Page 40 of Saving Barrette

“Who is that?” I ask Roman, pointing to the one who keeps saying Asa loud enough for me to hear. I know who it is, but today, I’m not sure. She looks different from the last time I saw her. Lighter hair maybe. She freaking dyed it blonde like mine.

We may not make public appearances, but it’s known around this school that Asa and I are together. Most girls know that he’s taken, though he doesn’t clarify what this is that we have. I don’t think we need to. What business is it of theirs?

Roman looks confused for a half a second, like he can’t remember and then says, “Eva?”

He’s not positive either.

I’m not quiet when I speak, but I’m not exactly loud when I say, “If she doesn’t shut up about Asa, I’m going to rip out her hair.”

“Go ahead,” Roman snorts, seeming bored as he twirls a pencil around in his hand. “It’s fake.”

Eva turns around, her red flush could have been endearing if she wasn’t so fake. “I can hear you,Barrette.”

I’m surprised she knows my name. “Well, good.” I lean forward over the table so she can hear me a little better. “I wanted you to.”

“Why are you such a bitch? You’re just jealous that Asa confides in me?”

Confides in her? Doubtful. “Are you jealous that he fucks me and not you?” Oh my God, did I really just say that out loud? I want to slap my hand over my mouth. Who have I become?

Look at her. The wide eyes and the parted lips. I caught her off guard. “I’m surprised he does.” She turns. “Do you even remember it? Or do you block it out in fear you’ll have a breakdown.”

There’s a brief moment when I’m caught off guard by her words, unable to reply. It’s not a secret around here that I was raped. I wish it was, but word gets out. And I’m sure someone has been there to witness the bad days when I hide under a hoodie with dark circles under sleepy eyes. With her words, I want to break down and cry. I could. I might, but I won’t let her have that kind of satisfaction over me. Not this girl. She doesn’t deserve it.

“Fuckyou,” I snap, the anger rising inside me to the point I’m shaking.

I will not cry.

I will not cry overher.

I will not cry overthis.

I leave. I don’t go to any of my classes the rest of the day, but I don’t cry. Not this time.

Do you know the definition of insanity? It’s doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

I guess if you look at it that way, I would be considered insane.

My head pounds as I stare up at the stadium lights and chew on the corner of my mouthpiece. I contemplate and go over what she said the other night even when I should be concentrating on the game.You should let go.

Doesn’t she know I can’t? Ever. It’s not an option for me.

Terrell bumps me. “All or nothing, A. Bring it.”

I nod, knowing that’s his nudge to get me out of my own head and in the game.

Go hard. You never know which play will be your last.

There’s something about the crowd here at Husky Stadium. It’s loud to the point you can’t even hear at times. It makes it hard to call plays on the line, but the fact that these fans showed up here is all that matters to me. We open our scoring in the game against Stanford when I find an opening through to the end zone and run the ball for a 57-yard touchdown. It kicks the game off and leaves us all hungry for more.

All game long, number forty-eight on the defense keeps cheap shotting Roman, and I’m sick of it. Roman might be an asshole, but he’s on our team, and being the captain of the team, I stand up for our players. It’s loyalty and something a lot of young player’s lack. Something Roman lacks most days too, but it’s part of who I am, and no one is going to change that.

We fight for every yard and score again right before the half. I walk over to number forty-eight and lay my helmet into his. “Next time you take a bullshit shot on my team”—I fist his jersey in my hands—“I’ll lay your motherfucking ass outmyself.”

“Screw you, asshole.” He shoves me back. Terrell’s there as well as Roman to catch me.

Terrell smiles, winking at me. “Pick on players your own size, A.”

I shove him off me as we head into the locker room. I’m called on taunting and a penalty, but it doesn’t matter. It was worth it. Nothing gets me more fired up than guys never getting called on penalties when it was clear he has clotheslined Roman more than once after a play.

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