Fantasy Football Read online

  He brushed the back of his fingers down my cheek, which nearly made me buckle at the knees. His touch was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. To say it was magical would be cliché. But the fluttering in my stomach told me this was love.

  To deny his love would be foolish. He made me feel safe. He made me feel wanted. And more importantly, he made me feel beautiful. I could no longer wait for his lips to be pressed hard against mine. I needed him.

  “Your beauty leaves me breathless,” he whispered.

  “I’ve been waiting for this moment for eternity,” I said. We both closed our eyes and leaned in close to get a taste of each other. His lips finally met mine and my body nearly went limp. I was thankful he held me tight and close to his body, or I would have hit the sand harder than a corpse. I opened my eyes and smiled. “I love you, Trent.”

  “No!” I screeched, jolting myself awake. I slapped my hand over my racing heart. “What a sick nightmare.”

  The night’s events had played tricks on my subconscious no doubt. My night was plagued by Trent. From snapping photos of him at the football game, to my conversation with Nikki on our way home about his womanizing. And to say, I love you? Not happening. No one ever said it to me, so why should I express it? Especially to a troll.

  I wouldn’t know love if it slapped me in the face. Does true love actually exist? I was certain my parents loved each other, but I never heard them express the words to each other. In fact, neither one of them expressed the words to my sisters or me. Love is a powerful word. To love someone meant with all your heart and soul. It meant you would die for them.

  One thing was for certain; I would never die for Trent. I wouldn’t take a bullet for him, nor would I even sacrifice my last stick of gum for him. Hate is another strong word. I didn’t hate Trent, but I despised him and everything he stood for.

  Sunlight radiated through the window wells. I couldn’t believe it was already morning. The digital clock on the nightstand next to my bed read eight-twenty. I debated with myself to snooze fifteen minutes longer, but I had a busy weekend ahead of me. I had a house to clean, homework to conquer and two rolls of film to develop. It didn’t sound like much, but cleaning the house alone drained all my energy juices.

  It was only me, myself and I who cleaned the house. I had to vacuum carpets, polish furniture, and dust the hardwood floors that led to the basement. Plus, wash windows; wipe down the granite countertops with a special cleanser. And do the dishes, laundry, and scrub down all three bathrooms. In the end, all my muscles would ache, my feet would burn and I’d have to shower twice to wash away the sweat and grease.

  My life really wasn’t a Cinderella tale, although to many it would read that way. My mother wasn’t a wicked woman who condemned me to a life of slavery. Those were my chores for a weekly salary. It was my job.

  Emily and Mariah had mall jobs. When they both turned sixteen, they opted for a car. But they were responsible for insurance and gas; thus, they earned it at retail shops that started teens out at minimum wage. All I could say about that was…suckers!

  I had the house all to myself. When I clean, I’d crank the stereo throughout the house. Singing and dancing to my favorite tunes made cleaning more tolerable and somewhat enjoyable - except for the soreness that followed.

  Also when I cleaned, Mom would leave the house to grocery shop, get her nails and hair done, visit friends, and shop at home center stores. The woman came home with a new piece of furniture or painting just about every weekend.

  Since today was cleaning day, I adorned my body in a pair of torn jeans and a plain lime T-shirt. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and ditched the make-up. I felt naked without it, but no sense of wearing blush if it was going to melt away in a few hours.

  I strolled into the kitchen that overlooked the living room. It was a tad chilly upstairs. Both my sisters were sitting at the dining room table adjacent to the kitchen. Sunlight flooded in through the patio doors, and they were practically sunbathing in the warmth.

  “Did anyone check to see if Mom left the flue open last night?” I asked, rubbing my arms to erase the goose bumps.

  “If you sit over here you won’t be cold,” Mariah said, chomping on a bacon strip.

  “That’s not the point,” I huffed. “Never mind.” And she was the smart one?

  I sauntered over to the fireplace and reached my hand up to find the lever that opened the flue. Sure enough it was still open. I could feel a cold breeze cascading down the chimney. It was a chilly morning and I grinned at the mere thought of Emily and Mariah sitting in their frozen cars.

  “I made extra eggs if you’re interested,” Emily said when I returned to the kitchen.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed a plate from the cupboard and slid the eggs out of the frying pan onto my plate. “You two might want to warm up your cars before heading out.”

  It was a nice gesture on Emily’s part to extend extra helpings my way, so I thought it was only fair to return the generosity and forewarn them about the possible frost caked to their windshields.

  Mariah was wearing dark skinny jeans and a pink blouse for work. Her blond bangs were pulled back in the center of her head and secured by a long hair clip. She worked at Hollister, and without fail spent most of her paycheck on their clothes.

  Emily also wore street clothes to work. Her hip hugger jeans sported a few decorative patches. She wore a multi-colored plaid blouse with a white cami underneath. Her short brunette hair tapered at her jaw line.

  Emily worked at a place called Sunglass Hut. It was a store that sold only designer sunglasses. It strained my brain to know people actually dished out hundreds of dollars on something they were going to lose, sit on, or break. I bought my Foster Grants at Walgreens when it was buy one, get one free, and for less than twenty-five dollars.

  Mariah was a mini version of my dad, and Emily resembled my mother. I was a mutt. How I ended up with auburn hair and green eyes, I’ll never know. Was that the reason why my mother treated me differently? It was a ridiculous thought. The woman gave birth to me, so I was part of her bloodline. I didn’t understand it, and I wasn’t going to pursue any type of interrogation into her coldness. I knew it would be futile, only because she wasn’t much of a communicator.

  After my sisters left, I promptly attacked the house starting with the kitchen. I loaded the dishwasher and scrubbed the white porcelain sink. As I rinsed down the suds, my thoughts strayed to the dream I had about Trent.

  “Shake it off, Parker. You don’t like him. He’s scum.”

  Who did I like? There actually were a handful of guys I considered good-looking, and had character. Boyd Canton certainly was one of them. He had a great sense of humor, always laughing and cracking jokes in trig class. His big dark brown eyes were sincere, and his light brown hair was always chopped short. On non-game days when he didn’t need to don his football jersey, Boyd would dress in professional attire.

  Devin O’Grady. Now he was a tall hottie! His brown hair made his dark green eyes pop. It was a strange combo. But his father was Irish and his mother, Italian. He lived down the street and we used to be friends in grade school. His popularity grew with each new grade, while mine stayed stagnant. After the sixth grade, I didn’t have one single class with him all through junior or high school. And so our friendship slowly died, although occasionally I’d get the hello head bob in the hallways.

  Though I had the music blaring throughout the house speakers, I managed to hear my cell phone ring from the kitchen counter. I draped the dust cloth over the furniture polish and sprinted to the kitchen. My hands felt as though they had a layer of polish and grime on them, and they reeked. I had to use the tip of my fingernail to hit the speaker button.

  “Hey Nikki, what’s up?”

  “You must come over tonight, please, I’m begging you.”

  The sound in her voice was desperate, and it scared me. “What’s wrong? Do you need me to beat up your brother again?”

  Nikki’s four
teen-year-old brother Nathan was a hormonal brat. He used her laptop to download porn. He made sexist jokes and inappropriate comments. We were also nearly one hundred percent confident that he stole some of her underwear.

  Nathan used to be a cute boy. In the summer his blond hair would nearly turn white to

  showcase his sapphire colored eyes. And that kid would always have a deep dark tan from summer swims in their pool. He even used to bring out lemonade to Nikki and me when we sunbathed.

  This past summer, while Nikki and I were lying out in the sun after a brief dip, Nathan made a comment about my boobs. The little twerp needed to be taught a lesson. In order to cool him off, I wrapped my arms around his scrawny body and threw him in the deep end; despite his plead not to get his brand new White Sox baseball cap wet.

  First off, I was a Cubs fan. Second, if you’re going to wear an expensive ball cap near a pool and make derogatory remarks to a woman, rest assure you’re going down with no mercy.

  “No. Nathan is at a father-son retreat this weekend with Dad and their small group from church.”

  “Then what’s with the urgency?”

  “I just found out that Boyd works at Pete’s Pizza.” I tapped my foot and remained silent, waiting for Nikki to elaborate. “I was thinking of ordering pizza tonight, and that way he’d be delivering it to my house. Boyd…here…at my house.”

  “Wait, what about all that talk in wanting to be Trent’s homecoming queen?”

  “Screw Trent. After our talk, you really got me thinking about Boyd.”

  “I have so much homework, Nikki. Why do you need me there?”

  Nikki fell silent for a few beats. “You expect me to talk to Boyd all on my own?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “Parker, please. I can’t do it. Do your homework here and we’ll have pizza. My treat.”

  Gee, how could I possibly say no to free pizza? But if she needed me to do a Cyrano de

  Bergerac role on her behalf, I thought it would be appropriate to up the stakes. “Throw in

  a two liter of Dew.”

  “Done! Oh, thank you, thank you, and thank you!”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there around seven.”

  With trig and history books clutched in the crook of my arm, I braved the frosty fifty-degree chill and high winds, and trampled through broken twigs and crisp leaves between our yards. Nikki greeted me at the front door and I had to do a double take to assure myself it was truly her standing there.

  She was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and an adorable white-knit baby doll shirt that showed just the right amount of cleavage. Her necklace was made of turquoise with a brown pendant. A white headband pulled her hair back, and Nikki was wearing make-up. She rarely wore paint, except on her fingernails.

  I felt a bit underdressed in my worn out jeans and Supernatural T-shirt. At least I remembered to lather up, rinse, and repeat.

  “Nikki, you’re gorgeous.” And I truly mean it. “I guess I missed the memo that this was a dinner date.”

  Nikki giggled. “Do you think Boyd will take notice?”

  “Do you remember the cartoon where the wolf’s eyes bulged out and his tongue unraveled out of his mouth and it hits the floor at the sight of the pretty girl?” Nikki nodded. “Yeah, Boyd will be like that.”

  “We can set up in the dining room. I already ordered our pizza.”

  I followed Nikki into the dining room, which was to the left of the entryway. Her house was also a large brick ranch; only they had original everything from when the home was first built back in the late fifties. There was new dark hardwood flooring throughout the home, but all the original woodwork, kitchen cabinets, countertops and polka dotted wallpaper in the hallway bathroom were in desperate need of updating.

  “Where’s your mom?” I plopped my books down on the table and sat on the cushioned chair with one leg tucked under my butt.

  “Ladies night out with her sisters.”

  There was no remote to flip a stereo system on, so I came prepared by bringing my iPod. I poked one earplug in and kept my other ear free for conversation and the doorbell. For the next twenty minutes we concentrated on our assignments, without uttering one word. Well, maybe a few cuss words escaped through my lips when I realized I was working on the even problems, when we were assigned to solve the odd numbers. And since I hated to erase, because erasers left behind a tiny rubber mess, I started over on a fresh sheet of paper.

  The doorbell sounded and I glanced up at Nikki. Her eyes went wide with fright and I couldn’t help but laugh at the panic etched across her frozen face. “Breathe, Nikki.” I was concerned she would hyperventilate at any second.

  “Oh my god! What do I do now?”

  “You can start by opening the door so we can eat.”

  Nikki rose from her chair, bonking her head on the low hanging light fixture. I snickered at her clumsiness. The girl was obviously in need of assistance. I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door.

  “Should I open the door now?” Nikki’s voice squeaked.

  “Pretty please.” I stood off to the side and out of view. When I noticed Nikki frozen with fear again, I pulled the door open for her.

  “I have a medium sausage with Mountain Dew,” Boyd said. There was a few seconds of silence before he continued. “Nikki?”

  If only Nikki came equipped with a pull string to talk. I had to slap the back of her shoulder blade to wake her up. “Hi, Boyd,” she stuttered.

  Hallelujah, she can talk!

  “You look great! I barely recognized you.”

  There was a little bit of awkward silence so I whispered to her, “Thank you, you look great, too.”

  “Thank you, Boyd. You look pretty hot yourself.”

  The back of my head hit the wall. I was practically blown away by her unexpected and flirty comment, and wondered if she realized what just came spewing out of her mouth.

  “Um, thanks. That will be seventeen seventy-five.”

  Nikki held her arms out for the pizza box. She was reaching around her back to her jeans pocket. I saw the pizza box teetering in her trembling hands and intercepted the fumble before the box hit the floor.

  “Nice save, Parker,” Boyd laughed.

  “Thanks,” I said smiling. “Pay the man, Nikki.”

  “I didn’t know you lived up the street from Devin,” he said to Nikki. She handed him a twenty and told him to keep the change. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, and Parker lives right next door.”

  Boyd glanced over at me and I angled my head toward the direction of my house. “That’s cool to know.” Boyd stepped off the front step and tipped the front of his red Pete’s Pizza baseball cap up. “Have a nice night ladies.”

  Although it was nearly pitched black outside, I could see Boyd’s bright white teeth and dimpled smile when Nikki told him to be careful.

  Cool to know? How did Boyd not know Nikki and I lived up the street from Devin? Every summer since the seventh grade, Boyd, Trent and Willie would play football in Devin’s backyard. Nikki and I would climb her tall, winding water slide and scream at them prior to sliding down into the pool. We’d scream for them to save us, join us and other silly girl stuff. And I recall all of them staring and ignoring us.

  This summer was the only time we didn’t continue in that ritual. Mainly because I despised Trent, along with the fact all the guys attended a football camp downstate for a month.

  Boyd’s comment didn’t faze Nikki though, so I decided to let it be and closed the door with my hip, giving her an approving nod. “You did well, girl,” I said. “Started off a little shaky, but your dismount was a perfect ten.”

  “Did you see the way his eyes lingered on me?” Nikki asked, acting like an over-excited puppy. She snatched two plates from the cupboard and held them to her chest. “We need to order another pizza.”

  “Let’s eat this one first.” I laughed, forcing the plates out of her hands. I slapped a few slices on my plate. “We can order anothe
r one next weekend.”

  The entire time we ate our pizza, Nikki couldn’t stop babbling about Boyd. She was totally infatuated with his looks, his body, and the way he tipped his cap at her. It was cute, and annoying at the same time. It was only annoying because I wasn’t able to finish my homework with her carrying on like a giddy little schoolgirl.

  I spent Sunday afternoon locked up in the dungeon…that, being my bedroom. I did miss not having actual windows to stare out of during wicked thunderstorms, but it was a sacrifice I didn’t regret. My bedroom was pretty awesome. Each wall was painted in a different color. Black, purple, pink and yellow. My carpet was pink shag. An all-silver disco ball hung from the ceiling in the center of the room with different colored spotlights in each corner.

  No one ever came downstairs, except on Friday and Saturday nights when my sisters and I would entertain our friends. Sometimes we’d take turns at the pool table and movie room, and at times we all ganged together. That’s when the basement transformed into a teen nightclub. It was a blast and I wished my sisters and I did it more often. It was the only time we truly got along and laughed with each other, instead of at each other.

  It wasn’t until after dinner Sunday night that I was finally able to develop the film from the football game. I fed the film on the tabs and twisted the reel back and forth. With a lot of practice, I was able to do this process in complete darkness. When I was sure the film was in the lightproof tank, I flipped on the light switch.

  I should have developed the film on Saturday. It takes up to eight hours for the photos to dry. Come morning, I’d have to pray to the film gods that the photos wouldn’t have any chemical spots or watermarks. There would be no time to wash the photos again. I certainly didn’t look forward to tomorrow.

  Chapter 3

  The alarm screamed in my ear at six forty-five. I’d been in school for six weeks now and my body refused to adjust to the wee early hours. Back when I was in grade school classes, commenced at nine, and my body easily adapted. But in high school, the first bell rang at seven forty-five!