Two days. Two days of Cherry's calls hitting the wall of Green's voicemail. At the tryouts, only Amole was on the court, leaving a gaping hole where her boyfriend should have been. Her subconscious screamed at her that something was wrong, but she shoved the voice back.
She waited until the game ended, watching the boys troop into the lockers to wash up. She needed Amole. If Green was benched, the news would have leaked, but the silence was worse than a rumor. Thousands of thoughts thrashed in her head as Amole finally walked toward the exit, his face fresh from the shower.
He saw her leaning against the red doorway and immediately looked away. He was done with her attitude from last time, and he had a bus to catch for a party he wasn't even in the mood for.
"Wait up, Amole!" Cherry jogged to catch him.
"Tell me I'm in trouble with that detective, ain't I?" he asked, his anxiety peaking. "You're mad at me for telling Green about the shit. I'm not sorry, but he deserves to know."
"I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry for the other day," Cherry muttered. Amole smirked—it was a hideous look. He knew she only apologized when she wanted something.
"What do you want, Cherry? I know that's why you are here."
"It's about Green. Haven't seen him in tryouts."
"Coach Benjamin can answer that for you. He's in his office right now," Amole said, pointing the way. But as she started to go, he grabbed her hand, stopping her.
"Green is sick. His mom won't tell me the details, but I think it's pretty serious. I hope it doesn't affect his drafts." He stared down at her—the high ponytail, the white crop top. She always looked good.
"Thanks, Amole," she said, genuine for once.
"He's not taking your calls?"
"Sort of. Plus, his mom is not a big fan of me. She practically hates me." Cherry looked down. Her greatest fear—Green dumping her—was starting to feel real.
"If I were you, I'd try. What's the worst she can do?" Amole said, turning to disappear into the campus.
The Hospital Bed
Green woke up to the sight of his mother and sister at his bedside. The last thing he remembered was leaving Cherry's house after making out. He'd only intended to smoke a little, but it became more than expected—and Cherry hadn't stopped him. The thought of it pisses him off.
"Are you okay?" his mom asked, kissing him.
"Does anyone know?" Green asked, terrified for his career.
"I have it under control," his mother assured him. "Everything will be washed out of your system. There will be no sign." She took his hand, tears pooling in her eyes. "It was Cherry."
She made him promise to stay away from her as far as possible. Green tilted his head, agreeing.
The History Class Confrontation
Monday came too fast. In History class, Green sat with Angela, their faces inches apart, ignoring the teacher as if they were the only two people in the room. Cherry watched them, her foot tapping impatiently. She didn't care about Angela; she cared that Green had ignored a hundred voicemails only to show up with his "off-and-on" girlfriend.
Behind her, she felt Amole's glare. He was enjoying this. When the bell finally rang, Cherry stood up, but Amole followed her out.
"Go on, taunt me," she cried out.
"In as much as I enjoy that, it's low of me," Amole said. "I thought you two were in love."
"Maybe," Cherry whispered.
Amole spotted a drama student named Mary and ditched the conversation to chase her, leaving Cherry alone in the hallway until Miss Clara stormed out of the classroom.
"Cherry, you're needed in the principal's office," Clara said.
The Evidence
Principal Wilson's office felt like a trap. Miss Clara stood by as Wilson rummaged through a drawer. Cherry stayed mute, her ego clashing with his.
"Cherry, we notice your dad's been gone for months," Wilson began. "If something happened, you can trust us."
"I have no idea what you're asking about," Cherry snapped.
The room went silent as Wilson thudded a cannabis kit onto the table. Cherry's blood ran cold.
"Mrs. Green reported this morning your dad's truck is missing and you have been taking drugs. She has evidence."
Cherry's mind raced. Green and his mom must have gone into her house. "You can't trust anything that comes out of Miss Green's mouth," she lied, trying to maintain eye contact. "After she couldn't snatch my dad when my mom was alive, I bet she'd say anything."
"She said you tried to make Green use it," Wilson countered. He wasn't buying the lie, but he sighed. "They aren't pressing charges. But you are out of the writing contest. You need therapy."
He pushed a card with a therapist's number toward her.
"I'm really going to file a breaking and entering case on Miss Green," Cherry whispered, her hands sweaty. She realized she'd rather be seen as a drug addict than have her father's crimes go public.
"It was Miss Clara's idea to give you a chance," Wilson said stiffly. "Stay on your best behavior."
Cherry grabbed her backpack and marched out, ignoring them both. Behind her, she heard Miss Clara's voice: "I know a breadwinner when I see one. Cherry is special. Kicking her out will only make her worse."