The One That I Want(32)
Author: Jennifer Echols

“How’s football practice going?” Addison asked. She sipped at the smoothie Max had bought her. Either she hadn’t figured out that football was a touchy subject for these boys, or she thought the drama would be entertaining.

“Max wouldn’t know,” Carter said.

Max rolled his eyes.

Addison turned to Max. “Have you been out sick?”

“No, he’s been at practice,” Carter said. “But he’s not really part of the team.”

“How can you say that?” I leaned away from Carter so that I could look at him—and slide out from under his arm. “The kicker is responsible for half the points in a lot of games.”

“Not in ours, he won’t be,” Carter said proudly.

I expected Max to have a witty comeback. But his shoulders sagged, and he looked out the window. He’d heard this verbal abuse so often that it didn’t even touch him anymore—or he was just waiting for it to be over.

Like with Addison and me.

I had had enough. “You’re saying most of your points are going to be touchdowns?” I asked Carter. “That’s a pretty big boast. If your running game falls apart, Max will be right there, waiting to save the game for you. That’s what the kicker is for. I still don’t see why you talk like he’s not part of the team.”

“He isn’t,” Carter insisted. “You think you know everything about football, Gemma, but you haven’t been to practice. We’re doing tackle drills the whole time. Hell, I’m the quarterback and I’m doing tackle drills. And where’s Max? Off on the sidelines, kicking, like he’s too good to practice with the rest of us.”

“But isn’t that what he’s supposed to be doing?” I asked. “Isn’t that what the coach is telling him to do?”

Max turned to Carter and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Maybe so,” Carter said, “but the coach doesn’t tell him to have this pretty boy, holier-than-thou attitude.”

Carter scowled, which made his whole face look twisted. His words were illogical, but the emotion behind them was very real. I knew he and Max had been friends forever. A little part of him hated Max for something. I doubted that something was Max being a kicker. Judging from my own relationship with Addison, I guessed the source of this argument was really jealousy over a prize Hot Wheels set when they were nine, or some mortifying slight one had committed against the other in front of a group of girls when they were twelve.

The longer I stared at him, the uglier Carter looked. He still was model-handsome in that giant I-could-crush-you-with-my-pinkie way, but the look on his face revolted me.

Because I recognized that scowl. I had seen it in my reflection whenever I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass doors while practicing my baton routines in my backyard, driven by anger at Addison.

Max leaned across the table toward Carter. His expression was earnest. “I don’t feel like I have that attitude at all. I feel like I’m the only Japanese guy on the team. The other guys think I’m an outsider. And when you tell people I’m a pretty boy, you’re not helping.”

“You’re the only Japanese guy on your team?” Addison asked. “There are lots of Japanese kids at our school.”

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to draw her into a conversation so she wouldn’t interrupt Max again. This was a talk Max and Carter needed to have.

But Max had already turned on her. “By ‘lots,’ do you mean three? They’re probably Chinese or Korean. There are more of them in Atlanta than Japanese.”

Addison shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

Carter and I gaped at Addison, both of us horrified at what she’d said and afraid of what Max would do.

Before Max could say anything, I put my hand on his and said soothingly, “She didn’t mean it that way, Max—”

He balled his hand into a fist and leaned toward Addison. “What’s the difference between Japan and China?” he asked sarcastically and too loudly for this coffee shop full of college-age kids and adults. “A language. An entire culture.”

“Max,” Carter said sharply to snap him out of it.

“Two thousand seven hundred years of history!” Max sneered down at Addison, who backed against the window and cringed.

“Come on.” I jumped up from the booth and grabbed Max’s elbow. I hauled him toward the door, motioning to Carter to keep Addison there. Carter nodded. Shaken, Addison put her head down on the table, and Carter stroked her hair. I thought that was strange. I’d never seen Addison and Carter touch before.

But I was more concerned about Max. My heart pounded in my chest as I dragged him out to the sidewalk, away from the windows where Addison and Carter could watch us. I led him around the corner of the brick building and stopped him. The sidewalks were filled with yuppies having date night, so I kept my voice low as I said, “Maybe you shouldn’t have caffeine this late. Addison didn’t deserve to get yelled at.”

“She did!” he snapped. He was still wound up. I saw in his eyes that I was getting the full force of his anger.

I made my voice soothing, but I didn’t pull any punches. “You brought it up, Max,” I reminded him. “You talked about being Japanese on your team. You didn’t have to say that in front of her. You baited her in the first place. You confused her by taking her to a Chinese movie with Japanese bad guys. If you’re sensitive about a topic, don’t bring up the topic.” Not around Addison, anyway. “I don’t go around talking about losing weight, do I?”

“I’m not sensitive about being Asian,” he insisted. “It’s an entire race. Half the population of the planet is Asian. I can’t be sensitive about that. I’m not sensitive about being a man, either, or having two ears. I should be able to talk about the basic facts of who I am without being insulted.”

I put my hand on his chest, over his racing heart. “As you have pointed out, Asians aren’t the majority in Atlanta, or even a large minority. She hasn’t been exposed much to those cultures. All she meant was that she doesn’t know the difference. She wasn’t trying to make fun of you or belittle you.”

Exasperated, he ran one hand through his hair.

“Enough people do, though, right? Make fun of you and belittle you? I know the feeling. But not every conversation is an attack. You don’t need to accuse somebody of lashing out at you when they’re not. Don’t take your anger at Carter out on Addison.”