Page 6 of Wild Card

“No, silly, they make the freshmen on the team deliver the cards so no one knows who sent them, but it’s always a junior or senior who’s on the other end. They’re the only ones who play the game…it’s like a rite of passage.”

Okay…

I took a sip of the soup Taylor had made and made sure my face was turned away from her when I winced. How much salt had she added?

“So…if a senior, who can get any girl he wants, gives someone a card with, let’s say, a number one on it…that means he’s willing to just make out with her?” I wiped my mouth. No way was a college-aged guy in a dark room with a willing female stopping at a base number.

“Yes. Most of these guys have girlfriends, and the fun is in not getting caught or knowing who did it. Unless of course you hit a home run, like me. Then the entire school will know who did you.” She shimmied her shoulders with pride.

Had she just admitted to possibly sleeping with someone’s boyfriend and being totally okay with it? I wanted to let out a disappointed sigh, but I knew what would happen if I showed even the slightest bit of judgment of her lifestyle. She’d clam up and I wouldn’t get any more opportunities to talk to her, and this conversation clearly showed why it was so important to have someone who knew what in the heck was happening in her life.

“Just be careful, Tay. I want you to be okay…you know that.” I sipped my soda to get out the taste of her failed attempt at potato soup. She did try, and while I knew she was going to end up calling DoorDash, I was proud that she’d attempted to make a meal.

“I know, and I will…I’m just excited that they chose me.” She smiled brightly at me.

I tried to push down the humiliation surfacing from the newspaper incident and the fact that there was no opening whatsoever to talk about it. That was just Taylor, though; she wouldn’t think to ask about my day. That was just who she was: a work in progress and someone I knew needed me even though she didn’t say she did. In some ways, I needed her too, even though our relationship was as lopsided as a teenager’s stuffed bra, I couldn’t give up on her. She’d had a really bad life growing up. It wasn’t until her mom married my dad that things changed for her, and because of what she’d gone through, I knew being empathetic didn’t come naturally. She’d learn, though; I knew she would. She had tried to make soup—she was on the cusp of a breakthrough. I just knew it.

Chapter Three

“Why didn’tyou tell him to shove that article up his ass?” Hillary, one of my best friends, asked, shoving her plastic spoon in my face. I had just dropped the bomb on her that Trevor had turned down my article. So far, she’d cussed in Mandarin, and now she was pacing the floor like a panther.

“Well, for starters, it’s my article, so I don’t want it up his ass—I want it printed in the paper.” I sat cross-legged in a pair of yoga pants and a loose shirt. I needed to try to breathe. Things were happening so fast my chest continually felt like it was bursting open, one fast thump at a time.

I’d woken up from a nightmare the night prior, where instead of Trevor telling me I didn’t get the spot, it was my mom. I’d turned into a little girl, and the people in the room were all Minecraft characters.

“Still, that fucker has a flat tire waiting for him.” Hillary tossed her spoon back into her pudding cup and angrily put it in my tiny garbage.

“Hil, he’s not even worth your energy.” I closed my eyes and envisioned a peaceful lake. Suddenly Hillary was on the lake, in a kayak, waving at me. I opened my eyes.

“Get your dad to whack him,” she whispered, sitting inches from my face.

I closed my eyes tight and kicked my legs out from under me. “My dad isn’t in the mob.”

“He’s a millionaire—don’t be a baby about this. Just tell him what happened, and I bet all on his own, he’ll decide to kill him.”

“He’s not in the mob!” I yelled at her, standing up. I grabbed my shirt from the hem and tugged it over my head.

“But he’s got the money to make him disappear, so just tell him. That’s all I’m saying.” She winked at me conspiratorially, lifting her hands in mock surrender. Hillary had met my dad a thousand times over the years, and she knew he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I had no idea why she kept going on about the mob.

“What I need is an idea. I’m not giving up…I know I don’t have six months, but I can wrangle something together. I mean, I have to try.” I grabbed for my red hoodie and held it close to my chest, wishing it still held the power to feel lucky. Even if it wasn’t real, that feeling I’d once had was everything.

“What you need is a new wardrobe.” She carefully tugged the hoodie off my body. I slapped her hand away.

“I’m serious…hey, wait!” I snapped my fingers at her a few times, trying to remember what I’d heard. “What do you know about the Devils and their card game?”

Hillary’s pink lips twisted as she pushed her black-rimmed glasses up her nose. “Um…not much. I think I heard they host a party of some kind, hand out these cards, but I don’t know what they do with them.”

Shit.My shoulders slumped as the last piece of hope drifted out of me like air escaping a leaky balloon. My best friend came and sat next to me, putting her arm around me. She and Juan were the only two friends I didn’t have spatial anxiety with. They could touch me any time they wanted, and I wouldn’t freak out. That’s not to say we hadn’t had our issues, but now, we were past it.

“Why are you suddenly asking about the Devils? You don’t do sports, babe.”

I laughed; as if I needed that reminder, but it also felt good to have someone in my life who knew me in a way that I needed to be known.

“Taylor got this card…it says home run on the back. She was invited to the party…or something.” I furrowed my brows, unsure of how to explain all the details she’d provided the day prior. “I also think I saw them meeting in the bar the other night, when I went with my classmates.”

“You went without me?” She pinched me.

“Ow!” I pinched her back. “Don’t pinch me…we were celebrating my article…” I trailed off, feeling so stupid for jinxing myself with that damn night. I should have just gone home and slept like a good introvert.

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