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“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Look!” Luna said, pointing.
The woman violently shrugged off a man who tried to help her up, then shoved him back.
“No way,” Justin said as he leaned forward. “She isnot… Please. Do it. Oh, fuck.Please, do it.” The amusement in his voice cracked me up even more as he goaded her on.
The angry woman stomped toward the field, a slight limp in her left leg as she gripped her hip. She pointed at the coach with her free hand as personnel followed her and looked at one another, clearly unsure of what to do.
“What a fucking psycho!” Luna said.
I watched on in amazed amusement as a man, who I thought was the calculus teacher, put his hands on her to stop her. She wheeled around, slapping him in the face before turning back toward the coach.
Looking out onto the field, I realized the game had stopped. The coach was about to yell at them, but the angry mom made it over to him, and he was quickly caught up on what distracted them.
One of the players ran toward them, taking off his helmet. He had honey blond hair, and while I couldn’t see the definition of his face from this distance, I could see that his body was rigid as he moved. He lookedpissed.
“That’s Joey!” Luna said, laughing again.
“Poor little Joseph,” Justin said. He pulled a flask from his pocket and took a drink before offering it to both of us. Each of us took a drink and handed it back. “Boy, look at him go.”
His arms were outstretched at his sides as he confronted his mother. He pointed to the parking lot, and I imagined he was telling her to leave.
“Damn, this is quite the show,” I said. “I’m so glad you dragged me out here.”
“See!” Justin said, excitement in his eyes. “You would have missed this. You donothave to like football to enjoy the games. There is plenty entertainment to be had.”
“Ope! There she goes!” I said.
Luna laughed and looked at me. “You mid-westerners reallydosay ope? I seriously thought that was a joke!”
“Nope. We all say ope,” I replied, pausing for a moment. “That rhymed.”
The rest of the game was relatively normal after Joey’s angry mom was basically dragged out of there. His father was there, too, and she screamed at him to come help her. He quietly excused himself, judging from his body language as he slumped his shoulders and hunkered down as he walked out.
I felt like grabbing some pompoms and singing him my own cheer. It would have gone a little something like, “What do you need? D-I-V-O-R-C-E. Divorce! Divorce! Divorce! Who do you need it from? That P-S-Y, C-H-O. That Psy-cho! Psy-cho! Psy-cho!”
I didn’t know Joey, but I felt a little bad for him. Unfortunately, “emancipation” didn’t have quite the lovely ring to it, so he’d have to go without a snarky little imaginary cheer of his own.
But he could still probably use the emancipation.
I didn’t pay much attention to the score, just watching the players go back and forth. With their helmets, it was much harder to identify Damian and Asher, but occasionally I could pick them out. They played hard, and in the end, they won.
I watched the cheerleaders again with more interest than I’d like to admit. Couldnothingbe straight forward at Crestview? Damian and Asher created an awful push and pull within me, and I hated it, but I thought Harper would be easier. I really thought it would be easy to hate her after she’d shown me her true colors.
But it wasn’t.
It was hard.
Even though I didn’t want to, I loved the girl. I imprinted on her just like a mother does her child. That girl was my sister—a few weeks younger than me or not, she was mybabysister, and I saw her as such. I was proud of her accomplishments.
Even if I hated who she was as a person.
My dad always taught me you can love someone without liking them. I always told him he was crazy. That made no sense.
Until now.
Unfortunately, that was a lesson I’d learned well. I loved Harper, but I fucking hated who she was. I only hoped—like an idiot—that maybe one day, things would change.
Fat fucking chance.
