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“It’s my job!” I spat vehemently. “Coach says I have to make sure everyone drinks enough and Red never does.” I reached back and pulled Sawyer’s shirt again, now striking him on his back.
“Gee, Sierra, calm down,” Sawyer said in a condescending tone, like I was a spoilt child. He shrugged himself out of my grip, leaving me standing there with my heart beating out of control.
“I don’t like him!” I said, looking to Mom for some support in the matter. Her little smile was no help at all.
“Well, he’s telling everyone about the delicious donuts you made for him and how you give him extra sports drinks.”
“That’s because he sweats so much, he needs extra,” I snapped. “And I took the donuts for the team. Not just for him. You know that!”
Sawyer flashed me a toothy grin, like he enjoyed teasing me, loved to see me riled up. And he’d achieved that just fine.
“Sierra, can you get the plates out please?” Mom asked.
I moodily stomped over to the cupboard while Sawyer finished his juice. The act of setting the table gave me a chance to regain my composure, but my heart jumped again when I heard Mom say Cullen’s name.
“I didn’t know,” Sawyer was saying. “Nobody told me.”
I kept my head down, placing the cutlery with the precision of a Michelin star restaurant, utensils in perfect alignment as if I was being graded on presentation.
“Cully dropped you home?” Sawyer called from the kitchen. “You didn’t say you needed a ride.”
I didn’t want to get caught up in a litany of lies with Sawyer, so mumbled, “You’d already gone. It was fine. He didn’t mind.”
“Well, let me know earlier next time,” Sawyer said as he headed downstairs. I blew out a sigh, relieved that I’d gotten away with that.
But today had been one day.
I didn’t know how, but tomorrow I’d have to save Cullen all over again.
––––––––
It was like HomecomingWeek all over again with the build up to the semifinal. To incite school spirit, the band were playing a concert in the gym at lunch time. The cafeteria had packed up brown paper bag lunches to go, so nobody needed to miss out.
Emma played the clarinet in the band, so I tagged along with my friends from my history class, Tess and Kenzie. We sat near the top of the stands, inspecting our lunches, though mainly screwing up our noses. Not to sound unappreciative, but in the cafeteria we had a wide range of hot foods, fresh salads, sushi, slushies and even cupcakes to choose from. So the sandwich, piece of fruit, muffin and carton of flavored milk looked unappealing and boring. And the banana muffin was heavy enough to be used for a doorstop.
Checking the sandwich, I removed the slice of tomato from it and slid it back into the bag. Soggy sandwiches were not my favorite.
“Hey guys, move along.” Redmond Phillips appeared in the aisle, making Tess and Kenzie immediately shift over. I held my knees in, hoping he’d go further down by the girls, but he plonked himself between Tess and me. “Sierra, how’s it going?”
“Good,” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich so I didn’t need to have a conversation. I’d chew it a hundred times if I had to, still disgruntled over what he’d been telling the team about my donuts.
Red had two lunch bags and he unpacked the first one and swallowed his sandwich in what seemed like seconds. Six three and two thirty pounds, the boy had a voracious appetite. I scanned the crowd, wondering if I could abandon my seat and find someone else to sit with, but the sound of drums filled the air and the marching band paraded in. At least talking would be next to impossible with the noise.
“Hey, Sierra, are you....” The rest of the sentence was drowned out by the brassy notes of trumpets blaring, forcing me to lean in a little.
“What did you say?” I shouted.
Red leaned closer—too close. The smell of turkey and mayonnaise wafted up my nose.
“I wondered if you were going to the game in the bus,” he said. “We could ride together.”
Luckily, I’d already swallowed my bread, because if I hadn’t I’d probably be requiring first aid for choking. As it was, it sent me into a coughing fit. I reached into my bag for my milk, but Red was quicker. He held out a newly opened carton, straw already inserted. I sipped on it, grateful for the soothing liquid, grateful for the din of the band.
“You okay?” His blue eyes pierced mine, clouded with concern.
I nodded. “Sorry. Thanks,” I whispered hoarsely, taking another sip of milk. With a bit of luck Red would have forgotten that I’d never answered him. And to make sure that he didn’t get the chance to ask again, I said, “Oh look, there’s Emma playing the clarinet.” I pointed to my friend, her long golden blond hair making her stand out.
Red didn’t seem interested in Emma, her clarinet or the band. “So, are you traveling in the bus, or not?”
