Chapter Seven
Jared
On my drive home from school, I feel more frustrated than ever. There is no way to win a girl like Juliet. I should toss in the rag and call it quits. Just keep staring at her from afar and hopefully, I eventually move on.
My cell rings from the cup holder in my truck. I pick it up and swipe my finger not really paying attention to whose name appeared on the screen. “Hello?”
“Jared. Where the hell are you?” Tyler asks.
“I had to be back home early. I told you that.”
“Oh right. Sorry man you had to get stuck with Rachel.”
I groan. “Yeah, that was not cool.”
“Did you get to talk to Juliet any?”
I snort. “Not exactly. What’s with all the questions?”
“Layla wanted to know. She’s rooting for you.”
“Tell your girlfriend I’m pretty sure her sister hates my guts.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t. Hey man, we on for Moe’s on Friday?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. Thanks for the help man.”
“No prob. Gotta bounce off of here. I just got home.”
“Awesome. Later, man.”
I pull right into my driveway. The blinds are open, the house is all lit. My father peeks through the wooden slates and I take a deep breath. I’m not an irresponsible kid. I’m not an asshole for the most part. When my parents say hey this is curfew, I follow. I’ve always managed straight A’s and to be the top of my game, but this right here. This watching and making sure I come home, probably so they can ambush me with questions-crap is getting old. I’m seventeen for goodness sakes. Lately, I feel like they don’t trust me at all.
I step into the house and start to make my way to the stairs. “Hold up a minute, Jared. We need to have a talk about your performance earlier,” my dad says.
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. He is the king of holding grudges or something. He won’t let anything go until he has the final word. I shift and take a seat on the end of the couch in the far corner of the living room away from his recliner chair.
“I need to know if there is something you want to tell me? Maybe you have a girlfriend in your life that is creating distractions. Do you have a problem with a teacher I need to know about? Everything you did was sloppy and wrong. So, where was your head?”
I rub my hands along my jean covered knees. “I was focused on the drills, Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t do as well today.”
“No.” He stares me down like he’s trying to pry and pull apart every section of my brain until he finds the answer he wants. “It’s a damn girl, isn’t it? How many times do I have to tell you, women are nothing but a distraction? Get through high school, serve your time at college, go into the NFL, and then pick any woman you want. Hit the damn goals we set first!”
The goals you set! I didn’t ask for this. He’s not going to stifle my chances with Juliet, even if I’m already doing splendid enough in that department. If I find a way to ask her out and she agrees he will not stop me from seeing her. Screw his plans.
“There aren’t any girls.” I am not about to inform him of the last time I even took a girl out. Let’s just say it wasn’t even a date. There was a whole lot of us and we equally paired out one girl for every guy. The girl I ended up with was named Trina. She had a habit of twirling her gum around her finger. That is really disgusting.
“Well, whatever it is you better get it the hell out of your head come tomorrow because you’re going to be doing double drills to make up for this cluster of a day.”
I nod. “Yes, sir.” I start to rise from my chair.
“Another thing, why did you get a C in Chemistry today? Something about some girl blowing up a project. Yeah, your teachers love to gab. If your partner can’t do the work I suggest you switch or do all of it before she screws up your average.”
I feel a burn spread across my face and coat my ears. Wonder what else my teachers like to talk about with my dad? Have any of them caught me staring at Juliet in class? I hope the hell not. I’d love to tell my dad that Juliet is the smartest person in our grade probably the whole school and our screw up today was possibly my fault. She didn’t know she was going to get stuck with me as a partner. Hell, just from the look on her face I could tell she obviously didn’t want to be partners let alone near me.
My dad waits in silence for my response, but I say nothing. What could I really say to this tyrant? “You’ve got it all wrong?” He’s never wrong. So, there is no point in arguing.
He grunts then says, “You’re excused. If you have homework get it done.”
I head upstairs in the sanctity of my room. I’m barely in there for five seconds before my door flies open and Justin comes barreling in. He hops on my bed while I slump at my desk. “What do you want?” I ask in an irritated tone.
“It’s the hot cheerleader, isn’t it? Rachel or whatever her name is. Her sister is a year older than me and she’s fine.”
I glare at my little brother. “Rachel Little is not as hot as everyone thinks she is. Why do you care so much?”
“It sucks when you bail. I get stuck dealing with Dad in super D-mode.”“When isn’t he?” I point out.
Justin shrugs and I turn away from him and crack open my trig book. “In any case, he asked me relentlessly if you had a girlfriend he didn’t know about,” he says.
I snort. “There isn’t any. Can we stop talking about this? I’ve got to get my homework finished.”
“You need to stop being Dad’s puppet. That’s all I’m saying.”
I swivel my chair and face him. “Kind of impossible to do anything when my life is practically mapped out every second of the damn day there, moron.”
He folds his arms. “Not impossible. I’ve got a date with Cindy Harper this weekend.”
“The hell you do!” I don’t even know this Cindy girl, but I call bullshit on his so-called date. Dad has us running drills and he’s got his library shit on Saturday. Some study group or whatever. So, there is no chance he’s doing anything he says.
The little shit grins at me. “I do. Why do you think I go to the library every Saturday?”
Wow. I’m impressed. That means my little brother has more dates than I do. He’s also figured out a sly loophole to dad’s regimen. The sneaky bastard.
I turn away from him and continue to mull over my trig. “Well, good for you. You can leave now.”
“Oh no. I know this game.” I glance over at him as he hops off my bed, picks up one of my yearbooks and begins leafing through it.
I shut my eyes and then shake my head. “You won’t let this go, will you?” I ask.
“Twenty bucks and I might.”
I glare at him. “Piss off.”
“Hey, movie tickets and mall dates have been adding up.”
“Well, don’t look at me to help you out.”
I turn back to my homework and start working through my problems. Justin reads off names. “Audrey Albright. Nope. Hmmm. Sarah Fisher. Nope. Dude, come on, no reaction. Really? She’s cute.”
But her voice is shrilly. And Audrey is nice but I’m not into her.
My brother keeps naming off names and just when I think he’s about to give up he says, “Juliet Valentine. Ouuu or Layla Valentine. Holy shit they’re hot twins. Oh! Yes! Which one is it or is it both?”
“Get out.”
“Not until you tell me.”
I’m not telling him anything no matter how much he pesters. He’s about two seconds away from me personally tossing him from my room.
“Fine, I’ll just call them. Their mom’s face is all over town with signs that say Love is just a phone call away.”
I drop my pencil and growl. “I’m not going to tell you. Get the hell out of my room.”
“Testy.”
I shoot him a look that lets him know I’m not playing around. “Fine. I’m leaving but I’m also going to give you some advice.”
“What could you possibly tell me oh wise one,” I pop off.
“Ask her out.”
He sounds exactly like Tyler. Which kind of annoys me.
“I would but there are a few problems with that. One she doesn’t date football players.” His mouth falls open. “Long story. The second problem, I don’t have a lot of time, and she deserves someone who does.” Because how shitty would it be if I said in the middle of our date, “Sorry, babe. We have to cut this short because I have a curfew.” No girl will be down with that.
He shakes his head at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Dude, you’re supposed to be my big bro. I’m supposed to be learning from you, not the other way around. You can make time. I do. Nothing is stopping you but you.”
Who is this person in front of me? “What are you talking about?”
He slaps my yearbook shut and leans forward on his elbows. I swivel back to my homework and ignore my eighth-grade brother.
While I’m working my way through a set of problems my brother asks, “When are you going to ask her out?”
“Ask who out?”
“Jeez man, the girl you like. When are you going to ask her out?”
“Didn’t I tell you to leave? And none of your dang business. Buzz off.”
He grumbles. “Jare, don’t be such a dork.”
I grab my soft palm size stuffed football and launch it right at his face. He catches it before it smacks him in the mouth and laughs. “Gotta do better than that.”
“I’ve got work to do. Get out.”
“Lame.” He finally leaves and I’m stuck wondering about his words. Is it possible to have a relationship, keep up with my grades, and still be the football puppet my dad wants me to be?