Wishful Thinking Read Online Free

threw his head down on his bag, "An A minus," he muttered into his bag.
    "Uh-oh, you're slipping," I said and laughed.  
    "Shut-up," he said when he stood back up. "If I give you my playbook would you pass it on to coach?"
    "Is the great and powerful Dean thinking about ditching?"
    Dean started doing his nervous hair smoothing, he’d been acting anxious all day.. "I gotta get out of here."
    "You okay?"  
    "Man, sometimes I wish ..." Dean stopped smoothing down his hair and took a deep breath, "I'm fine, just need to go grab the plays from my car."
    "You sure," I said, "that you're okay?"
    "I'm fine seriously, I skipped … I think—I'll see you on the field." Dean picked up his bag and headed over to his Prius parked two rows over from me.  
    I watched him walk for a minute positive of two things: Dean wasn't okay, and I wouldn’t press him on the issue. One thing I learned from therapy or whatever, is that pressing someone gets two results; they either seal-up and nothing comes out or they spill everything to you. I’m okay with the first but the latter is difficult. I can barely handle my own feelings and problems. My life is a disaster. I’d feel like a hypocrite offering advice.  

Trekking to the basement of Crestview’s gymnasium where the boy’s locker room was, freaked me out. It used to be a bomb shelter through the 40s and 50s and the lights tended to flicker down there. It also smelled like sulfur. And I swear I’ve felt a presence. You know like someone watching me, but when I turn there’s no one there. Okay, maybe I’ve watched to many paranormal movies lately, it’s not like ghosts are real, right?
      I shook it off and proceeded downstairs. The locker room door hung open and Nate’s voice carried out into the hall. He talked a lot.
    At my locker I pulled out my gym shorts and shirt which were in dire need of washing. Maybe next week I’d take them home and wash them, I took a sniff, or burn them and bring in new ones. After I was dressed out in my rather crispy and a tad itchy gym shorts I headed towards the spot Nate’s voice emanated from. He was the next aisle over talking to Tyler, Ian and Caleb.  
    He talked excitedly using his arms, "She’s not bad, right," he said nodding a heads up at me.  
    I sat down next to Tyler and retied my cleats. "Who are we talking about?" As if I didn’t know.
    "Claudia, I’m thinking I’m in."
    "I haven’t seen her," Ian said, “is she fine?"
    "She’s not bad," I said. I finished tying my shoes and stood up.  
    "Not bad? Whatever. You can’t see past Summer to notice the hot ones around you. She’ll make a fine addition to my—collection." Nate opened his locker and turned around to lean against it, "Why don’t you and Summer go on a double with us Saturday."
    “Talking to her at lunch does not mean she’ll go on a date with you,” I said.  
    Nate looked me up and down, started shaking his head, then cocked a brow, “Trust me I can close the deal.”
    Inwardly, I rolled my eyes but there was a good chance Nate would in fact close the deal. No use arguing it with him. “I don’t know, we’ll see." I pulled on my shirt, which was beyond ripe and itched. Definitely burn them.  
    "Yeah, is Trevor still sniffing at her back door?" Tyler asked.  
    Caleb slapped Tyler’s arm, "Dude, don’t go there."
    "Go where?" Ian said.  
    "I saw Summer getting into Trevor’s car after school,” Tyler supplied.
    What? It was news to me. Dean said Summer went home with Emily not Trevor. This had to be Tyler trying his shit again. He wanted into the “pack” by any means necessary even going so far as bald face lies to do it. When I say pack I’m talking about the forwards.  
    Caleb played hooker, Ian was scrum-half, Kyle was our number eight while Nate and I played locks. Tyler, on the other hand, played winger, one of the weaker positions, and part of the backs. Not only did he want the recognition that followed playing a forward position he