Page 2 of Saving Barrette

Right. That. I roll my eyes. He doesn’t know the half of it. “Whatever.”

His eyes soften, but I can tell he’s beginning to panic that I might leave and never come back. “You’re raw right now and easily provoked. I just don’t think you need to be hanging out with that group at the moment.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He fidgets, his jaw tight and flexing. He’s pissed now. I may not have been around him much in the last four years, but I know this look because it’s what I do. I think back to the funeral last week and the way he stood stoic in the distance, unmoving, unfazed on the outside and I wonder, did it tear him up inside? Did he feel anything that his first love died so brutally from a cancer that tore apart her life and body?

And then comes the fatherly advice he’s been dying to give me since I came home. “Asa, I don’t want to hear that you’re fine, because you’re not. Your mom d—”

“Don’t you dare say it!” I shout at him, stepping closer. “Jesus Christ. I know she fucking died. I was there when she took her last breath. You weren’t. So don’t act like you suddenly know anything about me. I’m fine. And this town isn’t the problem. I am.”

He knows there’s truth in my words, but the dad in him won’t let me get the last word. He grabs hold of my elbow. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re not yourself right now and it’s okay. You’ve been through a lot, but you have to be smart. If you go out now, with your temperament, it’s only going to take one person setting you off and you could lose everything. I agreed by bringing you here that you wouldn’t get into trouble. You’re already on the NCAA radar and it’s not a place you want to be. It’s the only way you’re not in jail right now, Asa. If you get in another fight, your scholarship to UW is gone.”

Lose everything? Ha. I thought I already had.

From the time I was six years old playing youth football, I’ve had one goal in mind. The NFL. For me, nothing stood in the way of that. Until my mom got sick. I moved to Ohio with her and played high school ball for Massillon High School. For her, I refocused and made the best of the life I now had. For her, I forgot my old life in Washington and did what I needed to do for her. It certainly wasn’t easy for a fifteen-year-old boy, but I did it because I knew my mom needed me.

Have you heard about Massillon Ohio? They breed football players. Hell, every baby boy born in Massillon is handed a miniature football. They’ve had twenty-three pro players, three NFL coaches, and fourteen collegiate all-American’s graduate from that school. The Massillon Tigers are one of the winningest high school football teams in the country, and I lead them to the state title this season. They say some kids have talent and others don’t. Well me, Asa Lawson, I have the talent, just not the head space most of the time. I obsess. I have anxiety and quite possibly the worst temper you can imagine when pushed over the edge.

Being arrested at my mom’s funeral might just be a good example, but it’s still early. I’ll probably give you another reason why sooner rather than later.

It comes down to this. I should stay home. I should. But the draw to see her is far too tempting.

“I won’t get in any fights,” I tell my dad in passing, unsure if I will keep the promise.

He mumbles something, though I’m not sure what because from then on out, my thoughts are centered around a girl and the need to know where we stand now, if anywhere.

Deep breaths, B. That’s all you need to do to keep from passing out.

He’s here. You may not know who I’m referring to, but if you saw him, you’d know. He’s the one who holds everyone’s attention and the target of every snickering girl trying to draw him their way. He doesn’t move from his place beside the fire. I’m not sure he’s noticed me, or even if he remembers me.

My heart thuds louder, a steady, persistent drumbeat.Shit, stop staring at him.

Do you notice the way I hide behind my hair and avoid contact with pretty much everyone? That’s a girl who clearly wants to disappear into thin air.

Laughter and playfulness fill the air beside me. Girls screaming, guys too loud, too obnoxious in their attempt to be cool. But not him. He’s relaxed, undeterred, unfazed by anything around him. Standing tall, muscular, rigid, and if I had to guess, his thoughts are not with the ones around him.

The pacific northwest summer sun beats down on my bare shoulders, the only relief under the thick shade of the pine trees lining Budd Inlet. There are noises all around me—summer noises—boats, creaking docks, laughing. I drop my head, my hair falling forward to conceal my face. My stomach squeezes, ready to vomit the pizza rolls I scarfed down just hours ago. Come to think of it, I’ve never had a weak stomach, until now. Until I can’t draw my eyes away from him. They flicker and then away, only to find their way back again like the pull he’s always had on me.

Don’t puke, I tell myself.You don’t have a change of clothes with you.

I don’t know what I’m doing here. I hate parties. High school parties, even worse. I guess I’ve never experienced anything but high school parties and the occasional birthday, and one very awkward graduation party for my cousin Layne. I’ve never enjoyed anything where I’m forced to interact and pretend I’m comfortable being surrounded by strangers.

“We should be at your house,” Cadence says, rolling her eyes at the laughter coming from the water where the keg is. While the party is just getting started, it seems her on-again—more off-again—boyfriend, Roman, is doing a keg stand. “At least there we wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure they have the cameras on to watch our every move,” I tell her, knowing they do. “And we have nothing but kale chips and sparkling water to drink.”

Cadence makes a sour face. “Your parents are so fucking weird.”

“Try having them as parents.”

My, shall I say, eccentric parents, they spend the summers traveling without me. Every teenager’s dream, right? Believe me, it’s for the better. They used to drag me around to all the places they wanted to go, but finally, when I turned sixteen and proved I could stay home alone, they stopped forcing me to go. Besides that, my grandpa lives next door to us. It’s not like I’m really left home alone.

“Holy shit. Isn’t that Asa Lawson?” Cadence gestures toward the bonfire where I know he’s standing. Her eyes slide to mine and it’s a waiting game of what my reaction is going to be.

My red cup rests in my hand and I struggle to maintain my “distracted” look I’ve been practicing. I do that jerky head motion that makes it look like I have Tourette’s syndrome. I don’t, but it doesn’t matter. When I’m nervous, I get jerky and my voice becomes high and shaky. Classic teenage-girl move for sure. “Yeah, it’s him.” I divert eye contact. See? Did you notice the octave my voice reached? Embarrassing. “Stop looking at him!” I hiss.

She snickers. “I’m sorry. But damn, it’s just so hard not to. He certainly filled out, didn’t he?”

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