my head to the side. Jay and Brett pile into Brett’s Jeep, waving at me.
“River!” Jay yells. “Ass in motion!”
Marisa laughs. I wish I could laugh, but now it’s time for her to go, and I really don’t want that to happen. I look her up and down, unable to hold back my smile, and as she backs away one tiny step at a time, she returns it with one of her own.
“I should get home, anyway,” she says. “Parents. Dinner. You know the drill.” She offers a small wave. “Have fun.” And just like that, she’s gone. Now I’m not even sure if I want to go to the river. But tradition trumps throwing myself a pity party, so instead of pouting, I head to my truck.
By the time I reach the river, the sun’s gone and darkness is inching its way over town. For years, our team’s claimed the wooded area for drinking, parties, and, well, more drinking. There’s a clearing that’s perfect for nights like tonight, when a dozen trucks are crowded along the riverbank.
I back my own tailgate up to the water’s edge. After changing into gym shorts and a clean T-shirt in my driver’s seat, I hop out of the truck. Everyone else beat me here. Brett and Eric have already broken out their old, cheapo lawn chairs and formed them in a circle next to the riverbank. Right Field Randy’s got his truck’s KC lights on, shining like a blinding spotlight on our patch of woods. Matt jumps into the bed of his truck and tugs his jumbo-sized cooler to the edge of the tailgate. He pulls out a few beers, tossing cans to Randy and Eric. He looks to me, but I hold up my hands.
“It’s Monday,” I remind him.
Jay appears at his side and slaps him on the shoulder. “You know good and well Braxton doesn’t drink during the week.” He snatches the can. “I, on the other hand, do.”
Jay digs a bottle of water out of Matt’s cooler and tosses it to me. I’m surprised Matt bothered to bring water, but I’m damn grateful. I twist off the top and chug half the bottle. Beer’s one of God’s greatest gifts to mankind, but the last thing I need is a hangover during tomorrow’s practice.
Someone cranks up his truck’s radio, sending Kenny Chesney blaring through its speakers. I head for the circle of chairs, where Kellen, Randy, Brett, Jay, and Matt are sitting. Matt lifts his chin to me.
“You’ve been keeping secrets, Braxton,” he says as I sit in an empty chair beside Brett.
The chair’s threading sinks beneath me, barely holding my weight. This thing’s been through its share of river parties. I gulp more water. “What’re you talking about?”
Randy takes a swig of beer. “The girl. We saw you hangin’ all over that hot brunette. You bangin’ her?”
Kellen smacks the back of his head. “Your momma would beat your ass for that. Braxton ought to, too.”
And Braxton really, really wants to. My bottle crackles as I squeeze it instead of the grease ball in front of me. “I’ll bang your damn head against my truck if you say somethin’ like that again, you hear me?”
He settles back in his chair, sprawling his legs in front of him. “All right, so you got shot down. That’s all you had to say.”
I drop the bottle onto the ground and rub my forehead, squeezing my eyes closed. Can’t kill him. Killing him would lead to jail, and jail’s no good. Why does not being with a girl automatically equal getting shot down? There is a middle. Douchebag.
Kellen leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs. He gestures to me, Brett, and Jay. “It’s y’all’s last season. Any of you crying about it yet?”
“Nope,” the three of us say at once.
Jay, who’s sitting on the other side of Brett, stretches out his legs. “Don’t know about these guys, but I’m flipping Lewis Creek the bird on my way out. Peace out, assholes.”
That covers it. “Big fat ditto,” I say.
Kellen chuckles and nods to Brett. “Perry?”
Brett holds up his can. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Ah, come on,” Randy says. “It can’t be that bad. You bastards run this town.”
“I’ll drink to that, too,” Brett says, sipping his beer.
I laugh along with the rest of them. Randy’s right—we do run this town. It’s like Coach said on the first day of practice: in Lewis Creek, we’re on pedestals. We’re heroes. And that’s all well and good, but hero