seP•A•RAte: v. to force apart
I park at the quickie mart next door to Fat Jacks and then walk down the alley behind the restaurant. My plan is to hide out there until Duke and his friends arrive and then sit beneath whatever window their table is closest to. With advanced hearing, I should be able to listen through the window without having to read their lips.
The problem is, Duke never shows up. I stand, my back to a stinky Dumpster, looking around the corner for a good fifteen minutes. The smell emanating from the large bin is assaulting all my senses and making me gag every two minutes.
I decide to take my place under the window because three other guys are there, Ray being one of them. I sit against the wall, so to anyone driving by or walking up to the restaurant it looks like I’m just waiting for someone. If that someone ends up being Duke, I hope he’s not too mad. The guys are talking about some assignment for Biology. For a while I think this is a waste of time, but then Ray says, “Where’s Duke?”
“He had something with his parents tonight. He couldn’t come.”
I put a palm to my forehead. I am an idiot. An idiot who is spying on my perfect boyfriend over nothing. I move to stand up when Ray continues, “We’re playing Jefferson High tomorrow. We need a game plan. I’ve had my eye on this guy all season. He’s the last one standing between me and the ‘most yards rushed in a season’ record. He needs to go down.”
“I sense some knee trouble,” one of the other guys says.
“I was thinking shoulder, like that kid from Dallas.”
“No, save the shoulders for the quarterbacks; this guy relies more on his legs,” Ray says.
“Duke’s still in, right? We can’t do it without him.”
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
They all laugh at this point, just like evil villains in books. My mind is stuck on ‘that kid from Dallas’ they mentioned. A quarterback. Was it possible they were referring to Trevor? Duke had asked him about his shoulder that night. What is going on? I need to talk to Duke. I need answers.
The laughter stops, and I strain to hear, but the normal voices of before have turned to quiet mutters. I move to my knees and inch toward the window, raising my head slowly until I can see inside. The guys are huddled around a table, watching Ray draw something on a piece of paper. Probably their plans to take some poor guy down.
Now is a good time to leave, while they’re distracted. I stand, put the hood of my hoodie up, and walk through the parking lot toward the quickie mart. The bells on the door behind me ring, and I take a quick glance over my shoulder. It’s just a couple going inside. I let out a breath of air and turn back around, finishing my walk to the car.
On the drive over to Duke’s, I feel terrible. What is wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just trust Duke? He had been exactly where he said he was going to be tonight. And I’m sure he’ll have an explanation for what I just overheard. He’d better have an explanation for what I just heard.
At Duke’s, I watch him and his parents pull into the garage from where I parked several houses down the street. I don’t want his parents to see me. It’s a school night, and I’m sure his dad will want him to go straight to bed and rest up for the game tomorrow. From where I’m parked, I can also see Bobby’s house, across the street from Duke’s, and as I give Duke ten minutes to get inside and up into his room, Bobby drives up.
I grit my teeth as he walks inside. I pick up my cell phone from the center console. When I see Duke’s light go on in his bedroom, I dial his number. It rings twice before he answers, “Hey, girlfriend.”
“Hi. I need to talk to you about something that happened tonight. Can you come see me?” I have a conspiratorial smile on my face as I get ready to tell him I’m right outside. He’ll be surprised.
“Man, I wish I could, believe me I do, I’m so bored. But I think this party is going to last all night. The old people are rockin’ out.”
My smile freezes in place. A new set of headlights coming down the street blinds me for a moment. But when the car parks in front of Duke’s house and the headlights dim, I wish they had blinded me for longer, because I can now see it’s Laila’s truck.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, though, right?” Duke’s voice in my ear reminds me I’m still on the phone. “Can we talk then?”
Laila steps out of the car, her long legs glowing in the streetlight. I pray for her to walk across the street to Bobby’s house. But she doesn’t. She bends over to check herself out in her side mirror, fluffs her hair, and then walks the path to Duke’s front door.
“Addie? Are you still there?” Duke asks. “We can talk tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.” I don’t know how I manage to choke out any words, but I do. “Sure.”
Laila reaches over and rings the doorbell.
“I have to go, girlfriend. Sleep good.”
“Bye.” I hang up and stare at my phone as if it were the one who betrayed me and not my best friend. I want to start the car and drive away, but apparently I’m a fan of self-torture, because I force myself to watch Duke answer the door, hug Laila, and then take her inside.