Looking At Us

10. sasha

‘’Oh, dear lord,’’ said Hadley. ‘‘Darrin’s beating the shit out of another player again.’’ 

     I looked up from my phone and frowned. There was a crowd of players on the field, red and blue jerseys, staring down at two players on the grass. One of them was scrawny and tight, his coffee-roasted hair smeared with blood; the other was muscular, harsh, with wild red hair and chestnut eyes. 

     ‘’Oh, dammit, Darrin,’’ I said under my breath. ‘‘What the hell are you doing?’’ 

     The ref finally broke up the fight; Darrin had to be pulled back by two of his teammates. There was blood—not his—streaked across his chin and the left side of his nose. He was spitting curses. 

     ‘‘Who’s the other kid?’’ I asked Hadley.

     She knew who it was. Of course she knew. ‘‘Erick Lockhart. Grade ten.’’ 

     Erick Lockhart remained on the ground, clutching the world. Two players on the blue team—Ben Martyn and Cody Spentz—were kneeling beside him. Ben was concerned. Cody was hesitant. 

     Darrin was pushed to the bench, where he dumped his entire bottle of water over his head. His crimson hair dangled over his angry cheeks, wet and ragged. Near him, the color of cyan caught my eye: Shain and her toque, accompanied by Megan, approaching the bench. Darrin glared at them. Erick, weakly holding an ice pack to his forehead, watched Megan. 

     Behind Darrin, another shadow seized my eyes. Rufous hair. Sepia eyes. 

     Cris Domnall.

     I said, ‘‘I’m going to see if Darrin’s all right.’’ 

     ‘‘He’s fine,’’ Hadley replied. ‘’He has muscles of steel, remember? Why are you so freaked out?’’ 

     I jumped from the bleachers and adjusted my shorts so that the guys sitting behind me would have something to stare at. 

     ‘‘I’m freaking out because he’s my boyfriend.’’ When I smiled at her, I stuck out my tongue. ‘‘Back in a few.’’ 

     On the benches, I sat down beside Darrin and put my lips to his ear. 

     ‘‘Dickhead,’’ I whispered, which was my way of telling him that I loved him. 

     Darrin was unamused. He trailed his hand on my thigh, his fingernails rough. He had a habit of biting them, which meant that I could never give him manicures. 

     He took a deep breath. ‘‘Can I ask you a question?’’ 

     ‘‘You just did.’’ 

     ‘‘Can I ask you two questions, then?’’

     ‘‘You just did.’’ 

     He pinched my skin. ‘‘Smart-ass.’’ 

     I laughed and took his chin so that he was facing me, and I kissed him. His lips were incredibly hot, and there was sweat above his lips, but I kissed him hard, unbreakable, inseparable. His ragged fingers and his ragged nails trailed up my thigh to my neck. 

     ‘‘What did you want to ask me?’’ I said as we broke apart. People were staring at us. 

     He sighed. He looked exhausted, so I decided to keep him in my bed tonight and let him rest. 

     Darrin asked his question: ‘‘Can you go and kill Erick Lockhart for me, since I couldn’t do it myself?’’ 

     Again I laughed, and again I kissed him. 

     Afterwards, Darrin went to fill up his water bottle, so I wandered over to Megan and Shain, standing by Erick. Once upon a time, I’d been friends with Megan, and in that once upon a time, I’d been a virgin. And then I’d kind of . . . used Megan on that first night that Darrin and I had made love together; I’d told my parents that I was over at her place and then I’d gone over to Darrin’s for the night. She was still pissed at me for it. 

     I’d like to say that Erick’s poor state and miserable groaning drew me over in sympathy. But the truth is: I’m not a sympathetic person. 

     When Megan saw me, she gave me a quick once-over and looked back at Erick. She had an excellent poker face; it was one of the things she was best at. 

     ‘‘Hello, Megan,’’ I said, folding my arms. 

     ‘‘Hi, Sasha,’’ she replied, her sky-blue eyes frigid. 

     Shain stood up. Beside her, Erick Lockhart mumbled something I didn’t catch, and Shain cracked a smile. She was wearing her blue toque; I swear, she hadn’t taken that thing off since Christmas. 

     I wanted to say something to Megan, something insulting, something that would reveal what I thought about her. But then Darrin’s hand snaked around my waist and pulled me to him. His water bottle was freshly refilled in his hand. His hair was still drenched and dripping. 

     ‘‘Come on,’’ he said quietly. ‘‘Cody’s waiting . . . he said we’re gonna watch a movie at his place with Cori and Hadley.’’ 

     That revved me up a bit. I shot Megan a glare, raised my eyebrows at Shain—get some feminine clothes on, kid—and gave Erick Lockhart a fake smile, like I was telling him to get better soon. He only frowned at me, seeing that I was with his opponent. 

     As Darrin and I walked over to Cody, who was waiting at his brother’s car, we saw Cris Domnall pull up in his shitbox Chevy. He rolled down the driver’s window and called out, ‘‘Darrin! Where are you heading?’’

     ‘‘Cody’s place,’’ Darrin called back. ‘‘Tell Dad, okay? What about you?’’ 

     ‘‘I’m grabbing my backpack and then I’m going home.’’

     Darrin nodded. ‘‘Okay. You got money?’’

     Cris got out of his truck and gave Darrin a ten before going to the benches and collecting his backpack. On the way back, I saw him look at Megan. 

     Their eyes met. Locked. Jammed together. 

     He put a message into her vision, to her brain, invisible words across her lips. 

     And she gave an incomprehensible Yes straight back to him. 

     Cody’s brother drove us home, a Chevy Equinox filled with five ninth-graders, and as I laid on Darrin’s shirtless chest, I met Cori’s eyes and told her that we needed to have a serious conversation in the hours to come.