Shut Out, Kody Keplinger [book recommendations for young adults txt] 📗

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“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” I pointed at his wristwatch. “Look. You’re eleven minutes later getting here than usual. I was getting wor—”

“Lissa,” my brother said, reaching out and putting his hands on my shoulders in a way that was so belittling I wanted to scream. “Chill. I was talking to my boss after work.”

“About what?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, patting my cheek and stepping around me to walk into the kitchen. “Anyone feel like ordering

a pizza? If Randy’s coming over we should probably make it a large, right?”

I scowled and bent down to straighten up the pile of shoes on the rug. Why couldn’t Logan just answer my question? I hated that he had to make me feel like a child. I was ten years younger than him, but I wasn’t a baby—and eleven minutes may be nothing to him, but that’s enough time for anything to happen. I had a right to worry.

Mom was killed in less than thirty seconds.

“Lissa!” he yelled from the kitchen. “What kind of pizza do you want? I’m ordering now.”

I stood, having aligned the shoes and feeling happy that at least some part of this house was in order. “Sausage and ham. But Dad has to have a salad.”

“Oh, come on!” I heard Dad whine as Logan laughed and began reciting his order into the cordless phone.

Through the living room window, I saw Randy’s Buick pull into the driveway. Right on time. That was one of the things I loved most about Randy—he was always punctual, unlike my brother.

I opened the door for him as he made his way up the front steps. “Hey, babe,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.

I let his lips brush mine for just a moment before pulling back.

“Still mad?” he asked.

“Not mad. Frustrated, remember?”

Randy ran his fingers down my arm, lowering his voice so Dad and Logan wouldn’t hear. “I can un-frustrate you if you want.”


I swatted him away, my whole body stiffening. “You sure you won’t be too busy cleaning your windshield?”

“I’m never too busy for you, baby.”

“You were last night.”

He tilted his head to the side, batting his long, perfect eyelashes at me. “You’ll forgive me. I know you will.”

“We’ll see.” I meant it to be teasing, but it came out sounding cold.

“You always do!” he called over his shoulder as he strolled into the kitchen.

I shook my head, knowing he was right. I always forgave him, and I was sure I always would. I knew as soon as he walked into the kitchen. As soon as Dad smiled at him. As soon as Logan clapped him on the shoulder. I would always forgive Randy because he was part of my family. He had been since the moment I first brought him home.

Watching them now, as I stood in the kitchen doorway, I knew I’d fallen in love with Randy that first night, when he’d walked right up to my father as if he didn’t even notice the wheelchair and shook his hand. He made my family happy, and after all we’d been through over the past few years, seeing them smile like that… well, it made me happy, too.

I forced myself to relax, to loosen up a little, as I walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table next to Randy. There was no need to be on edge right now. Not with my family. Not with Randy.

“So how’s the season starting up?” Logan asked as he took a seat across from Randy. “The soccer assholes giving you hell yet?”

“Yeah.” Randy sighed, leaning his chair back on two legs and

folding his arms behind his head. “But whatever. We’re giving them hell right back.”

I bit my lip. “Randy, can you put your chair on four legs, please?” I asked. “You’ll fall that way… and hurt the chair.”

“Yes, Miss Daniels,” Randy said, rolling his eyes as he let his chair fall back into its proper position. “But is it me or the chair you’re worried about?”

“I plead the Fifth.”

Randy gave me a look of mock heartbreak.

“My senior year,” Logan said, ignoring my deliberate change in conversation, “we gave all the freshmen soccer players swirlies in the boys’ bathroom.”

“Dude, that’s so lame.” Randy leaned forward, grinning. “There’s actually a plan for tomorrow night that—”

“That you’re not going to be a part of,” I snapped before I could stop myself. Randy, Dad, and Logan all turned to stare. “I don’t think you should be involved in all that, Randy. It’s stupid. What kind of school has a rivalry between two of its own teams? Plus, what if someone gets hurt?”

“Oh, come on, Lissa,” Logan scoffed. “It’s harmless. No big deal.”

“Maybe when you were in high school, but the fighting has gotten worse since then. This time last year, Randy and the football team busted all the windows out of the soccer goalie’s car. They could have gotten into some serious trouble,” I informed him, then turned back to Randy. “You won’t participate, will you? Leave it to Shane and the others if they want to be idiots, but you don’t have to do it.”


Randy hesitated for a second, looking between me and Logan.

I gave him a nice hard glare. A wordless warning of what might happen if he didn’t side with me here.

“Fine,” he said. “I won’t be a part of it.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“You’re so uptight, Lissa,” Logan grumbled.

“Leave her alone,” Dad said. “She’s looking out for people. It’s sweet.”

Sweet, I thought bitterly as the doorbell rang behind me. God, it was so condescending. Like I was an overly sensitive little kid. Couldn’t they see how ridiculous the rivalry was? How continuing to retaliate would just make it go on forever? Soccer, football—they were just games. Neither sport was worth this much drama.

I went into the living room to get the door. The delivery boy handed me the large pizza and Dad’s salad. From the kitchen I could hear laughter and cheers as the boys discussed the game they’d be watching that night. Betting on who would win and lose, the topic of torturing freshmen dropped and forgotten.

The rivalry wasn’t brought up again until later that evening, when Randy and I sat out on the front porch steps, the game having ended and my dad and Logan already off to bed.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” Randy said quietly, his arm sliding around my shoulders, pulling me against him. “Sorry those assholes had to show up and ruin everything.”

I had to bite back a sigh of frustration. He still didn’t get it.

Didn’t get that running off and leaving me was the part I was upset about, not the fact that someone had egged his car. But at least he was trying, I guess.

“Shane’s got a plan to get back at them,” he continued. “A good one.”

“You’re not going to help, though,” I pressed. “I know I probably shouldn’t have called you out in front of Dad and Logan, but I’m serious. I don’t want you involved in all that.”

Randy gave me a hopeless look. “Shane and the guys are going to give me hell for backing out.”

“Aw. Will they pick on you, sweetie?” I asked. “Should I call their parents?”

“I’m serious,” he said. “They’ll call me a pussy.”

“And if you help them, I’ll call you a dick. So no matter what you do, you’re going to be some form of genitalia.” I grinned up at him. Finally, I was feeling relaxed enough to joke around. It had taken all night. “Shane and the boys may rag on you a bit, but will that be any worse than what I could do to you?”

Randy stared down at me for a second. “What would you do to me?”

“I obviously can’t tell you. That’d ruin the surprise.” I poked him in the chest. “But I can tell you that it wouldn’t be this.” I glanced around to make sure there were no cars coming, no neighbors staring out of windows, no one to see. Then slowly, tantalizingly, I leaned up and pressed my lips against his. The kiss was long and hot, but before it got too deep, I pulled back, leaving Randy with an awed, hungry look on his face.

And leaving my cheeks on fire.


“I bet Shane can’t do that,” I said.

“Maybe he can. You don’t know.”

“How do you know I don’t know?”

Randy blinked at me, and I laughed. “Kidding. I’d never hook up with Shane. You’re the only Neanderthal I can deal with.”

“Thanks. I’m flattered.”

I kissed him on the cheek and rested my head on his shoulder. “Seriously, though. Please don’t mess with the soccer players. Just let it go. For me?”

Randy let out a long sigh. “Yeah… I guess.”

“Thank you.”

His fingers wrapped around mine and I snuggled against him. Now that he seemed to be listening to my entreaties, I was sure we would get through this autumn; we’d survive the rivalry. I was sure it would all work out. We fell into a comfortable silence, staring up at one of the last starry nights of the summer.


chapter three

I know that most schools have rivalries with other schools, but that’s not how it worked at Hamilton High. Nope. Our biggest battles were fought on the home front.

It all started back when Logan was a junior in high school. That’s when the school board decided to start an official school-sponsored soccer team. I don’t know all the details—I was in second grade, and anything that didn’t involve ponies just wasn’t worth my time—but in a small town like ours, taking away half of the football team’s funding to create another fall sport was pretty scandalous.

Apparently the football players got pissed at having to share time in the workout room, and the crowds that usually filled the stands at games began to dwindle as more and more people started going to watch the soccer team play. Hostility rose between them—and between the teams’ coaches—and eventually a full-on war broke out.

Now, you’d think the drama would fade over time, right? Like, after the teams graduated and new players came in, it would die.

So not the case.

A decade later, the rivalry was still going strong. Every fall, when sports season started up, the battle would rage again. And the dumbest part was, I don’t think the boys even knew why it had started to begin with. I’d asked Randy once and he’d just shrugged.

“Does it really matter?” he’d asked.

To me, a girl who had to share her boyfriend with the war every autumn, it did. But not to the players. They just knew that they hated one another. That was enough.