Shit.

He walked away from me, but he was right. Everything he said was right. And even as he left through the doors, I knew I’d still go to Jesse that night. But this time was different. This was the last time. I would end it after tonight. I had to, otherwise everyone would be right. I drew in a shuddering breath. I should’ve been crippled by what Eric had said to me, but I wasn’t. Strength started to fill me. I couldn’t explain it. I had no idea why I wasn’t crying or why I wasn’t filled with shame because he’d been right about me. Maybe it was because I knew I had one more night or maybe I was lying to myself. Either way, as I finally bent and picked up the tickets, I knew what I’d have to do.

I’d have to leave Jesse, but not until tomorrow. Tomorrow, I told myself. One more night in his arms, one more night to have everything else pushed away. I could forget for one more night.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I didn’t tell Angie what Eric had said, but I did say that Marissa had left after they had broken up. I expected a snarky comment from her, but she was silent. She only gave me a repressed smile instead. Justin, perfect timing as always, swooped in to literally sweep her off her feet. She shrieked as she threw her arms around his neck. They bounded away, towards the cab, but I heard her laughter a second later.

And then I followed behind. Since Marissa and Eric had both ditched for the rest of the weekend, I promised Angie that I would still go to the game. I knew Jesse wanted me to come as well, but when we got there, I wasn’t ready for the intensity that filled the stadium.

Purple and white were everywhere. There were so many banners for Jesse and Camden, that I couldn’t count them all. My favorite was the one that read ‘Jesse can Hunt me down any day!’ It was surrounded by girls wearing skimpy purple and white tops tied under their br**sts, the rest of their bodies were painted in the colors. They all had on tight jean shorts as well, flayed at the ends, with their butt cheeks sticking out.

The stadium was packed; hip hop music blared from the speakers above, but when the team came out, the sound was deafening. I cringed at the screams from the girls when Jesse ran in with Camden. Half were going crazy over Jesse while the other half seemed to cheer for Camden. And the screams never died down, not even when they started playing.

Despite all the other girls, the game was exhilarating to watch.

Jesse was in his prime. I understood why he’d been dubbed the Golden Boy. When he got the ball, he made the shot almost every time. After he sunk his sixth three-pointer in a row, the crowd was on their feet in hysteria.

Angie nudged me and bent down. She had to yell in my ear, “Your boy’s gotten better.”

I nodded with a foolish smile on my face. I couldn’t wipe it off. I didn’t want to. I was proud of him. He’d been unstoppable at our school, but she was right. He’d doubled his training and it paid off. That was when I realized why his father was making such a big deal out of him. Jesse was going places. A person would have to be a fool not to realize that; it was no wonder his father wanted everyone to remember whose son he was. More than once, the camera had zoomed in on Malcolm Hunt in the first row, sitting beside my parents. I heard the commentary and knew they were discussing what it meant to have the prestigious movie producer in the building and what kind of career that might mean for Grant West’s Golden Boy. One of the commentators remarked they only hoped to hold on to the Golden Boy until the inevitable professionals would take him away. He hoped that wouldn’t happen until Jesse finished college, but it rarely happened for an athlete of his caliber to remain until getting a degree.

As I watched the rest of the game, it was bittersweet. I had the same hopes as everyone else in the stands. They loved Jesse and they wanted him to stay with the team. And I knew Ethan would’ve wanted the same. He would’ve pushed Jesse to finish college, so because of that, I knew there was a strong probability that Jesse would last until the end of his four years.

I enjoyed the game, or I did until halftime. After the dance team did their show, the lights went back to normal and everyone left for the restroom or concessions. It was then that I looked up to the video screen and saw Ethan staring back at me.

I froze.

His eyes seemed to penetrate me as he smiled. Then the picture was replaced with another of him and Jesse together. Their arms were thrown around each other’s shoulders. They wore the same basketball uniform and both looked so happy. Then a third picture came over the screen, this one was of Ethan and his prom date. He was tall and proud in a black tuxedo as she gave the camera a forced smile in her green dress. Then it was him at graduation. He wore his black robe, with his cap and gown in hand. He had flipped the camera off with his middle finger. A few people laughed at that image.

Another was of him and our parents, but more and more pictures showed him and Jesse together. As the slideshow continued, a haunting melody came across the speakers. Then the stadium quieted as so many were pulled into the slideshow.

Angie’s hand found mine and gripped tight.

I tasted something wet on my lips and realized there were tears on my cheeks. I’d been crying and I hadn’t known it.

The images never seemed to stop. There were so many. Ethan, Ethan and Jesse, Ethan and their other friends, more of Ethan and our parents, Ethan and his girlfriend. I gasped when there was one with me. I couldn’t believe my parents had considered that image, but it felt right to see it. More tears burst forth from me. The picture was my last morning with him. It was my birthday, his graduation day, and he had smeared my birthday cake all over me. I was trying to pull away from him as his hand reached past my arms with more cake.

A whimper left me and I looked down. I couldn’t see anymore, but a force that wasn’t mine led my eyes back. I couldn’t look away now. Image after image. All of them were of Ethan and the life he had led. He looked happy in every photograph. He looked content.

Oh god. Why did he die? Why was it him?

Torment and agony sliced through me, back and forth, back and forth. It was as if someone took a butcher knife to me. Each picture, each memory, was another stab deep to my gut. I wanted to bowl over. I wanted to cry until I had nothing left in me. It was too much pain. I couldn’t handle any more.

Then Angie gasped, her hand squeezed mine in a knee jerk reaction.

The camera was on me. Blood drained from me as I saw the tear-drenched cheeks, the swollen look of misery, and how even my eyes would have haunted me. But then I was switched to an off camera, a screen to the side stayed on me, and the slideshow continued of Ethan.