The Pledge (9 page)

“Who said I wanted to talk about it anyway?” I pressed my mouth in a tight line.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, motioning with his hand for me to continue. “Okay fine. You called my bluff. What’s the deal? Was she a butterface back then?” Caz took a drink of water and grinned at my confused look. “Everything is hot but her face.”

“Jesus. It’s no wonder you’re single.” I shook my head, thinking back to all the time Taren and I had spent together on our project. “Nah. It wasn’t like that. She was actually kind of cute. In a hot librarian kind of way.”

“I fail to see the problem.” Caz pulled out a can of Mountain Dew from his bag, popped the top, and chugged the contents.

My stomach revolted at the sight, and I turned away. “She was a geek. Bottom of the social ladder.” I huffed a laugh, staring ahead. “Fuck. She was so far down, she couldn’t even see the bottom rung.”

“So? Did you like her?”

I reached up and scratched the back of my head. I had no easy way to answer that question. “Doesn’t matter. I humiliated her in front of the entire school.”

Caz stopped in his tracks. “That’s a dick move, Hart.” I turned, but couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’d fucking kick a guy’s ass if he did that to one of my sisters.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and turned to walk back to the dining hall. “Yeah, well she got her revenge. We’re even.”

***

I set my phone down on the desk with the speaker on so I could re-tape my lacrosse stick while my dad spoke.

“How’s practice going?” he asked.

“Fine.” I ran the utility knife down the handle of my stick.

“And classes?”

“Good.” I laid the blade aside and started peeling the tape away.

He grunted. “Are you getting along with your teammates?”

“Sure.” Giving him short answers was best. When I gave him detailed responses, it only gave him more fuel for criticism.

“What do you think the team will be like? Are they any good?” he pressed. I glanced over at Caz to see if the noise was bothering him. He had his headphones on as he leaned over his desk, doing homework, while eating a plate of brownies.

“Hard to say, Dad. Right now we’re just doing a lot of weight training and cardio workouts.” I paused as I tried to peel away a portion of the tape which was about as pliant as my father. I grunted with the effort. “Formal practices don’t start for a few months.” He knew all this. He’d been talking to Coach regularly, and it was like having a goddamn nanny cam installed in my life.

“But you’re still working on your stick skills, right?” His voice was deliberate and tight. It was less a question and more a threat.

“Of course.”

“Did you sign up for the Distinguished Lecture Series?” His rapid fire questions were like a list of demands by a terrorist in a hostage crisis. He probably had a checklist drawn up by his secretary on official letterhead to keep track of my accomplishments and shortcomings.

“Not yet.”

He breathed heavily into the phone as if he was trying to control his frustration. “You need to do that, Alec. You need to show the faculty that you’re serious about your major. That will help you when you decide to apply for internships.”

“Okay.”
Shit.
I didn’t want to attend the lectures. They looked boring as fuck.

“What about internships? Have you started researching one for the summer?”

“The semester just started, Dad.” I twisted my hand with a vicious yank, tearing off a piece of tape and throwing it on the desk.

“It’s never too early to prepare. If you want an internship, you need to start working toward it now. Connect with prominent members of the faculty and network with people who can help you get a decent internship in D.C.”

I tore my attention away from where my fingers gripped the handle of my lacrosse stick, and I glared at the phone.
If I wanted an internship?

I tossed my lacrosse stick on the bed and then snatched the phone. Standing up, I took a few steps before turning on my heel and stalking across the small room like a caged animal. I gripped the front of my hair, yanking my head down until my chin touched my chest.

“That’s just it, Dad.” I squeezed my phone so hard I expected it to shatter into pieces. “I don’t want an internship in D.C.”

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said, Alec?” His words snapped out like the crack of a whip. “You’ll never be a senator if you don’t start laying the groundwork now. An internship is the first step.”

I took a deep breath. “An internship would be a waste of time since I’m planning to change my major next semester. I want to study Exercise Science.”

“Like hell you will!” Even with the tiny speaker on my phone, my father’s rage echoed through the room. I glanced over to Caz again, but he didn’t even flinch. “Your major is Political Science.” My father’s voice was flat and hard as if my statement wasn’t even worth consideration.

“I‘m not interested in politics, Dad.” My voice was strong and steady as I spoke. “I’m not going to waste my time on internships or networking. I’m planning to go into Physical Therapy. Politics isn’t my passion.”

“Who cares what your passion is?” he scoffed. “Passion doesn’t put food on the table or a roof over your head. The law is in our blood. That’s where your future lies.”

My “lawyerly” blood was boiling that I even had to have this conversation with him. Why was I continuing this argument? I was an adult, and I could make my own fucking choices. He’d just have to get over it. “That’s not a future I want.”

“Really?” His voice dropped dangerously low. “You blew your chance at the full scholarship at Model Congress last year when you let that girl out-debate you. That means I have to pay for the expenses your lacrosse scholarship doesn’t cover. You need my help, and I’m not paying for my son to be a lousy therapist. If you wanted to be a doctor, we could discuss that, but a therapist? Not on my dime.”

He allowed his words to hang in the silence between us, and I clenched my hand into a fist.

“Have I made myself clear?” my father asked in a clipped voice.

“Yes, sir.” I hated the way the words sounded coming out of my mouth, almost like I was sacrificing myself. If I had any chance of winning my father over to my side, I was going to have to ace all my classes this semester. I’d just have to spend the next few months preparing my argument and come back at him with good grades and a plan for my future that he couldn’t refuse.

“Good. Call me next week and let me know when you’ve signed up for that lecture.”

He hung up without saying goodbye, and I tossed my phone on the bed next to the lacrosse stick. I collapsed into my chair, leaning my elbows onto my knees.

Caz pulled off his headphones and hung them around his neck. He turned in his chair to glare at me. “Why do you let your dad talk to you like that?”

“You were eavesdropping?” I sighed and leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs in front of me.

“That was a hell of a lot more interesting than my Biology homework.”

“Dude, does Betty know you’re cheating on her?” I asked, nodding toward the plate of brownies. I didn’t want to rehash my conversation with my dad.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hart. These are Betty’s brand.” Caz opened his mouth and shoved an entire brownie inside. He chewed and then swallowed.

“How has your body not revolted on you?” I felt physically sick watching him eat sometimes.

“I’m like a luxury car. I need special fuel. My diet is very important to me. I make sure it’s well balanced between the four food groups: Betty’s best, brownies, Mountain Dew, and steak.” He reached for another brownie.

Shaking my head, I reached behind me to grab the lacrosse stick. I leaned it against my knee, tearing at the shreds of tape still clinging to the handle. My chest was still filled with the indignation only my father could inspire. All I could hear were his words repeating on a loop.
You blew your chance.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Caz said.

“I don’t remember you asking one. You were too busy going all Buddy Elf on me and explaining the four food groups. Although yours was seriously lacking in candy corn.”

“I asked why you let your dad talk to you like that.”

I shrugged. “That’s how all dads talk.” Discussing how stubborn and uncompromising my father could be wasn’t going to change anything.

“No. That’s how jackasses talk. My dad doesn’t talk like that.”

I watched my fingers rip the grip tape away from the lacrosse stick. A sticky residue clung to the metal. “It’s just how he is.”

“You want to change your major, and I know you don’t like lacrosse. Why are you doing what your dad wants you to do?”

“I like lacrosse.”

Caz huffed. “Yeah, that’s why you rush out of there every day so you can make it to Acroletes practice on time. I can’t believe you haven’t signed the pledge yet. You’re there every day. It’s obvious you want to join. You like the Acroletes more than you like your major and lacrosse. Admit it.”

I looked up at him. “What about you? Do you like your major?”

“If I didn’t, I’d change it.” Caz set the plate of brownies aside.

“You’re taking a break from Betty?” I paused. “Shit’s about to get real.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Caz said to the plate. “I’ll be back once I set Hart straight.” He leaned forward onto his knees and stared at me. “Why did you choose a Political Science major if you weren’t interested in it?”

“You’re talking to your food, and you expect me to take this conversation seriously?” I laughed and grabbed the utility knife off my desk, scraping the blade against the handle to remove the sticky residue left from the tape.

Caz leaned back with his arms out wide. “I got all day, Hart. Just answer the damn question.”

I shrugged. “My dad wants me to be a senator.”

Silence. And then a pillow pegged me in the head, hard.

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing you’ve ever said. It’s your life, dipshit. It’s your future. Don’t study something you hate just because your dad wants you to.”

I threw the pillow back at him, and he easily deflected it with his hand.

“My dad pays the bills. If I change my major, he cuts me off.”

“You actually believe that?”

I pushed the utility blade so hard against the handle, the metal screamed in protest. “Yeah.”

Caz stared at me for a beat and then took another brownie off his plate. “So you get financial aid. Apply for scholarships. Get a job. You don’t need him.”

I thought for a moment. Maybe Caz was right. My lacrosse scholarship covered my tuition. I’d just have to find a way to cover my room and board. “What’s your major?” I asked Caz.

“Biology. I’m Pre-med.”

I laughed. “Funny.”

Caz didn’t laugh. “How is becoming a brain surgeon humorous to you?”

“You’re serious?”

“As a tumor.”

“That’s...that’s not...that’s disturbing, dude.” I frowned at him.

“Look. You have some time to figure this all out. It doesn’t have to be today. It’s too late to change your classes for this semester anyway, but get your shit figured out before spring. This is your life, not your dad’s.”

I nodded. “You’re right.”
Wait.
Did I just agree with Caz?

He stood up, brushing his hands together. “You wanna go blow off some steam?”

“What did you have in mind?” I sheathed the blade of the utility knife and tossed it on my desk.

The look on Caz’s face was a risky promise. He picked up a brownie and tossed it at me. “Grab some fuel, buddy. I’m going to show you how to loosen up.”

***

Caz shoved a key into the lock and then pushed open the door just enough that we could slip inside before locking it behind us.

“How’d you get a key?” I followed him into the trampoline room where he turned on the light, leaving the rest of the Acroletes gym in darkness.

“I can’t give away all my secrets.”

“Which means you stole it.” I pulled myself up onto the nearest trampoline, launching my body into the middle of the bed.

Caz jumped up on the trampoline farthest from me with a Nerf football in his hand. “Heads up!” He drilled the ball across the room.

I jumped up, catching the ball with one arm and crashing down onto the webbing and bouncing wildly around. I was laughing when I finally managed to get to my feet. “Jesus. You throw worse than my grandma. No wonder you’re a gymnast. Your spiral sucks.”

“Fuck you. You don’t need a good spiral for trampball. It’s more fun when the toss sucks. Throw it back.” Caz jumped high, and I threw the ball to him when he was at his highest point. “Yes!” he hollered when he caught it.

A knock came from the outside door we’d just locked, and I stopped bouncing. “Shit. Do you think it’s campus police?”

“Nah, I invited some friends.” Caz tossed the ball to me underhanded and hopped down to the floor. “What good is a trampoline without girls in spandex?” He jogged out of the room and returned less than a minute later with Amanda and Maureen.