I've been standing outside for almost an hour. It's six o'clock now, and my dad isn't here yet.

The streets are crammed with people most I don't recognize; they're probably in town for the game. I see some of the members of the Ravenswood football team. They have on their blue letterman jackets with the yellow R plastered on the back of the jacket.

Ravenswood is about an hour away; it's the next town over. Their town is a poor one; it's made up of low and some middle-class families. That's one significant difference between their town and ours. Another would be that their school is not as fancy as ours. I've seen it once, a long time ago, and that was only through passing. I only caught a quick glimpse of it, but I remember how the brick building had mold on the outside, and the windows were dirty. The grass out front was brown, not as green and vibrant as the grass outside of my school.

That was a long time, though; it could be different now?

I look down at my phone; it's six-fifteen. I call my dad again, and there's still no answer.

I hope he isn't drunk. He could be at home right now, with a spilled glass of whiskey on the nightstand and passed out. I dumped the bourbon, but that was just one bottle; he could have more liquor elsewhere.

Maybe I should walk home; it'll be only a 20-minute walk from here.

I really don't feel like it, though. Now that I think about it, I don't want to go home, especially if he's drunk.

I'll go to the diner. I can sit in there and wait until he calls me back. I can't stay standing here in front of the clinic. Someone could see me.

I turn around and head down the street; when I get there, I open the door to the familiar eatery, and soon as I open the door, my nose is overtaken by the familiar smell of grease.

My mom hates this place. She wouldn't be caught dead here. The prices are too low, and the food is too high in calories for her. I love it, though.

There's a mixture of kids from my school and Ravenswood. I guess the game hasn't started yet.

I walk to the back of the crowded diner and take a seat in the red booth. I place my phone on the table, unzip my book bag, and pull out Hamlet. I found a hard copy of it in the school library.

It was hidden on the shelf, untouched. I'm not surprised; many people don't read books anymore, especially one this old.

I don't care that it's old; I could read this book a thousand times. I'm pretty sure I almost have. I open the book and turn to the first page and start to tune out everything and everyone around me.

"Excuse me?" a voice says. I look up from my book. A tall light skin boy is standing outside of the booth. He has a diamond earring in one of his ears, and he has a high faded haircut. He's wearing one of the blue letterman jackets with the R on it.

"Uhh, Yes." I just now realized I was staring at him, taking in his appearance, I didn't mean to, but he's very handsome.

"I'm sorry, but I just... I couldn't help but notice you reading."

"Okayyy." I draw out the word. I give him a confusing grin. Why does he care that I'm reading?

"Shit." He slides into the seat of the booth across from me. "I don't know why this is so hard for me. I'm usually good at this."

I'm so confused, "Good at what?"

Now that he's down to my level, I can see his eyes. They're dark brown, just like Ryder's are dark gr--. Wait, why am I comparing him to Ryder?

Why did he come over here? Out of everyone in the room, he comes all the way back here, to me.

"I'm Caleb.," he says.

"Jayda." I try to look everywhere else but at him. Small shivers flow through my body. I'm nervous as shit. He stays silent for a minute. I know he's looking at me, probably wondering why I can't look at him.

"So, you're in the game?" I blurt out and ask. Ugh, I'm so stupid; why would I just ask him that? Of course, he's in the game? He has on the jacket.

He chuckles. "Yeah," he says. " You think we can beat those pampered rich boys?" he nods over to the boys at the stools.

He doesn't go to our school, but he just described exactly how they are. "I don't know. They're good." I joke.

"Good? I don't know; they did lose homecoming," he says. The word homecoming makes me think about what Ashely said, how the team didn't win because I wasn't there to sexually give them relief, even though I would never and have never done anything like that. It still hurt to hear her say it.

I managed to break away from my thoughts and respond. "True. But they did win the championship last year?"

"Only cause I was out for half of the season," he states. "My team had no QB. But now I'm back, and I'm confident we'll be taking home the championship this year." he smiles. He looks even better when he smiles.

"We'll see." I roll my eyes. There's a lot of bad things about my school, but I can say we have a good football team. Well, they play good; everyone on the team is an asshole, so I wouldn't use the word good to describe them.

"How about we make a deal?" he suggests. I raise my eyebrow, intrigued by this deal.. "If we win the game, you let me take you out tomorrow."

"I don't date," My words come out fast.

He laughs and says, "I never said anything about dating."

"Oh"

"I just said I'll take you out. It doesn't have to be a date. Just two people, from rival schools, hanging out." he has a sneaky grin on his face.

"And if we win?" I add before agreeing to his proposal.

"You'll never see me again."

I ask, "You are agreeing to that?" surprised that's my part of the deal.

"Yes." he nods his head. "I'll play ten times harder so that I can see you again."

I stupidly grin at his remark. This is the most I have smiled in months. What is wrong with me?

"Deal?" He stretches his hand across the table, trying to get me to agree. I look at his hand for a minute before I give in and shake it.

His grip is gentle and soft—nothing like how Ryder grabs me. Crap, there I go again.

"Caleb, let's go!" One of his teammates yells from the door. He stands up from the booth.

He looks back and asks. "Aren't you coming?"

"Uh, no... I cant... I uh."

"It's ok. I'll see after." He smiles at me yet again before walking towards the exit and leaving.

I look back down at my book, trying to finish reading it, but I can't stop thinking about what I just agreed to. Did I really just agree to that?

My phone begins to ring; the name Dad flashes across the screen.

"Hello," he says as soon as I answer.

"Where are you?" I immediately ask him.

"At the office. I'm so sorry, I had to come up here and handle some things, and then we had a meeting...my phone died... I left my charger in the house." he explains, making excuses. "I just borrowed one from my co-worker.

"So why couldn't you use your co-worker's phone to call me earlier?" There's anger in my voice.

"I dont..I don't--"

I cut him off before he has a chance to come up with yet another excuse. "Save it, dad. You know you're such a hypocrite. You got into a whole argument with mom because she left me in the house alone. At least she called me to tell me she wasn't coming back."

"My pho--"

I cut him off again. "Yeah, I heard you...your phone died. But you're in an office, there are phones everywhere, yet you couldn't pick one up to call me." He and I both know he could've used one of the hundreds of phones in there. "You're the boss. Are you seriously telling me you couldn't put your meeting on pause for like five minutes and call your daughter to let her know you weren't coming to pick her up?" I pause, giving him a chance to explain and even to make up another justification. "No, I guess you couldn't; instead, you had me waiting on the street, waiting for you when you weren't coming."

"You're still out there?" he asks, sounding concerned.

"No, I'm at the diner."

"I can leave now and get you,"

"Don't bother. Finish doing whatever it is you're doing. I'll walk home."

"Ja--"

I hang up the phone before he could finish whatever he was about to say. I don't want to hear any more of it. I don't care what he has to say. I reach into my bookbag again and pull out my pills. I pop one and put the cap back on.

I continue reading a few more pages of Hamlet.