A Whole New League (Briarwood High Book 2) Page 3

  Like Patrick Arnold who shook violently whenever it was his turn to speak. Or Clive Angler who was so quiet it was almost impossible to hear him. A feat that may have been overlooked if he didn’t look like puberty was yet to come. The poor kid looked younger than my thirteen-year-old sister, and just trying to picture him onstage across from the excessively mature Hayley Hayes made me want to giggle.

  And I didn’t giggle. Ever.

  But that was how ridiculous the image was.

  So yes, Brian was disastrously bad, but he looked the part. Tall, dark, and stupidly handsome, he looked like the lead.

  He butchered another line, breaking character to laugh unselfconsciously at his own flub.

  I sighed quietly. Like it or not, he did look the part. And standing across from Hayley? Well, they would be quite the pair, just like they were in the gymnasium and how they would be on the homecoming court.

  And then, of course, there’s the marketing potential. I could practically see the dollar signs in Mr. Brenner’s eyes when he saw Brian Kirkland walking up the steps of the stage.

  Hayley Hayes and Brian Kirkland? This show would be downright popular. He would finally have a hit on his hands.

  I winced as Brian mispronounced a word.

  It might be the worst show of all time, but it would be a hit.

  Mr. Brenner leaned over to me as Brian walked off the stage. “I think we found our guy.”

  I sighed. Of course we did.

  Sometimes life was just so unfair.

  “I’m going to go talk to him,” he said. I nodded, already starting to gather my things and stick them in my bag. I was just the stage manager, I didn’t get to have a say over who was cast in which part.

  Mr. Brenner was making an epic mistake, but I couldn’t tell him that. Still, I didn’t have to stick around and watch the humiliation unfold. And that’s what this was. Brian was making a mockery of the theater department, of Oscar Wilde, of me.

  This had better be a prank.

  But if it was a prank, I would kill him.

  And if it wasn’t a prank?

  I paused, still bent over my bag. If it wasn’t a prank…Lord help us all.

  I took too long getting my stuff together and then I paused in the lobby to reply to a series of texts from Julian. He’d been blowing up my phone all day with suggested band names. He didn’t actually have a band—not yet, at least. At the moment it was just him and his guitar, but apparently his latest material went over well at the coffee house last night because he’d been talking—and texting—about little else ever since.

  Which was fine by me. I didn’t want to talk about the horrors I’d just witnessed. All I wanted to do was get in my car, head home, curl up in my room and read a book.

  Anything but Oscar Wilde.

  I’d made it as far as the parking lot when I heard my name being called.

  Oh no. Not again.

  This could not be happening again. I stopped but didn’t turn. I didn’t have to, I knew that voice. That voice had just butchered my favorite scene of one of my favorite plays. But I couldn’t bring myself to turn. He couldn’t be seeking me out.

  Yesterday had been a fluke. A phenomenon on par with a snowstorm in July.

  Brian and I did not talk. Ever. Let me rephrase that. Brian didn’t talk to me, not since he’d become too cool to recognize my existence. And now twice in two days? And in public, no less.

  Get used to it. If he’d accepted the part, we would be working together. All the time. He would be in my life, whether I wanted him to be or not.

  And I didn’t. I so didn’t.

  “Hey, Alice,” he called again, much closer this time. “Do you have a sec?”

  I turned slowly. I mean, what was the alternative? Race to my car and hop in like I’m on the lam? I watched him close the distance between us and tried to play it cool.

  No big whoop. We haven’t talked one-on-one since Ricky Roberts’ birthday party in eighth grade, but no biggie. I’m cool.

  I don’t know if he bought my act but he certainly didn’t look cool. Which was funny, actually, since he was the cool one between the two of us. And I didn’t just mean cool as in popular. I meant, he was always the one that could at least pretend to be laid back about stuff—like, say, a certain terrifying haunted house—while I was the one who’d run screaming, trying not to pee my pants.

  But today? Well, today it seemed the tide had turned. He looked distinctly uncomfortable as he came to a stop before me. He kept toying with the strap of the book bag he had slung over his shoulder and his eyes were darting all over the place as he avoided eye contact. He looked shifty, like he’d just robbed a bank.

  “Uh,” he said eloquently, taking a moment to study his sneakers. “Brenner says I should talk to you about my football schedule.”

  A sick feeling started to curdle in my stomach. No. No, no, no. I swallowed down the rising bile and played dumb. “What about it?”

  His eyes lifted and his gaze finally met mine.

  Pow. His stare was a punch in the gut. I swear he saw right past my cool act and straight into my brain. Utter nonsense, obviously. This guy didn’t have the emotional intelligence to adequately read a script let alone see into my soul.

  Why was it that his ability to knock me off kilter had grown in proportion to his gargantuan arm muscles? It used to be easy to be around him. So ridiculously easy. He’d been my very best friend, the one I confided in and had sleepovers with.

  But that was a long time ago. Neither of us were those kids anymore.

  Now it was my turn to look away, because I was a coward like that. I couldn’t deny it.

  When I looked back his gaze was still on me, direct and unflinching, and I was suddenly and distinctly reminded of exactly how well this guy once knew me.

  Definitely well enough to know when I was playing dumb.

  Finally, he let out a huff of air like I was trying his patience. “He wanted me to give you my schedule so you could coordinate my rehearsals around it.”

  Just like that. The world as I knew it came to an end and it was with all the fanfare of garbage day.

  “So you’re really going to do this,” I said, just in case there was any doubt. “You are going to be in a play?”

  His brow furrowed as he glared at me. “What’s your problem, Kern?”

  Ugh, calling me by my last name like I was some sort of stranger or, worse—one of his teammates on that stupid team. The same age-old anger I always felt when Brian was around was roiling inside me, eager for release. “I don’t get it. Why are you doing this?”

  “What, I’m not allowed to be a part of your precious plays now? Is that how much you hate me?”

  Boom, there it was. Brian wasn’t pussyfooting around and neither would I.

  “Yeah, actually.”

  He flinched but I refused to feel guilty. He’d asked, hadn’t he? “I don’t like you, not anymore. I don’t like who you’ve become. But the only saving grace about being forced to be in the same class with you is that you stay in your vapid world of jocks and cheerleaders.”

  “Who I’ve become?” He repeated it loudly, like the words were so insane he couldn’t quite believe his ears. “How would you know who I’ve become? You don’t even know me anymore. You wrote me off years ago and have been ignoring me ever since.”

  “I’ve been ignoring you?” I took a step toward him and then wished I hadn’t. He already towered over me and this close I had to crane my neck just to meet his eyes. “Ha! Way to rewrite history.”

  We were so close I could feel the heat from his skin and smell the scent of soap. He must’ve taken a quick shower after practice.

  Also, why was I thinking about that? Focus, Alice.

  My breath was coming quick and frantic. I wasn’t used to conflict—in fact, I typically avoided it at all costs. I didn’t like this bitter surge running through me, like adrenaline gone sour.

  His chest was rising and falling quickly too and as he glo
wered down at me. I could have sworn I saw his eyes darken, their warm brown color turning dark with heated emotions I couldn’t quite name.

  I had more to say. I had years’ worth of anger that wanted to get out, but none of the words would come. Every time I tried to speak the words slipped away from me as the thick tension between us built into something unbearable.

  And then the moment was broken when a group of students walked past us, talking amongst themselves and laughing obnoxiously. I took a quick step back. What had I been saying? What had he said?

  My brain felt fuzzy and my nerves were raw. I had a horrible feeling that if this conversation continued I would do something completely insane…like cry in front of him.

  That could not happen.

  I made a production out of pulling a notebook out of my bag and hid all emotions behind my all-business stage manager act. “Fine. What’s your schedule?”

  He started rattling stuff off about practices and weightlifting and then about if they won tomorrow’s game and got into playoffs…blah, blah, blah. Honestly I think there was a part of my brain that instantly fried when people talked about football. Maybe it was a side effect of my anger toward Brian, but I had an intense dislike for the game and any of the lingo.

  I shook my head, jotting down what I caught. “Look, why don’t you just email me the full schedule when you get home.”

  He was quiet and I glanced up to see his lips twitching in barely concealed amusement. “What?”

  “I don’t think I have your email address,” he said. “Unless it’s still Alice’s Tea Party at—”

  “It’s A-Kern at screw you dot com,” I interrupted quickly. Too quickly. He started to laugh and I found myself fighting the urge to laugh as well.

  What the hell? What was happening here? I would not join in on Brian’s mockery of me. Even if it was a little ridiculous that I still had that stupid email address. Even if it did give me a weird jolt of happiness knowing that he remembered it.

  “I’m serious,” he said through his laughter. His laugh was still the same. Deeper and manlier, but still the same when it was genuine. “Is that still your address?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes. But only because I haven’t gotten around to changing it. It’s a pain to change and—”

  “Uh huh.” He was still laughing and I turned away, sighing loudly, but my cheeks were growing warm with embarrassment.

  Why hadn’t I gotten around to changing my email address? I wasn’t a kid anymore. So lame. “Whatever, just email me your schedule, Kirkland,” I said as I walked away.

  “Whatever you say, Kern.”

  Ugh. His voice held all the mockery in the world and it was with the utmost restraint that I kept myself from flashing him my middle finger as I slid into my car.

  Rehearsals hadn’t even begun, I reminded myself. We had ages to go before this was through. I needed to at least attempt to be professional and calm around Brian if I was going to get through this play with my sanity intact.

  I could do this, I told myself as I turned the ignition and put the car into gear. I could be a mature individual in the face of Brian’s idiocy. I would be the bigger person. Yes, I could totally do this.

  But then, as I was pulling out of my spot, I saw him walking toward me to get to his car.

  He was still laughing.

  His eyes met mine through my windshield and yet again I battled the urge to flip him off.

  This time? The middle finger won.

  Chapter Four

  Brian

  “Kirkland!”

  I heard one of my teammates calling for me and he wouldn’t let up until I slowed down to see what he wanted, even though I already knew what that was and the answer was no.

  I turned to see Alex jogging toward me, his floppy blond hair all sweaty and hanging in his face. That was exactly why I kept mine so short.

  He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he reached my side. “You coming to the party tonight?”

  His girlfriend, Tina, was hosting a kegger for the football team to celebrate our last win, which made us a sure thing for the playoffs.

  I winced. “I wish I could, man.”

  “Don’t tell me, you have rehearsals.” He said ‘rehearsals’ in a mocking tone, but it was half-hearted. I’d been right, and so had Hayley. I’d told the guys I was doing the play and aside from some good-natured ribbing, they’d all been on board.

  Some of them were even talking about trying out in the spring. See? I could make anything cool with my bros.

  “No rehearsal,” I said. “I’ve got plans with Hayley.”

  This was partially true. We didn’t have rehearsal tonight, thank God. Running around between practice and then rehearsals and still trying to stay on top of my schoolwork was killing me. I couldn’t wait until playoffs were over.

  No, I mean I couldn’t wait until the play was over, but since playoffs would end first, an end to this exhaustion was in sight. I just had to make it through another few weeks.

  I rubbed at my eyes. Man, I needed sleep. And I should have been celebrating tonight. Instead I was learning lines since I was already behind. Half the cast was totally off book already even though we’d just begun.

  I found myself gritting my teeth at the memory of Alice’s expression from the audience every time I pulled my script out of my pocket. The Judge Judy of stage managers, her glare accused me of being a slacker every single rehearsal.

  We hadn’t spoken about that fight in the parking lot. For the two weeks since then we had been nothing but professional and courteous.

  Except for those judgy stares.

  But whatever, tonight I would do the responsible thing and I would take a night off of partying and learn the freakin’ lines already. On the upside, at least Hayley would help. Maybe if I played my cards right, I’d get some sexy reward for my troubles.

  “What are you talking about, man?” Alex asked. “Hayley’s already at Tina’s. She’s helping her get the place ready for the party.”

  I glanced over to see him staring at me like I’d grown a second head.

  What the hell? We’d made plans. She’d promised.

  And just like that I heard the normal voice in my head turn into a whiny wuss. But she promised!

  I recovered quickly. “Right. My bad. I got our dates mixed up. We’ll hang later this weekend. But I do have to get some work done tonight.”

  Alex was still looking at me like I was speaking a foreign language, and in his world I guess I was. What kind of work was I doing on a Friday night?

  “Family stuff,” I said, the answer at once both vague and lame, and hopefully not giving him an opening for more questions.

  Sure enough, Alex had zero interest in family stuff. “Too bad, man. We’ll see you at practice on Monday?”

  I gave a short nod before heading toward my truck. Of course. Where else would I be? Except maybe at rehearsal. Even thinking that still felt weird. The guys might be cool about it—because I made it cool—but I wasn’t.

  And not because I was surrounded by a bunch of theater geeks, although that was weird, but because I was an elephant at the rodeo. Every time I walked into that auditorium I heard the talking hush and the laughter fade.

  Until I went on stage to act. Then I heard the laughter, all right, but I wasn’t idiot enough to think they were laughing at the script.

  Those A-holes offstage were laughing at me. Snickering and whispering like I was some social outcast and not Brian freakin’ Kirkland, star quarterback and homecoming king.

  Hayley and I officially won the crown last weekend, but the moment had fallen flat. Don’t ask me why because I couldn’t explain it. Everything felt off lately, ever since I’d agreed to be in this stupid play.

  Ever since that fight with Alice in the parking lot.

  The memory of it ate at me, and while part of me wanted to get into it with her again and get some sort of resolution, another part of me wanted to forget it ever happened. That part of me
was happy to go along with this “we’re professionals” routine she had going on.

  She was also back to pretending I didn’t exist outside the auditorium, which was just fine by me. Except now it was like that force field we’d erected between us for all these years was broken.

  It took more effort to ignore her, and even when I did, I was aware of her. Her and that geeky guy she was always with. Was that her boyfriend? I’d never seen them making out or anything but he was always with her and she was always smiling up at him or laughing at something he’d said or…

  Whatever, it didn’t matter. I didn’t care.

  Except that I did care. Much as I might try to convince myself that I didn’t, Alice had wormed her way back onto my radar and now I couldn’t get her out of my head. I knew why, too. It wasn’t just the fight, or the things she’d said, or that hurt look in her eyes that made me feel like I’d been sucker-punched.

  No, it had been that moment. The moment, as I now thought of it. One second we’d been fighting, words coming out that I’m sure both of us had been thinking for years. And then the next? Silence. I couldn’t think of what I’d meant to say. I couldn’t think of anything…except how badly I wanted to kiss Alice Kern.

  Alice. Kern. Former best friend and current worst enemy. The girl who hated me and who I couldn’t stand to be around.

  Why? Because you feel guilty? That little voice niggled at my brain as I slid into the driver’s seat.

  Shut up. No, that’s not why.

  But yeah, maybe I did have a little guilt. I kept seeing that hurt in her eyes. Kept hearing the honest emotion in her voice when she’d accused me of ignoring her rather than the other way around. But it wasn’t like that. She was making me out to be the bad guy—some stereotypical popular dick, like we were in a John Hughes movie or something. And yes, I’d seen every John Hughes movie back in junior high, thanks to Alice’s weird obsession with old movies.