“Okay, yes, I see.”
“We’re going to get kicked off the course if you throw her in,” Nathan said.
“Yes, listen to Nathan, please,” I begged. The cattails that filled the pond loomed in my peripheral vision on every downward swing.
Gage laughed. “Who’s going to kick us out? The park police?”
“Then,” Braden continued, “right when your subject reaches the height of the swing, you let go.” And they did just that. I landed with a smack in the shallow water, crushing cattails beneath me. A couple of ducks took flight and I let myself sink into the muddy water that the summer sun had turned into a warm swamp. It oozed between my fingers as I pushed myself off the bottom.
“You two are excellent teachers,” Jerom said. “Thank you for imparting your knowledge to me.”
I stood, large globs of mud splatting back to their home. “Who needs a spa treatment when I have disc golf mud therapy?” I ran a hand from my shoulder to my wrist, scraping off more mud, and then did the same on the other arm. When I exited I went straight for Gage, ready to give him a big hug. He knew that game and took off running. In my pursuit of Gage, I managed to catch Braden off guard by doubling back. I wrapped my arms around him from behind. “Whose car did we drive today?” I said, my cheek pressed against his back. “Oh, that’s right. I call shotgun.” I felt him groan.
“Your trunk is pretty big,” Nathan spoke up.
I gasped and let go of Braden. “Nathan!”
His cheeks colored. “I wasn’t serious.”
I smiled. As if he needed to clarify that. Gage came slinking back, keeping a good distance between us.
The players on the course behind us laughed as they took in the scene, then asked, “Uh, can we play through?”
“Yes,” I said, water still squishing between my toes as I walked. “Feel free. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving?” Braden said, faking incredulity. “But we only have two holes left. Come on, Charlie, we can’t stop now.”
I knew he was making fun of me and what I had done to Dave a few weeks ago in football, when he got the call about his grandma. The veiled rebuke stung. “Okay, let’s keep playing.”
“I was just kidding.” He put his arm around my shoulder.
I shrugged it off. “No, I want to play. You’re right, we’re almost done.”
“But you have mud dropping out of your shorts,” Braden said. “And the image isn’t a good one.”
“Shut up. Who’s up?” I asked as the players now ahead of us finished the hole. I picked up a Frisbee and marched to the throwing point.
At the car when we were finished, Braden opened the trunk.
“Don’t be a jerk,” I said. “I’m not getting in there.”
He shot me angry eyes and pulled out a blanket. “I was just getting something for you to sit on.” He handed me the blanket.
“Oh. Thanks.” I took it and wrapped it around my entire backside. “Sorry.” I shouldn’t have called him a jerk, even playfully. I knew that word bugged him.
The guys piled into the car, but Jerom stopped me, nodding his head toward where Braden sat in the driver’s seat. “How hard is it to let a guy feel useful every once in a while?”
“What?”
“Would it have killed you to listen to his pointers back there?”
I looked at Braden, then back to Jerom. Why would Braden need to feel useful? Had something made him feel un-useful? Was something going on with him that he’d talked to Jerom, the “really good listener,” about? A surge of jealousy that Jerom might know something about Braden that I didn’t coursed through me. “Yes. It might’ve killed me.”
He rolled his eyes and headed for the passenger seat.
Chapter 12
When I got to work the next Tuesday, Linda’s face was beaming with a smile of giddy anticipation.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Go change and I’ll tell you when you get done.”
She probably thought it was weird that I brought my work clothes in my backpack and came in wearing my sloppy T-shirts. But I still cared more about what my brothers thought than what she did. And I didn’t live in my mind . . . or whatever she had said. I lived in a house full of guys who loved to make fun of me. I walked out after changing and looked at her expectantly.
“Okay, close your eyes,” she said.
Playing along, I closed my eyes.
“Ready? Open them.”
I did, and she held up a check for a hundred and fifteen dollars. It was made out to me. “What’s this?”
“Your cut of the makeup session we did the other day.”
I took the check and stared at the number. And here I thought I was going to tell Linda I didn’t want to do it anymore. But if I could make over a hundred bucks just sitting there, I could handle it. It meant I’d be able to pay off my dad quicker.
“We did so well, we’re going to hold at least two more classes and see how it goes.” She pulled a flyer out from under the cupboard and handed it to me. On the upper right-hand corner of the flyer was a picture of me in full makeup.
“Whoa. What’s that?”
“Your picture. I thought you were okay with it. It’s the one we took the other day.”
“I just thought you printed off a few for my . . . family . . .” I would not mention my mom again. It really was eating me up. “. . . to see.”
“Did she like them?”
“Yeah. They were great.” That wasn’t a lie, right?
“I apologize. I should’ve asked you. It just turned out so well, I offered it to Amber.”
I stared at the picture again. It was just a dumb flyer. Hopefully no one would recognize me. My friends and brothers weren’t exactly in the market for makeup.
That night I couldn’t sleep. My brain kept spinning. It was only midnight, earlier than my normal middle-of-the-night waking, so when I looked out the window and saw the light on in Braden’s room, I texted: Up?
Yeah, see you in one minute, he texted back almost immediately.
I heard his back door shut right after mine. We arrived at the fence together. He leaned his shoulder against the board and I could smell his deodorant. It was a sharp, clean scent.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Feeling restless.” I sat down, back to the fence, and listened as he did the same.
“No run again today?”