The Secret Life of an American Jock

Walking through the halls I had chicks staring, teachers stopping me, and friends talking to me every day. I was exactly what they wanted me to be: Brendan McGee, the golden boy, the athletic star, the stud… or so they thought. They just saw the pristine image that was presented to them like a screensaver of a kitten on a laptop computer. They couldn’t see the truth. They didn’t know.

We were all heartbroken when Mike went missing. Mike was my best friend. The last time he was seen was about a month ago. It was after a football game, which had a slaughter of a win, naturally. All of us popular kids ditched our khakis, our sweaters, our patent-leather shoes, our blazers, etcetera, to go to a bonfire in the woods.

Mike and Brody brought a few kegs. I picked them up in my Jag and we drove into the wilderness. Some girls had already set up a fire with Ken, the quarterback. Stacy was looking fine even out of her cheer uniform. Stacy’s my girlfriend. She’s the fox at the top of the pyramid, cheering me on at every game.

Stacy was talking with Ken and Julie and laughing, flicking that luscious blonde hair of hers. When we pulled up, they all ran up to greet us. We carried the kegs onto some tree stumps and greedily got firsts before anyone else showed up. Pretty soon, the whole crowd was there, and we were already buzzed.

After I’d joked around with the guys, I cuddled close with Stacy on a log near the fire. She whispered in my ear, and I could smell her floral perfume. She kissed my cheek, and walked away. She wanted me to meet her in the car. I faced Mike raised my eyebrows and gave him a goofy grin, with two thumbs up, before following her.

Inside, she was waiting in the passenger seat. She’d taken her sweater off. Her shoulders and cleavage were barely covered by her cheer top. I hopped in the driver’s side, and turned to her, asking what was up. She didn’t look happy. Her eyes were sad, and her face had a pained expression. I stared into my eyes with her hazel set, as she said with a shaking voice, “I’m pregnant.”

My jaw dropped. What? How was that even possible?

Well, sure, I get it, sex. And we had lots of sex. But we used condoms, and she was on the pill. I wasn’t an idiot.

She winced as she opened her mouth again, and said, “You’re not the father.” She opened the door and got out, walking away, crying.

I felt like the world had dropped out from under me. I felt like I was falling from a ledge. I felt sick, confused, upset, and furious, all at the same time. I sat there, in my car, sipping on my beer, not knowing what to think.

Pretty soon, Mike hopped in. He handed me a beer. “What’s wrong? Did you and Stacy get into a fight?”

I didn’t know what to say. I searched for words, but my mind felt like molasses. I could hardly think clearly. I kept my mouth shut, and downed some more beer. “Whoa… easy, tiger!” Mike joked.

About 20 minutes later, we were trashed, just sitting in my car, making small talk. Then I told him about Stacy. His eyes narrowed, and he sighed, saying, “Let’s go for a walk.”
We stumbled through the woods in silence, tripping over branches and stumps and rocks. We’d been walking for a few minutes, and Mike handed me a joint. I lit up and took a few hits. Mike took some hits before putting it out. He turned away from me, staring at the moon. “I’ve gotta talk to you,” he said.

He turned to face me. We’d made our way to a ravine. We were surrounded by the pure outdoors. I nodded and said, “Okay.”

Mike sighed again. “About Stacy…” he started. “It’s horrible… everything that happened. I know you really liked her. And she’s really hot and all.” I nodded in agreement. “But I guess, well… A few weeks ago, when you were grounded, and Ken had that huge party, Stacy got pretty smashed. I mean, she was dancing on tables and shit. It was hilarious at first, and we were all having so much fun. But, she kept drinking. And pretty soon she was walking around. She made her way towards me, and demanded that I do some shots with her.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “We did, and then she told me she wanted to talk to me about something. She pulled me into a back room, and just… stared at me. Then all of the sudden, she’s pulling her top off, and the she’s all over me, and she’s kissing me and grabbing my junk.”

I was disgusted. How could she do that? “Then… well… I kissed her back. And well… we had sex. I’m so, so sorry. We didn’t love each other. That was a one time thing. We were drunk.” He sounded really upset. But I didn’t care. All feeling got cut off inside of me. I looked down at the ground and didn’t respond. “I know, you probably hate me, but man… you know it’s not my fault. She’s the one that got me drunk! I think she planned it.”

I swung to face him, and punched him in the face. BAM. He fell to the ground with a crash, groaning, swearing, and holding his bloody nose. I lifted my leg and kicked him in the gut like a soccer ball, and just kept kicking and kicking. He started wheezing, and puking. Good, it’s what this fucker deserves, that betraying little Judas. He tried to get up, but I stomped him down. He started fighting back, and pinned me down. I flipped him over, and overpowered him. I slammed his head into a rock, and he passed out.

I sat there, trying to breathe. Everything was hazy. I barely knew what was going on. All I could do was feel shock, pain, and anger. I looked over at the bastard. He was still unconscious. His eyes were shut, and his jaw was hanging open slack.

I sat there, debating whether or not I should bring him back to society in my car, or leave him to wake up in the middle of nowhere. This went on for a while. I started thinking. Mike and I had been best friends since Pre-K. Surely he could never hurt me…

But he did.

I looked over at him, and made up my mind.

I picked him up and carried him all the way to my car, throwing him into the back seat. I drove off, without anyone noticing. I looked back. He was still out.

I pulled into the 7-Eleven parking lot, and grabbed two Slurpees. I came back and tried to wake Mike up. “Buddy,” I said, shaking him. I lightly slapped his face. I tried to open his eyes. “Mike. Wake up,” I muttered. I shook him some more. It wasn’t working. I put the Slurpee against his cheek. Nothing. I let go and he fell back down to the seat, out like a light.

And that was when I realized he wasn’t breathing.

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I freaked and dropped the Slurpees. Shit. Oh my god. Mike was dead.

I backed out of the car. “Fuck!” There were some people in the store. I slammed the door shut and threw myself into the driver’s seat. I swung into reverse and hit the gas. I made it to the clearing on the other side of town.

Mike and I used to come here all the time. Not even to party, just to think. I laid in the soft grass and stared at the starlit sky.

I could feel the tears burning my eyes. Mike was my best friend. We’d been through everything together: growing up, 9-11, his parents divorce, my mom’s cancer… everything.
And now he was dead, and it was all my fault. I could never forgive myself. I killed him!
I pulled out my cell phone; I had to call someone. 911, the cops… I don’t know. I started to dial, but I couldn’t hit the green glowing talk button.

I hid him in some bushes.

The next night, I came back with a shovel. I buried him in that clearing, and put a rock over his grave.

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A week later, there were fliers all over town. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? I closed my eyes every time I walked by one. They had him on an amber alert, and the police were investigating.

Nobody knew if he left, or he was kidnapped. They had no clue he was dead.
I was scared. What if they checked the woods? Would they find his blood? Would they find my fingerprints?

A year later, I was driving through Canada. I wiped a crumb from my mouth. I never got caught.