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"Maybe it was the Rolling Meadows football players tryin' to get us in trouble," I say, impressed that I came up with that on the fly.
Dieter gets in my face. "Maybe it was you, Salazar, because the word numer
o was written in Spanish."
"Excuse me, sir," Trey chimes in. "But more than half the student body takes Spanish as a foreign language."
"You want to fess up, Trey?" Dieter spits out. "Just say the word."
"He didn't do it," I say. "I heard some chicks were talkin' about playin' a prank on Rolling Meadows. It wasn't us."
"Chicks?" Finnigan questions. "By 'chicks' do you mean 'girls'?"
"Actually, I heard that, too," Jet pipes in. "Girls can be real troublemakers, you know."
"Okay, smart guys, you care to tell us which girls you're referring to?" Finnigan asks. "So we can have the police come and interrogate them."
"I forgot," I say.
"You got a memory problem, Salazar?" Dieter asks me. "Maybe you've been hit too many times in the head and have a concussion. Our athletic trainer would be more than happy to check you out."
"My head's fine, Coach. Alzheimer's runs in my family. It's genetic, you know."
Finnigan claps twice, as if we're in kindergarten and she needs our attention. "Boys, are you going to tell us who vandalized Rolling Meadows' football field?" When we don't respond, she blows out a frustrated breath. "All right. Well, we have to make a good faith effort to punish those involved. Tell you what, gentlemen. I'll be lenient this time and offer an in-school suspension to the one who fesses up. We'll tell the authorities we're taking care of it on our end. If nobody comes forward, then I'm going to suspend all of you from tonight's game."
"I did it," I chime in. There's no way I'm letting my friends take the fall. An in-school suspension on my record won't mean shit because it's already full of infractions I've made or been accused of.
"No, you didn't do it, Salazar," Jet says. "Tell her the truth. I did it."
Derek rolls his eyes. "Jet's lyin' through his damn teeth. I did it."
We all look at Trey. "I didn't do it," he says as he holds his hands up. "I need to keep my school record clean."
"Thanks for havin' our backs, Trey," I say. I raise my hand. "I'll take the suspension, Doc."
"Fine." Finnigan seems satisfied I'm the one who'll take one for the team. "You're all dismissed. Except you, Mr. Salazar. I'll escort you down to the suspension room personally."
"I can't wait," I tell her, thinking I'd rather be anywhere than in that suspension room.
Chapter Twelve
MONIKA
The first football game of the season is finally here. Everyone is pumped. I'm on the sidelines cheering, feeling the rush of excitement from the crowd with the hope of a victory. I've got bruises from falling off the fence yesterday, and my body aches more than usual, but I don't care. Hearing the fans yell and the excitement of the game takes all my focus.
Between our cheers, I watch the game. My eyes immediately focus on Trey. He's determined to make himself stand out. He's so focused I don't even think he's looked into the stands once--not even when the defense is on the field and he has a break.
Not even to look at me.
I glance over at Vic, who just got off the field when the offensive line went in. He's at the water station and when he takes his helmet off his hair falls onto his forehead. I can't look away and feel goose bumps on my arms when his dark, intense eyes meet mine.
I remember last night, lying with him on the bleachers. I don't know if he realized his hand was over my hair shielding me. He instinctively protected me.
What am I thinking? What am I feeling?
I'm not even sure myself. Lately I've been so confused and my emotions have been a mess.
I smile at Vic, then get back in formation for the next cheer. Cassidy Richards, standing next to me, shakes her head. Her lips are formed in a tight, thin line.
"You okay?" I ask her.
"I'm fine," she snaps.
"You sure?" She's not acting like she's fine.
She rolls her eyes just slightly, as if my questioning is annoying her. "I said I was fine. End of story."
Whoa. "Okay."
To say that Cassidy has been moody lately is an understatement. I figure it's the stress of school starting. Everyone around me seems stressed lately.
Well, except Bree. That girl never gets stressed. She's so self-absorbed she's oblivious to the world around her.
"Ready?" Bree calls out with a big, white-toothed smile on her face. She calls it her "cheerleader" smile.
"Ready. Okay!" I call out.
We start our next cheer.
We are the Rebels, we're number one!
We won't give up until we've won!
Fremont High School, what's our fate?
Our team will make it all the way to State!
Yeah!
Woo-hoo!
Bree made that cheer up, which was better than her initial cheer about Fremont having the best-looking team and something about looking at the rivals in the mirror makes us scream. Leave it to Bree to make up a ridiculous cheer.
After halftime, Jet runs up to Bree before the refs blow the whistle to start the second half.
"Yo, Bree!" Jet yells above the crowd.
She bites her bottom lip. "Yeah?"
"Go to homecoming with me!"
Bree gives a short laugh and puts a hand on her hip. "Seriously, Jet? Was that even a question or a statement?"
Not to lose a moment where Jet can focus all the attention on himself, he gets down on one knee. He's still in full football gear and even has his helmet on. To the crowd, it must look like he's proposing marriage to her.
Everyone goes wild.
He takes her hand in his. "Bree Turner, will you do me the pleasure of going to homecoming with me?"
"Okay," she says. "I'll go with you. Now get up. You're making a scene."
Everyone who knows Bree knows she loves a scene. This is so perfect for her.
Instead of going back to his teammates, Jet holds his arms out wide like an eagle in flight and yells to the crowd, "She said yes!"
Everyone is screaming in celebration as he picks Bree up and twirls her around before getting yelled at by Coach Dieter to rejoin the team.
"That was embarrassing," Bree says after Jet is back on the field. "Now half the school probably thinks we're engaged."
She's smiling wide.
"Who cares. You love Jet," I tell her.
"Yeah. In a friends-with-benefits kind of way. I mean, he's a model and super hot." She checks out his butt, then wags her brows. "And he knows his way around a girl's body, which is a plus. But I don't want a boyfriend. Blech!"
"Thanks," I say.
"It works for you and Trey," she says, backtracking. "Just not me."
"You and Jet should get married," I tell her. "You're both cut from the same mold."
She looks at me curiously. "Speaking of married life, has Trey asked you to homecoming yet?"
I shake my head. The moment Bree knows about my relationship troubles, half the school will know. "No."
"It's just a matter of time. You, me, and Ashtyn have to go shopping for dresses." She motions to Ashtyn, who's kicking a football into the practice net. She picks up another one and stares at it. From this distance I can tell she's reading something on it. With a little squeal, she runs up to Derek and says "yes!" before hugging him tight.
Yeah, he just asked her to homecoming. No doubt about that. As I stand here happy for my best friend, my heart is sinking into my chest at the knowledge that Trey and I aren't madly in love with each other like Ashtyn and Derek.
I look over at Trey. He probably hasn't even thought about asking me to homecoming. He's too focused on everything else, including Zara Hughes.
Bree taps me on the shoulder with her perfectly manicured nails accented with little gold hearts. "We need to make Ashtyn look like a girl for once, instead of a football player. Homecoming is our chance!"
"If I even go," I tell her.
"Trey will ask you. I'm not too sure about our resident grumpyface Vic though. He might be a lost cause."
We both focus on Vic. It's not surprising
that he's in the face of an opposing player, challenging the guy. I cross my fingers that he doesn't get into a brawl and get kicked out of the game.
"Don't be an idiot and get over it already!" Vic's dad growls loudly from the stands. Everyone can hear him, including the opposing team.
After the altercation, Vic glances into the stands where his dad is sitting. Mr. Salazar looks completely pissed that Vic was about to get into a fight.
Usually during games Vic looks determined and focused. But now he's got a fierce, almost defiant look on his face. He shoves his helmet over his head and runs onto the field. During the next play, Vic pushes the offensive lineman out of the way and rushes the quarterback, tackling him to the ground with such force it's surprising they both didn't get the wind knocked out of them. The crowd cheers and the guys on our team pat Vic on his helmet in celebration, but it doesn't look like he notices at all.
He lines up on the field again, ready for the second down.
I can feel Vic's tension in the air like it's a thick cloud hanging over him. I have a bad feeling about this as he sacks the quarterback on the second down. He dives over two guys to get to him -- a risky, crazy move.
Coach Dieter must sense that Vic is playing with emotion instead of playing smart. He yells for Vic to get off the field, but Vic turns away and gets back on the line of scrimmage.
On third down, two offensive linemen rush Vic. He attempts to plow into them with his head down.
Oh, no!
I don't play football, but I know enough that he's going to get hurt if he keeps playing recklessly. Something deep inside me shivers at the thought of Vic getting hurt.
Vic jogs off the field as our offensive line goes in.
Dieter grabs Vic's facemask. "What the hell was that, Salazar?" Dieter yells.
It's not hard to hear the exchange between them. "I got two sacks, Coach," Vic tells him.
"I don't give a crap, Salazar. I want you to play with heart, not careless and stupid. One more suicide stunt like that, and you're benched the rest of the game."
When the coach lets go of him, Vic is so riled up he's about to get into the coach's face, but Trey, Jet, and Derek hold him back. It takes all three of them to do it.
"Monika!" Bree says, waving her hand in front of my face to get my attention. "Stop watching the game and start cheering."
But I'm not watching the game.
I'm watching Vic lose control.
