The Unconditional Pledge

15 Nick

As I pull up to Josh's driveway and shut off the ignition, I lean my head against the steering wheel and groan. "Nick, you're being stupid," I whisper to myself. "And weak."

That second part feels especially true to me. I've never felt this much stress over any game — and I've had some pretty bad ones over my high school career, too.

I kick open the door of my dad's Hummer and slam it behind me. Seconds later, the front door bursts open. "Sawyer! You're late. Get your ass in here."

I grin despite myself and head up the front steps as Josh steps away from the door. From inside, I can hear someone roaring with laughter and the refrigerator door opening and closing. In the living room, Kyle Anderson, Eric Lanthe, Connor Paulson and Chase Foster, Juliby's stepbrother, are piled on the couch, a football game on the television in front of them.

I rub my hands together. "What is this I see, boys? Where are the ladies?"

Josh walks in from the kitchen, a beer in his hand. "Aw, did you forget, Nickie?"

I clap a hand to my forehead. "Shit. All boys night on Thursdays."

Josh ambles over to the empty side of the couch and collapses onto it. "We have some serious shit to discuss, boys." He leans forward and puts his hands together as though praying, bringing them to his lips. "The Fall Ball."

Eric and Chase whoop excitedly in unison. I balance myself on the armrest of the sofa next to Josh. "What about it?"

Josh looks at me incredulously. "What about it?" he repeats. "What about it?"

"It's the Fall Ball — no explanation needed," Eric agrees.

"We'll need to plan this out, boys," Josh says. "Really plan it out."

Kyle pulls out his phone. "Where are Jay and Ashton, anyway? I thought their asses would want to be here for this."

I look down at the floor, suddenly remembering what I've been avoiding thinking about this entire afternoon. The memory of standing below the bleachers, looking into Hannah's eyes as she reassures me the rumors of her and Jay are false, and then the feeling of betrayal washing over me as I inspected one of the flyers on the floor, is enough to make me feel a little sick sitting on the couch. Even the betrayal aside, I'd never seen Hannah look so hurt. I can't imagine how she's feeling right now.

"Jay says he's too tired after practice, and Ashton isn't answering his cell," Josh says next to me. The room's gone quiet — I can tell the guys feel sorry for me, but they don't want to take either person's side. "We'll talk about it with them next time."

"I can't wait, man," Chase says. "This has to be the best year."

The rest of the guys echo their agreement. I gaze blankly at the television screen, zoning out a little. Fieldbrook Heights might not be the prep school with the best grades in the state, but if there's one thing you can count on, it's the parties we throw. The guys aren't just excited about the dance itself, but also the annual prank that always follows: the Whooping. Every year, the senior class gets together and throws the biggest prank they can at a random school event. The goal is to get bigger and more badass each time. Last year, the senior class had managed to fill the swimming pool entirely with beer — then proceeded to swim in it. The year before that, they filled the football field with watermelons, hundreds of them, and tied rubber bands around each, so they all exploded one by one. And the year before that — the senior class set up a petting zoo in the main hall in our school.

I'm silent, which is unusual for me. I'm not even sure why I'm here. This entire day has been a roller coaster, from football practice, where I'm pretty sure I sprained my shoulder, to under the bleachers with Hannah, to now, sitting next to my best friend and pledge target talking about some huge prank we've got to orchestrate. I put my head in my hands and rub my temples, suddenly overwhelmed.