta go. But I’ll pick you up for the date? Text me the plan.”
I hear someone calling his name in the distance, and then he’s gone.
Another terrible night’s sleep,thanks to the draughty window from hell, and some horrible one-on-one time in the library with Darren has me simmering on pissed off. But by the time I’m getting ready to meet Johnny for our fake double date, I’m in such a bad mood, I need to get myself a pre-drink.
“How did it go today?” Tom asks when I enter the kitchen.
“Terrible. He’s given me the most basic of basic scores to play. It’s something that a child could have written on one of those tiny xylophones.” Tom sucks a breath in through his teeth while he watches me pour a large gin into a glass. “Six notes. He’s given me a grand total of six notes to play.”
“Really?”
I tip some lemonade in with my gin, since we’re out of tonic, then I indicate for Tom to follow me to my room, where I dig out the score and hand it over.
“He’s supposed to be presenting it Friday. I told him he can’t.”
Tom flicks through the pages. “Yeah, this is embarrassing. I’d let him, Kel. It’ll only show to Patrick that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Maybe you’ll get assigned a new partner.”
“I live in hope. I guess I’ll see what happens. Oh, and Darren told me that Lydia broke up with him.”
I take a gulp of my drink, setting it down on my side table so I can root through my wardrobe for somethingto wear. I’ve already got my hair fixed, so I pick a dress that doesn’t involve any over-head action and I make sure Tom is engrossed in the score before slipping into it.
“Can you zip me up?” I ask, moving to where he’s sitting on the bed.
