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“It’s high school.” I forced myself to shrug. “Crappy things happen to people every day.”
“Yeah, but it happened toyou.” Connor’s frown deepened.
I wanted to ask him why I was different from anyone else at Brentwood, why the emphasis was important. I wanted to ask, but…I didn’t. I was too afraid of what his answer would be.
Connor let out a soft breath, as if realizing how serious he’d gotten in an instant. When he spoke again, his voice was significantly lighter. “So, you wanted to be a cheerleader, then?”
“I think I wanted it because Madison wanted it.” The confession increased the awkward tension between my shoulders. “But, you know, I’m glad that didn’t work out. Could you picture me as a Brentwood Babe?Ha.”
Connor stretched his legs out beside my hip. “I think you might’ve made a good cheerleader,” he murmured, tilting his head. “But do I see you fitting in next to Madison and Jade? Obsessed with the latest Brentwood Babble post? Threatening to go to war over being spotted with the rival school’s quarterback?”
The thought made me cringe. “Yeah, the probability of that happening is low.”
He scrunched his nose. “Was that another math line?”
I stretched my legs out like he’d stretched his. “It wasn’t intentional.” We both chuckled together, and I knew we should’ve gone back out to the picnic table at that point—we’d both unloaded our baggage and could now move forward—but there was one question that had been on my mind as soon as I saw him today in the hallway. “Are you going to tell Jade it was me in the closet?”
“I didn’t plan on it. I don’t know how she’d react, but I don’t think she’d believe me if I said we were just tutoring.”
“I don’t know if Alex would believe me either if he found out.” It was the truth, too. How would he react if he found out I was hanging withConnor Brayevery day after school? Except we weren’t hanging out. It was strictly business, totally professional, and yet…would Alex see it that way? Or would he see the part where I lied? Repeatedly.
“I never should’ve asked you to keep it from him,” Connor said, and then gently, he knocked his foot against my hip. “You should tell him. If he can’t keep the secret, it’s fine, but I never should’ve asked you to lie to people who are important to you.”
Telling Alex would open a huge can of worms now, worms that would wiggle their way back to Rachel and Ava. I didn’t think that Ava would post it without my permission, but the paranoid side of me wasn’t sure. And if something about it came up on Brentwood Babble, then what? “We’re coming down the home stretch,” I said, mimicking him and knocking my foot against him. Except since my legs were shorter, my toes hit his thigh. “We have four days next week and then your test on Friday. He won’t have to know.”
Connor laid his hand on the top of my ankle, right over where the hem of his dark sweatpants kissed my skin. My mind flashed back to all the times Alex would prop his feet onto my lap, his dirty socks emitting a smell practically engrained into my memory. I’d hated it then and hated when I’d have to touch his feet to readjust them. Here Connor was now, touching my foot—which had a smear of mud on the top of my skin—like it was no big deal.
Physical touch, his words whispered in my ear, my brain bringing up that once-upon-a-time conversation.Physical touch is key. I’m sure there’s a science behind it or something, but all I know is that it works.
The air I’d been drawing in lodged in my throat, trapped by the pressure building there. I knew I needed to pull away, but I couldn’t do anything but stare, stomach twisting.What is going on?
Ava looped her arm through mine while Rachel forged through the crowd Friday night, elbows uncaringly clearing a path. She brushed past people who shot her dirty looks, her head held high. “I’m happy you came tonight,” Ava told me, squeezing me closer. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you to come to a game.”
“I think I’ve got a bit of an idea,” I responded, thinking back to the countless times they’d asked, the countless times over the years I’d said no, using every possible excuse in the book. Hearing how happy her voice was, though, caused guilt to spread through me. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I didn’t realize it was important to you.”
“You’re here now.” She gave me an infectious sort of grin, one so bright that it rivaled the sun. “Hopefully we can find some good seats.”
The game hadn’t started, which meant the bleachers weren’t filled completely yet, but there weren’t a lot of empty spaces left once we got to the student section. Several students had made signs and held them in their laps, waiting for the football players to come out onto the field.
“Oh, look,” Ava whispered to me, nudging her chin. “It’s Connor’s parents.”
It was funny how quickly I was able to find who she meant. I spotted Joy first, wearing a vibrant blue shirt with the numbers22written in glittering gold. Beside her sat a woman with a dark pixie cut. She, too, was wearing Brentwood Bobcat spirit gear, with an oversized sweatshirt over her frame. Connor’s father sat on the other side of her. He, too, showed school spirit by wearing a baseball cap, and he was turned chatting it up with a few men behind him.
They were all smiles, exuding happiness at getting to support Connor. An outsider looking in would have no idea that things were so tumultuous underneath the surface. That was where Connor got his mask from.Keeping up appearances.
“Can we sit here?” Rachel asked a blonde girl in the front row who seemed as out of place as I felt. Instead of blending into the sea of Brentwood blue and gold, she wore maroon pants with a black motorcycle jacket, one two sizes too big for her. Her blonde hair was fading out near the roots, growing in a deep brown, but it looked pretty.
“Only if you talk to me,” the girl responded with her eyebrows raised, and I noticed the sparkle of her nose ring. “Nothing’s worse than sitting by yourself. You’d think people would’ve sat down because it’s the front row, but it’s like I’ve got the plague.”
“The front row is worth the plague,” Ava said happily, squeezing us in tight. “And we’re always down to make new friends.”
I sat down on the chilly metal bench and tightened my jacket around me. It was a colder night tonight, fall starting to make an appearance. Ava had given me her Brentwood zip-up hoodie, which was a bright blue, and though I had escaped the horrors of a bobcat pawprint on my face, Ava did insist on drawing little sparkles on my cheeks with her paint marker. No doubt I’d already smudged them.
And don’t get mestartedon the braid crown on my head. It pulled so tightly that I was sure my hairline had begun to recede.
“Do you go to Brentwood?” Rachel asked the girl, leaning across Ava.
She nodded. “I’m Lacey.” The girl stuck her hand out to me first since I sat right beside her, and her nails were a shiny black. “Senior. You’re Maisie, right?”
