☆ Evan ☆

"Oh, God," Claire says, leaning over her plate of fries from the cafeteria. The steam from her tea rises in tiny wisps, fading away as quickly as her sour expression does. "Go on, spill it. If it's bad news, I don't want to hear about it. My capacity for negativity has seriously reached its weekly limit."

From next to her, Jenny grins. She holds out her hand and pulls back the sleeve of her sweater to reveal a charm bracelet decorated with initials in the middle. J and S. "We got back together!"

Here we go again.

"Finally, some good news!" The eagerness in Claire's tone doesn't reach her expression. I know better than to believe Jenny doesn't annoy her as much as she annoys me.

Claire tears open her packet of ketchup and dips her fry into it. Her eyes blink at me in a secret message that is more obvious than she thinks it is.

"Congratulations," I say in my best monotone. She kicks me underneath the table. "When did that happen?"

"At the party. He picked me up because I drunk-texted him. It was sweet, though. He didn't have to do that." Jenny twirls a hand through her hair.

It's been two days since the party, and it's the only thing North High can talk about. Earlier this morning, Jenny crowed endlessly about the message she sent to the blog—Peter's blog—and refused to tell me until Claire called her on it. I want nothing to do with Jenny on principle, but especially not if she actually believes Sam's accusations of assault.

"Speaking of Sebastian, are you still going to the game with him?" Claire asks. She is more forgiving about the ordeal than I could pretend to be. I know she's trying to keep the peace, but sidestepping an argument with Jenny is kind of like standing on the train tracks and acting surprised when you have to jump out of the way. Sometimes I wish she would just give in and let it go.

Jenny nods. "You reminded me. I have tickets in my purse. I'm selling them for the student council." She rummages in her bag and produces a stack of bright pink papers that wave like neon signs. "Who's playing?"

"I am," Claire says, "so I don't need a ticket. Evan, what about you?"

"Sure, I can come. Coach probably doesn't want me playing, but I can watch." Even though I would rather not, I take my wallet out and hand Jenny the money for a ticket as she grins at me.

"Wait. Is Sebastian coming?" Claire asks. Her eyes are fixed on the wad of cash in my hand. "And what about you?"

"You don't have to—"

"It's fine, honestly! Evan, be chivalrous and let Jenny come."

I grit my teeth and let Jenny take the rest of my spare cash. She doesn't even blink, but she does quietly thank me.

"So, what about prom?" Claire asks once the silence grows too heavy.

"I know we had a plan, but... I'm not sure I want to miss it." Jenny stares past the cafeteria and out the window. "You know, my mom never went to prom when she was a senior in high school, and it's all she ever talks about. She regrets it, like, a lot. And I don't want to end up reminiscing about the good old days. Something about it just feels wrong."

"Well, that's fine." Claire's glare zones in on me. "I can always buy a dress. We should go to the mall over the lunch break!"

I shut my eyes, as if that'll fix the matter. Like the whole ordeal about prom will go away if I focus for long enough. "I'm busy over lunch."

Her shoulders slump. When she stabs at her plate, it looks like her plastic fork is about to snap in half. She doesn't ask me what I'm doing, but Jenny is not that kind.

"Too busy to hang out with your girlfriend?"

Even if I wasn't already planning to pick up Elaine from Northwood Junior High, I would rather do anything else than go to the mall with Claire. She drags me into the most expensive stores and brings bags of clothes to the cashier without ever checking the price tag. And when the time to pay comes, she turns her puppy dog eyes on me, begging me to buy it for her.

"It's a family thing." Another lie. "And after school, I'm working. You can drop by if you want."

Claire shakes her head. "Unless Atmosphere sells dresses, we'll pass."

Considering it's a sports store, I highly doubt that. "You might be able to find some skirts."

Neither of them comments on the joke. Jenny smoothly changes the subject back to her cousin, who's getting married in a month.

I check the time. My free period is almost over, and I'm not looking forward to Math class. Before I can think about that, the intercom turns on and Principal Locke calls my name down to Coach's office.

Claire raises an eyebrow. "You'd better go."

"Yeah, I know," I reply, shutting my binder and slipping it into my backpack. I hurry through the cafeteria to Hayes's office.

The door is located across from the gymnasium, and the atmosphere here usually seems calmer. Somehow, the sound of shoes squeaking against the floor and the bouncing of basketballs make my heart bounce along with it.

I reach Coach's door, marked clearly by a sign made from construction paper. The letters forming his last name are ripped at the edges, removing the H.

"McKenna?" Hayes opens the door and I shuffle inside, my eyes falling on his desk. It's filled with file folders and loose paper, covering practically every speck of the mahogany surface. "I'm glad you came."

He directs me to sit in the wooden chair facing his desk. I place my palms flat against the scratchy surface.

I get the sense he's waiting for me to speak, so I offer him a tight smile. "I'm sorry for flaking out on practice. It won't happen again."

"If this was the first time, I would believe that. But it isn't, McKenna. You've skipped three practices in a row, and before that, you've decided not to show up to our games." He folds his elbows on the stack of papers littering his desk. "Let me tell you something, okay? You know I have a policy about missing games. After three missed games, you're off the team. Being that you've exceeded that number, I should kick you off. But I won't, because I know being on the team is important to you and your family."

It seems like everyone is acting like sports will be my saviour. That I am nothing if not a jock. Carolyn. Coach.

Maybe nothing is not that bad.

"Here's my proposition." Coach slides a sheet of paper in my direction. "I'm giving you a permission slip to quit soccer. You don't have to, and it's only a formality. But I'm doing it because while you haven't been reliable about showing up to play soccer, you always come to hockey. If you dedicate all your time to one sport and give yourself more free time, you could be our best player on the whole team. And it would get you off the bench."

A sigh of relief escapes me. "I know I have a lot on my schedule."

"That is part of why I brought you in here, as well," he says. "I think you are dedicating too much time to a sport you aren't passionate about. Evan, why are you involved in soccer and hockey? Is it the team spirit, or for another reason?"

"I like having something to do," I say. Not exactly a lie, but also not the whole truth. "Are you saying I should quit?"

Let me quit. Claire can cover my ass.

"Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't mind just focusing on hockey."

A pause. Coach Hayes rifles through his papers, discovers a pen lodged in one of the notebooks, and jots something down on his sheet. I squint, reading it upside down. The form reads 'parental permission,' and my chest sinks immediately.

"If you want to, I can sign off on your consent letter. Just give it to your parents, so that I know they're okay with it. Easy, right?"

Easy. "Sure."

I take the paper, folding it in half. After I stand and exit the room, I slip the paper in my pocket and head to class.

☆ ☽ ☆

As soon as the bell rings, I make a beeline for the parking lot. Elaine's school is down the hill from the high school, so I pull out of the parking lot and absently flick through the radio stations while I wait for a break in traffic.

The consent form is sitting in my pocket like an anchor weight. Part of me wishes it would disappear, but the other part of me is glad I have it.

Not that I think Carolyn will sign it.

I arrive at the Junior High three minutes later. The brick building is a lot smaller than North High, but it has a larger population than the high school does. The windows facing the street are painted by the student body; a mixture of kiddish flowers and stick figures smiling at the passerby.

I finally spot Elaine opening the double doors to look around for my car. She steps out alongside another student, who looks about the same age as she is. Elaine gives him a bright smile and waves before dashing over to me.

Since she's in ninth grade, she's technically allowed to leave school grounds over the break. It's the first year she can do that, so I pick her up at least once a week.

"Who was that?" I ask.

Elaine buckles herself in, scoffing. "Shut up."

"Not until you tell me who you were talking to," I reply in a mocking tone.

"Christ, Ev—"

"No swearing!" I shout, cutting her off. The car rolls over a jump, and Elaine fiddles with the radio station, grabbing the AUX cord from the cupholder between us. "Randall will kill me if you start swearing."

"Come on, it's not like I would do it in front of him." Elaine sets the music to her playlist and turns on a song I've heard before. I don't know the name, but I recognize the refrain. "Plus, you swear. A lot."

"I'm not thirteen. And you're distracting from the topic. Tell me what you did today."

"Okay, fine!" She throws her hands up in surrender. "I played in band class before lunch. Miss March thinks I'm really good at piano."

I nod. "That's because it's true."

"Maybe. Anyway, there's another kid in the same class, Tyler Yang. He plays guitar, so we don't talk most of the time. But he wanted to practice for the assembly in February, so we're doing Clair de Lune. It has a piano solo."

"It does? Am I invited?" I ask.

Elaine crosses her arms over her chest. "Not unless you want to break in and get arrested."

"I can do that." I click my signal on. It flickers to the beat of Elaine's music.

"You're weird."

"Clearly," I reply, pulling into the mall parking lot. Most of the spots are empty, besides a few cars parked near the front. I veer over to the corner where Randall's car can remain scratch-free. He's pretty keen on noticing any dents.

Elaine jumps out of the car, her phone in her hands. She doesn't know it, but when Randall bought her a phone about a year ago, he ended up unable to afford the data bills. Without telling Carolyn, he agreed to co-sign my contract and transferred both our phones onto my account.

"Let's go! Time for pretzels!" she shouts to get me to move faster.

"Okay, okay, goddamn it." I barely manage to stop myself from swearing, and cough to cover it up. "Gosh dang it."

Elaine just snorts. "Very subtle. I'm impressed."

She pulls me through the first floor of the mall, past the store where I work, to get to the elevator heading down to the terrace. A few months ago, the mall started renovations and still hasn't finished. The floors are torn apart, creating a mesh of sparkling linoleum and sections of uneven ground. At least the terrace is quiet, though.

The smell of fresh foods clash, but Elaine ignores the healthy options and the fast-food to walk to the pretzel shop, sitting closest to the window. There is nobody else in line, so Elaine skips to the counter and produces her wallet.

"Hey, hey, where'd that come from?" I ask.

She ignores me until she's finished ordering. "I brought it."

"Why? El, you don't need to worry about—"

"I'm not worried," she interrupts, taking a bottle of water from the cashier. She smiles, almost an apology for bothering them. "Don't spend the college fund money."

"Don't spend your birthday money. You should keep that. Put it somewhere safe."

The cashier hands Elaine her pretzel and passes mine over the counter. Turning to the table, Elaine plonks herself into the chair without speaking.

When I sit across from her, she breaks her pretzel in half and chews. "El?"

"You need to stop spending it," she says quietly between bites.

The college fund is meant for her. It has always been that way. I don't want to spend it, but sometimes I have no choice. I didn't need to buy Jenny's tickets, but if I hadn't, then she'd think I was an asshole. There's no winning.

"You take it, then. Put it in your tin." That's the safest place for it. "It's yours to keep, anyway. That way we both know where it is, and you can use it for whatever you want."

After a beat, Elaine nods. "Okay. What about your fake girlfriend?"

I'm not sure at what point Elaine started calling her that. It was a joke at first, considering she's never met Claire more than three or four times, and I only ever mention her in passing. "What about her?"

"Well, I don't know. Maybe she'll be pissed."

I shrug. "I'll figure something out."

Elaine inhales her food so quickly that before I know it, she's finished and waiting for me to catch up again. As I take my last bites between gulps of water, she turns her gaze to me.

"Evan?"

"Yeah?"

She doesn't answer me for a while, either on purpose or because she's distracted by the group of people across from us. Eventually, she says, "Do you love her?"

I pause. Even though I know perfectly well who she's referring to, I pretend like I don't. "Who?"

Elaine giggles. "Your fake girlfriend. Who else?"

I start to answer her, but my response never comes. My throat is stuck, like the words have gotten lodged in my throat. I can't seem to figure out why, but it dawns on me that I'm sure I have a response at all. My whole relationship with Claire begun because I needed a reason to get away from home. An excuse. Claire needed someone to depend on. A confidante.

Right now, though, I'm not sure if Claire remembers why we started dating. If she wants us to exist forever. "I've never really told her about my plans," I say.

"That... is not an answer." Elaine's eyebrows pull together as she makes a face at me.

"I think she loves me." I know she does.

Elaine sets her napkin on the table. "So?"

"So, I don't want to wreck it. Not when there's still something worth keeping."

Once I'm finished, I lead Elaine back to the car. I get the sense that she's annoyed with me, but I don't push my luck. Halfway through the drive back to the Junior High school, she turns her music off and says, "You need to tell her."

I know. "It's complicated."

"I mean about your plans, Ev. Does she seriously still think you're both going to end up at the same college?"

I want to put my head in my hands, but since I'm driving, I just grip the wheel a little tighter. "To be fair, I've never said yes."

"Evan. Don't be stupid on purpose."

"Come on. She doesn't actually think I have a chance at getting into Dalhousie. Especially not Claire, of all people. I know that was the plan, but the plan is—fudged up. She knows hockey is not going to save me from the depths of Northwood, and that the scholarships are bull... pointless."

"Good save," Elaine mutters under her breath. "Pointless or not, tell her."

"Whatever," I say with a heavy sigh. We pull into Elaine's school, and her door pops open.

She turns her head towards me and nods before climbing out. A long time ago, she used to hug me before heading off. Lately, she hardly ever says goodbye.