Blurred Lines: A Rixon High Prequel Page 2

  I dumped my bag and grabbed a notebook and pen. “Guess I’d better go see what he wants.”

  Making my way over to the office in the corner of the room, I knocked twice.

  “Come in,” Mr. Jones called, and I slipped inside. “Miley, welcome back.”

  “Thanks, sir.”

  He motioned to the empty seat and I sat down. “Senior year, are you ready?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good, I’m excited to see what you’ll bring to the role this year.” He ran his eyes over the computer screen. “I have your first project.”

  “You do?” A lick of excitement trickled through me.

  “Coach Ford would like you to shadow the team this semester and—”

  “I’m sorry, what?” The excitement turned to ice.

  “Hear me out.” Mr. Jones sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “The article was a big success and has already raised some interesting points that Principal Kiln plans to take to the school board, but it also ruffled a lot of feathers.”

  “That was kind of the point, sir.” Like many schools, Rixon High had a history of giving its athletes preferential treatment.

  “I know, and you know I support most of the points you raised in your piece. But with these kinds of exposés there is always a backlash. And it’s a big season for the team. Coach Ford would like you to shadow one of their star players to understand the pressure they’re under.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “I am.” His brows knitted. “And so is Principal Kiln.”

  “So I don’t have a choice?”

  “This is a great opportunity, Miley. As investigative journalists we have to be prepared to look at all sides of the story. I know you can do this.”

  “The team won’t want me hanging around.”

  They hated me.

  “Well, it isn’t their call to make. Coach Ford wants this piece to happen. He’ll make sure his players fall in line.”

  “Great.” Sarcasm coated my voice.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said around a half-smile. “Your tenacity and dedication to the newspaper is second-to-none.”

  “Thank you, sir. I guess I’d better go and prepare.” I grabbed my bag and stood up.

  “Don’t you want to know who you’ll be shadowing?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” My shoulders lifted in a small shrug.

  “Actually, it might…”

  My eyes locked on his, the knot in my stomach tightening.

  And then he said three little words that tipped my world on its axis.

  “It’s Avery Chase.”

  “Miley, is that you, sweetheart?”

  “It’s me, Mom.” I smiled to myself. We didn’t get a lot of visitors, but she asked the same question every single day.

  After kicking off my sneakers, I went to find her in the kitchen. “Hey.”

  “Hey, sweetheart. Good ‘last first day?’”

  “It was okay.” Thankfully, she couldn’t see my grimace as I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a juice box. I stabbed the straw into the top and joined her over by the counter. “What are you making?”

  “Reese’s brownies.”

  “Hmm, my favorite.”

  “I thought we could have a movie night. Celebrate your first day of senior year.”

  “Sounds great, Mom. But I have a ton of reading to do. Later?”

  “Sure, baby. Did you see Mr. Jones? Does he have a big senior year story for you?”

  “He wants me to shadow Avery Chase.”

  “The quarterback?”

  “That’s the one.” I couldn’t keep the frustration out of my voice.

  “But you already did the article on the team.”

  “And Coach Ford thinks it’s only fair I do something reflecting them in a better light.”

  “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair.”

  “In case you didn’t know, life isn’t fair, Mom.” The second I said the words, I felt like crap. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

  “It’s okay, baby.” She came around and hugged me. “I never want you to feel like you can’t use me as a sounding board, okay? Whatever it is.”

  “Thank you.”

  It had been a rough couple of years. My dad walked out on us suddenly after twenty years of marriage to my mom. He’d said they had ‘moved in different directions’ but we both knew he’d found happiness with a woman only a few years older than me.

  Mom had really struggled at first, falling into a bout of depression and anxiety. But she was doing better, and I was so damn proud of her for bouncing back.

  “You’ll ace it, sweetheart.” She squeezed my hand. “I have no doubt. How was your first day besides that?”

  I couldn’t hide my frown this time.

  “Ugh, that bad?”

  “I’m head of the school newspaper, Mom. I wrote an exposé uncovering the preferential treatment of football players in our school. I tried out for the cheer squad just to get the inside scoop and—”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. You broke a lot of people’s trust, but surely, many are on your side?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure about that.” At our daily briefing half my team hadn’t even been able to look me in the eye.

  I was the girl who dared to go up against the Rixon Raiders, and now I had to pay the price.

  “Well, you’re a strong, independent woman.” She nudged my shoulder. “There’s nothing you can’t handle.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, really wanting to move on from this conversation.

  It was bad enough I had to do it all again tomorrow, but shadowing Avery for the article?

  He was never going to agree to that.

  Mom was right though. I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge and I still needed my last submission piece for my application to Northwestern. I’d been mulling over ideas for the last couple of weeks, but this would have to do. I was too close to give up now, and I had too much riding on this semester as head editor at The Rixon Riot.

  “That had better not be a frown, Miley Louise Fuller.” Mom smiled, offering me a spoonful of brownie mixture. It was times like these, I realized how far she’d come.

  After Dad left, she’d spent most of her days in bed, barely eating or drinking. It had been hard, watching the woman who had given me life fall to pieces like that. It was enough to sever my relationship with my father… but it had also made me more determined than ever to chase my dreams and carve out a future for myself.

  Northwestern was the goal. I didn’t have a plan b or c. It was one of the best writing programs in the country and I wanted it with every fiber of my being. They only gave a handful of full academic scholarships every year and I needed one to be able to afford the tuition. Mom didn’t have the money and my part-time job at Rixon’s library wasn’t enough.

  “I’ve got this, Mom,” I said with conviction. Because there was no alternative. She was right. I was Miley Louise Fuller, and when I set my sights on something—willingly or not—I went after it with everything I had. So regardless of whether Avery wanted to work with me on this or not, he had no choice.

  Because I wouldn’t give him one.

  Chapter Three

  Avery

  It was only the second day of the semester and all the telltale signs of the impending football season were everywhere. The huge Rixon Raiders banner hanging from the ceiling, the Viking mascot watching over me and my classmates like an all-seeing god. It was the same mascot my dad and Coach Ford had played to. Prayed to.

  They’d ruled the halls of this very school over twenty years ago. Coach Ford had gone all the way, having a successful college career at UPenn and then drafting to the Philadelphia Eagles. But not my dad; he’d dropped out of college in senior year to take care of Xander when my grams got sick. Then Mom found out she was pregnant with me, and he’d given up his shot at going pro—and he’d had a good shot too—for family. He said he didn’t regret it, but I figure
d that was what he was supposed to say. Going pro was a dream, one not many guys got to live out. So to give that up… I couldn’t even imagine.

  I wanted it more than I wanted anything else in the world. Football was a part of me, the way oxygen was a part of my blood. When I held a football, cradled the pigskin in my fingers, I felt at peace. It wasn’t something you could put into words: the thrill of the game, the all-consuming high that came with running play after play. I’d lived and breathed football ever since I was just a toddler running around the yard being chased by Uncle Xander. My old man hoped I’d be a wide receiver like he was, but it quickly became apparent that throwing was my superpower. It became a standing joke between my dad and Coach Ford, that I should have been his son. It didn’t matter though because as soon as I started Rixon High, I became his protégé. He took me under his wing and nurtured me into the player I was today.

  A player with his eye on the prize. That prize being a full ride to one of the best programs in the country, Notre Dame.

  “Chase, son, let’s go.” Coach Ford yelled as I pulled on my jersey. We’d been conditioning for the last hour and I was in desperate need of a shower, but after Miley Fuller’s article last year, Coach had informed us he expected us to pull our weight in class as much as on the field. We all knew he was probably taking heat from Principal Kiln, but he didn’t say it.

  Coach Ford was a man of few words. Unless he was pissed, and then you felt the full wrath of his vocabulary.

  “What’s up, Coach?” I slipped into his office and closed the door.

  “Take a seat, Avery.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “Before I lay this out for you, I want you to know it was my idea. Mine, okay?”

  “Okay.” My brows pinched.

  He sat back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh. “After the shitshow that was Miss Fuller’s exposé, it brought heat onto the team that quite frankly we could do without this season. It’s a big year for you. I don’t want you distracted or having to jump through hoops…”

  “Why don’t I like the sound of this?” I shifted uncomfortably on the chair.

  “I spoke to Mr. Jones—”

  “The Rixon Riot teacher?”

  Coach nodded. “And he agreed that we should get a fair and equal shot at telling our side of the story. It’s no secret that athletes get preferential treatment. Especially in a town like Rixon, and most of the parents are on our side, you know that. But I can’t ignore the fact that it didn’t paint us—me—in the best light.”

  “Mrs. Bennet breathing down your neck still?” Sofia and Aaron’s mom was the guidance counselor at school and a firm believer in academics first and sports second. She and Coach often butted heads over players schedules and grades. The exposé was only more ammunition.

  “Mya knows the deal. I’m here to mold you into college players. I’m here to play football.”

  “Me too, Coach.” I smirked.

  “Yeah, well. You need to graduate high school too, son.”

  “My GPA is decent.”

  “So let’s keep it that way. Anyway, back to my original reason for dragging you in here. I’ve agreed with Mr. Jones that Miss Fuller can come back and write another story.”

  “What the fuck?”

  Coach’s brow shot up and I let out a frustrated sigh.

  “Sorry.”

  “I know you’ve got better things to be doing than babysitting the wannabe reporter.”

  “Whoa, you didn’t say anything about babysitting her.”

  “Didn’t I? Must have slipped my mind.” He grinned. Coach actually grinned. “She’s going to shadow you and you’re going to show her the real truth behind the team.”

  “I am?” Like hell I was. She was a snake who couldn’t be trusted. “How do we know she won’t spin the story again?”

  “Mr. Jones assures me Miss Fuller will be more than amiable.”

  “I bet he did,” I grumbled.

  “This is a good thing, Avery. Shining the light on you this season is exactly the kind of attention we need if we want Notre Dame to come knocking.”

  Fuck. He had to go and throw in that curveball.

  “You really think we can trust her?”

  “I’m sure you’ll win her over. We’re football players, not monsters.”

  “I don’t know, Micah is pretty scary on the field.” He was our defensive tackle, and the guy was built like a brick house.

  “Come on, Ave. Where’s that fighting spirit?”

  That was the thing though, it was senior year and I felt… off-kilter. I couldn’t explain it. I’d had a fucking epic summer hanging with friends, attending football camp, and goofing around down at the lake. But as the days ran out and senior year crept closer, I began to feel restless. Maybe it was the pressure. Or maybe it was the fact my dad still thought I was planning to apply to Michigan and attend his alma mater.

  “You still haven’t told him?” Coach Ford pinned me with a knowing look.

  “It didn’t come up.”

  “Shit, Avery, you had the entire summer.”

  “I know but he’s just so damn excited about Michigan. I don’t know how to take that away from him.” He’d sacrificed his dream for his family, but now he had the chance to live it vicariously through me.

  “You’re lucky I’ve been preoccupied, or there’s a good chance I would have slipped it out by now.”

  “How is she?” I asked.

  Coach let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his jaw. “Lily is strong. Stronger than she gives herself credit for. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t worry about high school. I thought middle schoolers were something else, but these high school girls… they can be brutal.”

  He wasn’t wrong there.

  “I’ll keep an eye out. And she has Poppy and Ashleigh.”

  Poppy was still in junior high, but she was fiercely protective of her big sister. Coach had his hands full of females. Sometimes I wondered how he did it. But Jason Ford was one of the strongest guys I knew, and he loved his family something fierce.

  “I’d really appreciate that, Avery. She’s been through too much already.”

  “You got it, Coach.” I nodded. I’d given my dad shit about it, but I would never turn a blind eye to someone making Lily’s life any harder than it needed to be. She was as good as family.

  “So you good with this Miss Fuller thing? I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but honestly, I think it could be a good thing.”

  My jaw clenched as I imagined spending time with her again. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

  The faintest of smirks traced Coach’s lips. “That’s the spirit.”

  I didn’t wait for Miley to hunt me down. Instead, I decided to take matters into my own hands. If we were going to do this thing, and it didn’t seem like I had much choice, I was going to make sure she understood it was going to happen my way.

  One of the tech guys managed to find me her schedule, so I waited outside her final class of the day. Everyone spilled into the hall, the teacher following them, but there was no sign of Miley.

  Poking my head around the door, I found her packing up her things.

  “Avery?” Even my name on her lips annoyed me.

  “We need to talk.” I closed the door and approached her.

  “Coach told you about the article?” I nodded, and her cheeks pinked. “It wasn’t my idea, I swear.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Retrieving the scrap of paper from my pocket I slammed it down on her desk. “This is my schedule. Be there, or don’t, whatever. But this is what you get.”

  I turned to walk away, but Miley reached across the desk and snagged my wrist. “Wait, please.”

  My eyes locked on to where she was touching me, anger boiling in my veins. “Get your fucking hand off me.” It was a low growl that had her instantly releasing me.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I know I messed up… but you don’t understand. This is my life, my future—”


  “You think I care?” I snapped. “I don’t. But mess with me again, mess with my team again, and we will have a fucking problem, got it?”

  Apology and regret glittered in her eyes and I hated it.

  I hated her.

  I wasn’t typically an asshole. I didn’t abuse my position, or the power bestowed to me by my team and our fans. But Miley Fuller made me real fucking angry.

  Marching to the door, I expected her to let me go. But she was a reporter. It wasn’t in her nature to stay silent.

  “For what it’s worth, Avery… I never meant for it to go down like that.”

  I didn’t spare her a second glance as I ripped the door open and got the fuck out of there.

  “What crawled up your ass and died?” Ashleigh asked the second I reached my car. I’d promised her a ride home. I didn’t remember extending that offer to Lily.

  I ignored her question, running my eyes over Ashleigh and her friend. “I’m not a taxicab.”

  “Maybe I should just wait for my dad,” Lily said, and I felt like a proper shithead.

  “Get in,” I said. “It’s no bother to give you a ride.”

  “O-okay.”

  Shaking my head, I climbed inside and waited for them. Lily burrowed into the door as if she was trying to shield herself. I’d seen her around the halls at school. She kept to herself, trying to blend into the shadows. It was a real fucking shame too. I remembered her as a kid. She’d always been so happy, so warm and kind. But that all changed in the summer before eighth grade.

  Coach wasn’t wrong when he said middle schoolers were something else.

  “So how are you finding high school?” I asked as I backed out of the parking lot.

  “I’m just relieved to be out of Rixon Middle,” Ashleigh said.

  “Lily?” I coaxed and she met my gaze in the rearview, but quickly averted her eyes.

  “I-it’s okay, I guess.”

  “You’ve got this, Lil.” Ashleigh flashed her a warm smile. “So back to my original question, brother of mine. What crawled up your ass and died?”

  “Nothing.” I shrugged, keeping my eyes ahead.