“It seems like it?” Kaylee’s statement is more of a question, her eyes wide. “I have no idea what I’m saying, but it does seem like he has no idea what he’s doing. How embarrassing. He’s royal, for crying out loud—at least he has that going for him.”
“He is not royal,” I say. Honestly, where does she come up with this stuff?
“He is,” she objects. “Or his dad is or his brother or something when the dad dies.” She sips on her Coke, the can she brought along.
“What? That makes no sense.”
What on earth is she talking about? Jack being royal? His dad being royal?
Huh?
I find him on the sidelines—he’s just been pulled out of the game, and a few coaches or staff or whoever seem to be chewing his ass out as he stares up at the sky, head tipped back, waiting for the ground to swallow him whole.
“So, I heard he was an earl or something and was asking him about it when he walked me home from the party last week—because, you know, his brother used to go to school here. So hot. I never met him but I’d heard about him from a couple of the girls on the cheerleading squad who are seniors. And apparently they come from British royalty.” Kaylee tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Anyway. He said he’s not an earl—his dad is a baron or something? And then when he dies, his brother becomes the earl, but does it even matter? He’s royalty.”
“I don’t think that constitutes royalty.” I say it slowly, unsure myself about how that all works. Also, Kaylee just said a lot, only half of which made sense. “If the dad is a baron, he can’t become an earl.”
This much I know.
“The brother is.”
“Not if the dad is only a baron?” I ask it as a question so I don’t come off as being a know-it-all.
“Mmm, don’t know. But he must know famous people.”
“British famous people,” I point out.
“I could stand to summer in London.” Kaylee laughs, crossing her legs and glancing over at where Jack is now seated on a bench, still looking dejected.
“We could all stand to summer in London,” I tell her, wishfully thinking. “The only place I’ve summered is my grandparents’ lake house, and I slept with sand in my bed sheets.”
Gross.
Who wants to wake up with sand in their butt crack because no one takes off their shoes before coming inside?
Not this girl.
“Do you want to wait for the game to be over so you can say hi to him?” I offer this up to my roommate, trying to determine how long I have to sit here patiently waiting before I can return home.
“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head slowly. “Not after the poor way he played—I don’t want to embarrass him by saying anything. He was pretty awful, wasn’t he?”
Yes, but I’m not about to admit that to her, and I would never admit that to him even though he told me himself he sucked.
“I’ve seen better.” My reply is charitable and more than he deserves. He played like a rookie, and I could have done better without knowing anything. Didn’t he at least read the rules before today’s match?
Did he at least try?
Sheesh. “It’s probably best if we don’t stick around.”
This is brutal.
We rise, gathering our chairs, folding them up, and starting for the sidewalk to make our way home. Periodically, Kaylee glances back at the field to stare at Jack and the bench where he sits, slouched over with his head in his hands.
Like a child in timeout.
Poor dude.
Seven
Jack
Tick.
Tock.
The clock on the wall in the library is actually audible; I can hear the second hand tick-tick-ticking as I lower my head and try to study, laptop and textbook open on the table in front of me. I’m taking an astronomy class and thought getting out of my house to study would be advantageous.
I needed a change of scenery, and this seemed like the perfect spot.
It’s actually dead here considering it’s early Wednesday evening. I’ve only been a few times, but finding a table is typically a struggle. Tonight, however, I was able to score a great spot in the back of the main room on the first floor, a spot where I can see everyone coming and going through the front entryway.
I love people watching.
Tick.
Tock.
I cannot concentrate, so I text my brother, remembering it’s the dead of night over in Europe and Ashley won’t be awake for another few hours. I don’t expect him to reply.
Me: Remind me again why I enrolled in more schooling? Bloody miserable, all this studying…
I’m shocked when it buzzes a few moments later.
Ashley: Why the hell are you texting me so early in the bloody morning?
Me: I wasn’t expecting you to respond! Go back to bed.