Swagger by Carl Deuker

was a punt or a kickoff, she’d get excited, but nothing else excited anyone. The evening was cold, dark, and windy. Both teams were terrible; the game had no flow. About fifty times I asked myself why I was there.
    Harding lost 13–9 on a last-minute touchdown that was set up by a fumble. Their record was 2–7 or 3–6, something awful like that, so no one was surprised or disappointed. We were leaving the stadium when Ashley Lau, one of Celia’s volleyball teammates, rushed up. “There’s going to be a party over in Laurelhurst. Everybody on the team is going to be there. You’ve got to come.”
    Celia looked at me. “Do you want to go to a party?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said, hesitation in my voice.
    Ashley smiled at me. “Come to the party. You’ll have fun.”
    â€œI won’t know anybody,” I admitted.
    â€œYou know Celia and Missy,” Ashley said, “and now you know me.”
    Â 
    Ashley wrote down an address that meant nothing to me, but Missy guided me as I drove past the University of Washington, through tree-lined, dimly lit streets. Finally I pulled up in front of a fancy brick house with a huge lawn in front.
    The party was at the home of one of the boyfriends of a girl on the volleyball team. His parents were out of town for the weekend. We followed the music down into a large basement area. The volume was loud, but not so loud as to get the police called. Celia and Missy immediately latched on to a group of friends. They tried to bring me into the conversation, but I couldn’t follow much of what they were talking about.
    After a few minutes, Celia was dragged off somewhere by one of her volleyball teammates. I milled around until I found a corner with a big-screen television. I plopped down on a sofa and watched the fourth quarter of a Boise State–Hawaii game. Once the football game ended, I switched to
SportsCenter
, growing more depressed with every fantastic play.
    Around eleven thirty, two guys showed up with a couple of cases of beer. They immediately cranked up the music, which made me nervous. If I got caught drinking and Knecht heard about it, that would be it for me. Goodbye scholarship. I couldn’t let myself get kicked off a basketball team before tryouts had even started, and in a fancy neighborhood like that one, neighbors called the police.
    I searched out Celia. She was still talking to a bunch of her friends, but our eyes met just as one of the guys shouted out, “Beer for everyone!”
    I didn’t want to come across as a loser, but I couldn’t risk staying, either. Just as I was about to go over to her, she came over to me. “Do you want to leave?”
    â€œYeah. Can you get a ride from somebody else?”
    â€œNo, I’ll go too. Let me find Missy and see what she wants to do. I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?”
    Missy wanted to stay, but her kicker-boyfriend hadn’t shown up, so I was her ride home. She was angry, though, and she sat in the back seat letting us know it. When I dropped her off, she didn’t say a word as she got out of the Subaru. She just slammed the door and went into her house.
    As we drove the empty streets, Celia told me she was glad we’d left. “I don’t want to do anything to mess up next year. If I got caught drinking and the school suspended me . . .” She shook her head.
    â€œYou don’t have to explain,” I said. “It’s the same for me.”
    I pulled up in front of her house. Before she got out of the car, Celia leaned over and kissed me on the cheek—a kiss a sister would give a younger brother. “I’m sorry Missy was such a bitch. You’re a good guy, Jonas.”
    Then she was gone, up the walkway and into her house.

12
    T HE FIRST DAY OF BASKETBALL tryouts was Monday. My long wait was finally over.
    I tried to concentrate during my morning classes, but I kept thinking about