Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“If nothing happens, I promise, I’ll lay off. And I’ll tell Bradley to lay off too,” she says.
I nod. “Deal.”
Going to two Football House parties in such close succession feels weird. It feels even weirder wearing the least “me” clothes in Mandy’s closet. I hate jeans— they’re not that comfortable, no matter what anyone says— and worship sundresses, so naturally, Mandy has dressed me in skinny jeans and a crop top. It looks cute, but it’s nothing I’d ever choose for myself. I stare at myself in the mirror for a few moments before we leave. Is this wrong? Is this spying?
Probably.
Is this something I need to do? If only to get Mandy off Finn’s case
Definitely.
I tell myself that’s the only reason I’m doing it.
We head toward Football House well after dark, cutting down side streets to get there faster. At the Football House gate, a freshman player lets us in without question. The party isn’t raging, yet— just small groups of relatively quiet people drinking their first round, perhaps their second if they’re early starters. Mandy steers me away from the bartender— “He knows everything and everyone. If he sees you, it’s all over.”
“He doesn’t know about me and Finn— besides, I want a drink,” I complain.
“Come on, let’s just go down the hall and wait. I’ve got a spy who will let us know when Finn arrives.”
The “spy” turns out to be Bradley, who arrived after us, intentionally. Mandy is giggly and excited, like this actually is a crazy high-stakes mission, as she coordinates with him over text. Bradley is stationed by the entrance, pretending to just be casually drinking a beer. He’ll text when Finn arrives, then use those Left/Right/Ahead/Stop emojis to tell us where he’s going, so we can stay out of sight.
“This is so wrong,” I mutter. “Finn literally has never done anything to make me doubt him. You guys are the ones who are worried.”
“Well, and if this all checks out, then we won’t be,” Mandy says with a shrug. We’re in some sort of bedroom that’s been repurposed as a library, with a wide leather couch in the middle, the sort that looks kind of like one of those old school fainting couches. It’s a lot more formal than the rest of Football House, with a sort of scholarly feel rather than Football All The Time Always Football Is King vibe— which is probably why no one has so much as cracked the door since we arrived.
“How are we going to see anything if we’re in here, anyway?” I say, running a finger across a row of Harton yearbooks, lined up on the closest shelf and leather-bound like classics.
“I’ve planned a honey trap,” Mandy says, giggling.
“A what?” I ask, wondering just how many spy movies she’s been watching lately.
“Look, I didn’t want to wait around all night to test my theory that he’s a secret asshole. So I have a friend from the gymnastics team who’s going to hit on him and try to lure him back there. This is where people come to have sex. It’s the only room with something similar to a bed,” she says, motioning to the couch.
“Okay, that’s disgusting,” I say, looking at the fainting couch with disdain, “and also, that’s awful. You’re going to bait him? While he’s drinking? Mom would lose her shit. If we were guys and you were saying this, I’d get you arrested so fast—“
“Okay, but we’re not guys, and I think Finn can handle his own since he weighs basically twice what this gymnast weighs,” Mandy says, rolling her eyes. “Besides, it’s not even eleven. Even if he’s been drinking, he can’t be even so much as tipsy by now. Relax.”
“This is so gross,” I say, shaking my head.
Mandy ignores me, instead pouncing at her phone when it buzzes. “Okay! She’s got him. She’s leading him this way. Come on, we need to hide.”
My sister pulls me toward a closet that, upon opening, I see is nearly empty save for some spare paint cans and an empty condom wrapper. We hustle inside and close the door, leaving it open just a crack. I can feel Mandy’s excited energy, and I can’t help but be angry about it.
“You want my boyfriend to cheat on me, don’t you?” I ask in disbelief.
This quells her enthusiasm a little. She sighs lightly and looks up at me, then is quiet for a few moments. “Of course I don’t, Kenley. But I just don’t think he’s your boyfriend— not really. I think he’s a dick taking advantage of you. And I think if we make this a big dramatic adventure then you’re less likely to end up crying alone in your room, okay?”
“I can take care of myself, Mandy. I’m not a kid,” I say.
“But you’re still my little sister,” she reminds me, and looks like she might say more before she’s interrupted by the light sound of the room’s door opening.