Бекки Алберталли - Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

“People suck,” she says.

I nod slowly.

“I honestly thought Taylor was going to hit one of those guys.”

Taylor Metternich. Seriously. Almost hitting some guy.

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, really,” Abby says. “I almost did, too.”

“Good,” says one of the senior girls, Brianna.

I look briefly at Taylor. She’s leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed, just breathing. “But she didn’t hit him, right? I don’t want her to get in trouble because of me.”

“Oh my gosh. Don’t even say that. None of this is your fault, Simon,” Abby says. “Those guys are douchebags.”

“They can’t get away with that,” says Brianna. “Don’t we have a zero tolerance policy?”

But Creekwood’s zero tolerance bullying policy is enforced about as strictly as the freaking dress code.

“Don’t worry,” says Abby. “They’re sitting in Ms. Knight’s office right now. I think their mommies are getting called.”

And sure enough, moments later, Ms. Albright gathers everyone in a circle on the stage. “So, I’m sorry you guys had to see that.” She’s looking at me especially. “It was beyond disrespectful and inappropriate, and I want you to know that I take this extremely seriously.” She pauses for a moment, and I look at her. And I realize that Ms. Albright is absolutely livid. “So, unfortunately, we’re going to have to end here for the day so I can deal with this. I know this is unexpected, and I apologize to all of you. We’ll pick back up tomorrow.”

Then she walks over to me and squats down in front of my platform. “You okay, Simon?”

I feel myself blush a little bit. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, well,” she says quietly. “Just know that those assholes are getting suspended. I’m not even kidding. I will make it my hill to die on.”

Abby, Brianna, and I just stare at her.

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard a teacher cuss.

So, Abby’s stuck at school until the late bus leaves, and I feel really terrible about that. I don’t know. It just feels like all of this is a little bit my fault. But Abby tells me not to be ridiculous, and that she can kill the time by watching the soccer tryouts.

“I’ll come with you,” I say.

“Simon, seriously. Go home and relax.”

“But what if I want to heckle Nick?”

She can’t argue with that. We cut through the science hallway and down the back stairs, toward the music room, where there appears to be some pretty badass drum and guitar business going on behind closed doors. They almost sound professional, except the vocals are strange and random, like the lower part of a harmony. Abby dances to the drumbeat for a minute as we pass, and then we bust out the side door near the soccer fields.

It’s really freaking chilly out, and I have no idea how these soccer kids are surviving with their shorts and bare legs. The girls are on the close field, and it’s dozens of ponytails in motion. We walk past them to get to the boys, who are running around orange cones and kicking soccer balls back and forth to each other. Abby lets her arms hang over the side of the fence, leaning in to watch. A lot of the guys are wearing these long-sleeved spandex shirts under their soccer shirts, and a few of them are wearing shin guards. And they all have those soccer calves. So it’s kind of a nice view.

The coach blows his whistle and all the guys gather around him for a minute while he talks. And then they disperse, passing around bottles of water and dribbling balls and stretching their legs. Nick jogs over to us right away, pink-faced and grinning, and then Garrett and Bram come, too.

“It’s weird that they’re making you try out again,” says Abby.

“I know,” says Garrett, panting. He’s sweaty and red, and his eyes look electric blue. “It’s like a formality. Kind of. Just to see”—he pauses to catch his breath—“like, where he wants to put us.”

“Oh, okay,” she says.

“So, what, you’re just blowing off rehearsal?” Nick says, smiling at Abby.

“Pretty much,” she says. “I was like— yeah . I’m gonna go ogle soccer boys now.” She leans in closer to Nick, grinning up at him.

“Oh, really?” says Nick.

It’s starting to feel like I shouldn’t be listening in on this.

“So, it’s going well?” I ask, turning to Garrett and Bram.

“Pretty well,” says Garrett, and Bram nods.

It’s funny that I eat lunch with these guys five days a week, but we never really hang out apart from the group. I kind of wish I knew them better. Even if Bram doesn’t have his shit together about Leah. I don’t know. For one thing, both Garrett and Bram have been totally cool about the gay thing all day, which I guess I didn’t expect from a bunch of athletes.

Also, Bram is cute. Like, really, really cute. He stands a foot or so back from the fence, totally sweaty, with a white turtleneck under his soccer shirt. And he’s not really talking, but he has very expressive brown eyes. And light brown skin and soft dark curls and cute, knobbly hands.

“What happens if you really screw up the audition?” I ask. “Can they kick you off the team?”

“Audition?” asks Bram, smiling so quietly. And when he looks at me, I feel this happy sort of ache.

“Tryouts.” I blush. And I smile back at him. And then I feel a little guilty.

Because of Blue. Even though he’s still not ready. Even though he’s just words on a laptop screen.

It’s just that I also kind of feel like he’s my boyfriend.

I don’t even know.

So, maybe it’s the winter air or maybe it’s soccer boy calves, but after everything that’s happened today, I’m actually in a pretty decent mood.

Until I get to the parking lot. Because Martin Addison is leaning against my car.

“Where have you been?” he says.

I wait for him to move. I mean, I don’t even want to look at him.

“Can we talk for a second?” he asks.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” I say.

“Okay, well.” He sighs, and I can actually see his breath. “Simon, just—I seriously owe you an apology.”

I just kind of stand there.

He stretches his arms forward, cracking his knuckles under his gloves. “God, I’m just. I’m just so sorry. What happened in there. I didn’t know that would—I mean, I didn’t think people still did shit like that.”

“Right, who’d have guessed? Because Shady Creek is just so progressive.”

Martin shakes his head. “I just seriously didn’t think it would be such a big thing.”

I don’t even know what to say to that.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right? I was pissed off. The whole Abby thing. I wasn’t thinking. And then my brother basically ripped me a new one, and I was just . . . I just feel like shit, okay. And I deleted those screenshots ages ago. I swear to God. So can you please just say something?”

I mean, I almost start laughing. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m just trying—”

“Okay, how about this? I think you’re an asshole. I think you’re a huge fucking asshole. I mean, don’t even fucking pretend you didn’t know this would happen. You blackmailed me. This was—I mean, wasn’t that the whole goddamn point? Humiliating me?”

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off.

“And you know what? You don’t get to say it’s not a big thing. This is a big fucking thing, okay? This was supposed to be—this is mine. I’m supposed to decide when and where and who knows and how I want to say it.” Suddenly, my throat gets thick. “So, yeah, you took that from me. And then you brought Blue into it? Seriously? You fucking suck, Martin. I mean, I don’t even want to look at you.”