Gone

“I don’t like that Liam kid,” I told Manny point-blank the next morning when she crawled into my car. “He’s a prick.”

“Wait, you met him?” she squealed. “Isn’t he beautiful? Ugh, I just want to frame him and put him on a wall. It shouldn't be possible to be that pretty.”

“Yes, I met him, and yes, he’s good-looking, but I still hate him. He’s a cocky bastard, and I just want to rip out his guts.” My mind flashed back again to the smirk he gave me as he walked off the field after everyone else had already gone ahead.

“So, you think I might have been lucky enough to get on the team?” And to make it worse, his laugh had been so cocky, so irritating, that I had half a mind to whip my soccer ball at the back of his head and watch him fall forward like Goliath.

“I find that hard to believe,” Manny replied with furrowed eyebrows. “He looks and talks like a sweetheart. How did you even meet him?”

“He tried out for soccer yesterday,” I grumbled.

Immediately, Manny burst out laughing, already knowing what I was going to say. “Let me guess: he kicked your ass, didn’t he?”

“No.”

“Frankie.” Her tone was condescending and teasing, and it just made me more irritated.

I let out a sharp, annoyed sigh. “No, he didn’t kick my ass. He just stole the ball from me and rubbed it in afterward. Because he’s a cocky bastard. Now can we not talk about him anymore?”

“I still want to bang him up against a wall.”

“Do that all you want,” I responded, refraining from rolling my eyes, “but I don’t want to hear about it. And if you start going out with him, do not bring him anywhere I’ll be.”

“You’re going to have to deal with him at soccer, anyway, you know. Unless you turn him down just because you’re sore that he’s better than you.”

“He’s not better than me,” I denied immediately. “And I can’t turn him down, no matter how much I dislike him. Because he’s going to help us win a lot this year, and I can’t carry the team by myself.” I paused as I turned down a narrow street that required a bit of concentration. “But why are we still talking about him? I said I wanted to drop it.”

“Okay, so let’s change the subject. Are you going to Robbie Johnston’s party next weekend?”

“Who the hell is Robbie Johnston?” I questioned. “I’ve never heard of him in my life.”

“It doesn’t matter because he’s throwing a party, and you have to go with me.” She curled a lock of hair around her finger to make sure it was as bouncy as possible as she waited for my answer.

“Yeah, I guess so, if you tell me where on Earth he lives.”

“Yay!” She cheered, a grin overtaking her beautiful features. “So now I don’t have to do that awkward thing where I go around and ask half the school for a ride.”

“I think that’s an exaggeration,” I told her, but she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fixed out the window, her hand positioned under the passenger’s side window.

“God, he’s fine,” Manny sighed, and I snuck a peek to see who she was talking about.

But of course, it was Liam. He was climbing out of a fairly new Honda, wearing a pair of dark denim jeans and a short-sleeve blue shirt, a pair of black Converse on his feet. I had to admit, stubborn grudges aside, he was incredibly attractive. But still not my type.

Almost as if he could feel the eyes on him, he turned and waved at us, looking adorable as he smiled.

Instead of waving back, I slammed down on the gas, zooming through the parking lot and narrowly avoiding hitting a kid.

“You missed your spot,” Manny pointed out. Although I wasn’t looking at her, I could hear the suppressed laughter in her voice.

“We’ll go around,” I muttered.



“Hey, honey,” Mom greeted when I walked through the door. The baby hairs around her face stuck out in every direction as she stood at the counter, stirring what looked like chocolate chip cookie batter. “How was school?”

“Fine,” I responded offhandedly. And I meant it, too. Soccer practices didn’t start until the following week, so until then, I didn’t have to worry about Liam’s cocky self. Well, other than the little unfortunate incident that morning, anyway.

I was glad that I had no classes with him. Somehow, he’d managed to end up in almost all of Manny’s courses, with all the other smart people. He probably didn’t have a life outside of school and soccer, and when he wasn’t doing projects or writing papers or showing off his intelligence, he was probably kicking the ball around with David Beckham.

“That’s good,” she replied, not noticing that I’d slipped into a trance of hatred. “Do you have any plans for this weekend? Are you going shopping for new school clothes with Manny?”

I shook my head. “Not that I know of yet, but the week’s still pretty young. We’re planning to go to a party next weekend, though.”

Mom started to put spoonfuls of dough spread evenly around a cookie sheet, spacing them far enough apart so they didn’t run together while they baked. “Oh, a party? Are you taking Manny?”

She knew us too well. “Yeah. She’s pretty much the reason I’m going. I don’t even know the kid who’s throwing it.”

Mom let out a soft chuckle as she pulled the oven open and stuck the pan inside. The front door closed with a loud metallic bang as she hurried toward the sink to wash the batter off her hands. She raised her voice so I could hear her over the rushing water as she said, “Make sure she stays out of trouble, okay? I don’t want either of you girls getting hurt.”

“We won’t,” I assured her. “Oh, is Dad going to be home tonight for dinner?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she laughed with a shrug. “We’ll just have to wait and see. And I was thinking fajitas tonight. Is that okay with you?”

“Absolutely,” I responded with a grin. “Alright, I’m gonna head upstairs and start making up some plans for next week.” I might have been the only soccer captain in the history of my school that treated our practices like a class, where I had to have a lesson plan, but they just made me feel so much more organized and focused. I didn’t want to run into anything blind. Granted, I was capable of tweaking them if I saw that the team was struggling with something particular, but for the most part, we stayed on task.

Mom chuckled. “God, I’d never imagined when I put you into that little soccer uniform to play your first game in kindergarten that it would turn into this.”

“Be thankful that it’ll get me scholarships,” I laughed. “Bye, Mom.”

“You’re going upstairs, not to Tokyo,” she reminded me, turning to give me a short wink. “No need to say goodbye.”

“Noted,” I responded with a snicker before running to my room, my mind already starting to rev with ideas for drills.