Blind Ambition | ✓

07 | All's Fair in Love and Football

The setting sun burned the sky a vivid shade of orange, but even as dusk began to settle in, the summer heat lingered. I had to peel myself off of the leather seats of Chris's Jeep as he slid into a parking spot beside a soccer mom Lexus SUV, complete with the stick figure family decal on the back window.

We popped the trunk and sat up against the bumper, drinking Red Bull vodkas from old water bottles and gazing out at the open field of dirt and dead grass in front of. 362 days out of the year, this field was empty, but on the last official weekend of summer, it came to life in an explosion of lights, rides, and inebriated decision making. Above all, it was the catalyst to the incoming school year's drama. Who hooked up with who, who broke up with who, who yakked on who's shoes on the tilt-a-whirl, it all only transpired under the heat and the lights. One last weekend of bullshit.

Chris chucked an empty water bottle into his backseat and checked his watch. "He's late...as usual."

"By five minutes," I groaned. I fished around in my backpack for another pre-mixed Vodka Red Bull concoction and shoved the bottle in Chris's hands. "You need to loosen up, your stress is stressing me out."

I kicked around a clump of stringy grass with the toe of my sneaker, and in the dark of the oncoming night, the colorful lights of the fair in the distance seemed to flutter to life. With Jordyn still in the Hamptons, I had free reign to do virtually whatever (and whoever) I wanted, but the thought of stirring up more drama than I could swallow before the school year started made me jittery. I slugged down more alcohol.

Bass-thumping rap music filled the air, shortly followed by Anthony's blacked out Mercedes C300 swerving into the open spot next to Chris. He rolled up his overly-tinted windows as he and Cal jumped out of the car.

"About damn time," Chris moaned.

Anthony hit him on the chest in response. "You'll change your tune when you see what took me so long."

"Oh look, sir Calvin has risen from the dead." I tauntingly pulled on the strings of Cal's neon yellow Under Armor hoodie, and he immediately swatted me away with a grimace.

"You really still don't believe me?" he asked. "I had fucking mono."

"Doesn't matter if I believe you," I shrugged. "You still owe Coach Knox like...fifty laps on Monday."

Cal rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, like a little kid we just put in the time out corner.

Calvin Ryder fluttered on the outside of our circle, but he was still on the football team, Cal might have only been a kicker, but in true New Livingston Day School football fashion, he was the best kicker in the state of Connecticut and had already signed his intent for some FCS school out in the midwest.

"Can you all just shut it?" Anthony stood on his toes and glanced around the lot for any lingering people before pulling a plastic bag out of the pocket of his jeans. He spilled a couple of white pills out into his palm, and we all took one.

"As fresh as they come," he said proudly, and I couldn't hold back a snicker.

Chris gave me a sideways glance. "You wanna split one?"

"Don't be such a little bitch, Thompson," Anthony jabbed.

Maybe it was residual bitterness from my spat with Anthony over the week, but whatever he wanted, I wanted the opposite, no matter what it was. I cracked my pill in half right down the middle.

"Yeah, let's split one," I gave Chris a nod, then dropped the other half and stomped it into the dirt with my heel.

Anthony held up his Vodka Red Bull water bottle in a toast. "Rest in fucking peace Summer 2020. You've been good to us."