Zenon's Game Chapter 51

"Relax Mi-"

"You had me sabotage your opponent?!" I yelled.

He shrugged me off him. "I was taking care of his sister."

"Don't talk about my sister!" Christopher yelled, overhearing us. He was being restrained by his teammates.

When Axel said that these two didn't along, he wasn't joking.

"Zenon, I thought we were done with your basketball tricks," I reminded him of our last catastrophe at the Surfside Shack when he'd gotten into a fight for betting on his own games.

"It's a friendly match. You should've seen what he did to me last week."

"I know I don't have many friends but if you call this situation friendly, then I think I'm good."

"Look, Candace," he sighed, "This is the way Layton and I are. Our futures in the game are tied together and we use each other to blow off steam. It's what we do."

"It's not what I do and I won't do this for you. I'm serious, Zenon. I don't care about the deal we have if it means messing with other people. I'm done. I'll pay you back in actual money, even if it means taking double shifts at the store and being indebted to you until I'm sixty."

But not if it means giving up my coffee allowance.

Zenon's coach interrupted us, having disentangled himself from the group, "Girl, I don't know who you are or what you're doing here but stop distracting my player. Run along."

"Gladly," I snapped, "And as a coach, you should start teaching him about the ethics of sportsmanship."

Zenon and the Coach stared at me. Yes, I just went there.

"You are not impressive, Zenon," I told him, "But you are right about your future. It's not only what you create now. The future you is also who you are now."

I turned away and walked back to my car.

Things had changed. No more Miss Nice Girl. No more Miss I'm-sorry-for-breaking-your-laptop-so-I'll-do-anything-to-make-up-for-it. I mean, isn't that the most absurd thing you've heard all day? I say 'all day' because yesterday I saw a raccoon in my backyard lick a garden gnome.

I was over this kid. Zenon Albert had the world at his feet. Now I've stood up.

I've stood him up...  

Though it's not like he'd notice anyway.

My phone buzzed for the eighteenth time. Zenon was persistent. I tried to block the image of him in my mind. His dreamy blue eyes, his charming playful smile...

No! I snapped out of it. Let the boy sweat. It's not like he sweats enough in basketball. AmIright?

I pulled up to my house and parked in the driveway.

"Were you picking up the newspaper from the front porch?" my mother asked as I walked in, pouring oat milk onto her granola.

She handed me a pop tart.

"Uh, not really. I was actually at a basketball game today," I answered, looking for an envelope in the kitchen cabinets.

Heidi laughed from the table, "I'm telling you mother. She's becoming a pathological liar."

"Why is what I'm saying so hard to believe?" I asked, finding a stack of envelopes next to the scissors.

I grabbed one.

"Why aren't you eating breakfast?" Mum asked me.

"I ate at the Coffee Bean."

"She's trying to lose weight mum. She can barely fit into her jeans," Heidi said, "That's why she wanted to borrow my clothing, and rip it."

"Skipping meals is not the path to popularity," my mother told me, obviously willing to believe anything Heidi said.

There was nothing for me to say. At least Cinderella had a fairy godmother, a prince charming and friends (even if they were mice). Me? I have the Coffee Bean and...

Zenon. My phone was buzzing again, and I clicked ignore. Zenon was not giving up.

I'm sure he's won his game by now. I'd said my part to him and he can hang out with his groupies in peace. Why did he care about reaching me now, when he never had before?

I left the kitchen and overheard them say, "She'll never be normal."

"Enough about her. Matt is taking me on another date today mum, but I really need to get closer to Zenon or Axel. Actually, there's a new guy now. He's so hot. He's burning his way up the popularity ranks. His name's Jake."

I slammed the door on my way out.

School was the usual parade of edgy fashion decisions and social media profiles. I squeezed through the swarm of students in the halls, struggling to make my way through. I pulled the envelope out of my bag and walked past Zenon's famous locker.

Without him there, it was preserved like a shrine. Some fans loitered around it. Most would pass by and stare. So I had to be extra discreet when I slipped the envelope through the thin slot of his locker.