different muscles, and by the time Coach Middleton brought them over to do a couple of relays, he felt at least marginally human again. He got himself in position opposite Brad. The coach had kept him in the Moreau, Harberts, Van Dyke lineup.
Brad hurled himself off the block with his usual blast of speed. If he was feeling any pain, Jason couldn’t see it in the smooth motions of his arms and legs. Jason, on the other hand, still felt his muscles protest with every movement. But he refused to let it slow him down. One fight should not make me this sore. He punched the sensor in the wall hard when he reached it and saw that he’d managed a fairly decent time.
He could tell from the splash he heard as he swung himself out of the pool that Harberts had made a sloppy start. He turned to watch Van Dyke and saw every muscle in his body tense as he waited for Harberts to reach him. “Come on!” he shouted, agitated.
But it was as if Harberts’ limbs were weighted with lead. He was trying, but the guy was just too tired to swim as fast as usual. Jason’s eyes moved to the huge clock mounted on the far wall and watched the seconds click away. Their time was going to be crap.
When Harberts punched the sensor, Van Dyke threw up his hands in annoyance. “What’s the point of me even getting in the pool?” he yelled at Harberts. “We’re past our slowest time!”
“Sorry, man, I’m just beat,” Harberts replied.
“Dude, he’s got after-party. Cut him some slack,” Brad put in, keeping his voice low. Jason figured Brad didn’t want the coach to hear.
“Well, maybe we should think about exactly who gets invited to our parties,” Van Dyke shot back. He glared at Brad as if it were all his fault.
“Look, I’ll get to sleep early tonight and—,” Harberts began.
“I don’t want to hear it.” Van Dyke grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his shoulders, and stalked back to the locker room.
“Come on. Let’s call it a day,” Brad said. “We’re out of here.”
Jason glanced up at the coach. They still had a few minutes of practice left. But Coach Middleton gave them a nod.
“You had a fish taco from Eddie’s yet?” Brad asked Jason as they headed for the locker room.
“I don’t even know where Eddie’s is,” Jason answered. He also knew that Adam was hanging around so he and Jason could hit Blockbuster after practice. “Besides, I’ve got plans today.”
“The sister? Bring her,” Brad said as he dialed the combination into his lock.
“No, Adam Turnball’s decided I’m too film-challenged to be allowed to live this close to Hollywood. We’re hitting the video store,” Jason explained as he toweled off. “He might be up for the taco thing instead, though.”
Brad shook his head. “Nah. I should probably just head home,” he said. “My mom did not have on a happy face all weekend—and it wasn’t just the BOTOX. She heard about the puke in the hot tub. It wouldn’t hurt to put in some face-time.”
Jason nodded. But he had the feeling that if he hadn’t mentioned Adam, Mrs. Moreau’s good son time would have waited. Clearly Adam wasn’t in the same social circle as the DeVere Heights crowd. Although, for some reason, Jason himself seemed to be perfectly acceptable. Guess that’s the beauty of living behind the gates of DeVere Heights, he thought.
“Let’s hit Eddie’s after the next practice. It’ll be better after we’ve had an actual workout. We’ll need the fuel more for muscle repair,” Brad said as he tied his sneakers.
“Sounds like a plan,” Jason answered. They headed out of the locker room and into the bright blue and yellow of a Malibu afternoon. Jason still thought it felt unnatural for the weather to be so predictable. But when it was predictable in a perfect-beach-day-everyday way, he figured he could definitely get used to it.
“What’s he doing?” Brad asked, coming to an abrupt stop.
Jason followed his gaze across the quad. Adam had his video
Brad hurled himself off the block with his usual blast of speed. If he was feeling any pain, Jason couldn’t see it in the smooth motions of his arms and legs. Jason, on the other hand, still felt his muscles protest with every movement. But he refused to let it slow him down. One fight should not make me this sore. He punched the sensor in the wall hard when he reached it and saw that he’d managed a fairly decent time.
He could tell from the splash he heard as he swung himself out of the pool that Harberts had made a sloppy start. He turned to watch Van Dyke and saw every muscle in his body tense as he waited for Harberts to reach him. “Come on!” he shouted, agitated.
But it was as if Harberts’ limbs were weighted with lead. He was trying, but the guy was just too tired to swim as fast as usual. Jason’s eyes moved to the huge clock mounted on the far wall and watched the seconds click away. Their time was going to be crap.
When Harberts punched the sensor, Van Dyke threw up his hands in annoyance. “What’s the point of me even getting in the pool?” he yelled at Harberts. “We’re past our slowest time!”
“Sorry, man, I’m just beat,” Harberts replied.
“Dude, he’s got after-party. Cut him some slack,” Brad put in, keeping his voice low. Jason figured Brad didn’t want the coach to hear.
“Well, maybe we should think about exactly who gets invited to our parties,” Van Dyke shot back. He glared at Brad as if it were all his fault.
“Look, I’ll get to sleep early tonight and—,” Harberts began.
“I don’t want to hear it.” Van Dyke grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his shoulders, and stalked back to the locker room.
“Come on. Let’s call it a day,” Brad said. “We’re out of here.”
Jason glanced up at the coach. They still had a few minutes of practice left. But Coach Middleton gave them a nod.
“You had a fish taco from Eddie’s yet?” Brad asked Jason as they headed for the locker room.
“I don’t even know where Eddie’s is,” Jason answered. He also knew that Adam was hanging around so he and Jason could hit Blockbuster after practice. “Besides, I’ve got plans today.”
“The sister? Bring her,” Brad said as he dialed the combination into his lock.
“No, Adam Turnball’s decided I’m too film-challenged to be allowed to live this close to Hollywood. We’re hitting the video store,” Jason explained as he toweled off. “He might be up for the taco thing instead, though.”
Brad shook his head. “Nah. I should probably just head home,” he said. “My mom did not have on a happy face all weekend—and it wasn’t just the BOTOX. She heard about the puke in the hot tub. It wouldn’t hurt to put in some face-time.”
Jason nodded. But he had the feeling that if he hadn’t mentioned Adam, Mrs. Moreau’s good son time would have waited. Clearly Adam wasn’t in the same social circle as the DeVere Heights crowd. Although, for some reason, Jason himself seemed to be perfectly acceptable. Guess that’s the beauty of living behind the gates of DeVere Heights, he thought.
“Let’s hit Eddie’s after the next practice. It’ll be better after we’ve had an actual workout. We’ll need the fuel more for muscle repair,” Brad said as he tied his sneakers.
“Sounds like a plan,” Jason answered. They headed out of the locker room and into the bright blue and yellow of a Malibu afternoon. Jason still thought it felt unnatural for the weather to be so predictable. But when it was predictable in a perfect-beach-day-everyday way, he figured he could definitely get used to it.
“What’s he doing?” Brad asked, coming to an abrupt stop.
Jason followed his gaze across the quad. Adam had his video
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