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“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“Thanking you,” I said.
I was half a millimeter from her lips when she ducked away. My forehead hit the rough brick wall.
“Ow! Fuck.” I brought my fingertips to my scratched skull.
“What the hell?” she spat. “God! Maybe whoever was your backslapper last year slapped more than your back, but I was just doing my job.”
My heart felt sick as my brain tried to catch up. “But I thought—”
“What? That because I went all out on your locker that I was, like, in love with you or something?” Ally said, looking me up and down in disgust. “Get over yourself.” She yanked open the door and strode inside. The slam made my head throb even worse.
I leaned back against the wall and touched the bump above my nose again, checking my fingertips for blood. There wasn’t any. “Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath, kicking at the ground.
So much for that.
ally
“Graydon! Get off the field! Now!”
Jake cursed under his breath and stormed past Coach Martz. I flushed with heat as he passed me by, his eyes on his muddy cleats, sweat soaking his hair and the collar of his shirt. He shrugged Sha
It was the third match of the year, and the team’s top scorer, Jake Graydon, was not on his game.
“Ally,” Trista sang in my ear. “It’s about time for you to start acting like a backslapper.”
In the first two games I hadn’t so much as talked to Jake, let alone slapped his admittedly sexy back, and Trista had definitely noticed. I wondered if she’d still be on my case if I told her that he tried to maul me behind the school on the morning of the first game. Jackass.
“Drake! Sub in for Graydon!” Coach shouted.
My heart leapt.
“Seriously?” David said, popping up off the bench.
“No. I’m practicing my stand-up routine,” Coach spat. “Yes, seriously! Sub in!”
“Go, David!” I shouted, slapping his shoulder as he jogged by.
“Yeah, David! Kick ass!” A
We shared a smile before she got back to taking Crestie behavioral notes on her laptop. David hadn’t seen much game time before, and never in the first half. Now he was biting back a grin as he took the field.
“That’s great, Ally, but I didn’t mean for him,” Trista said, nudging my elbow. “Jake is your responsibility. Go! Pep talk the boy!”
She practically shoved me toward the bench. Jake sat at the end, his elbows pressed into his thighs, his hands clenched into fists against his forehead, his right leg bouncing up and down. I knew how he felt. We’d all had bad games when we just couldn’t get anything right. But did I really want to boost Mr. Ego? The guy who was so cocky he thought a few posters meant I wanted to taste his tongue? Maybe he needed some humbling.
“Jake! Dude! It’s all right, man! You’ll get ’em next time!” Trevor shouted from the top bleacher.
“Jake, Jake, Jake! Jake, Jake, Jake!” Todd chanted, trying to get the crowd into it. “Jake, Jake, Jake!”
I rolled my eyes at them. Didn’t they know they were just making it worse?
“Oh, no worries, man! Look! Here comes your backslapper to save the day!” Trevor joked loudly, standing up and pointing at me.
“Ally Ryan to the rescue! Woot!” Todd added, raising the roof.
I would have knocked their skulls together, but I had a feeling that had already happened to them too many times. It was probably the whole reason they were like that.
Jake, meanwhile, spotted me and dropped back against the bench, shaking his head. Like I was some huge, pointless disappointment. A waste of a backslapper. Was that what he thought?
Suddenly, Sha
My adrenaline rose in my veins. “I’m his backslapper.”
“I’ll do it. He doesn’t even know who you are,” she said snidely.
I glanced past her shoulder at Jake. So he still hadn’t told anyone we’d met. That Crestie code was as strong as a gag order. I pried my arm from her grip.
“Thanks, but don’t worry about us,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”
I knew that calling me and Jake “us” and “we” would piss her off—show her that her exclusionary tactics were lost on me—and I was right. Her nostrils flared as I walked over to the bench and sat down next to him.
“What is it with you?” I demanded
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“What’s your problem?” I asked, turning my knees toward him.
He glanced at Chloe, Sha
“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about the game!” I replied, blushing.
“What the hell are you doing out there?”
“Excuse me?” he blurted.
“Missing passes, giving them easy steals. I thought you were the star of this team!”
I tried to ignore the obnoxious, a
“Dude, that guy is all over me!” Jake protested, throwing his hand out. “Did you see that illegal tackle? He should have gotten a yellow card for that. It’s not my fault if the refs are freaking blind.”
“Oh, wah, wah, wah,” I replied sarcastically, tilting my head back and forth. “Poor Jake’s getting defended. Are you go
A few people in the stands laughed, A
“Um, Ally?” Trista said, appearing behind us. “This isn’t exactly what I meant.”
“I’m not crying about it,” Jake snapped.
“Oh, no? That’s what it sounds like to me,” I shot back.
He stood up and faced me. “I can run circles around that guy.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. “Oh, so all of a sudden you’re a player?” I said dubiously, standing up to look him in the eye.
“More of a player than you’ll ever be,” he shot back. Was it just me, or was he trying not to smile now too?
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“Then why don’t you try proving it?” I demanded.
“Fine!” he shouted.
“Fine!” I replied.
Suddenly, he gri
“Wow. Nice work, Ally,” Trista said as she walked by. “I think I underestimated you.”
I turned around, gri
jake
“Nice tits, Dorkus,” Hammond said, clapping David Drake on the back.
David gave us a tolerant look. Impressive, considering he was wearing a huge bra on the outside of his soccer jersey and that the bra was stuffed with rancid sweat socks from the locker room’s lost and found. He also had red lipstick on his lips and blue eyeliner around his eyes, plus a purple wig one of my teammates had borrowed from his little sister.
All Hammond’s idea. All his way of putting Drake in his place for taking my spot on the field. Which I was pissed about, but it wasn’t exactly his fault. Still, I guess it was better than the kick in the head Hammond was always threatening to give him.
“Can I get you anything, sirs?” David asked us bitterly.
“I could use a beer,” Hammond said as I tried not to laugh.
“I’m right on top of that, sir,” he said.
As soon as he was gone, Hammond and I both doubled over. “I’m a genius, dude,” Hammond said, smacking my hand, front and back. “The newbies look hilarious.”