I’m completely exhausted when I wake up the next morning, but I couldn’t be happier. Coach can make us do drills for twelve hours straight, and nothing will take away the thrill of meeting Clarissa.

I lay in bed for way too long, reliving our perfect first date together. I can still feel her lips, taste her lip gloss, and remember the smell of her when I held her close to me.

This is the start of something amazing. I can feel it.

Mom’s made scrambled eggs this morning, and I scarf them down quickly and then give her a hug, which seems to surprise her. But I can’t help myself, I am in a fantastic mood.

At school, I take the first parking spot I find, and then I rush into the building. I should have thought ahead and asked Clarissa if I could drive her to school. She lives just a few blocks down from me, so it would be no trouble at all, and it’d mean I get to spend even more time with her.

But for now, my mission will be seeing if she’ll let me eat lunch with her and her friends. It dawns on me that I haven’t even told the guys that I’ve got a new girl yet. Oh well, they don’t need to know. They’d only make crass comments like they do with every girl I date. For now, this epic new beginning with the girl of my dreams is just between us. And I like it.

Clarissa isn’t in her desk when I get to homeroom. I keep my eyes on the door, waiting for her to come inside, but soon the bell rings and she’s still missing.

I take out my phone to text her but the teacher clears her throat. “No phones in class.”

With a groan, I slide my phone back in my pocket. The announcements come on, and I’m still glancing at the door, wondering if she’s just late.

And then the teacher’s office phone rings. “Mr. Voss?” she says, catching me off guard. “You’re wanted in the office.”

I grab my bag and notice TJ glaring at me as I walk past him. He’s an idiot, though. If they’d actually caught us, they’d be calling him too. Who knows what this is about.

The office secretary tells me to head down to Principal Walsh’s office. My heartbeat picks up pace because usually a visit to the principal is not a good thing.

My heart nearly stops when I enter the room and see Clarissa sitting there as well. Relief pours over me once I know she’s here at school and not home sick, or worse—avoiding me. She looks surprised when she sees me, but then her lips tip into a sheepish smile. I wink at her.

“Have a seat,” Principal Walsh says, pointing to the chair next to Clarissa. To her, he says, “It looks like Linda isn’t in town. She’s asked me to relay the information to you and you make the final call.”

“Okay,” Clarissa says, her voice sounding a little choked. She looks over at me.

I have no idea who Linda is, or why the two of us are called into the principal’s office. It’s not like making out on a girl’s porch is against school rules. It has nothing to do with the school.

Principal Walsh laces his fingers together on top of his desk, and he focuses his gaze on me. “Gavin, you’re a member of the junior’s soccer team?”

“Yes.” I’m barely able to hear myself talk over the sound of my own heart. Please, God, don’t let this be what I think it is. Not here. Not in front of Clarissa.

The principal clears his throat. “I know it was you, Gavin. You destroyed the greenhouse.”

Silence pierces through the room. I glance over at Clarissa, but she’s staring straight ahead, unmoving, and her jaw set.

“I don’t understand,” I begin, trying like crazy to think up a good excuse. A reason, an explanation. She can’t hear this. Not here, not now. Not this way.

“I think you do understand, Mr. Voss. We have video evidence that two soccer players wearing the hoodie that only the junior team has are the culprits in this vandalism case. After tireless inquiries, we have discovered that every other member of the team has an alibi for where they were that night. Everyone except you.”

“You didn’t even ask me for an alibi!” I say, suddenly feeling so left in the dark. They’ve been questioning my teammates this whole time and no one told me? What about TJ? He shouldn’t have an alibi.

“We also received three anonymous tips that name you as the culprit. One even said you were heard bragging about giving your extra hoodie to a friend to wear that night.”

My mouth falls open. Of all the truth in this, that I did the vandalism, this is covered in lies.

Clarissa still hasn’t said a word. I don’t even think she’s moved.

“There is no point in denying it, Mr. Voss. I measured the height of the one remaining wall of that greenhouse. Six foot six inches. On the video, you can be seen standing right next to it. You are the only member of the soccer team who is nearly that height.” His voice gets higher with each word he says. “Are you really going to sit here and deny something that we both know is true?”

Fear crashes into me. I am not afraid of the principal or the soccer coach. But I am afraid of one thing.

“Please don’t tell my parents.” My hands shake with the mere thought of what my dad would do if he knew. “Please—I—my dad, he can’t find out. I’ll do anything.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of the consequences when you were committing the vandalism, Mr. Voss. You are still a minor, and alerting your parents is the next thing on my list.”

“Please don’t!” I’m begging. Crumbling in front of the girl I care about. I take a deep breath. “I’ll do anything. I can pay to have it fixed. I’ll do community service. Anything, please. You can’t tell them. Or tell my mom if you have to, but not my dad. Please, sir.”

Principal Walsh gives me a curious look.

For the first time since I got here, Clarissa speaks up. “Don’t tell his parents,” she says, her voice sounding resigned.

I look over gratefully at her, pleading with my eyes for her to forgive me. She looks away.

“Very well,” Principal Walsh says with a heavy sigh. “I won’t tell your parents at this moment. However, you will pay for the cost of rebuilding the greenhouse.”

“Yes,” I say. “Of course.”

He goes on, “You will help Mrs. Vale rebuild the greenhouse.”

“I’ll be happy to.”

She scowls.

Principal Walsh continues, “And you are kicked off the soccer team.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Soccer has been my one constant since I was five years old. It’s where my heart is. Where my friends are. It’s the sole source of every friendship I have, both on the team and off it. I am a soccer player. That’s who I am.

But the other option is impossible. I lower my head and swallow the lump in my throat. “Yes, sir.”

“If you make good on your promise to fix the greenhouse, then I see no reason why your parents will need to be contacted. However, should they inquire about why you’re off the team—”

“They won’t,” I say, trying not to snort sarcastically. “They don’t care what I do in school.”

He nods once. “I will let Linda Bradley know that you’ve agreed to fix what you’ve done. You’re lucky that she doesn’t want to press charges, son. I hope you’ll learn a lesson from this.”

“I have,” I say, glancing at Clarissa again, but she’s pretending I don’t exist. “I swear I’ll never do anything like that again.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

Clarissa bolts out of her chair and slips out of the office before I can even catch my breath.

“Thank you,” I tell the principal and then I grab my backpack and rush after her. She’s already out of the main office and down the hallway, walking like she’s afraid a monster is chasing her.

Is that what I am?

I can’t be. I’m a good guy. I made a mistake.

I lied to her. But that won’t happen again.

“Clarissa!” I call out, jogging to catch up with her. “Hey. Wait, please.”

She clenches her jaw but she keeps walking, even with me by her side. I was worried she might actually run away from me.

“Please,” I say, touching her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” Her words are venom, and I yank my hand away.

“Clarissa, please. Let me explain.”

“There is nothing to explain,” she says, stopping quickly. She meets my gaze, and her eyes are hard, angry, and nothing like they were last night. “You lied to me.”

I go to say something but she holds up a hand, stopping me. “Don’t talk to me. I will get you a list of supplies for my greenhouse and then we are never speaking again.”

She turns and storms off, leaving me right where I belong. Alone, with my mouth open like the asshole that I am.

 

*

 

Thursdays are always busy at Magic Mark’s Pizza. Sometimes they’re even busier than the weekend, and no one knows why. It’s just a pizza phenomenon I suppose. I keep my truck running as I head inside and grab the next delivery order. Then I rush out to my truck and take it to its destination.

The night goes on, and all I do is focus on work. If I let my mind wander even a little, I feel my heart tear to shreds. I fucking hate myself.

I want to call TJ and ask him what the fuck is going on. Why I got busted, and why he supposedly has an alibi. But if I talk to him now, I’ll probably explode. So for now, I focus on the pizza.

I let my boss know I’m free every day now, not just Tuesdays and Thursdays. He seems happy with this and says I can come in tomorrow and help with deliveries.

Just twenty four hours ago, I’d thought my Friday would be spent on another romantic date with Clarissa.

How wrong I was.

Mom calls me around nine, and I answer the call between deliveries.

“Hi, son,” she says. Her voice sounds tired like it does in the mornings even though she only just now got to work. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What is it?”

“We don’t have enough money for the cable bill,” she says, following it with a sigh. “I keep saying we should just cancel the damn thing but your dad likes the sports channels.”

“How much do you need?” I ask.

“One sixty. I don’t know if you have any money but…”

“I’ve got it,” I say. I look over at my empty passenger seat, remembering when Clarissa sat there, making my whole world amazing. “I’ll leave the cash on the kitchen table for you when I get off work.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” Mom says. If only she knew the truth of what her son has become. A liar. A vandal. An asshole. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mom. I live there, too. I can help pay the bills.”

“You’re such a wonderful son,” Mom says. I can hear the smile in her voice and it feels me with shame. “If we could not tell your dad about this…I just don’t want him to know we were short on cash again this month. You know how he is.”

“I know,” I say softly. “I got your back, Mom.”

“Thanks, Gavin.”

When the call is over, I drop my forehead to my steering wheel. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t play soccer right now. I need these extra shifts at work if I’m going to pay for a greenhouse and help my mom with the bills, on top of my own bills like gas, car insurance, and my cell phone.

But still, it’s hard to see the good in anything right now.