The Crush Collision Read online

  “Can we have a girl’s night soon?”

  “Definitely,” I say. “And it doesn’t matter if we only have lunch. I still love you, you know.”

  “Aw, I love you, too. Best friends forever,” Abby says back, pulling me into a hug.

  At home, I’m sprawled out on the bed and sketching in my notebook. I like to draw, even if I’m not great at it. It gives my mind something to do that’s challenging yet relaxing. There’s a knock on my open door, and when I look up, Chris is standing there with two bowls of ice cream.

  “Thought you might want some.”

  “It’s like you read my mind.”

  “I’ve got freaky twin talents,” he says, coming over to sit next to me on the bed. He looks down at my sketchbook. I’ve drawn the picture that hangs on the wall outside my bedroom door, the doorframe, and I’ve started on the plant. “That’s pretty good.”

  “I’m messing around. What inspired this impromptu ice cream visit?”

  “Is my sister complaining about ice cream?”

  “No, never. Just curious.”

  “We haven’t had the talk yet.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “The talk?”

  “Yeah, you know. We usually have ice cream after school starts and talk about what we want to do this semester. We haven’t done it yet.”

  “You’re right.”

  “You’re slacking, sister.”

  “I’m getting old.”

  Chris laughs. “Okay, so you go first.”

  “No,” I say. “No way.” He knows I hate talking about the future or making plans. I’m not good at it. I don’t even know where I’m going to college yet. “You first, since you wanted to do it.”

  Chris takes a very large spoonful of ice cream. “I want to win the football championship again.”

  “Pick something that’s all you. Besides, like, getting straight A’s or something that you already do.”

  “All me?” He settles in on my bed, leaning against the headboard. “I want to do something that matters. Oh, I want to build something.”

  “Like a treehouse?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

  “Very vague and ambitious, I like it.”

  “What about you, other half of my embryo. What do you want to do?”

  Thoughts run through my mind, about Abby and making her feel okay even though I’ll be leaving her. About Jake and too many things that I can’t admit to wanting. About making up my mind for my future. “I want to do something like you, something that matters.”

  Chris’s phone dings, and he pulls it out.

  “Hey! No cell phones during twin time,” I say, but he looks anyway. I take a bite of ice cream. Rocky Road. So good.

  “So, heads up,” he says. “That was Griggs.”

  I shift in my seat, and I feel my cheeks redden. Shane Griggs is my ex-boyfriend from sophomore year, and talking about him still makes me uneasy. We play nice for the most part, because he’s a defensive linebacker on the team with my brother and it’s a small town, but things didn’t end well. It took us months to even be able to be in the same room. Last I heard from him directly, he saw me at Lou’s and mentioned he had a good shot at UGA if the team wins this year. And trust me, there’s nothing he loves more than football. Probably not besides himself, anyway.

  “What about him?”

  Chris gives me a look, one that’s like “oh come on, like you don’t know.” I don’t know. “I guess he was talking shit about getting you back.”

  God. I can’t stand him sometimes. He’s the one who cheated on me, lied about it, tried to blame me for his actions, and then got mad when I broke up with him at the end of sophomore year. It’s been over a year, almost two, since we were together, and even then he didn’t want to be with me entirely. I would never give him the time of day now.

  “I’m out of this conversation.”

  “I thought you should know,” Chris says. “Trust me, I don’t want him anywhere near you after what he did.” His forehead creases, and guilt swirls in my stomach. “Coach already told us to lay off the drama, and he wants a smooth season. It’s my job to get us to Homecoming alive.”

  Homecoming is our biggest game. We always play our ultimate rival, and every living alumn of the high school, or at least it feels that way, comes back home. We even have a parade, a carnival, a dance, and Homecoming Court in addition to the game. It’s a big deal in Culler.

  “Well, we don’t exactly talk. Besides, I don’t want to be near him and won’t be taking him back, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

  Chris shrugs. “I’m the messenger. I really think it’s best anyway if you don’t date football players at all.”

  “Yeah, I know you,” I say. My breakup with Shane caused a lot of drama among the team sophomore year. They almost lost the championship over it. One of the hidden reprecussions of dating the QB’s twin.

  “I mean, there are plenty of other good options out there who don’t play on my field,” he starts, almost laughing at the idea of me dating a football player. Jake pops into my head, and I push that away. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”

  “It’s not that impossible to believe that someone would be interested in me, is it?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Not even someone on the football team?”

  “Like who? Are you interested in someone?”

  “It-it’s not about a person. It’s that you think I can’t.”

  “You’re a catch, Hals. You gotta put yourself out there. You haven’t dated anyone since Griggs,” he says. “What about someone like Reyes?”

  “Christopher Raymond Howell,” I say, taking away his ice cream bowl. He reaches back for it, but I don’t let him have it. “We do not get involved in each other’s personal lives unless it’s going down a bad Fatal Attraction kind of way.”

  And I am not interested in Mateo Reyes.

  Chris throws his hands up. “Fine, fine. But for the record, it could be good for you to date someone. Do something to stop playing it so safe.”

  “I do not play it safe.”

  “You play everything safe, which is why you don’t like to make big decisions—not even about college. But it’s okay. That’s who you are. You don’t have to be someone who takes risks.”

  Jake’s face flashes in my head. He was so surprised the night of the party, even drunk, that I did something to defend him and stand up to Shelby. Does everyone think I’m this safe girl?

  Chris clears his throat. “Can I have my ice cream back now?”

  Right. I hold the bowl out to him, and he takes it lightning fast.

  “I wasn’t being mean,” he says. He must see the look on my face.

  “It’s fine. I know.”

  “It’s a good way to be, Hals.”

  I nod, but if it’s so good, then why is what he said hitting me so hard?

  “Go on a date, or don’t go. I’ll support whatever you want. As long as when you do choose to date someone, you choose someone worth dating you.”

  I toss my brother a fake smile. I mostly want him to get out of my room.

  “Thanks,” I say and close the door on him.

  That’s what my goal can be this year. I can stop playing it so safe. Do something, for myself, to show myself that I can have fun, take risks, and still be me. Apparently everyone thinks I need it, anyway. And maybe even do something that makes Jake see me, the real me, the me who isn’t safe.

  Chapter Nine

  Jake

  Practice ends with me on the ground. Coach approved the new plays the guys and I created and let us try them out today. I wouldn’t say they were bad ideas, but they need some refining.

  I stand as Coach whistles for us all to huddle up. It takes me a second to get to my feet. That one hurt. It happened so fast I don’t know how I got down. Griggs slaps me on the back when I join the team.

  “The first game of the season is on Friday. That’s three days away! You think th
is is hard? You’re about to see how easy this has been all summer,” Coach Tucker says. It feels like he’s looking at me.

  When I get back to my phone in the locker room, I have a text from my brother. Northlands?

  Northlands is this video game we like to play sometimes. I don’t know the last time we looked at the land we built. Probably before the accident.

  Sure

  And pizza?

  You’re going to turn into a pizza.

  It will be a good way to die.

  For once, I actually want to go home. I miss my brother. This is almost like he was before.

  My stomach growls as I walk inside the house. I want this pizza in my mouth and a beer in my hand.

  “Jake? That you?” Jamie calls from one room.

  “Yeah, man.”

  I head toward his room with the pizza and hand him the BBQ cheeseburger pizza with jalapeños.

  “Yesss, I wanted this all day.”

  “I don’t know how you eat that.”

  “Like this,” he says, and he opens the box, smells it, shoves a bite into his mouth. “So good.”

  Fuck it. I put my meat lovers with mushroom pizza next to his and take a bite. The cheese melts in my mouth. Pizza is so good.

  “How was practice?”

  “Coach ran us ragged.”

  Jamie chuckles. “Yeah, he’s good at that.”

  He would know. He was with Coach before I was. He was everything before I was, and now look at him.

  “Want to play with me?” Jamie asks.

  “Let me shower first,” I say.

  “Hurry up,” he says as I get another slice.

  I nod and exhale once he’s out of my sight. Today, he seems okay. In an hour, he might not be. That happens. Sometimes he’s all right, these glimmers of my brother. Sometimes he’s angry. I’m angry. Dad is, too. We’ve all been pissed off for months. It’s this unspoken rage, and each of us feels it, even though not one of us would ever tell it to the others. Or acknowledge that it lives in the corner of every room.

  Ever since it happened, I’ve been thinking about Mom. I used to never think about her, except on obvious days like her birthday and Mother’s Day. But now, I wonder what it would be like if she was here. Would we all be as angry? Would she be a positive light in our dark world? Would she make it more bearable, make Dad more present, make us all less angry? Maybe. Or maybe she would’ve done what she did before and bailed when it got hard. I hate that I think about her, but she’s another thing that we’re all missing and never talking about.

  I pull a beer from the fridge and head upstairs. His bedroom door is open again, and just the sight of it pisses me off. That fucking jersey catches my eye. He deserves more than this.

  I push the thought away and turn on the shower. While the water heats up, I sip the beer and scroll through Facebook on my phone. A memory from a year ago today. Jamie and me in jerseys on the field after one of the first games of the season. The crowd is blurred behind us. We’re both red-faced, sweaty, smiling. Top of the world, me and him, and now we’re at the bottom. I don’t think we’ll ever get back to how good life was in that moment.

  The shower is steaming up the bathroom, so I toss the phone down and take a gulp of beer. The water is scalding, but I step into it anyway.

  We play Northlands until he gets too tired from the meds and goes to bed. I’m not that sleepy yet. I reckon I should be. I have a long day ahead tomorrow, but instead I wander around the house and into the bathroom. I scroll through my phone and look at Instagram. I don’t really use it, but everyone else does. Real or not, we all have stories; I like seeing glimpses of the ones other people have to tell. I don’t share a lot anymore. There’s nothing I want to remember about my life right now.

  There’s a story from Haley Howell. From the looks of things, four minutes ago she was making tea and watching a movie on the couch. The simple image of their living room makes me want to be in their house.

  I shouldn’t. But I know where the hide-a-key is. Plus, we’re riding together in the morning anyway.

  Her number is there; another one I have in my phone in case I need it, but it’s as unused as my Uncle Cal’s. I text Other Howell. It feels weird staring at her name. I never had a reason to text her before, and I guess I don’t now except that I want to. I kinda miss her. You awake?

  Yeah.

  That’s basically all the convincing I need.

  When I walk inside, Haley is curled up in a fuzzy blanket on the couch, her legs tucked under her. She doesn’t even look up at me. I grab a beer from their fridge and move to the other side of the couch, toss my feet up on the chaise longue. I’ve been in this living room so many times, but it’s never been just the two of us on the couch alone.

  “What are you watching?” I ask during a commercial about a brand new high-suction vacuum.

  She stares at the TV like the vacuum is the most interesting thing ever. “The Breakfast Club,” she says.

  “Really?” I ask. “I expected more, Other Howell, I really did.”

  She blushes. I like that she has some sort of reaction to me. Has it always been that way, or is it new? “It’s my favorite.”

  I shrug. My mom used to watch that movie, and I don’t know how I remember that, I was so young when she left, but I do. Breakfast and The Breakfast Club. “I never really got the appeal of this movie. I’ve had detention hundreds of times, and nothing good has come from it.”

  She laughs. “Maybe it will.”

  “I wonder sometimes. Most days it all feels pointless.”

  “What does?”

  I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud, but I did, so I can’t do anything but own it. “Life.”

  Her eyes narrow in on me. “That’s dark, Jake.”

  I shrug. I don’t know why I’m sharing all of this with her. I know her, but I don’t, like, know her. She’s Chris’s twin sister. She’s always been the tagalong. But now, well, ever since that thing at the party with Shelby and the rehab center, I don’t know. I like being around her.

  “I don’t really have anything besides football.”

  That rings true. Talk about dark, that’s the darkest part of my life. That I really have nothing else. I’m not real sure how that happened. One day, that’s all I was known for, all I was good at, and it became who I am. Besides Howell and Jamie, I don’t have a lot of people who know me for me. Maybe that’s why they both stick around, even when they shouldn’t.

  “It’s hard to have your whole identity wrapped up in one thing.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Imagine having it wrapped up in nothing.” She looks at me again. “That’s me. I have nothing, really, except being Chris’s sister.”

  “You’re a Belle.”

  She grimaces. “I am, but I’m so not a Belle. Not like Abby or even Georgia Ann. It’s not in my blood. But you’re right, I guess. It’s scary to think about what happens when it’s gone.”

  “When what’s gone?”

  Haley shifts in her seat, leaning her body more toward me. “Football. Or whatever that thing is. Like, when you lose that thing, what are you?”

  Damn. That stings. I don’t know, either. “Shit, that’s deep.”

  “That’s life.”

  “What are you losing, if you aren’t really enjoying the Belles?”

  “I mean, I enjoy it enough, but it’s not who I am. Not like football is to you. I will lose that. Abby. Culler. Chris.”

  “You won’t lose him.”

  Haley rolls her eyes. “I mean, I will. I’m sort of realizing that I’m nothing without him. Everyone sees me as his sister. I don’t have anything that’s mine.”

  If she’s gonna lose Howell, then I will, too. She’s his twin. He’ll be playing college ball somewhere, there’s no doubt about that. What will I have left when he’s gone? I don’t want to think about it, honestly, so I play it off as the movie comes back on.

  “You’ll always have detention,” I smirk.


  “Not unless I start getting in trouble.”

  “There’s still time,” I say. Haley laughs, and it’s so cute. Sweet, light, almost childlike. I really enjoy the sound. We’re both quiet and watching the movie. At one of those parts where they’re all complaining about everything, Haley sighs.

  “I don’t have anything that’s mine, you know. Not really.”

  “You’re a good person. That’s what you have. I have a ball and a field.”

  “You love it, though.”

  “I do.”

  I love everything about football, except losing, but even then, it makes winning sweeter. The field is the only place I’ve ever felt I was valued, like I was part of something bigger than myself.

  “I want that. I want something. Somewhere I stand out, you know?”

  She’s not giving herself nearly enough credit. Everyone at school knows Haley Howell, in some way, for some reason, and it’s not being the Other Howell. “I thought you said something about taking risks the other day. Or did I dream that?”

  Her face lights up. “You dream about me now?”

  A smile spreads across my face. “You’re funny.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m serious, though.”

  “I know, I’m still figuring it out.” She nods. “At least you have something you love.”

  “And now I also have community service. Yippee,” I say, taking a drink of my beer.

  “Because of last year with Mr. Connors?”

  I hate that she remembers it. I knew she did, trust me, no one has forgotten—and not just the teachers. It’s not every day a student loses it on a teacher. “Yup. Mr. Connors hates me. He hates all football players, except maybe your brother, but especially me.”

  “No one hates Chris.”

  I can’t argue with that. Howell is the best person I know, and I don’t know why he puts up with me sometimes. Even before the accident, I always felt like I had to stay good in order for people to understand why we were friends.

  Haley looks at my bottle a little too long. It’s such a Howell thing to do. Maybe they all share that judgmental look, just another way they’re all too good for me.