ORIGINALLY, I THOUGHT INVITING PRACTICALLY the whole town — under twenty years of age, specifically — to our seventeenth birthday party was a good idea.

It was casting a wide net, right? I made sure I increased the chances of enticing my secret detractor to the house party. But then they showed up, scribbled a tempting taunt on the back of my birthday card, and disappeared without so much as bitch-slapping me.

That was when the downside of casting a wide net became apparent. I had no clue who my hater was. It could have been anyone in the school, considering the number of people that came and went on Saturday evening.

But not to worry. I was an optimist.

The way Jamie and I invited people gave me a chain of communication that I could follow. We had put out the original invitations to Sophie and Killian. Then we tasked them with inviting the football team and whatever band geeks wanted a chance to get drunk. So it was likely, following their mutual connections, my hater either knew a football player or they either knew a nerd.

This called for some collaboration.

Handwriting comparison was not going to pin my hater if they weren't in any of my classes, or my grade. Sure, the teachers let me get away with a lot over the years, but I doubted I could sneak into many classrooms — in which I was not supposed to be — before they gave me detention, and Coach gave me a verbal butt-whooping for subsequently compromising my practice time. Maybe a physical butt-whooping, depending on how long my detention stretched for.

Coach had big dreams for the golden trio of the juniors: Kay and the Jays. He envisioned football scholarships, NFL, if we really worked hard for it. But, like I'd told Mrs. Ackerman, other than what lay in my immediate future — and I'm talking, what's for dinner tonight — I had no idea what I really wanted to do with my life.

The only thing in my immediate future, come Monday lunchtime, was catching my hater.

I called a special meeting in the cafeteria today. Jamie, Kay, and I weren't sitting at the football team's table this time. We drifted across the room to where Sophie and her friends were, talking lazily among themselves. Nova tensed up immediately when she saw us approaching and narrowed her eyes at Kay, thinking he was up to something. Avalon closed her Chemistry workbook with mild intrigue in her eyes and slipped it into her backpack.

Before Nova could castrate Kay for invading her personal space, I slid into an empty chair and explained the situation. Sophie and Jamie knew the brunt of my dilemma, having listened to me complain after Sunday dinner at the Olsens' house yesterday — while the parents drank a glass of wine and one beer, in Dad's case. Luke, in middle school, could not be fucked following high school drama and tuned into his Nintendo console in lieu of the conversation.

I told them that I needed the nerds' help on this. Everyone knew that the type of person I grated the most was a nerd. My loud mouth disrupted plenty of classes, which might have hindered some poor, irritable geek's learning environment. Maybe I hit them in the face one too many times with a dodgeball. Whatever the reason, the way the hate note was written — with study-focused points and fancy vocabulary — screamed academic.

I really needed Sophie to pull through for me. She and her crew of friends could blend into the academic and artistic scene at Bishop much easier than Jamie and Killian could. The latter were going to feel out the athletic side of the school, though I wasn't confident they would turn up any results.

To my endless gratitude, Sophie managed to get Avalon, Declan, and Graeme onside. Nova hadn't explicitly agreed to help without first hearing my plan laid out precisely, but she didn't bolt when Killian smugly squished onto the bench next to her — though maybe that meant she couldn't bolt — which nevertheless was a promising sign. I opened my mouth and relayed my mission to my friends.

I explained that I had a hater — without mentioning the anonymous note, because it seemed really anticlimactic to go to all this trouble for one slip of paper. But I couldn't help my determination; it bugged me, having someone out there carrying around all their dislike for me, like a festering pimple. I wanted to locate and pop it, healing everything over.

When I finished, Kay pressed his fingers together and said, "One question. Why do you care? They're not even man enough to say it to your face."

"Oh, so courage is aligned with masculinity now?" Nova asked coldly.

Kay scoffed, leaning down to sneer, "It's a saying, Novey."

"Do not call me that, you fucking assh—"

I cut into their argument before it had the chance to turn physical. Would Nova stab Kay with her fork? Would Kay kiss her? Who knew? "I care because I just do," I answered firmly, drawing everyone's attention back to me. "It's bugging me, you know? Come on, guys, I need all your help."

My gaze roved over the motley assembly of juniors before me. There was Kay, star quarterback, and future football team captain. Jamie, annoying, parasitic baby brother. Sophie, stick-in-the-mud cousin. Nova, ice queen of the nerds. Graeme Patel, gamer boy. Declan Jung, improv geek.

And Avalon Taylor, who seemed completely ready to streak out of Bishop for Europe. Like a shooting star, taking all my wishes with her.

Between all of us, we had the marching band, Science and Arts department and sports teams covered. We could totally do this. Sophie leaned forward, looking past the two bodies between us — Declan Jung and Graeme Patel — with a devilish glint in her eye. "To clarify, you want us to talk smack about you around the school?"

"Correct."

Jamie did not miss a beat. "Fuck, that Jake walked in smelling like garbage today. Get some deodorant, dude."

"I heard he was born with a deformed brain, which is why he failed ninth grade math," Sophie added. "In tenth grade."

Excuse me? I passed ninth grade math in ninth grade. Barely, but still. I asked them to talk smack, not make up blatant lies. "What? Hey—"

Declan piped up, "He shat his pants at a playdate at my house when we were in elementary." Okay, perhaps getting together a large group of people I all knew somewhat familiarly was not such a good idea after all.

Everyone chuckled at Declan's story — which, unfortunately, was true — and out of the laughter came Graeme's contribution: "Remember when Jake mixed up his left and right and hit the Sullivans' mailbox in his mom's minivan?" The table dissolved into more laughter, while I pouted. Meanies.

"No, wait," Kay commanded, struggling to stop laughing. "Get this."

Bishop was not a high school where people bought into the whole popularity hierarchy, as evidenced by Nova Sanchez and her confident, take-no-bullshit posse of high-achievers. But Kay had something about his voice, firm and unyielding, that hushed the laughter at the table.

He leaned in conspiratorially, drawing everyone closer. "Last year at my big brother's party, Heloise Page made him—"

"Ah!" I all but screeched at him, my arm darting out to hit him across the table. Anything but that. "La, la, la, la..." I sang loudly, covering Kay's words until he relented and fell silent.

Thank fuck.

Killian Fergusson and Heloise Page were the only two souls in the world that knew what happened at that party last year. Heloise because, obviously, she was there. Killian because I had gone to him afterwards needing a change of pants. I made him vow to keep it secret — especially from Jamie and Sophie. My family members were cruel fuckers. They'd never let me live it down.

I moved swiftly on before anyone could probe the matter deeper. "I meant, talk smack about me when other people are around to hear it. But I appreciate how quickly you all took the chance to shit on me. Really. I truly appreciate it."

"So we bitch about you in all our classes," Avalon confirmed dryly. "How exactly is that going to flush your hater out?"

"Or, what if we end up convincing more people to hate you?" Nova asked.

"You won't be shooting in the dark. My hater has some very unique objections to me," I explained. "So if you slip those points into the conversation, they might catch on. But don't let them know that I'm looking for anyone. Just make it seem like you're voicing a small grievance, airing some dirty laundry."

When I gave the table free license to talk all the crap about me they wished, a blood-hungry spark lit up Nova's brown-grey eyes. Her voice dropped two notches in volume and a hundred degrees in temperature as she murmured, "I'm going to slander you like you've never been slandered before, Tanner."

Well, if that didn't send a shiver of fear down my spine. I cast a quick glance at Kay, who simply had a fond, amused smile on his face. What's his problem? Is he masochistic or something?

I nodded at Nova, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Your enthusiasm is... noted." Then I addressed the rest, "Let me know if anyone catches on and mentions these things. They don't like my hair. They think I slack off in class—"

Avalon quipped, "Which is true—"

At the same Sophie hummed, "I mean—"

"—and they don't think football is a wise extracurricular choice," I finished, ignoring their jabs. "Plus, they think I'm a fuckboy. So we're clearly looking for a virgin. Also, they ragged on me for not being able to drive. So it's likely going to be a junior or senior. Comprende?"

I received affirmatives all around the table. Avalon nodded. "Yes."

"Mm-hmm," Gray chirped.

"Yep," Dec replied.

"This is going to be so much fun," Nova purred, rubbing her palms together in anticipation.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Our first football game of the season was against Murphy High School, the one that hated Jamie for knocking down their quarterback last year.

Unfortunately, I looked exactly like Jamie.

By now, most of my friends in Bishop knew how to tell us apart. Sometimes people would get drunk and mix ourselves up, or we would get hammered and mix ourselves up, too, but for the most part, the people I saw day-to-day knew which twin was which.

Not so for Murphy High.

It didn't matter that I played an entirely different position to Jamie — I was a wide receiver, he was a linebacker — or that we had different jersey numbers. It must have been the face. They looked at me and just saw the dude they had a grudge against, so each time I caught the ball and sped off, I would see pure vengeance in the eyes that came for me.

That was fine. It made me run even faster, so by the time the varsity team barrelled into the locker room for halftime, we were in the lead by a large margin.

The team flopped onto the benches in exhaustion. Kay pulled off his pads and dumped all the water from his bottle onto his head, leaning back against the lockers and breathing heavily. The team really pushed themselves tonight, a humid evening, and the results more than made up for our energy loss.

As we sculled energy drinks and pulled out our fruits or protein bars of choice — to stock up our sugar levels — Coach Ibrahim entered and gave us his feedback. Nothing out of the normal. He attended to any of the players that had old injuries, reminded us to retape our joints if need be, and then halftime was nearly over.

"Nice work, Tanner," he said, clapping me on the back as I filed out of the locker room. "Keep it up."

The humidity had turned to a light drizzle by the time the team ran back onto the field. The marching band had finished their halftime show and were filing back into the stands to watch the rest of the game.

Avalon's curly hair had poofed up like a poodle's in the moist air. I saw that huge tangle of blonde flash in my periphery as I passed the stands. With her slender frame and frizzy hair, she looked kind of like a dandelion, slowly making her way up the bleachers.

When her piercing blue eyes caught mine, lighting up with familiarity, I pursed my lips and blew her a mocking kiss.

Why did I do that?

It was too late the gesture back, though I didn't really regret doing it. Sure, I didn't understand Avalon or my body's weird reaction to her, but she was a good sport. She had a quiet confidence, a razor-sharp wit, and nothing slid by her. She wouldn't be frazzled by the gesture.

Avalon's chin tipped up as she laughed at the air-kiss. She rolled her eyes and shot me a teasing wink in return, puckering her lips in an unflattering caricature of a kiss. Her jaw tilted down, giving me a lovely view of a prominent double chin and she wagged her eyebrows like a lecherous old man.

Was that what I looked like? I felt a bubble of laughter rising in my chest. Avalon only meant the whole exchange as a continuation of our years-long banter, and her expression was nowhere near flattering, impossible to construe as flirting, but something tightened in my chest. And my crotch.

And it had nothing to do with the tight protective gear I was wearing. That gave me pause as I hit the grass, exchanging handshakes with the teammates nearest to me.

Since when did I consider Avalon Taylor sexy? Sure, she had a beautiful face and a fit body. Heaps of girls did: the cheerleaders — though lately, I had to steer clear of them since they all hated me now — even Nova — though either she or Kay would have ripped my throat out if I ever admitted it.

It was easy to find a hot girl, or a pretty girl.

But being sexy, being so weirdly, awkwardly, endearingly magnetic like my brain was caught in a one-way tractor beam toward Avalon, wow. That was another matter entirely.

Perhaps it was the way she rolled with my cocky jokes and raised me one higher. Perhaps it was that I never saw her flustered or angry, like those weighted rolling dolls that never tipped over. Perhaps it was even that she spoke German. Her intelligence, her cool confidence, her easy-going humour: all of it made me want to get her into a bedroom and just talk.

Talk. Have a conversation. Could you believe it?

I certainly fucking couldn't.

I shook my head to clear out those distracting thoughts, and for the rest of the game, I refused to glance at those lovely blue eyes that seemed to trail me incessantly.