Hooked. Liz Fichera

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      Chapter 10

      Ryan

      SETH AND I DROVE TO THE mall off the I-10 freeway. I’d picked him up at his house after golf practice, and we’d gone to mine. But chilling at the mall was way better than hanging around the house and listening to Mom nag about homework that bored me and college entrance exams that I didn’t want to take. Seth felt the same way. It was one of a million things we had in common.

      I’d lied and told Mom that I already signed up for the SATs, just so that I could get out of the house. Fortunately, she’d bought it. I should feel guilty about lying to her all the time, but I didn’t. Not really anyway. Maybe because the more I lied, the easier it got.

      Seth only wanted to hang because he wanted to hear all about Fred. I was going to have to lie to him, too. The truth would only crank him.

      “Movie?” Seth asked me as we passed through the food court.

      “Maybe.”

      “What, then?” Seth stuffed his hands in his front pockets.

      My shoulders shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Let’s just walk around.”

      We started on the first floor and walked to the south end of the mall.

      “So Zack texted me after practice and said the Indian wasn’t so bad.”

      I cringed a little when he said Indian and kind of looked around to see if anyone had overheard. Seth hated Native Americans, all of them, mostly because a drunk one had killed his real dad when he was driving home from work one night on the freeway. Hit him head-on. It had happened when Seth was a baby. He knew his real dad only from pictures.

      I didn’t answer him. But Seth wouldn’t let it go. “Well, what do you think?” he said. “Is she as good as Coach thinks?”

      I considered it as if I really hadn’t given Fred much thought. “I don’t know,” I said finally. “She did okay, I guess.”

      “Okay?” Seth stopped abruptly and faced me, toe to toe. I had no choice but to stop. “She does okay, and she gets handed my spot on the team like I don’t even matter?”

      I searched his widened eyes but said nothing. I certainly wasn’t going to rub it in that he was the worst player on our team apart from Henry Graser. But Henry was Principal Graser’s son.

      The problem with Seth was that he really didn’t even like golf. He played to please his stepdad. Why, I would never understand. Seth’s stepdad was the baddest guy I’d ever met.

      “Coach Lannon told me to go out for wrestling,” he snarled. “Said I was built for it.”

      “Well, why don’t you?”

      He shook his head. “I don’t want to wrestle. I hate wrestling. No one cool is on the team anyway. And I didn’t practice golf all summer long to go out for wrestling.” Hands jammed in his front pockets, Seth began walking again. “I still can’t believe it,” he muttered. “It reeks. It’s not fair. And then there’s my stepdad...” His voice trailed off.

      “Was he pretty mad?” I asked carefully.

      “Way mad. The usual.” Seth shrugged as though it was no big deal, but I knew better.

      “What’d he say?”

      Seth’s tone was flat. “He called me worthless and stupid. Said I didn’t practice hard enough. Blah, blah, blah. You know, his usual crank. And there’s no way I was going to tell him that I got kicked off because of a girl. And a fucking Indian.”

      I winced. “Sorry, Seth.”

      “At least he didn’t whack me,” he added. Too casually. “He hasn’t done that in a while.”

      I shook my head. I really wished Seth didn’t have to live with his stepdad. But as mean as he was, his stepdad was the only father Seth had ever known. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

      “Well, we’ve got to do something about Fred.” He spoke as if the decision had been made.

      That stopped me cold, and the shoppers behind us practically slammed into our heels. “Like, what are you thinking?” I chuckled doubtfully. And what could we do? Coach Lannon’s mind was made up. Fred was all that.

      Seth continued walking, and I caught up with him as we reached the golf store where we’d bought our golf bags last year. We stopped in front of the display window. “I don’t know yet.” Seth sighed. “But this isn’t over. I’ll think of something.”

      “There’s really nothing you can do.” My eyes narrowed. I didn’t want him to get madder than he already was. “Coach was pretty clear. He likes her. I don’t think he’ll change his mind, not this time.”

      “What if she chokes at the tournament?” Seth said. “What then?”

      My head tilted, considering this. “Maybe,” I said, but not too confidently. I honestly didn’t expect Fred Oday to fail, not with her swing. Unless both of her arms were amputated by Thursday, she would probably do better than at least half the players on the team.

      Seth’s nostrils flared. And just as I was going to open my mouth to try to encourage Seth to go out for wrestling again, I glanced into the golf-store display window. My teeth clamped shut. Then I mumbled, “I don’t believe this...”

      Inside the store, Fred Oday picked up a white golf shoe and fingered its laces. A tiny smile brightened her face. Her smile faded into a sort of frown, a sad frown, when she turned the shoe over in her hands. Strangely, I wondered what crossed her mind. It was just a lame shoe—and a golf shoe. No big thing. But then she replaced the white shoe on the display, stood back to admire it with her hands clutched behind her back, only to pick it up a moment later like she was seeing it for the first time. Her hair fell over her bare shoulder as her head tilted sideways, covering half her face.