August unofficially dies after a few days of lazing around the house. Sebastian creates a comfortable dent in the living room sofa and mindlessly flips through TV shows while his parents come and go. Lily makes Sebastian help in the garden or bake cookies, anything to spend extra time with him. Oliver pats Sebastian’s shoulder, talks about the trades going on in the Premier League, and catches him up on the things he missed while at camp.
Carly calls him a bum and shoves his legs off the couch to make room for herself. She always scrubs a hand through his hair before stealing the remote. Tonight, the Food Network drones. Carly asks, “All right, pup?”
Sebastian shrugs.
“How is counseling going?”
Sebastian blinks, then says, “Pretty good.”
After the Carl incident and Coach’s speech, Sebastian knew it was time to talk to his parents. Maybe not about everything, but some of his ghosts. It wasn’t easy. When is telling your parents about your insecurities easy? But they were patient, understanding; that helped. Carly’s calls helped. And the counseling helps, too.
“It’s good. Real good,” he repeats.
“Anything else?”
During their phone calls, Sebastian’s considered telling her about being bi, about Emir, about totally freaking out over graduation and the foreseeable end of all his happiness. Carly isn’t brilliant with advice, but she’s levelheaded. Then, too, she’ll call Sebastian a dumbass in the most loveable way. They’ve always been close.
“Last year of school,” he says with a grunt, and she nods knowingly.
Carly passes him the bowl of popcorn and the remote. “Is that it?”
Sebastian hesitates. His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he doesn’t answer. It’ll be Mason or Willie. Carly stares at him with soft eyes and a crooked smile like their dad’s. Sebastian’s breaths stutter. Since he got home, he’s been walking around like a zombie from Warm Bodies, and now he’s finally awake.
“Is this about a boy?” Carly says it as though it’s nothing, as though she’s been waiting.
And Sebastian just shudders and nods.
Carly nods too. She squeezes the bottom of his foot and grabs a handful of popcorn with her other hand. “Yeah, that sucks,” she says, turning back to the TV. “If you ever want to talk, you know. Call me, pup.”
She leaves it at that. No lectures, no scary sister stink-eye for being bi, or for being a total idiot about a boy who hasn’t called or texted since camp ended. Emir doesn’t even have Sebastian’s cell number. He never asked, and Sebastian never gave.
“Do Mom and Dad—?” Sebastian stops, barely able to get a word out.
“Nope. But let me know when you’re gonna tell them.” Carly angles her head, exposing her devious expression. “I want to record and post it on Snapchat.”
Sebastian tosses a throw pillow at her head. He slouches, feet propped on the coffee table, and pretends he’s not thinking about Emir.
It’s all he thinks about.
* * *
On the first Monday of school, Willie has his surgery. Sebastian’s last class is an elective course. His teacher, an elderly gym instructor, doesn’t bother with roll call, so he ditches to hop into Hunter’s beat-up Honda Accord. They burn down the freeway toward the hospital, jamming to Hunter’s random playlists.
Hunter wears a shaky smile; he’s too shy to admit he’s wound up over how Willie’s doing. Sebastian feels the same way. But he cracks jokes and Hunter laughs. His hands beat on the dashboard to the Fugees track Hunter’s iPod cranks out.
“Nice selection, bro,” he says, awed.
Hunter’s fingers eventually relax on the steering wheel, creating a weird butterfly effect on Sebastian until he’s mellow, too. Why haven’t he and Hunter hung out before now?
“Mind if I go in first?”
They’re in the main lobby, with their backs to the grumpy desk nurse who gave them shit about not being “immediate family.” Hunter’s a charmer when it comes to adults. And Sebastian, in his Bloomington track suit, can pull off a great Boy Scout smile.
“Nope.” He smacks Hunter’s arm, jostling him but earning a grin. “He’s all yours.”
Hunter’s skin is slightly darker thanks to summer, but the faint blush blossoming on his cheeks stands out. “Okay,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I won’t be long.”
Sebastian wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, says, “Take your time,” and gets reprimanded by the nurse for laughing too loudly when Hunter trips while getting away.
Comfy pumpkin-orange chairs are parked in one corner of the waiting room. Sebastian kicks his feet up on a table cluttered with boring celeb magazines. He pulls his laptop and headphones from his backpack and watches YouTube videos.
According to a very timid confession in the elevator, Hunter and Willie are boyfriends now. Sebastian can’t hide his pride.
Willie’s happy coasting on a wave through life. His self-confidence shows in the way he ignores anyone who gives him a sideways glare for being a too-blond white kid dating a very cute black guy. Willie doesn’t give a shit. He has a middle finger for anyone demanding that he do it their way. Maybe he can tutor Sebastian on how to be a boss like that?
“He’s ready to see you,” Hunter says. He’s mashing a text on his cell, eyebrows scrunched. He pockets his phone. “Sorry. My parents don’t know everything about Willie yet.”
“Ah.”
“I’m gonna tell them,” Hunter says quickly.
Sebastian holds his hands up, eyebrows raised. “It’s cool.” Actually, it’s a relief that he’s not the only one carrying secrets around. Sebastian stands and packs up his things. “I’ll keep it short and sweet,” he says, patting Hunter’s shoulder.
Hunter sags, but grins. He grabs Sebastian’s elbow before he can get too far. “Listen,” he says, serious. “I have some classes with Emir, and…” Hunter’s stalling. “I know what it’s like to fall for someone, and it’s all confusing.”
Sebastian deflates. Did Willie tell Hunter about his crush on Sebastian? Is this something else? Maybe Hunter’s always waited around for Willie to notice him.
Hunter’s phone buzzes, and Sebastian’s heart beats to its noisiness. He says, “I don’t know what it’s like, Hunter, being in love.”
“You know it’s not easy to figure out, right? It’s not overnight. And it doesn’t happen just because you’ve been with someone for years. It’s just this feeling. I don’t think love knows how it works.” Hunter’s thumb rubs the crook of Sebastian’s elbow.
“What is it, then?”
Hunter’s eyes brighten. “If you’re watching Scooby Doo and think of someone because it’s their favorite cartoon. If you’re allergic to flour but still eat someone’s burnt pancakes. Or if you hate the color green but you wear it because it reminds you of a person’s eyes just before you kiss them—well, it might be love.”
Sebastian smiles helplessly. Is Hunter even a seventeen-year-old?
“And if you ever tell Will about this, I’m gonna use your testicles for keepie-uppies practice,” warns Hunter. He gives Sebastian’s arm a friendly squeeze.
“Got it.”
Sebastian walks away with one thought: Willie and Hunter are perfect for each other.
* * *
“Well, this captain thing suits you pretty well,” Zach says after another grueling practice.
Sebastian can barely keep his eyes open. “You think so?”
Zach collapses next to Sebastian in the penalty box and hands him a water before cracking open his own.
Sebastian drags the bottle across his face. The relief that comes from cold condensation mixing with sticky sweat is great.
“You’re certainly making an impression,” says Zach. “Rollins has a man-crush on you.”
Sebastian practically chokes on his first gulp of water. “He does not!” He hopes Rollins doesn’t. Rollins is a freshman, and all over the place when it comes time to hold a conversation.
Zach shrugs. “Maybe not.” He sips more water, then says, “Either way, we’re looking good.”
And they are. It’s their final practice before Friday’s big game and, though it’s three weeks into the school year, the team’s acing everything Coach Patrick throws at them. The defense still has a few holes—their wing-backs have opportunities—but nothing Sebastian can’t live with. Their synergy is on point.
“We’re passable,” Sebastian says, dryly. Zach shoves him. Sebastian tips, catches himself with an elbow, and then laughs.
“Check this guy out,” says Zach, nodding toward the sidelines where Willie, on crutches, practiced scowl and all, is reaming out the offense. “He’s recovering nicely.”
Sebastian’s certain that’s mostly because of Hunter. But also it’s because Coach has been encouraging Willie’s involvement from the sidelines. He’s not letting Willie drown in self-pity, not the way he did those first few days. They call it post-operative depression, and Willie had it bad. He shut down, closed off the world, and wouldn’t look Sebastian in the eye when he visited.
Now he’s back, and all the coaches treat him like he’s part of the staff instead of a player riding the bench. It’s obvious the team respects him. And he’s got this coaching thing down.
“It better not go to his head.”
“It will.” Suppressing a chuckle, Sebastian shakes up his water. Mason’s going to be the first one to burst Willie’s bubble. Sebastian’s looking forward to it.
“Dude.” Zach nudges Sebastian with an elbow. “Emir is a beast.”
Sebastian crosses his ankles and lays his hands in his lap. He whispers, “Yeah.”
Emir has become a monster on the pitch. He’s every attacker’s, including Mason’s, worst nightmare. He outruns everyone and has a good read on a player’s next move. He protects the penalty box as if it’s his, as if he’s determined to keep people away from Sebastian. It’d be flattering, but they’re still not talking.
Zach knocks their shoulders. “They’re crediting you for his turnaround. Mad respect, Bastian.”
Sebastian lifts his eyebrows. Did he do anything for Emir? These days, all he does is give Emir a thumbs-up every time he makes a good play on the pitch. Sebastian’s a coward. He should be shouting “I love you” as a good ‘80s movie demands. Sebastian is no Jake Ryan.
Even now, Sebastian’s got it bad, staring at Emir in his practice uniform while Emir leans on Hunter or talks with Gio. His eyes scan Emir’s toned calves, his narrow waist, his broad shoulders, and that skinny, long neck.
What a lovesick loser! All he has to do is stop being so sulky and say all of this to Emir. He finishes his water.
“We’ve got this in the bag, man,” says Zach, offering Sebastian a fist bump. He reciprocates and focuses on what’s ahead.
The Spartans are dust.