If junior high was hell for me, high school was even worse. I watched the people around me change and grow, but it felt like I was standing still. And by the autumn of our junior year, I was more than ready for things to change. Not just how my classmates treated me—though that would’ve been nice, too—but how I saw myself ... and definitely how Leo saw me.
Nate spent so much of his time on the water once he joined crew that I hardly saw him at all. After school, his mom picked him up and drove him to the river for practice. I went to as many of his races as I could, but even there I didn’t see him for long. He told me though that it made him feel stronger when I was there watching.
“When I know you’re there, it’s like I could row for miles,” he said, eyes shining. I smiled, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. Nate had been making it abundantly clear that he thought of me as more than a friend, and I walked a very fine line between ignoring it and accidentally encouraging him. I didn’t want to lose my friend, but I knew I didn’t like him that way. Mostly I knew that because therewassomeone who made my heart pound.
Leo was all about football these days. He never talked about anything else, and he had a whole new group of friends who spoke the same language. I didn’t think he realized that most of these people looked at Nate and me the same way they would a bug on the sidewalk; they would as soon step on us rather than bother to walk around us. I didn’t try to point this out to Leo because he was so clearly happy with life the way it was.
But it was killing me. I never missed a football game, but it was pure torture to sit in the stands, watching him play, knowing that it really didn’t matter to him whether or not I was there. And more often than not, after the game ended, Leo would be surrounded by cheerleaders and other popular girls. Sometimes, he would be holding the hand of one of them. Most everyone went to the Starlight Diner after football games, and Nate and I went a few times, too. Leo usually managed to wave at us, or even to stop at our table sometimes, but he was always with a girl who was looking up adoringly at him. There was only so much of that I could take.
I went out of my way to support the athletic interests of my best friends, but I couldn’t quite say they did the same. Not that I played any sports, of course, and maybe that was the problem. Nate tried to encourage me in my extracurricular activities, but he didn’t understand my love for writing or why I loved hanging out in the editorial office. Newspaper was the one bright spot in my entire high school career, and I’d actually made friends with people who worked on the paper with me. They were a mixed bunch, some of them nerdy like me, and a few who were on the edge of the popular crowd.
The teacher who ran the journalism club was cool, too. Ms. Nelson was young and had lots of energy, and she was always giving us fun assignments. I was on my way to meet with her when I heard the familiar voice behind me.
“Somepeople think they’re so much better than the rest of us. So much smarter.”Trish Dawson. Perfect. Just who I needed to deal with today.
I clenched my jaw and kept walking. I’d learned through painful experience that ignoring girls like Trish was the only way to deal with them. It didn’t make them stop, and it definitely didn’t make me feel better, but pretending they didn’t exist let me hold onto some dignity.
“Hey, queer queen. I’m talking to you.” She was closer to me than I’d thought, and so I wasn’t ready when she reached around and knocked the notebooks out of my arms.
I felt my face go hot as I stopped to pick up the books. This wasn’t the first time I’d been picked on, so I figured they’d laugh and move away. But this time, they didn’t. Trish and the other three girls formed a small, tight circle around me, all of them smirking.
“What’s the matter, queen? Clumsy today?” Original insults weren’t Trish’s strong suit. She’d been calling me queen or queer queen since freshman year. I guessed Quinn didn’t lend itself to anything more demeaning.
I began to stand up, all of my stuff in one hand, but one of the girls shoved at my shoulder, pushing me back.
“We didn’t like what you wrote about the cheer squad. You need to stop saying stuff like that.”
“It’s an editorial.Myopinion. I can write what I want.”
Trish’s face took on an ugly sneer. “No one cares what you think. So maybe you should—”
“Leave her alone.”Leo. Now my heart was pounding in earnest. He stood on the other side of Trish, his muscled arms folded over his broad chest. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Kylie, Trish’s right-hand minion, glanced at him. “This isn’t any of your business, Leo. We’ve got it. Run along.”
“She’s a friend of mine, and she didn’t do anything to you. So it’s my business.” He pushed between Trish and Kylie, grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. The girls were still surrounding us, but all I could think wasLeo is holding my hand.His palm was pressed against mine, warm and so full of strength I wanted to cry.
Trish glared at me, one finely-arched eyebrow raised. I knew that look; it meantwe’ll finish this later. Fabulous.
She and her posse turned and stalked away, still giggling. But I didn’t even spare them a glance, because I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my hand in Leo’s. My fingers were completely enveloped in his grasp. He was saying something, but I was too preoccupied by the buzzing in my ears to pay attention.
“Quinn, what was that all about?” He repeated himself, frowning, and let go of my hand. I felt immediately bereft.
“Um, it was nothing.” I took a step back away from Leo. “Stupid cheerleaders.”
His forehead creased, and I realized I was talking crap about girls who were probably his friends now. Maybe more than friends. God only knew what he’d done with some of them; I’d heard stories about football parties. I only hoped he hadn’t hooked up with Trish. I could handle anything but that.
“What were they talking about? What did you write to set them off?”
Now annoyance flared, almost overshadowing the want surging through my veins. It was typical Leo these days; he’d never assume I was blameless. It had to be me who’d written something wrong.
Plus, this confirmed something I’d suspected—that Leo didn’t read my articles. He gave my work at the school paper great lip-service, but now I knew the truth. “Maybe if you read the school newspaper now and then, you’d know. I guess this means you don’t make it a priority to read my editorials.”
“I don’t read anything but school stuff during football season.” He shook his head. “No time. So what did you do?”
“I didn’tdoanything.” I hissed out the words. Of course, it was my fault that those bitches were threatened by me. Leo would see it that way. Once upon a time he would’ve stuck up for me no matter what, but those days were in the past. “I wrote an opinion piece about the special treatment the cheerleaders get. It’s nothing that everyone else in the school isn’t thinking. Guess some of them obviously didn’t like it. No biggie.”
Leo ran a hand through his hair, his go-to gesture when he was exasperated. “Mia, are you crazy? That’s not exactly the way to make friends.”
