Page 13 of Sexting the Coach
After that, we came up with the plan that I would just avoid and deny—if Wolfe tried to come near me, I’d avoid him. And if he brought up the text, I’d act like I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
Except I’m a terrible liar. And also, apparently, terrible about subtle avoidance.
Now, I sit cross-legged on my bed, Mabel across from me, our knees touching, as Mabel’s phone rings Hattie between us.
“Hey-ay,” Hattie says, in the way that she always answers the phone. I don’t know whether to burst out laughing or crying. “What’s up? How is camp?”
“We have a def-con one,” Mabel says, voice deadly serious, and Hattie laughs.
“Wait, is def-con one the bad one? I can never remember which way the scale goes?—”
“Five is the bad one, Hats,” Mabel says, rolling her eyes and throwing some of her hair over her shoulder. “Elsie sexted the coach.”
Hattie is quiet for a long moment, and Mabel and I stare at the little picture of the three of us in Cape Cod for a second, the static from the other side doing nothing to show her reaction.
Then, finally, a squeal, “You didwhat?”
“Not on purpose!”
“Oh mygod,those stupid text drafts!” I can hear her standing up, getting ready to march around our apartment, her righteous indignation finally finding a place after all these years. “Itoldyou those were a bad idea! Elsie, what are you going todo?”
“I don’tknow,” I practically wail, grabbing a pillow and flattening it into my face. I already feel like I can’t breathe—might as well suffocate to death.
Mabel grabs the pillow and throws it over to her bed, scowling down at the phone. “That’s kind of why we called you.”
“What—me? Mabel, you’re the one who’s good in a crisis.”
“We already tried my way,” Mabel says, shrugging. “And Elsie isnotgood at playing it cool.”
“Duh,” Hattie says, sounding, at least a little bit, like she’s calmed down. “I could have told you that.”
“Oh,please,” I fire back, sitting up slightly, feeling a little less sorry for myself. “As if you would have done a better job, considering the position I’m in.”
“Andwhogot you in that position?” Hattie asks, her voice practically singing withI-told-you-sothrough the phone. “You never should have drafted those texts, Elsie.”
“Guys,” Mabel says, putting her hand out to both me and the phone, as though Hattie can see the gesture. “This is not the time to fight. This is the time to bring the council together to figure out what Elsie should do.”
“What do you mean?” Hattie asks, her voice rising. “Donothing.Don’tsend any more texts—and don’t draft anymore either. Stop acting weird.”
“We already tried that,” I say, ruefully.
“I know,” Mabel says, and when she smiles, I recognize it as her mischievous smile, the one that means she’s going to do something I won’t—and Hattie especially isn’t going to—like. “Which is why I’m saying, go for it.”
“Wha-at?” Hattie screeches, at the same time I say, “Noway, Mab, that’s crazy.”
“She shouldnotgo for it,” Hattie says, winning out and talking over me. “At most, Elsie should either deny that she sent it, thank him for not turning her over to HR, ormaybeboth.”
“Who says I want to go for it anyway?”
Mabel grins, “What’s the point of the drafted texts? All the things you wish you could say, but didn’t?”
My face flushes hot, and I feel it all the way at the tips of my ears, “Okay, but that doesn’t mean that I actually want todoit?—”
“Okay, I’m not even there and I know you’re lying,” Hattie says. “But you shouldnot. No matter how persuasive Mabel is being.”
“I’m just saying,” Mabel says, her deep voice practically dancing. “That based on that tug-of-war scene, it’s pretty obvious Wolfe wants you, too. What could be the harm in just—getting it out of your system?”
“Losing her job!” Hattie calls, “Losing her job, losing her credibility. Her dad would bepissed. Uh, he’s like—waytoo old for you, and not in a hot way?—”
