It Started with a Bet... (Watty Awards 2011)

"Oh. So you want someone to yell 'GO TREVOR!' whenever you get the ball?"

Chapter 18-- “Oh. So you want someone to yell ‘GO TREVOR!’ whenever you get the ball?”

 

By the time I get back into the house, Trevor’s gone upstairs to shower, a list of homework on the kitchen table for me. I head over to the guest room, which is my room now, I guess, and get started.

"Haley, honey, what's this?" Mom randomly enters the room a few minutes later. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I keep forgetting.”

"That's a dress," I say, looking over at her. She's standing with her back to me, staring at the bulletin board we moved from my house. It's bare, save the drawing of the Impossible Dress.

"The Impossible Dress," Mom says, waiting for me to explain. I don't.

"Haley, I need help on this math problem. Woah, Mom, didn’t see you when I got home." Trevor pauses at the doorway. Mom shrugs.

"I was here.”

"Oh.” There’s a silence.

"Did you have dinner?" she asks. I turn back to my math homework while they continue their awkward conversation. Eventually Mom leaves. Trevor flops face up on my bed.

"Math problem?" I reminded him.

"So did you guys hang out all day?" he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Did you have fun?”

I shrug, unsure of what he’s implying. “Yeah. Your parents are really nice.”

“Yeah. What were you guys talking about?”

"She walks in, says hello, asks about that drawing," I point to the bulletin board, "I say it's a dress, she agrees, you walk in." He lets out a deep sigh. Is he getting jealous? "You guys are pretty close aren't you?" I ask. Maybe he’ll realize that I’m not trying to take his place or anything.

"Very." He sits up suddenly. "Are you trying to make me feel better?" I flush suddenly. Is that it? Really? I shrug.

"Which math problem were you having trouble with?"

I haven't reached that problem yet, but we puzzle over it together anyway, eventually reaching the conclusion that Trevor's answer is right, and the one in the back of the book is wrong. It's happened before. There's something about higher level math that causes the authors to make way more mistakes in the back of the book than you'd expect.

"Thanks, Haley."

"For what?" He turns away from me, staring intently at the Impossible Dress.

"For caring." I cared? Oh. About his mom.

“No problem,” I say. Though it kind of is. I mean, did I really care? Or was I just being polite? I sigh. Is it really necessary to worry about it? No, no it’s not. And with that in mind I leave the room, following Trevor as he sits down on the couch and turns on the TV.

“Are you comfortable around him?” he asks.

I look over at Trevor, confused.

“Your therapist.”

“Oh.” I mull over this a bit. I don’t like lying to Trevor, but I still feel apprehensive as to what will happen if he knows the truth. “Yeah. I am.”

"Did you tell him about the knives?"

"No. And I'd prefer no one tell him." He looks confused and opens his mouth to ask why, but stops.

"Okay. Oh, and just a heads up: Mom doesn’t like Dr. Thornton too much. Something to do with a horrible, twisted thesis." I nod and lean back on the sofa.

"Anything exciting happen at school?" I ask. He shifts slightly so his shoulder is touching mine.

"Soccer try-outs." I look at him in surprise.

"Really?”

"Yup. Just a little work out today. Tryouts start tomorrow,” he explains. I nod.

"Are you any good at soccer?" He scoots lower in the sofa, leaning sideways until his head is millimeters from my shoulder.

"I guess. Will you come watch?" His voice is quieter, like he's tired and his head finally rests on my shoulder. I don't move.

"Watch what?"

“Tryouts.” I pause for a second.

“So I go and watch you…run with the ball, pass the ball, score goals, block goals, and so on? For hours and hours on end?” He laughs.

“I’m taking that as a no.”

“Why do you want me to come anyway?” He pauses for a second.

“Support. That’s why people come to watch tryouts anyway. Support their friends and stuff.” I wrinkle my nose.

“Oh. So you want someone to yell ‘GO TREVOR!’ whenever you get the ball?” I don’t really see myself as that kind of girl. He chuckles.

“I would pay money to see you do that.” I pretend to ponder the suggestion.

“How much?” He doesn’t reply. “Joking!” I say quickly, poking him in the shoulder. “But really, I don’t think I’m a screaming kind of person.”

“Well then, why don’t you just come and watch? Maybe send a thumbs up from time to time?” I think about it.

“How long are the try-outs?”

“A couple hours. Maybe longer.” I push his head off lightly and stare at him.

“You’re serious? I’ll stay for about an hour. I have a life too, you know.”
***
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“Hustle up, boys!” I don’t know what’s more amazing: the amount of guys here for the first day of tryouts or the fact that I’m actually here. The coach gathers them all around and begins the grueling warm-ups. Pushups, sit-ups, laps and laps and laps. Then begins the actual try-outs. I can see why Trevor wanted some support. He comes out of the final lap exhausted, the sweat leaving an enormous puddle on his shirt. His eyes scan the stands wearily, finally resting on me. I manage a small smile and thumbs up. He grins back and huddles with the other guys around the coach. I glance at my cell phone. An hour’s gone by. I text Trevor, though I know he won’t see it for a while.

Well, I saw the first hour. It wasn’t much, though. I’ll stay until I see you do something spectacular. Wouldn’t want to come all this way for nothing. You owe me big time, pal.

Midway through the second hour I see someone wave to me from the field. It takes me a second to respond. Corey looks amazing on the best of days, but today…wow. Sure, he’s sweating. Sure, he’s got his hair pulled back in a ponytail. But he’s wearing a muscle shirt. And the boy has muscles. And the ponytail looks good on him. And the sweating? It’s not much of a con either. I wave back, catching Trevor’s attention.

His eyes flick from me to the field around him, looking for the person I’m waving to. The he waves at me and I wave back, causing Corey to look around in confusion. When they finally realize who the other party is, things take an unexpected turn for the worse.

I spend the next half hour fielding glances from both guys, each looking for some kind of approval after each drill. It’s ridiculous. Then, when they’re pitted against one another, the entire field crackles with tension. What is wrong with these people? I’ve never done anything to lead Corey on and Trevor damn well knows I’m incapable of liking him. Finally, I send Trevor a text.

You’re doing great, but I have a lot of work to do. I already spent an extra hour watching. Don’t kill Corey. I’ll see you at home.

As I get up to leave, I see both Trevor and Corey’s eyes on me. I just wave at both of them, pointing to my phone when I see Trevor. He nods. The coach calls a water break and he jogs over to him gym bag. I’m half-way to the parking lot when I get a text back.

I’m glad you came. I’ll see you at home.

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Awkward Econ Teacher Quote # 18
"You know how you test for illegal immigrants in trucks going across the border? Stop the bus, open the back, and set a couple boxes on fire. If you hear screaming, 'Hey! I found some people!' If not, 'Eh, keep driving.' " 

It's not so much gross or wrong as just plain awkward.