The first four classes dragged on. Finally, at noon, Trina wheeled me into the cafeteria.
The Patterson High School cafeteria was unlike most others. Well maybe not, but everything was segregated. And not by race or creed, but by sport or activity.
Each team kept to their usual table, and if you were dating someone from the team or a cheerleader for said team than you sat there as well. I cheered for football and basketball, so I was welcomed at both.
Trina only cheered for basketball and therefore sat with those players. When I dated Connor, the wide receiver for the football team, I ate with his group. On occasion, or when we'd have a falling out, which was often, I'd jump alliances and have lunch with my brother and company.
But now I was nothing and wasn't dating anyone; my stomach lurched with the realization I had no idea where to go.
My best friend decided for me and meandered us through the crowd, even shouting, "get out of the way" a few times to part the sea of teenagers in our path. She huffed once we arrived at the destination of the varsity basketball players' table.
Six months had passed since I had been at this very spot and a sucker-punch of nostalgia hit me in the chest. My eyes skipped around the table landing on my brother's designated vacant seat. I stiffened at the sight as my heart ached at the subtle reminder of the loss.
I was caught in a daze and hadn't even realized I'd zoned out until Sebastian moved his big head in my line of sight. "Hey. You okay?"
Luckily, no one else noticed as the rest were either too busy eating or talking amongst themselves.
"Yeah." Hopefully, that one word would suffice. With my newfound will, I wheeled myself around the table and scooted my brother's empty chair away. All eyes at the table landed on me. A few were shocked. A few were a little miffed. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do?
My silent question was answered once Sebastian steered me to the spot at the table where Kyle sat for almost three years, right beside him. He raised his Gatorade bottle to toast. "Welcome back, Shelby!" Everyone in attendance followed his lead, and the soft mutterings of my name reverberated.
A blush crept on my cheeks, but it wasn't out of embarrassment. It was from feeling centered for the first time in months. Like I was home again.
Lucas Kreitler, the point guard for the team, ungracefully plopped down, and the ketchup on his plate flew across the table from the force.
"Man, I've told you about impinging on my personal space," Sebastian seethed and grabbed a stack of napkins from the middle of the table to wipe his arm covered in the thick red muck.
"There's a million-dollar word. What are we up to now, guys?" I glanced around the table only to find myself greeted by everyone's vague expressions.
Sebastian chuckled. I had made up this game to specifically call him out on his pretentious word usage no one, other than he and I, understood, just to show off how intelligent he was. Like it wasn't already obvious.
Owen dropped his fork and stared at the ceiling to contemplate my question. "Umm, I don't know. We haven't been keeping track since—you know."
I knew very well what he meant. Since the accident. Instead of letting Owen's comment affect me, I ignored it. "Well by my old calculations, he should at least be up to a trillion by now." I paused and turned to Sebastian. "So, Bass, you know what that means."
Sebastian twisted in his seat and smiled that fabulous all-toothy smile of his. "Yes, yes...become a hillbilly and say words like ain't and nonthin' just for shits and giggles."
Trina dipped a fry in some ketchup and waved it at him. "That's a start. Unless you want to be the poorest player in the NBA, you better get to it." She finished with a wink and a toss of the food into her mouth.
Everyone was laughing and smiling as if the past six months never happened. Once the chatter died down, I said, "Anyway, Bass, I'm ready to take my second guess."
The rules to the F guess game were as follows:
Anyone sitting at the lunch table was allowed, since freshman year, three chances to guess the correct middle name for Sebastian F. Birch.
No one playing could write the names down. If the name was already said, that still counted as a guess if "you're too ignorant to remember for yourself." Sebastian's exact words.
No one could ask any member of the Birch family, or they would have to play servant to Sebastian for no less than thirty days. Including chores, laundry, meals—basically his bitch. And whatever other torture he could inflict without complaining. They would thereby be disqualified from any future choices as well.
The name had to be exact, spelling and all.
Now whoever won, would receive one percent of the contract Sebastian received once he was drafted, if he was drafted, to the NBA.
My first choice was Franklin, an amateur mistake on my part when I made a guess back in the middle of sophomore year. Since then, I'd matured, and along with my fellow cohort and best friend, we'd decided to tag team and split the winnings once we won. Because if Sebastian scored a million-dollar deal that was still a lot of money.
"Well, no one's taken a shot at in a while. I thought you and Trina had forgotten."
"Nope." I glanced to Trina, and we both were grinning like a matched set of Cheshire cats.
"Yeah, and I want to take one too," Trina added.
"Oh wow...killing two birds with one stone today, huh? Well, that will only leave the two of you and Luke with one guess left."
Sebastian held his hands up and gave us the go ahead to begin.
"Well, given how much you hate your first name, I thought it's..." My best friend squeezed her eyes closed adding to the suspense. "Felton."
"Felton?" My eyes cut to her and she flinched. "That wasn't the name we agreed upon, Trina. I thought it was supposed to be Farley?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Sebastian wagged a finger at both Trina and me. "No tag teaming allowed, ladies."
"Umm. Excuse me, but where in the rules does it say, 'no tag teaming'?" His smile faded, and Trina added, "Yeah, thought so...and it's too late to add it in now."
"So, I can't add an addendum to this game?"
"Million-dollar word." I fake added the total in the air. "That's a trillion plus now. You can thank me later."
"How is add—" Sebastian stopped saying the word since it would cost him again. He gave me a cheeky smile instead, and my heart did a double dutch skip. "That word qualify?"
I turned and faced Owen. "Clark?"
"Yo." Owen shimmied in his spot like a teacher called on him in class.
"Do you know what addendum means?"
His answer was automatic. "Nope."
My hand motioned towards the evidence. "I rest my case."
"Shelby, you've got to stop with the legal jargon. You know what it does to me." Sebastian closed his eyes and bit his lower lip to add to the effect.
Without missing a beat, I elbow jabbed him in his side.
"Ow! What?" He recovered quickly by feigning a grimace. "And anyway...Clark's a complete dumbass."
"True," Trina interjected, earning a scowl from me. "What? He is. He's barely passing." She shifted in her seat and glared at her boyfriend who appeared to cower from her voice. "And if someone doesn't get his grades up." She forced a cough. "My uncle, Coach Larson will be benching you."
Owen groaned and let his head fall to the table. By the looks of it, they've had this discussion before.
"See, even his better-half agrees." Sebastian gestured at Trina which earned him a smile in return. Silly girl, she took his backhanded compliment as a nicety and apparently made me the only one left still immune to his bullshit. If she weren't careful, she'd also join the Sebastian Birch fan club. That could not happen.
"Shut up," I said while sneaking a fry off Trina's tray and smothering it in her mountain of ketchup.
As I started to take a bite, Sebastian said, "Oh, you're just mad that I won this argument."
I laughed so hard the food got lodged in my throat. It took a little work on my part, but I coughed and cleared my throat with a quick hands up gesture. "I'm good." Cough. "Good."
Trina passed me a bottle of water which I greedily took a drink to extinguish the burn in my throat. She jumped from her seat and said to me, "I'm going to get some more fries. Do you want anything?"
"Yes please," Sebastian answered for me as his amused eyes dropped to scan my body. "Because she cannot continue with this diet of Nutella alone."
Now completely aggravated and a bit jaded by what he implied, I was ready to pounce. Yeah, I wasn't a size two anymore, but a six wasn't anything to scoff at either. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Yeah..." Trina grasped her phone off the table and began typing frantically. "Are trying to say Shelby is fat?"
Sebastian's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and his face paled. He raised his hands in defense. "No, no. no. I would never say anything like that." His whole head whipped around to take me in, and he said, "I would never, ever, say that about you, Shelby."
By the sincerity of his expression, I could tell he meant it. He almost seemed pained I would ever think otherwise.
"Oh really," Trina countered. "Then why would you say such a thing? And I'm being nice here, Sebastian. All it's going to take for me to make your life a living hell is to hit send and let your dear sister, Robin know about this."
God, I loved my best friend. She was pulling out her ace in the hole, Sebastian's older sister by two years, Robin, and holding it over his head.
Sebastian had a total of four sisters. Stephanie, who was in grad school earning her master's in social work. Then Robin, who graduated a couple of years ago and was going to college. Her boyfriend, Matt also happened to be Trina's older brother and therefore meant she was entitled to bring his sister into the mix whenever she felt like it. Sebastian was the only boy in the family, followed by his sister, Tabby who was fifteen. She was a computer whiz that could hack into anything she ever wanted. Either a life of crime or one in the NSA was in her future, and there was no way of knowing which way the outlaw would decide. The littlest Birch, a ten-year-old spitfire by the name of Maggie, was born about a month after their father died from cancer.
The matriarch of the family, Brenda, was a beloved pediatrician here in town and counted most of the children within the city limits as her patients. She was my hero. Raising five kids on her own, while keeping a successful medical practice and was an amazing, kick-ass woman to boot.
"I just meant she could use an apple. A banana? Orange? Something that isn't going to send her into diabetic shock and keep her from getting scurvy," Sebastian said. Neither Trina nor I was convinced. "And I think Shelby looks way better than what she did before. She was way too skinny if you ask me and if she wants to continue consuming jar after jar of that crap then by all means." His hands rose in defeat.
I had to admit, Sebastian Birch was adorable when thrown off his game, and his rambling just solidified the fact.
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