Page 13 of Attractive Forces
A few months ago, the idea of being friends with Logan would’ve seemed weird. But that’s where we’ve ended up. It’s different from other friendships I’ve had though. The friends I’ve made since I arrived here—Chloe, Benji, Mason, and Ellie—I kind of drifted into friendship with them, slowly getting to know them by hanging out together at lunch and messaging occasionally.
But with Logan, it’s been more…intense. Our lunchtime tutoring session has turned into a regular thing, and he often ditches his weight training so we can bury ourselves at a table in the back corner of the library. He gives me a ride home when he doesn’t have rugby practice. And we message all the time.
He’s way deeper than I thought. And yeah, yeah, I know I’m a jerk for assuming that rugby players have no layers, but I have to confess Logan constantly surprises me. In a good way.
“He’s the Presbyterian pastor’s son, right?” Mum asks.
“Right.”
That’s something I’ve noticed about Logan. Even this afternoon, when I tagged along with him into town so he could pick up the dry cleaning for his mum, he was constantly stopping to talk to people. He has this aura of belonging that comes from having lived in this town his whole life.
I used to have that too. Back in the suburb of Wellington I grew up in, everyone knew Annaliese, Aaron, and I were Andrew Stenton’s children. I didn’t appreciate the sense of security it gives you when everyone knows who you are.
Until that became a very bad thing.
* * *
I convinceChloe to come along to the game with me, even though she’s not rostered to cover it for the student newspaper. As she’s not one to suffer in silence, I’m regularly reminded of all the things she’d prefer to be doing. Like waxing her legs. Washing her hair. Or having her fingernails extracted.
“It’s like making a builder spend their spare time doing up houses,” she grumbles. “Or a plumber spend their spare time fixing leaks.”
“But you actually don’t have to do anything. Just sit here.”
“I don’t get why you’re suddenly a rugby fan,” she says. She’s wearing a green-and-blue striped hat with a yellow pom-pom on it. It makes her look about twelve.
“I just wanted to see Logan play,” I reply honestly.
Chloe raises an eyebrow. “That’s dedication. I wonder if all tutors have a similar level of commitment to their students.”
I don’t reply.
Chloe leans forward, the pom-pom wobbling. “Let me guess, you’re trying to find a rugby context for chemistry. Maybe talk to him about how the oxygen atoms bind with iron in the hemoglobin in his blood, which is how he gets enough energy in his muscles to throw the ball.”
I nudge her. “You know we’ve been hanging out.”
“Yeah, I heard you’ve been sighted in Logan’s chick mobile. What’s that all about? Using Logan to get access to all the cute, popular girls?”
“You’ve cracked my master plan,” I deadpan back. “And here I thought no one would ever realize my evil genius.”
“Or maybe you’re just trying to jump a few rungs in the popularity ladder? It’s not fair, Jake. Some of us have spent years jostling for position, hanging on by our fingernails. And you’re leaping over all of us in one go.” Although her words are teasing, there’s an edge in her voice.
I know I haven’t been hanging out as much recently with my friends. Between trying to keep my grade average, practicing for the debate team and Mathletics, helping Mum as she covers more shifts at the diner, tutoring Logan, and now also spending extra time with him, there’s not a lot of time left over.
I don’t want my friends to feel like I’ve abandoned them just because Logan is more popular. It’s not like that.
Before I can work out the right thing to say, the PA system squawks, and the music is switched off abruptly to an announcer’s voice.
“Give a huge welcome to your Heath Valley Cougars! The reigning provincial champions!”
The crowd around us roars.
It’s funny how I can instantly pick out Logan as he runs out on the field even though his back faces me and he’s surrounded by identically dressed players.
I’m familiar with his gait, the way he holds his shoulders in that straight line. I watch as he and Brewer toss some warm-up passes to each other, the ball spiraling perfectly through the air.
The opposing team runs out to a mixture of boos and cheers because the old wooden stand opposite us is filled with St Kilda supporters. The rugby team is so popular that they play on the town’s rugby fields rather than the school’s.
As the game starts, my eyes keep drawing to Logan. Even when he’s nowhere near the action, I can’t help watching him. He’s so graceful on the field. It’s like he actually is a cougar: a powerful, lithe creature stalking quietly through the forest, lethal when they attack.
