Supportive Girlfriend
ZOEY’S POV
It’s no news that I never belonged here, at Fort Collins High. No friends, no study partner, just a bunch of kids who only came to me when they failed a test and needed me to tutor them. I used to do it for free back then, but then Brian said.
“They’re a bunch of assholes who are just intimidated by your genius and gigantic brain,” while he ruffled my hair. We were at my dining table, sitting side by side, then he’d cupped my chin and looked me straight in the eyes. “If they’re going to make you feel like shit and still need your help, then monetize it, Z. Make some good cash out of it and buy whatever you want with it. It’s your brain after all.”
And of course I listened to him. Brian has always been good at the whole big brother stuff. He always looked out for me, for Alex, for their mom… but their dad? Not so much.
Now sitting here, in 3rd period Anatomy & Physiology with Mr. DeLuca, I felt lost. I looked over my glasses at the overly pompous girls who acted like they were Taylor Vaughan from She’s All That and boys with raging hormones. It might be an inside joke, but it’s a fact. Though a part of me has always wanted to be a part of all these scandalous shenanigans, but I just can’t. I’m not half as pretty as the girls in my class. My wardrobe could pass for a lost-and-found.
I want to go home. I love school, don’t get me wrong, especially on days when I’m all pumped with some Brian-Adrenaline, but today he seemed pretty quiet.
“Hey, Bennett.” I looked up to see Cameron smiling down at me with his uneven teeth.
“What do you want, Cam?”
“Can I sit with you?”
As if… FYI, Cameron is not the kind of kid I want to be seen with. Not as if I’m the kind of kid anyone would want to be seen with either, but with Cameron around, I have high hopes. At least I accepted my fate and got braces…
“Uhm… Zoey?”
“Go away, Cam.” I just can’t help but roll my eyes at him.
Mr. DeLuca clears his throat from the front of the class, his solar system model casting planet shadows on the whiteboard. “Whatever love fest is going on there, I believe can wait till after my class.”
Great
And that’s exactly the kind of stuff assholes love to laugh at, because the rest of the class burst into laughter. Thank you, Cameron, for making my life an even bigger hell.
“They look cute together though.”
“Yeah, two love-nerds, could be a bestseller.”
Of course I could hear them. I want to yell or scream or run or just stand up for myself for once, but that’s a bravado I don’t have, not even in my sleep. How many more hours before I finally run out of oxygen?
_ _ _ _
The cafeteria has always been a mixture of spices, voices, and body odor mixed with Axe cologne. I’ve never been a fan of sitting in here, mainly because I don’t have friends to sit with, so I just take my lunch outside and sit over at French Field. I always get a better view of Alex from here when there’s no big game and he’s training with the other Lambkins.
My life’s routine isn’t really hard. Wake up, get ready for school while daydreaming about Alex, get dropped off by Brian who pep talks me for the day, and spend a miserable eight hours at FCHS — not the learning part though. Watch Alex practice, try to get his attention, which, to be frank, doesn’t always work out well, but I’m not giving up. After school, I freshen up, pick the first outfit my hand touches, and I ride my bike down to The Hop House, if Brian’s on duty and not at CSU or at home.
Brian got me the bike this year in February, on my sweet sixteen, but he still didn’t stop being my chauffeur. I spend practically the rest of my day with Brian while I do my homework. We would race back home together with me on my bike and Brian in his Tacoma, and yes, I am almost always the winner.
Sitting here and watching Alex play was everything. These were the moments where I played the supportive girlfriend role in my head, cheering my man on the pitch. Though Alex looked and played different today, like he always did when he was in a bad mood.
“Get yourself together, Miller!” Coach yells, rubbing his forehead in frustration when Alex misses a pass.
“Sorry, Coach.”
“Whatever shit you have going on, drop it. We have a match coming up next week. We need to focus.”
Alex nods and shakes the sweat off his face. Did something happen at home? Or in class? Did he get into a fight with Brian?
“That’s it! Take a break on the bench, Miller.” Coach finally loses his shit, and Alex drops the ball in frustration and storms off. But he doesn’t go to the bench like Coach instructed. He’s leaving French Field.
This is my cue. Where I console my love out of depression and he finally gets to see me. Then he’ll profess his unwavering love to me and we get married and have three kids and a house cat.
“Hey, Alex. Wait up,” I call as I run to catch up with him.
“Go away, you nerd. Stop stalking me.” He doesn’t mean it. He’s just depressed.
He goes into the locker room and finally stops at his locker. Finally.
“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it? I don’t snitch, I promise.”
“Don’t they have any more books left in the Old Town Library that you can bury your nose in? Or you’ve read them all — which is it?”
“I’m just worried about you…”
“Go worry about my brother. He’s the one who obviously cares about your opinion, cause I don’t.”
And with that, he walks out on me.
You know all those movies where the woman plays the hard-to-get game? Well, in Alex and I’s case, there’s a little twist of fate. So much for being a supportive girlfriend.
