Lucky Girl Page 6

  “Can I borrow this?” She pulls out a miniskirt that’s probably too mini on me now, but I still want to say no. She stands in front of my full-length mirror and holds it up to her hips. It’s awfully mini on her, too.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “You’re taller than I was in eighth grade.”

  “You wore this like a month ago.”

  “But now I’m older.”

  She narrows her eyes at me and looks so much like our mom that it’s sort of scary. “Are you body shaming me?”

  “No! Oh my God, Ayla, take the stupid skirt, but get out!”

  She smirks triumphantly, and then she’s gone.

  I sigh, staring down at my homework feed. It’s mostly blank now, a bunch of white space where the rest of the year will start filling in, getting complicated. I start to open one of my social pages, but then my phone buzzes and I figure, screw it, and push the laptop closed.

  Send pics grl.

  Ah, great, Marcus has decided to follow up. I feel flattered until I remember he’s probably sent this to a dozen girls at the same time, to better his odds. Then, for some reason I think about Alex, how he looked at us when we were goofing around in the hall today.

  On a whim I lift my middle finger, snap a photo, and send it back to Marcus. It makes me laugh, so I send some smiley emojis, too.

  Marcus doesn’t respond. Guess he’ll pick up some other girl in the hallway tomorrow.

  Not that I care. Much.

  7

  “THIS PLACE IS beyond insanity.” I lean forward in Maddie’s passenger seat and stare at the school parking lot. “It looks like they’re giving away free ice cream or something.”

  “It looks like they’re giving away free drugs,” Ryan says from the back.

  “Yeah, and wasn’t it smart of us to carpool?” Maddie chirps. I know she’s trying to joke, but her hands, choking the steering wheel, tell me she’s stressed.

  “Ryan, doesn’t Maddie look amazing tonight?”

  “Baby, you’re a firework.”

  “Ah, shut up, you two.” Maddie smiles with clenched teeth. All her post-summer chill seems to have evaporated since she started sort-of dating Cory. They’ve hung out four times this week, mostly at school, and I know the exact number of times (and duration of hangouts) because I’ve been debriefed and quizzed after each one. I also happen to know that Maddie really, really wants to kiss him, and despite the fact that it’s only been a week since I kissed him, I really want her to, too. For one thing, she can’t worry about kissing him when she’s actually kissing him. Probably.

  Though I have to admit, it’s nice to be needed again.

  “I picked her outfit,” I brag to Ryan. “She has those crazy summer-soccer legs and she was trying to wear jeans.”

  “Whaaaa?” Ryan gets extra flamboyant when we’re trying to cheer Maddie up.

  “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” She still has that fake half smile plastered on her face—the face that also looks great, thanks to me painstakingly dabbing on exactly the right amount of makeup.

  “Oh, for Chrissake, the media is here,” Ryan says suddenly. I follow his eyes, and sure enough, a couple of local news vans are set up close to the field entrance. “Your boy Alex is blowing up the joint.”

  I roll my eyes. “He’s not my anything.” After a whole week sitting next to each other in history, across from each other in art, and near each other in almost every other class, I still don’t really know anything about Alex Goode. Except that he’s very serious, extra polite to all the teachers, and ridiculously not good at flirting with me. Or, possibly, totally uninterested. Though I did make him laugh again. Three more times.

  Not that I’m counting.

  But it’s started to drive me nuts, to be honest. Everyone keeps looking at us like there’s something going on, to the point where I wonder why there’s not something going on, and whatever, if someone’s going to hook up with the famous new guy, shouldn’t it be me?

  Except that’s not really it, either. It’s . . . I don’t know, he has this magnetism. I feel like I’m being physically pulled closer to him whenever we’re in the same room. And we’re always in the same damn room. It’s just that he doesn’t seem to particularly care.

  Meanwhile, I’m obviously not the only one who thinks he’s compelling—from the looks of the license plates, most of Nebraska and a lot of Iowa is here to get a glimpse of the Goode goods.

  “We’re missing half the game,” Maddie says, squeezing the car into a tiny space at the far end of the lot. We can’t open the doors all the way, but we edge our way out and start hurrying toward the lights and the noise. “But I guess, no matter how good Alex is, they’re probably only going to put the seniors out there tonight.” Her voice goes up a little, and I know she’s thinking about watching Cory.

  “Actually,” I say, trying my best to keep my voice light and nonargumentative, “I think last year’s first game was sort of a free-for-all. They scored a ton of points in the first quarter, so everyone got some field time. It was really cool.”

  That game was the first real date I went on with Seth Thiesen, and he spent most of the time explaining what was going on. At first it was kind of cute that he wanted to take care of me. Then it was kind of frustrating that he didn’t want to sneak away—even at halftime!—to make out. And finally, it just got super annoying, since I actually knew more about the game than he did. Like he thought that just because I’m a girl, I’d need a whole tutorial. Maybe I’m not as smart as Maddie or Ryan, but I can follow a ball around a field. And I’m not gonna play dumb if the guy I’m being dumb for isn’t going to at least reward me for it.

  “That is a shockingly accurate recollection,” Ryan says to me. He doesn’t sound like he believes my story, and all my annoyance from that night with Seth flares up again.

  “I pay attention, okay? And I know the whole team, practically! It’s not that hard to follow along!”

  Maddie and Ryan exchange a look, but before I explode again, Maddie grabs my hand.

  “I think we’re all a little stressed out,” she says. “But we’re about to be on camera, so maybe we should just be glad that we clean up real nice, yeah?”

  “Work! Work!” Ryan sings, throwing his arm up. I let myself laugh. The air is crisp and it’s Friday and Maddie already has the boy she wants.

  All that’s left is to start having fun.

  “Wow, he keeps throwing the ball to Alex, huh?”

  I nod without looking at Maddie, and she doesn’t look at me. We stare at the field, transfixed.

  All of Alex’s quiet intensity has exploded into action tonight. He’s obviously Cory’s favorite receiver, catching every pass and sprinting past the Bellevue players like they’re made of smoke.

  We move closer and closer to the field, cheering when Alex takes possession again, running the ball to the ten-yard line, tripping just before he can take it all the way in. The crowd is losing its collective mind—and I swear I can see people in the away-team stands clapping a little, too.

  “Okay, so I maybe get why people like this game,” Maddie breathes.

  There are three minutes left in the first quarter and we’re already up 10–0.

  “Do you think Coach Veylupek sold his soul to get Alex out here, or what?” Ryan looks at me like he’s expecting a real answer.

  “I think he’s here to live with his dad,” I say, trying to sound casual. I think I might be getting a little addicted to talking about Alex, even if I really only talk about school stuff with him. Today I tried to ask if he likes movies, too, but the bell rang and after class he hurried off with Cory. Then I sort of low-key stalked his profile pages and found some highly suspicious photos with a girl. But he hasn’t posted anything for almost a year, so who knows if the girl is even still a thing.

  Not that I care either way. Probably.

  “I guess if he doesn’t want attention he should stop being so awesome,” Maddie says. She waggles her eyebrows at me and
I laugh.

  There’s something about home games at the beginning of the year, the way everyone is tense and happy, the air full of energy. It makes me want to walk around and smile at everyone. I don’t know why people make fun of cheerleaders—if I had time to go to all those practices, or the patience to hang out with Olivia and Annabelle on a regular basis, I would totally squad up. Jumping is literally their whole job. If I want to jump around, I have to pretend it’s because I’m cold, or I have to wait until something important is happening on the field. But right now the team is just taking the break between quarters, and I’m dying to do a cartwheel. Obviously I resist.

  “Oh, hey! They’re waving!”

  Maddie throws both hands over her head, wiggling like a puppy. I bet she’d do a cartwheel with me if I asked.

  I turn and there’s Cory, holding his helmet up high and smiling at her. Not leering or smirking, but really grinning. And she’s grinning back. They are so perfect together. Even I’m grinning at this point, so much that when Alex catches my eye, I forget to stop. I realize I’m also waving when Alex lifts a tentative hand in response. It’s like I’ve tricked him into saying hello—but I don’t care. I lift my hand higher and yell, “Go Lions!” as loud as I can.

  Alex’s whole face shifts as he laughs. He’s sweaty and his shoulders are all bunched-up looking, thanks to the pads under his uniform, but the stadium lights make everything shine. His eyes, his smile. With his head all sweaty his ears stick out a little, but maybe that’s kind of cute?

  I’ve never seen him look so . . . not sad. Huh.

  I keep my eyes on Alex even after he turns back to the coach and his team, even after he takes a seat on the bench next to Cory’s big blond head.

  He looks less sad because he is less sad, I realize with a jolt. He’s in his element. He’s good at this. He feels the same energy as I do—probably a million times more than I do, since it’s all directed at him. He’s happy.

  I turn to Ryan, bumping my shoulder into his. “Isn’t football magical?” I shout over the noise of the crowd.

  “You’re such a nerd!” he shouts back.

  But it is magical. And I’m happy. I’m in my element, too.

  Ryan wanders off just before the end of the half, and then Charlotte comes over to talk to Maddie, so I figure it’s time for a bathroom break. “Save my spot, okay?”

  Maddie nods and I start squeezing my way through the crowd.

  The concession stands are a zoo, blocking the shortest route, so I cut behind the bleachers. It’s all shadows and muffled crowd noise back here, the empty track over to my right and the school off in the distance. I’m almost feeling creeped out when I notice a flash of light up near the back door of the school.

  There are two people, though they’re so close to each other it almost looks like one. The prestorm clouds make everything a little brighter, but at first I can only see the faint glow of light clothing.

  Then they shift, and the person closer to the wall is—huh. It’s a guy from the team. I can’t tell which one, and he’s not wearing his jersey or pads, but the short, shiny white pants are a clear giveaway. He must’ve snuck out of the locker room to—kissing! They’re definitely kissing. That’s sweet.

  The other person is tall and their shirt is a pale color, but I can’t really see anything else from this far away. And I don’t even know why I’m spying, except that it’s all so secret looking. The football player should definitely be inside, getting a lecture or a pep talk from Coach Veylupek.

  As if he could read my thoughts, the player turns back toward the school doors, slipping inside. The girl starts walking down the hill toward me.

  And it’s not a girl. It’s a yellow shirt and straight-fit jeans, short hair. Squared shoulders.

  Aha. Ryan obviously thinks football is magical, too.

  I start to move forward, start to wave and shout and get all Who’s the GUY??—but then I stop.

  Ryan’s never had a boyfriend before, at least not as far as Maddie or I know. What we do know, because he’s spent a lot of time explaining to us, is that coming out isn’t anyone else’s business or gossipy story or whatever. And that he’s met other gay people at this youth program he goes to—one that Father Matt told him about, but that’s run through a way more liberal church than ours—who have a much harder time with their friends and families and communities than he does. So it’s not like every gay person feels the same way about everything. And just because he’s out to us doesn’t mean he wants to talk about his gayness all the time, or be constantly public with it, or spend hours explaining the intricacies of his lifestyle choice.

  And when he says “lifestyle choice” he’s being sarcastic.

  So I stop myself while I’m still hidden in the shadows, and I try to figure out what I should do. More than anything I want to ask Maddie, but maybe that would be gossiping?

  But kissing! I’m so happy for him! I really want him to know that I’m happy for him—except, okay. This isn’t about me.

  So finally, just as Ryan has walked close enough that he’d clearly see me if he looked up, I step into the sliver of light between the concession stands and say, “There you are!” I throw my hands up, and he jumps about a foot in the air. “Sorry! We were just wondering what happened.”

  Ryan puts a hand on his chest, breathing hard. “You scared the shit out of me!”

  “Sorry,” I say again, laughing. “I was trying to get to the bathrooms, and then I saw you . . .” I let the words hang between us, but he doesn’t fill in the space.

  Instead he puts an arm around my shoulders and starts walking again, steering us back to the bright lights of the field.

  I really want to say something. Just not the wrong thing. If he would say something first, we’d be fine. But the longer he doesn’t, and the longer I don’t, the more I feel like I’m keeping a secret from him. Which is not something I ever do.

  And then we’re back in the light of the field, the noise, and all I can do is blurt, “Hey, I forgot to ask if you’re coming to the party tonight?”

  He looks at me, his eyebrows raised. His lips are red, his hair a little messed up. He doesn’t seem upset or particularly happy, just steady.

  “Oh, yeah. Maddie said I could catch a ride with you guys.”

  “Awesome. We can do shots.”

  Ryan thinks doing shots is the worst, most unoriginal activity ever, and he’s given me more than one lecture about how I should not be one of those “basic bitches” who lets the group rope her into a Jäger party.

  He doesn’t laugh at my joke, though. He nods absently, scanning the crowd until we both see Maddie, craning her neck to watch the far end of the field, where the team is swarming back into position. Cory pumps his helmet in the air, and I hear Maddie cheer.

  I glance at Ryan. Which player is he looking for? I mean, it’s none of my business. But why isn’t he talking to me about it?

  Then again, Maddie didn’t tell me she had a crush on Cory, either.

  Maybe I’m the only one who isn’t keeping secrets around here.

  8

  “BRO, YOU DON’T want a shot? Do a shot!” Cory holds up the bottle, his whole face goofy with confusion.

  “I’m good,” Ryan says for the third time. He starts to back away, but Gabe and Marcus are right behind him, blocking the kitchen door.

  “C’mon—” Cory starts, but I step closer to him and shove my boobs into his arm.

  “I want one,” I say.

  I’m just trying to distract him a little, but when Cory looks down at me with that crazy midparty smile of his, I feel a laser of heat zip down my spine. And then I wish that Alex hadn’t gone straight home after the game. Maybe I could make him laugh again if he was here. Maybe I could get him to notice me.

  Ugh, maybe I’m being one of those annoying girls at school who talk to him just because he’s famous.

  “Yeah, man, we should be getting the ladies drunk, am I right?” Marcus holds up a hand, and witho
ut either of them turning their heads, he and Gabe high-five.

  Ryan finally slips away, probably going outside to find Maddie. Or his mystery guy. I take the tequila from Cory and bat my eyelashes a little. In a harmless way. Or an old-habit way, I don’t know. I don’t care! It’s a party.

  “This is what I’m talking about,” Marcus says.

  It’s just too easy.

  “Callahan, you know we have practice tomorrow,” Gabe says, his voice slurring.

  Marcus groans. Gabe takes a sip from his beer can, realizes it’s empty, and tosses it toward the sink, where it clatters just a little more loudly than the music being pumped through the house speakers.

  Must be nice to have a giant house with a cleaning service and parents away at some corporate retreat. At least Gabe’s good at sharing.

  “Coach doesn’t understand that partying makes us better players,” Cory says passionately. “We work hard. We play hard. We party hard!” His arm circles my waist and he lifts me up, doubling down on the party hard with a big “Whoo!”

  Some of the other team guys are sitting around the kitchen table playing cards and drinking a little more slowly, but they all echo Cory’s “Whoo!” with a big one of their own.

  After a long second Cory puts me back down. I’m laughing and I know my cheeks are red, but it all feels a little distant. I drank a beer and did that shot, and I can feel the room separating itself ever so gently from my brain. My knees are tingly. I can feel the best part of the night, the just-beginning-of-drunk part, starting to happen.

  Cory sets another shot in front of me, and I drink it fast. He rubs my shoulders like a prizefighter’s coach, and we jump around a little.

  “That was so awesome that you got to play tonight,” I tell him. “You were awesome!”

  “Oh, man, it was so awesome,” he says, and I start laughing again at how many times we’re both saying awesome.

  “Where’s Maddie?” I ask, but right then something happens over at the card table and Jack Gawecki is standing up, shouting.