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Despite being friends with them for two years, I’d never told them about my past with the cheerleader. Back then, we were just two nobody freshmen, which meant the fallout didn’t reach nuclear proportions. Which meant that it was most likely just her, Jade, and me that remembered.
Or maybe it was even just me.
“Pass,” I replied with a grimace. “The most I ever do with my hair is a ponytail. Braiding your hair like you’re going to a wedding is silly.”
Ava finished up the pawprint and passed the marker to Rachel, who took over focusing on Ava’s right cheek. “You’re not coming tonight, right?” Rachel asked.
“Definitely not.” I avoided football games like the plague. I didn’t see the point in standing around a bunch of people to watch guys run around on a football field. The sport itself was stupid and dangerous and boring. “Alex and I are going out after, though. He’ll fill me in on who scores a touchdown or whatever.” And he definitely would.
Ava’s bedroom fell silent as Rachel concentrated on drawing the pawprint, and I leaned back against her headboard, mind filling up the space. Today was Friday, which meant no tutoring today, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Connor had done the practice problems. The idea of him working through them incorrectly made me uneasy. We didn’t have time for setbacks like that.
Thinking about Connor led me down Humiliation Highway as last night resurfaced for the millionth time. Stupid Connor with his physical touch tips and gray sweatpants. It made sense that his advice would backfire.
Love advice. More like “how to make your relationship awkward” advice. Ugh.
“Can you promise you’ll come to a game this season?” Ava asked, and though she held perfectly still, she glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “It’s our senior year. You have to come to at least one.”
“As long as it’s not—”
“Homecoming!” Rachel interjected, batting her lashes. “Youhaveto come to homecoming.”
Out of all the games, the homecoming game was the one I wanted to attend theleast. The school spirit that was a step down from unbearable on normal game nights turned psycho on homecoming night. Like the spirit of Brentwood High possessed everybody. I’d need holy water to attend.
“It’ll be so cool to see all the homecoming court candidates on the field,” Rachel said, lifting a hand and beginning to count her fingers. “Landon was nominated to win, and so was Graham Ruiz. Madison was also nominated, but I can’t remember the other girl. Obviously, Connor and Jade will win, though.”
I twisted the tufts on the pillow in my grip, doing my best to stifle the scoff that rose in my throat. “Of course they will,” I muttered, voice taking on a bitter edge. “They’re treated practically like royalty.”
“I agree, they shouldn’t be shoo-ins because being the leads of their sport teams,” Ava said, backing me up. “Sometimes Brentwood traditions are so rigid, you know? Like there should besome kindof progression.”
“You’d want to be queen?” Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not in the slightest,” Ava was quick to respond, shivering at the thought. “I’m perfectly fine watching all the drama, thank you very much.”
The feeling stirring in my stomach hadn’t necessarily been born from the fact that it was, once again, the jock and head cheerleader projected to win the homecoming title. It had less to do with sports, more to do with the people themselves.
And I couldn’t figure out why I cared so much.
“Mom might need my help at the gallery that day,” I told them, a cop-out that might’ve been obvious, but it was the only excuse I could come up with on the fly. “They’re doing a Brentwood exhibit that week for school spirit. She usually asks me to help pass out pamphlets or something.”
Rachel capped the marker and then pointed it at me, puffing out her bottom lip. “Think about it, okay? Please? We’d love it if you were with us.”
Ava nodded with Rachel’s plea, sticking out her bottom lip.
And again, that surreal feeling was back. That, in a few years’ time, I found friends who were truer than I could’ve asked for. That even though I sometimes spoke in fluent math equations, we still worked.
“I’ll think about it,” I allowed, my resolve weakening with a pleasant ache in my chest.
Ava burst into a bright grin, making a heart with her hands, and peering at me through it. “That’s all we can ask for.”
* * *
In a close 6-point lead, the Brentwood Bobcats defeated the Chesterville Vikings, Connor Bray scoring the final touchdown with seconds left on the clock. The tension in the student section had run high, everyone practically holding their breath as our team inched closer and closer to the end zone. And when Landon had thrown the ball, sailing perfectly into Connor’s awaiting arms, the entire bleachers had gone wild.
Or, at least, that was how Alex described it.
“You had to be there for the full effect,” he said for what seemed like the millionth time, but this time, his words were garbled around a piece of French fry he chewed. He had ketchup on the corner of his mouth, and every time it caught my attention, my stomach turned. I hated ketchup. Fries with ranch was where it was at. “I swear, Maisie, it was awesome. And the cheerleaders—their new cheers were so good. Someone’s probably already uploaded it onto social media, though. Maybe Ava even posted it on Babble. I’ll see if I can find it.”
Alex whipped out his cell phone, but I reached over, resting my fingers on the screen. “It’s okay. I believe you.”
