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All through dinner, I tried not to worry about meeting his parents and failed. Bastian, sensing my mood, reached across the table for my hand again. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I tried for a smile but it wasn't a very convincing one.
Bastian knew where my thoughts were when he said, “It's just dinner. The rest doesn't matter. They don't matter.”
I wanted to believe that but I had a terrible feeling that we were going to be over before we ever really had a chance to get started.
***
Pep rally. Two small and innocuous words, but at my school, pep rallies were anything but. The coach of the football team, Coach Farlay, had taken the concept of school spirit and turned it into something very similar to the pagan rituals I imagined the gods performed in the days of old. No one died during these heathen gatherings of the student body, but someone was always sacrificed. In truth, it was the coach's wife who was behind the theatrics of the pep rally. She trained as a thespian, but when her dream of Broadway didn't pan out, she pursued her second passion, teaching. Through the years she managed to take over directing the school's musicals. Clearly it wasn't just the musicals she had an influence over.
The football team selected one unsuspecting female from the audience and she became Victory. She was dragged from the bleachers and a football jersey pulled over her head before being lifted into the air by the football team to the cheers and chants of the entire school. That wasn't all, oh no. Then a boy was selected as the Guardian of Victory. They were handcuffed together—this was really just symbolic since the handcuffs didn't require a key which made it easy for Victory and her Guardian to separate when nature called—and for the rest of the day Victory and her Guardian had to go to one another's classes. As her last act of school spirit, on the night of the game, Victory led the football team out onto the field. In all honesty, the student body loved the entire practice and most were eager to be Victory or her Guardian. I, however, was not a fan. Although I did love that it was all so left of center, and that it wasn't just the students but also the administration who ate it up.
I had somehow managed in my high school career to avoid ever being Victory—yet another benefit of blending into the woodwork. So there I sat, continuing to blend into my surroundings, sinking just a little bit lower on the bleachers to avoid eye contact with every person on the gym floor.
“This is so exciting. I hope they pick me.” Sophia was practically jumping up and down.
“Sophia, stop drawing attention.”
“It's all in good fun. It wouldn't hurt for you to be Victory just once.”
“I'd rather have back surgery.”
As I sat there wondering just how painful back surgery was, I felt a warmth shimmy down my spine and looked up to see Bastian making his way up the bleachers to me. What the hell was he doing? Not that I wasn't happy to see him, especially since he was coming to sit with me, but he was drawing attention which made my attempts at invisibility moot.
“Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing?”
He only answered by grinning. Coach Farlay's voice echoed throughout the gym.
“It's time to pick Victory!”
Everyone launched to their feet, screaming like they were being murdered, while I tried to sink even lower. I felt Bastian's hand wrap around mine and at first I felt a wave of warmth over the gesture until a moment of clarity filled me. He wouldn’t. I tried to pull my hand from his, but couldn't. My gaze flew up only to see him smiling down at me like a lunatic.
“What are you doing?”
He leaned over so that our mouths were almost touching. “Payback, Victory.”
“But how? You aren't even on the football team.”
“No, but several of the guys on the team owed me a favor. I cashed in.”
“You're new. How could they possibly already owe you a favor?”
No reply, but he looked really pleased with himself.
“Not fair!” I tried to dig in my heels, but Bastian had almost a foot and a hundred pounds on me. He started dragging me down the bleachers to Coach Farlay, while I plotted his murder: something painful and bloody and slow.
There I stood, next to Coach Farlay, as the gym went berserk. I glanced at Bastian who looked downright diabolical. “I'm going to cut you up into very small pieces.”
He leaned over so our eyes met. “Do your worst.”
I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Moments later, a jersey was being pulled over my head seconds before I was lifted off the ground. This mortification had me rethinking Bastian's death. Death was too easy. No, I was going to chain him in a dungeon and torture him for the rest of his natural-born life. Yes, that sounded perfect.
When my feet finally hit the floor, I was ready to dart for the closest exit. I felt the handcuffs click closed over our wrists. All of a sudden, an entirely different emotion filled me at the sight of being tied to this boy. Despite the humor I saw burning in his eyes, I saw something else infinitely more exciting.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “We get to spend all day together.”
And just like that, I didn't mind at all being Victory.
