Wild Cards

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Derek


The sun is setting as I jog with Falkor. At the last minute I decided I might as well try to make nice with the beast and give him some exercise. I don’t have a destination, but the hot, fresh air hitting my face loosens my tense muscles.

Within minutes, Falkor and I pass the high school and the football field right next to it. Memories of my mom watching me play football fill my head. She was always the loudest parent in the bleachers; I swear her lungs must’ve been sore by the end of each game. Even after she’d just had chemo and felt nauseous and tired, she’d be there. “Watching you play is my favorite thing to
do,” she’d say.

I’d do anything to play for her just one more time. Hell, I’d do anything just to talk to my mom again. But that’s never gonna happen.

The beast and I jog around the track a couple of times before getting bored and venturing through town. As I stop at a red light and follow signs to the beach, I think about Ashtyn. Man, that tight shirt and short shorts didn’t leave much to the imagination. It was a complete transformation from this afternoon, when her body was covered by a big hoodie. Maybe Ashtyn is a chameleon, changing into a new person depending on who she’s hanging with. I wonder if her boyfriend likes her wearing sexy clothes so he can show her off like a trophy. When he picked her up, he looked at me
like I was an opponent about to intercept one of his passes.

“I don’t like her boyfriend,” I say to Falkor.

The beast stares up at me with gray eyes and pants, his long tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

“Next time he comes over you should pee on his leg,” I suggest.

I’m talking to a dog. I feel like that movie where the guy is stranded on a desert island and ends up talking to a volleyball as if it’s his best friend. I sure as hell hope this isn’t a sign that I’m destined to have Falkor as my only friend while I’m living in Chicago. That would suck more than being stuck in Headmaster Crowe’s office getting lectured for an hour.

When we get to the beach, I look out over the calm water. The shoreline is tame compared to Cali, where sleeper waves can take your feet out from under you without warning. I stand at the water’s
edge and look across the moonlit water with Falkor at my side. I wonder how my dad feels being surrounded by nothing but water. He told me once that living in a submarine is like escaping the outside world and living in your own bubble. While some guys enlist for money or education or to find themselves, my dad says being in the military makes him feel useful. Everyone has a purpose in life, he once told me. Finding out yours is crucial to knowing who you are and who you want to be.

What’s my purpose? I haven’t told my dad that I’m going to enlist after I graduate, in an attempt to find my purpose in life.

As I jog along the shoreline, I come across a small crowd hanging around a fire listening to music and laughing. I recognize Ashtyn immediately. She’s sitting next to her boyfriend, but they both look miserable. The dude’s holding a beer in one hand and is leaning on the other. If she were my girlfriend, I’d have one hand tangled in that long blond hair of hers and the other on her waist,
pulling her close so our bodies were pressed against each other as I kissed her until she was breathless. But I’m not him.

Falkor barks, attracting the attention of more than a few people. Including Ashtyn. Shit. Her distrusting eyes meet mine before she looks away and pretends I don’t exist.

I end up taking a detour and jog the rest of the way back to the house. I wish the workout made me stop thinking too much, but seeing Ashtyn reminds me of all the crap I have to deal with.

“Ashtyn isn’t all that,” I tell Falkor.

This weird sound, kind of like a groan, comes out of the dog’s mouth.

“She’s got a boyfriend. And she can’t stand me livin’ in her house, right?” But she’s got full, kissable lips. And these eyes that seem to change colors with her moods. I can’t shake her from my mind.

I stop and look down at the dog for confirmation, since he knows her better than me. He’s looking up at me with droopy, clueless eyes.

“I’m talking to a damn dog, and I called her crazy.” I laugh to myself.

Back at the house I’m trying to find a comfortable position on my air mattress, but it’s not easy. On top of that, I keep imagining Ashtyn’s lips as if they’re some kind of artwork to be admired and analyzed. When I’m finally so beat and bored I can sleep soundly even on this crappy blowup, Falkor jumps onto the bed with me. I’m waiting for the mattress to puncture and explode, but it doesn’t. Within seconds, the beast is snoring.

I’ve been dozing for at least an hour when someone bursts into the room. “Why are you sleeping with my dog?” Ashtyn demands.

“I’m not,” I respond in a sleepy moan. “He’s sleepin’ with me.”

“Isn’t it enough that my sister and nephew worship the ground you walk on? You want to steal my dog, too? I saw you at the beach with Falkor. I don’t want you thinking he’s your dog. He’s mine.”

“Listen, Sugar Pie, Falkor snuck into my room. I didn’t invite him. You got issues with your family, keep me out of it.” I sit up and note that she’s changed into a hockey jersey and baggy flannel pants with skulls and crossbones on them. It’s a drastic change from what she wore on her date. “Just take your dog and go to bed.”

I lie back down and expect her to leave, but I feel her gaze on me. I wish I wasn’t tempted to reach out and pull her close, to shut her up with a kiss that would make her forget that boyfriend. “What?”

“If you call me Sugar Pie again, I’m going to knock you out.”

I’m tempted to say the word on the tip of my tongue. Promise?