It Just Had to Be You

Chapter 4

Scott

"So, what did the doctor say?" Peter asks as we walk to the parking lot outside the school.

"He says that the muscle in my shoulder is torn and I can't play for the next month or so." The lie comes easily. I do it constantly to preserve my image. The team can't know that I got suspended and they sure as fuck can't know what I have to do to get back in Coach's good graces.

"You can still come watch us at practice and afterward we can go to Dyl's place and chill?"

I don't want to make any plans for this afternoon because I don't know where I'll be. I've driven to Catalina's house every day for the last three days and each time I get back in my car and drive back home. I just can't bring myself to do it. I mean, me cleaning, doing the dirty work for a fucking brownie? Hell no!

I know I'm going to have to suck it up and do it if I want to get back on the team but just the thought nauseates me. My mom has been losing her mind over this whole arrangement. She hates the fact that in order to get back on the team I have to reconcile with some Hispanic girl from the wrong side of town, but she's forced to go along with it because how can her son be perfect if he's not captain of the football team at the prestigious Loughlin Academy? You know, they only take the best there. I haven't told her about the cleaning thing, though. She'll literally have an aneurysm.

"I can't. I have to...help my dad with something."

"Okay, tomorrow then."

"Uh...actually I'm not gonna have any free afternoons for a while, so just count me out of anything."

"Why?"

This is getting tricky and I struggle to come up with something believable. "I'm...I'm gonna...start guitar lessons. I just...wanna do something productive until my shoulder heals. Keep the muscles engaged...without straining them. Besides, girls love guys who can play guitar."

"Yeah," Peter says, slapping me on the back. "Give them another reason to drool all over you."

Nailed it! "See you tomorrow, Pete."

I drive home to change into something that I don't mind soiling. All my clothes are brand names or designer labels so in the end I just choose the cheapest T-shirt and sweatpants I own. I swap my Lagonda for the pickup truck my gardener – let me repeat – my gardener uses to transport trimmings and off cuts to the dumpsite. There is absolutely no way I will ever take my brand new Lagonda to that dodgy place. Not only do I fear that it may be stolen, but it also attracts too much attention and that is a sure-fire way to get exposed. Being discreet is key.

I arrive at Catalina's house and sit in the car for a few minutes debating whether I'm going to go in today. I'm about to start up the engine again to drive back home when I see her walk out the front door. She has a laundry basket that's almost as big as her tucked under her working arm and she barely keeps her balance as she tries to haul it down the stairs from the porch to the garden. She stops at the bottom of the stairs, puts down the basket, and takes a deep breath. This seems to be strenuous for her, though she doesn't give up. After a couple seconds, she bends down to lift it but it's a struggle to get to it tucked under her arm again.

I groan my irritation. I can't believe I'm here. What did I get myself into? The first time I try to be nice and this happens. It wasn't even worth it because she still hasn't accepted my apology. And then I get kicked off the team. It's like I'm being punished for doing the right thing. I want to go home, but I'm watching her battle with a laundry basket and the basket is clearly winning. It's a pitiful sight and I just can't look at it anymore.