Chapter Nine

Adler POV:

Can you get pregnant in the cowgirl position, or does it run out?

God. I groaned at the thirtieth advice question for the day. It was right after last period, and the day felt longer than a week. I couldn’t wait to go to the game, which served as an excuse not to look at my phone.

You can get pregnant in any position.

My phone dinged again as I slid into the driver’s side of my car. I slammed it down into the passenger seat and closed my eyes. If I didn’t have enough problems, I found Huxley wrote me back, and taped the letter beneath the junior bench.

My limit on the website hit one hundred earlier in the day. I decided to finish the story for Huxley and be done with the website. In a few days, Montlake High School would wake up to an error website and no more Miss. Play Your Man.

Hallelujah.

My phone buzzed again, this time when I looked it was from Liam.

Another problem. As if I didn't have enough already. My attention seeking from my crush could bring the entire operation down, another reason to end it before it really started.

Him: You think about that picture yet? I’m beginning to think you’re catfishing me.

I stared at my phone while I sat in my running car in the school’s parking lot. Catfishing was a varied term, wasn’t it? Technically, pretending to be someone you weren’t is catfishing. I wasn’t, was I?

No, I was hiding the truth, which was just as bad.

I didn’t know how to answer his text yet. I needed time. I put my phone back down and started home.

No one but Mrs. Shana was there when I arrived. She still seemed moody about our food fight, so I went straight to my room and unloaded my homework and bags.

The note weighed heavy in my back pocket, begging me to read. The truth was that I wanted to give him another chance to respond but I didn’t think he would.

Admirer,

Thank you. I do feel I have talent on the field, but everyone has a talent, they just have to find it. I appreciate your letters, and even like that they are handwritten. But, I need to tell you something so that you don’t waste your time. I like someone else. I won’t tell you her name because it doesn’t make sense to me just yet, but I can’t partake in an adventure with you.

Your special person is out there, but he isn’t me.

Yours truly,

Huxley Jacks.

I let the letter fall to my bed. This had to be some BS to get this girl off his back. Huxley having a crush didn’t seem normal. It sounded crazier than I crushing on Liam did.

Sure, he dated, but when I looked back, I couldn’t remember the last time. And not to mention, he would have already went after his crush. Since when did he pull an Adler and sit in the shadows? Huxley didn’t need help catching a girl.

Why was this one any different? I hadn’t noticed him talking to someone new at school, or texting more than usual. Who was it?

My phone dinged again, and I felt myself growing irritated.

“Adler?”

Mrs. Shana’s soft voice came from outside the door.

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I waited with my palms together on the bed, nervous because she didn’t come to my room often.

She wore loose boyfriend jeans and an old Texas State University t-shirt. Her dark hair looked disorderly and her face worried.

“Do you have a second?” she asked.

“Sure, did something happen to Dad?”

“No, no,” she said waving her hands. “Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to ask you a question.”

“Okay.”

“Has Huxley been acting weird to you?”

What a question. I eyed the letter on my bed and tried to gather my thoughts. If only I could tell her, but I didn’t know anything for sure, to tell her.

“Maybe a little distant, yeah.”

“You don’t think he’s hanging out with the wrong crowd, do you?”

I shook my head. “No, he sat with the football players at lunch today. Normally it’s Liam.”

I didn’t feel the need to tell her he’d been skipping lunch, because he only did that because he was mad at me.

“Okay. He hasn’t mention drugs, has he?”

I couldn’t help but cringe. Huxley was arrogant, demanding and bossy at times, but a drug user wasn’t one of his many characteristics.

“No, Mrs. Shana, Huxley wouldn’t do that. Why do you …”

She cupped her face with opened palms. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I do this to myself.”

“Do what?” I asked, getting up to give her a small hug.

“His father left us for drugs, and it’s scared me senseless since addictive personalities can be hereditary. I’m just nervous. I know Hux is a good boy. Please don’t tell him I asked. “

“I swear.”

Huxley’s truck door slammed from outside, she wiped her face, and straightened her hair. “Supper will be ready soon.”

She disappeared out into the hallway and down the stairs before Huxley made it to the front door.

I sat back down on my bed, staring at the note he wrote. She doesn’t realize that Huxley would never do it. I knew Huxley enough to know he wouldn’t jeopardize his football scholarship opportunities to do drugs.

A person can become two things out of a messed-up situation. They can follow in the same footsteps or overcome and be better.

Huxley was better.

His footsteps drew nearer toward my door, his shadow danced along in front of the slit, but he didn’t knock. I heard his door open and then shut moments later.

Ding.

Ugh.

I picked up my phone and saw another advice question.

It was from anonymous.

Who are you?

Nerves traveled down my spine. I felt creeped out, so I walked over to Huxley’s door and knocked. He answered a few moments later, shirt off and heavy lidded.

I’d looked at Huxley before, sure, he was my brother, but we weren’t blood related. It wasn’t weird, right? Now he looked much older than that twelve-year-old boy with sandy brown hair and a goofy grin.

He looked manly, with muscles from hours of work put into football, wide shoulders, and a thin waist. Something about the confidence he held when he swayed from one foot to the other made me uncomfortable lately. I felt heat burn my stomach.

Stupid cookies I snuck in last period.

“Hey,” I said. “So, I just got the advice request that said, “Who are you?”

He furrowed his dark brows and glanced at my phone. “Let me see if I can trace the computer.”

Huxley left his door opened for me. I didn’t venture into his room much, only to search for my mysteriously missing headphones occasionally, or help him look for his football pads that were always in the most random places.

A notebook laid on his bed with a pen on top. I imagined him writing that note to anonymous with the same pen.

Maybe it did hurt his feelings that I suggested he didn’t do his work. It looked like he did something, or he wouldn’t have made it to the eleventh grade.

He sat in his desk chair, and pulled up the website, logging in the back way to check on it. “You have killer views lately.” He laughed. “Still getting tons of questions?”

“You’d be surprised at the stupidity in our school.”

He chuckled. “It looks like whoever sent this did it where I can’t trace it, huh.” He did some clicking and clacking on the keyboard. The screen looked like a bunch of numbers to me.

“Yeah, dude really covered his tracks.”

He leaned back and gave me the side eye. “You finished with my paper?”

“I’m going to wrap it up this weekend. Is Saturday your last detention?”

Hux ran his fingers into his hair, letting his legs fall wide as he stretched. For some reason, I felt I needed to strain to look away from his thick thighs. “Yeah. I guess I can let you out of the dare once the paper is finished. I can tell you’re over it.”

“I am,” I said. “Maybe Sunday can be the last day.”

It would give me enough time to show the anonymous woman my attempt at baiting Huxley that crashed and burned.

“Still texting Liam, I see. They tried to trick you at lunch. I had to create a diversion.”

“That was that whole leg thing?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I let my head fall back and I laughed. He spilled tea over everyone’s plates and legs to avoid me being caught. “I’ll be sure to avoid my cell during lunch from now on.”

“Yeah,” he said, meeting my gaze.

“Well, thanks for trying,” I said, standing up to walk to the door. “And for sticking up for me, even if you’re pissed.”

“What are brothers for?” he asked.

I smiled. “Yeah.”

***

Ledela knocked her knuckles against my locker early the next morning. She looked like a miniature Kim Kardashian with leather pants and a white cropped t-shirt.

She was definitely going down if Principal Burkhart noticed.

“Hey Miss. Play Your Man.”

I shut my locker door. “I watched your video blog last night. Funny how the website has taken over. There are tons of comments about playing guys from other schools.”

“Yeah, I’ve been avoiding their questions. How is playing your stepbrother going?”

“It isn’t.” I sighed. “He wrote me back, and said he liked someone else.”

She lit up. “Would it perhaps be me? I have been glowing lately.”

“He didn’t say who it was. It was almost as if he was crushing on someone, Led. I can’t imagine who though. Since when does Huxley crush from afar?”

Led tapped her chin. “Good question. I don’t know. So you can’t play him? What are you going to do about the website?”

“Attention student body. We’re having a meeting in the gym. Please meet there at this time,” came over the scratchy intercom.

Ledela glanced at me, but I was happy to miss some of first period.

We walked with the rest of the student population across the courtyard toward the old, cemented gym.

We sat in the middle of the bleachers, watching everyone file into the stands. Principal Burkhart stood in the center of the basketball court, his fingers hooked onto his belt loops, face hidden beneath that big cowboy hat.

Once the kids settled, he tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention. “Good morning, everyone. We wanted to meet today because I’ve been informed about a website that has been going around the school, supposedly a student here made it.”

No flipping way. “Shitake,” I mumbled.

Ledela elbowed me hard in the ribs.

I glanced around the bleachers, looking for Huxley. I couldn’t find him.

“It’s titled,” he squinted his eyes and took out a pair of glasses, “Miss. Play Your Man.”

The crowd erupted into laughter. He shot them a look and a hush traveled over the room.

“I’ve been to the website, and I’m not impressed with the audacity of the person—or persons. Kids don’t need to teach other kids about this stuff.”

I glanced behind Ledela’s head and over toward the opposite side of the bleachers. Where was Huxley? I wanted to see his reaction.

Principal Burkhart tipped his hat. “First, I want to advice the students here not to take advice from another student on such important topics as sex.”

Someone let out a wolf whistle.

“Knock it off,” he hissed. Our councilor, Mrs. Tubbs, who always sported cardigans, even in the Texas heat, and wore tight curls against her face, stepped forward.

“Mrs. Tubbs is our councilor and is here to talk to you about any questions you may have. In addition, because of this incident, we’ve decided to have a class on sex education and STDS—now. The girls will go first while the boys go on with their classes, and then we’ll switch.”

Laughter floated around mixed with groans from the students.

I couldn’t blame them because I felt the same way. But after reading the student's questions, I secretly thought a sex education class would do them well.

“God,” Ledela sighed, crossing her legs. “These bleachers kill my ass and now we have to wait here.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I opened it, hoping it was Huxley. Three more questions for Miss Play Your Man surfaced. I sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of my nose. Apparently, the student body thought that Principal Burkhart would take it down, and they needed to get their questions in quickly.

“Sex is not to be taken lightly,” Mrs. Tubbs said.

Dear God, please get me out of this.

Ledela huffed and started picking at her cuticles. “This is a waste of time. Oh wait, let me blog this! I’ll title it Results of Miss Play Your Man.”

I wanted to smack her, but I couldn’t because she was always this way. Her vlogging career was important to her. At least she had ambition besides school. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do but go to YALE.

Sighing, I tuned Mrs. Tubbs out. Maybe a Friday night football game would take my mind off the nonsense. I’d be finished with Huxley’s work by the weekend and the website would cease to exist.

***

I rode with Dad and Mrs. Shana over to the neighboring town for the game. They talked about an upcoming vacation while I answered more ridiculous sex questions, and one to do with things I had to Google.

Whips and handcuffs? We’re in high school for God’s sake. This wasn’t 50 Shades, and I hated to think what they’d subject themselves to when they got older.

Apparently, not the entire school was as clueless as I thought.

The September heat never faltered in Texas, so I wore a pair of cutoff blue jean shorts and a tank top, which made Ledela happier than I’d ever seen her. Her Momma, Taj, forced her to ride over with her because she didn’t trust her not to lie about her car ride over.

She met us on the bleachers with a frown.

Her flamboyant mother, walked over, decked out in school gear and one of those huge foam fingers. And she wondered where she got it from?

“Shoot me now, put me out of my misery. I may just die of embarrassment."

Taj rolled her eyes and elbowed her way down the row toward Mrs. Shana. “Lord, you’d think Ledela was at the red carpet,” I heard her whisper. They became fast friends due to our friendship, along with Liam’s mom who was a nurse, and couldn’t always make it.

I liked that about Mrs. Shana. She was involved in our lives.

“She’s expressing her creative spirit,” Mrs. Shana whispered which made them both laugh.

Dad elbowed me, offering me a bag of popcorn. Ledela and I took it, diving in, as if I hadn’t had tacos on the way over.

The band began to play their usual round of peppy songs. All I Do is Win by DJ Khaled was the most popular. Most of the bleachers stood and danced, which hyped the students up, and caused unnecessary dancing along the fence.

Football in Texas compared closely to religion in the Bible Belt. Ninety percent of the male population felt they needed to be on the team to fit in, and the others were rebels that didn’t care to fit in to begin with.

Ledela leaned over and asked, “Anything new on the site?”

“Just same ole questions. I don’t know if I told you, but someone sent me an advice question that said, ‘Who are you?’”

She shivered. “Creep. What did Huxley say about it?”

“He tried to trace it, but whoever it was covered their tracks.”

“Señor Seth, maybe?” she asked.

“That would make sense, yeah, but I don’t know.”

I glanced around the bleachers, the blinding stadium lights giving everyone a shadowed look in the evening sun. A group of baseball players sat toward the front, laughing and tossing popcorn at the cheerleaders waiting to go down to the sideline.

One in particular sat to himself, hat pulled down over his head like the Unabomber. Dude was really freaking out about the website.

The announcer’s microphone squealed before coming to life. “Let’s stand for our national anthem sung by Kimberly Hargis.”

We all stood. A mother and daughter slid in beside me as we said our pledge of allegiance. I made out Huxley standing beside Michael, the quarterback, the number 6 on the back of his jersey. He’d been proud of his number since I’d known him. I didn’t get the hype about athletes and their numbers.

When we sat again, the boys seemed pumped down on the field. I felt Huxley’s energy as he bounced on his heels. At least he looked happy, which was more than I could say about him lately.

“That’s him, Mom.”

I didn’t want to listen, okay I did, but it sounded better that I didn’t. “That’s who?”

Turning my head, I pretended to look at my phone while I listened to the semi familiar sophomore talk to her mom. “Number 6. That’s Huxley Jacks. He’s the cutest boy in our school.”

Humph. I wouldn’t have said in the entire school, but Huxley was cute. Dreamy for most girls. He did have a great laugh, and an even greater sense of humor. Not to mention he walked as if he owned the school, but helped you pick up your books if they fell.

Okay, Adler, get over it.

“Oh yeah?” her mom asked. “Why don’t you ask him out? It’s the twenty-first century.”

Being nosy, I glanced around her mother to the girl sitting with stars in her eyes. She seemed nice enough, but her fawning over him irritated me. I was sure because the entire school did it. I didn’t know one girl that didn’t love Huxley Jacks.

I pursed my lips and shoved another handful of popcorn into my mouth.

“I can’t do that,” she said.

“Sure you can.”

The girl’s eyes moved to mine, and she gasped. After a minute, she cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered, “That’s his stepsister, sitting beside you.”

I met her mother’s gaze and she smiled politely.

This was awkward. I leaned forward, unable to help it. “Huxley isn’t all his cracked up to be.”

Her mom gave me a tightlipped smile and turned back to the game that started.

I didn’t know why I said it. Huxley got on my nerves ninety percent of the time, but not enough to cock block. I just couldn’t stand the thought of this poor girl wanting him.

Ledela elbowed me and pointed toward her mother. “At least Shana doesn’t do that.”

Taj stood with her foam finger, waving it around while the crowd laughed. Could she not see the resemblance? I would have mentioned it, but she threatened to cut my hair in my sleep if I did that again.

“She’s just having a good time.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, at my expense.”

I chuckled, tuning into the game, I watched number 6 run around the field, and run other boys over like always. I didn’t really know the game like I should, but I did enjoy the view of the football pants. Someone knew what they were doing when they designed them.

The game ended and Montlake won 24 to 7. It was a good game, and with their Coach’s expertise and this being Texas, he took it seriously. You’d think it was the NFL.

Ledela told me she’d meet me at my house afterward. Taj wanted to give her a rundown of rules on the way back home. Our curfew was twelve on the weekends, which was never a problem for me. Part of me didn’t want to go to the party, but I hadn’t been to one all year.

Michael, the quarterback, had a guesthouse behind his parents’ house with a pool and tons of acreage. He was lucky enough to have parents that trusted him, and our parents trusted that they would keep a close eye on our safety.

They didn’t know Michael’s parents checked on us once and then went to bed.

Huxley met us at Mrs. Shana’s SUV after the game. He wore his football pants, and a t-shirt with cutoff sleeves. He smelled like a locker room but looked like one of those GQ models that pretended to play football while taking pictures.

“Good game, Huxley,” Dad said. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” he said, his eyes met mine. “You coming to the party?”

Mrs. Shana and Dad glanced at me curiously. “I think I will for a while with Ledela.”

Huxley looked shocked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to hide my annoyance that he didn’t think I’d come.

We crawled into the backseat, and I pulled out my phone. Liam texted me that they won and wished I would show myself at the party tonight. I wouldn’t wait until the entire junior and senior class were together to confess my feelings.

Wishful thinking, bub.

Huxley finished off his second Gatorade and tossed it into the floorboard. “Trash, Huxley,” Mrs. Shana said from the front.

He handed it to her while she shoved it into our empty Taco Bell bag from earlier.

“So, the party, you’re going?”

“That’s what I said.”

“It’s just surprising, ya know. You never come. You want to ride with me?”

I thought about it. “No, because if I want to leave I don’t want to wait on you, plus if you hook up with some girl, I don’t want to be stuck and have to call Dad.”

“Right,” he said beneath his breath. “Because that’s all I’m good for.”

“Don’t act like you don’t do that.”

Huxley turned to look at me with a head full of sweaty hair and reddened cheeks from the game. I hated that he still looked good. “When is the last time you’ve seen me do that, huh?”

“I—” I stopped because he was right.

I spent the rest of the ride home looking out of the window. Taj and Ledela pulled up to our house before us so Ledela and I could ride to the party together.

Somehow, Ledela changed into a sequenced party dress with long black feathered earrings and heels.

“Oh no, Adler, you’re not wearing that?” She pointed at my jean shorts and Montlake High t-shirt.

“Leave her be, Ledela!” Taj called out of the window.

Huxley chuckled as I looked over my outfit and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s called school spirit.”

“It’s called not trying.”

Taj rolled her window down all the way. “I said leave her alone, Led. Not everyone needs to be the center of attention.”

“Bye mom! I’ll miss you! Bon voyage!”

Taj rolled her eyes as she drove off slowly. “Be home by twelve, I mean it! Good game, Huxley!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Taj!”

Dad stopped at the door. “Call us if you need us.”

I hopped into my Honda and started toward Michael’s house. He lived in a fancier neighborhood than our suburban one. His dad was a litigator and owned a few hotels passed down through his family.

“You know,” Ledela said, checking her makeup in the dropdown mirror. “You could always get to know Liam tonight? Go talk to him as you? And not text him back as Miss Anonymous.”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“And …”

I winced.

She shut the mirror and tossed me a deadpanned look. “Grow some lady balls, Adler.”