Aces Up by Lauren Barnholdt
A second later, I see him check his phone through the pocket of his hoodie. He frowns, and then his fingers go flying over the keyboard.
“No problem,” his text says. I’m about to text him back, but then I watch as he shuts his phone off and puts it in his bag. Okay, then.
? ? ? ?
On my way out of math, Ms. Kellogg pulls me aside and asks if she can talk to me. It’s never a good thing when your teacher asks you to stay after class. Unfortunately, I don’t even have the luxury of being able to drive myself crazy figuring out what she could possibly want to talk to me about. I already know. I’ve failed my last three quizzes, and my last test grade was a sixty-seven.
“Sit down, Shannon,” she says. Uh-oh. I’ve never been asked to sit down before in Ms. Kellogg’s class. Usually when I come to talk to her, we have nice little chats, where we’re more like friends than teacher and student. Once, at the beginning of the year, I even let her borrow my Us Weekly. (It was the one with the Eva Longoria and Tony Parker cheating rumors.) But she doesn’t look too friendly or like she’s thinking about celeb gossip right now.
“What’s going on?” I ask, plastering a smile on my face. My just-thought-up and newly decided-on plan is to pretend like a few bad grades are not a big deal. Which they aren’t, really, when you think about it. A lot of people get bad grades. Bill Gates didn’t even go to college. Of course, there is the whole “if I don’t keep my grades up, my admission to Wellesley will be revoked” thing, but they haven’t fallen that bad. I mean, it’s just a few quizzes. And a test. And she said I could do extra credit.
“I think you know that your grades haven’t been what I’ve come to expect from you.” She leans across her desk, and her blouse dips down, giving me a glimpse of the black lacy bra she’s wearing underneath. No wonder boys can’t concentrate in this class.
“I know,” I say, nodding seriously. “And I’m sorry. It’s totally unlike me. But it’s only been a couple of quizzes, and I’m confident I can turn it around.” I give her a smile. If there’s one thing that poker has taught me, it’s that it’s all about the body language.
“It was three quizzes,” she says. “And a unit test.” Way to have a perfect memory. Geez.
“Well, I’m going to do better,” I say, infusing my voice with confidence.
“Shannon, why didn’t you tell me that you stopped working with Max?” she says, apparently deciding to throw me a curveball. She leans back in her chair, crosses her arms, and waits.
“Um, we’re not exactly … I mean …” Something tells me “we almost kissed and then it was awkward” isn’t going to fly here. Finally, I settle for “Um, I didn’t know I had to tell you.”
“Well, you’re getting extra credit for tutoring, so if you stopped doing it, you probably should have told me. Otherwise you’re getting extra credit for nothing, which is a lot like cheating.” Her eyes are serious. I’ve never seen Ms. Kellogg like this. Suddenly, she’s this hard-ass teacher instead of my friend. It’s … a little scary.
“I didn’t mean to cheat,” I say, horrified that she would think that. “I just didn’t know that I needed to, um, alert you right away. Or I definitely would have.” And it’s true. I would have told her immediately if I’d known it was that big of a deal.
“Okay.” She looks disappointed, and I swallow hard. Suddenly, I feel like I want to get out of here, like I’m all claustrophobic and can’t stand to be in this classroom for one more second.
“Is that all?” I ask, standing up.
“Yes,” she says. But she’s looking at me seriously, and then her face softens. “Shannon, if you ever need someone to talk to …”
“I’m fine,” I say. “I told you, I’ve just been sick and I had a couple of bad tests. I’m going to turn it around, I promise.” And then I head out of the room before I start to cry.
? ? ? ?
That night after work, Cole takes me out to dinner at this super-expensive seafood place in the casino. This is completely unexpected, since Cole and I don’t do dinner, really. (“He doesn’t take you anywhere?” Mackenzie screeched at me earlier today. I couldn’t let her know that he’s doing quite enough by teaching me how to make tens of thousands of dollars, and that by the time we’re finished playing poker, we’re too tired to do anything except go lie in bed. Also, there was no reasoning with her, because ever since she started dating Filipe, she’s like a walking poster for what you should want in a relationship. Honestly, her self-esteem has gone to ridiculously high levels. It’s kind of scary.)
“Can I order whatever I want?” I ask Cole, my eyes scanning the menu. Then I remember that Cole drives an Escalade and probably isn’t going to be too hurt if I order lobster. Not that I would. Order lobster, I mean. But that’s only because I don’t really like lobster. Too much work and mess.
“Of course you can,” Cole says, reaching over and taking my hand. I smile. See? Who needs dumb Max Heller? Cole is perfectly fine. Cole is a gentleman. Cole is taking me out to dinner and letting me order whatever I want. Cole is a man. Max Heller is a boy who works at a gas station. Not that there’s anything wrong with working at a gas station. To tell the truth, I find it a little bit … sexy. Max, out there working with his hands, making sure that everyone’s cars are functioning properly. Max in a wife beater, all sweaty, rolling himself out from under some car and standing up, holding lots of … tools.
I shake my head and push the image out of my mind. I tell myself the only reason I’m even thinking about Max is because Parvati brought him up today. For the past few weeks, I’ve been fine, living a Max-free existence and being perfectly happy about it.
I order the grilled haddock, even though I really want the fish-and-chips, because this strikes me as the kind of place where that sort of thing is frowned upon. Like you’re at a nice seafood restaurant, so you shouldn’t ruin it by ordering fried fish, which you can get anywhere. I think it’s comparable to putting ketchup on steak. It’s okay, though. I mean, I should probably get used to it, since once I become flush with cash, I’m going to have to start eating with a little more class.
Cole orders the lobster bake.
“So how was school today?” I ask him once the waiter has cleared the area. I figure we’re out on our first “real” date, so we should talk about what people talk about when they’re on dates. And that definitely does not include what we usually talk about, which is poker. And money. And money. And poker.
“Fine,” he says.
“Just fine?” I say. “Nothing interesting or exciting? What were your lectures about?”
“Who cares?” Cole asks, leaning back in his chair and grinning at me. “I’m not going to be using my degree, anyway.”
“You mean because ninety percent of college graduates end up in a field that’s completely unrelated to their major?” Not sure where I heard that statistic. I think maybe I read it somewhere. No, it was one of those things that some college recruiter told me in an effort to get me to apply to his second-tier school that had a horrible English department. I outsmarted him by telling him I’d rather have a degree I wasn’t using from Wellesley than a degree I wasn’t using from his dumb-ass school. I didn’t say it quite like that, but close enough.
“No, Shannon Card,” Cole says. He takes a sip of the red wine the waiter has just placed on our table. “Because I’m going to be playing poker.”
I frown. “Even after you’re done with school?” I never really considered this as a possibility. I figured that once Cole had his degree, he’d be done with the whole poker thing. I mean, who wants to be a poker player? That’s not, like, a goal. Is it?
“Yeah,” he says. “Same as I’m doing now.” He takes another sip of wine and then pours more into his glass.
“Oh,” I say. “I just figured …”
“I’m making way more doing this than I would at any dumb office job.” He looks at me and smiles. “Not to mention it’s way more fun.”
“That’s cool,” I say.
But by the time the salads arrive at our table, I still don’t feel better. I push my lettuce around the plate.
“So tell me about your family,” I say, mostly because I don’t feel like talking about poker. “You never really talk about them.” A look of surprise and something else (worry?) crosses Cole’s face, but it’s gone so fast that I think maybe I imagined it.
“Honestly, I don’t think we should be worrying about meeting the parents just yet, Shannon Card.” He gives me a grin, then dunks a piece of bread into his salad dressing and takes a big bite.
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” he says, holding up his hand. He leans across the table and motions me close. I rise a bit in my chair dutifully and lean toward him. “Do you want to know a secret?” he whispers in my ear.
“Always,” I say.
“Me and you,” he says, “are about to become very rich.”
“That’s not really a secret,” I say. In fact, it’s pretty much all we talk about.
He motions me closer. “That’s just because you don’t know the plan.” His breath is on my ear, and I flash back to all the nights we’ve spent lying in his bed, kissing and … yeah. I take a deep breath and try to stop all the flipping that’s going on in my stomach.
“What plan?” I ask.
“I’m going to tell you,” he says. “Tonight.”
And then he goes back to eating, like nothing is going on.
I figured we’d be going back to Cole’s hotel room after dinner so that he could clue me in on his big plan, but in a move that makes no sense, he invites me over to his friend Logan’s house. I’m confused, but since it’s the first time I’ve been invited anywhere to meet any of Cole’s friends, I jump at the chance.
“I can’t stay out too late,” I remind him as we walk up the steps to Logan’s apartment. I called my mom to tell her I was going to be late, but I can’t stay out too too late. Since the whole thing happened with my parents freaking out, I have to get home early at least for a week or so.
“Yeah, I know,” he says. “Shannon Card, you know how you’re always bugging me to meet the other members of Aces Up?”
“Yes,” I say. Actually, that’s not exactly true. I used to bug him a lot, but I’ve come to realize that it’s better not to bug him. He doesn’t take kindly to bugging. Not that he gets mean or anything. He just ignores me.
Besides, eventually I started not to care about the other members of Aces. I have my hands full hanging out with Cole, and as long as I’m making money, I don’t need a circle of poker-playing BFFs. In fact, I decided a little while ago that it’s probably better if I don’t have them. The fewer people who know about what I’m doing, the better.
“Well, get ready to meet them,” he says.
He opens the door to the apartment, and there, in the living room, are two guys and a girl. The guys are sitting on an overstuffed green couch, playing a video game, and the girl is lounging sideways in the armchair, her long legs dangling over the side.
“You asshole!” one of the guys is saying. “You know that’s an illegal move!”
“That move,” the other guy says, “is not illegal. Just because I happen to know the secret code!” He stands up and does a little dance, like the kind really annoying football players do when they get a touchdown.
“Hey, Cole,” the girl says. She’s wearing a camouflage baseball hat and matching camouflage cargo capris. She doesn’t say anything to me, just goes back to staring up at the ceiling.
“Hey,” Cole says. He pulls his leather jacket off and hangs it on the rack by the door. “This is Shannon.”
“Hi,” the guys chorus, their eyes never moving from the screen. They look familiar, maybe because I’ve seen them playing cards at the casino.
The girl still doesn’t say anything. She just shifts on the chair. She looks familiar, too, probably because she looks like any stereotypical popular girl on any show on The CW. Cole walks into the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room. These are the other members of Aces Up? Hmmm. Not too friendly, are they? Plus I figured they’d be older. And look like Mafia bosses or something. But they don’t. They just look like … regular college kids. But then again, so do I. Well. A regular high school kid, at least.
I make my way over to another chair and sit down. Still no one talks to me.
“So what’s the video game about?” I ask, deciding to try and be polite.
Obviously this is a foolish thing to ask, because Guy Number Two says, “It’s Grand Mal Seizure,” which doesn’t really answer my question. From what I can tell, the game consists of the two of them beating the crap out of each other, so maybe it’s self-explanatory. Like they’re trying to give each other grand mal seizures.
Cole returns from the kitchen, carrying a six-pack of beer, which he sets down on the table in front of everyone. I take one, mostly because I don’t know what else to do with myself.
“Can we please turn that off?” he asks. “We need to get started.”
One of the guys picks up the remote and turns off the TV.
“Did you guys introduce yourselves to Shannon?” Cole asks.
“We were just about to,” Guy Number Two says, rolling his eyes. He’s the one who knew the secret code. He’s wearing a black zip-up hoodie and he has a hemp bracelet on his wrist. “I’m Joe,” he says, giving me a mock salute.
“And I’m Logan,” the other one says. He has blond spiky hair and a tattoo of a bar code on the back of his neck.
“Michelle,” the girl says. She sits up in the chair and looks straight at Cole.
“And this,” Cole says again, “is Shannon.” This time he says it like I’m his best-kept secret or something, and it makes me blush a little.
“So you’re the one who made that amazing call the other night,” Joe says. He looks impressed.
“What call?” I ask, frowning.
“You called your two pair against a guy who was totally bluffing,” Joe says. “Cole told me all about it.” I frown. I remember the call and the hand he’s talking about (it was a few nights ago, and I had three sixes and called when there were two aces on the board, because I just had a feeling), but I had no idea Cole was watching me.
“I’m ordering pizza,” Michelle announces. She rolls her eyes. What? Why is she rolling her eyes? Is she … was she rolling her eyes about my poker call? That was a really great call! I narrow my eyes at her and watch as she gets up and grabs Cole’s cell phone out of his jacket pocket. “What does everyone want?”
“Pepperoni,” Logan says.
“Mushroom and sausage,” Joe says. “And extra cheese.”
“Everything on mine,” Cole says. “Except pineapple.”
Nobody asks me what I want. But whatever. I mean, I’m not really that hungry after just having been out to dinner. And besides, I’m sure I can just share with someone else. Cole, for sure, will share his pizza with me. Even though it seems like he’s a little, uh, distracted right now.
“So,” Cole says, “it’s been decided that the five of us will be playing in the National Championship of Poker.”
“Yes!” Logan says, pumping his fist.
“That’s awesome,” I say. Michelle looks at me with disgust. On hold with the pizza place, she has Cole’s cell phone cradled against her shoulder. Why couldn’t she use her own cell phone? If she’s trying to prove that she’s closer to him tha
Really? a little voice in my head says. Would you really have heard of her? But I push it away. I have way more important things to think about. Like the National Championship of Poker, which I’m now apparently going to be playing in! The National Championship of Poker is this huge tournament that happens once a year, and this year it’s happening at the Collosio.
It costs ten thousand dollars to get in, but it’s a winner-take-all, one-day tournament, and the grand prize can be millions, depending on how many entries they get. This year they’re projecting the prize to be thirteen million dollars. THIRTEEN MILLION DOLLARS. Can you imagine what I could do with thirteen million dollars? I could definitely pay for Wellesley. I could get myself an off-campus apartment, which I’ve been dreaming about ever since the nightmare of having to share a dorm room with Parvati became a possibility. I could buy my parents a house and get Robyn tons of new shoes or any kind of clothes she wanted and pay her tuition to any school in the world.
“So what’s the plan?” Joe asks. The TV has been turned back on, and a new game has been loaded into the Wii, and now he’s playing some kind of sports game, moving his body all around. It looks like maybe aliens are trying to get him while he’s playing basketball. I’m not exactly sure.
Cole gets up from the couch and turns off the game.
“Hey!” Logan protests. “We hadn’t even saved that yet.”
“Yeah, well, this is a little bit more important,” Cole says.
“Totally important,” Michelle says, shooting me a death glare. What is her problem? I’m completely listening.
“Are we sticking with the signaling and dumping idea?” Logan asks.