Chapter 8
QUINN
Istood in front of my mirror, combing my hair back into a tight bun.
I dabbed on some perfume and scanned my row of clip-on Squishmallows, switching up the one on my bag for Maui the Pineapple.
All Squishmallows had a name and a story, and with her cute, sunny face, Maui hated being scared and believed in facing her fears.
I needed that attitude desperately before the bus ride from hell.
Expecting the bus kids to be in mean mode again, I dawdled, then sat near the front of the bus.
Cowardice maybe, but I didn’t want any aggravation this early in the morning.
Also, I didn’t want to sit near Miller Trask, a flush sweeping across my cheeks at the memory of him on his motorbike. Ughh! That had been so bizarre.
As a bunch of freshmen jumped on, the noise levels rose. I put my earbuds in and turned up my music, blocking out the rest of the bus. Keep to myself, lay low and soon enough I’d have my place on the soccer team and start to feel a sense of belonging.
I managed to avoid Miller at our locker but knew I’d have to see him in Health and Nutrition class, rushing to get there before him.
As fast as my feet moved, I hadn’t beaten Ash and therefore would be forced to sit next to Miller, though the sight of him entering the room in an unbuttoned red and black flannel shirt open over a black t-shirt sent another shiver down my bare arms. I hugged myself and regretted leaving my sweater in my locker.
Miller’s glance was one of vague recognition, like sitting next to me was the pits of the earth. And for some crazy reason that stabbed at me, causing me to reach out to Maui the Pineapple, to squish her and feel the softness in my palm, a little bit of comfort.
Luckily, there was a worksheet to complete so no interaction was needed with Ash or Miller and I kept my head down, flying through the work which wasn’t too challenging. I’d covered macro and micro nutrients at Brizendine.
“Now, let’s analyze last night’s meal,” Miss Deeley said. “Share with your desk what you ate last night and work out the nutritional value of each meal.”
I jolted in total panic, knowing the soda and bag of potato chips I’d ended up consuming contained no nutrition whatsoever. Just a bunch of empty calories. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I had a proper meal with meat and salad and vegetables.
Ash volunteered his food intake first, a home cooked meal of fried chicken, potato wedges and green beans. It ticked all the boxes for macronutrients, if not containing too much fat.
Miller looked at me expectantly, but I shook my head. “You go.” I was still desperately racking my brain to come up with something. Ramen noodles or potato chips was going to make me sound like a loser.
“Hamburgers,” Miller said with a bit of a laugh. “Ground beef, cheese, lettuce, pickles on a bun. Oh and ketchup, of course.”
Ash and Miller argued over the choice of ketchup versus mayonnaise while analyzing the ratio of carbs, protein and fat.
In the meantime, I decided I’d say pizza.
Pizza was universal and inclusive and nobody could criticize me for it.
Though at the thought of it, I craved one more than anything.
I was starting to tire of the sandwich, Oreo cookies and grapes combo I’d been eating everyday for lunch.
I listed a bunch of toppings to ensure I had a variety of nutrients, pepperoni, mozzarella, mushrooms, spinach and tomato sauce.
It sounded divine, my mouth watering as we worked out it was a carb heavy meal but there was protein and calcium in the cheese and some iron and vitamins in the vegetables. At least it made me seem normal.
“Was it from Pizza Blast?” Ash piped up.
“Huh?” I wasn’t expecting any questions.
“Pizza Blast? Or Heavenly Slices?”
“Uh, um...” I dithered, “Um, I’m not sure. Mom got it.”
“Was it in a red box or a black one?”
I felt my cheeks flame, worried he was going to catch me out in my lie. I couldn’t recall having been to either place and maybe mushrooms and spinach weren’t a thing here. “What does it matter?”
“Pizza Blast comes in a red box. Their bases are thin crust, so less carbs,” Ash said.
“Oh. I think it was a thin crust. Yeah, it was definitely thin crust.” I smiled, but my stomach churned in unease. Lying sucked, and so did Miller’s narrowed gaze, scrutinizing me as if he knew I was telling tales.
Desperate to move on from the topic of fake pizza, I asked, “Hey, was that your motorbike I heard last night?” .
“Why? Did your mother make another noise complaint?” Miller clipped, his upper lip twisting in a sneer, his tone unmistakably aggressive.
I lowered my head and turned away, taking a great interest in the clicking mechanism of my pen and hiding my cheeks that were heating up to five thousand degrees Fahrenheit.
It must’ve been a moment of madness to think he was ruggedly cute yesterday.
I ignored him for the rest of the period and as soon as class was dismissed, I zoomed out, keen to get away from him.
Coach McLean had called for the soccer trialists to meet in the gym after school. I slipped into the locker room like a shadow, hoping not to catch the attention of Livvy and Tori, but thankfully they’d already changed, as had Sadie. I tagged along with the last group of girls.
We sat on the benches as Coach recited a spiel about team culture and commitment and how representing the Sonics was an honor.
“But unfortunately, not everyone can be selected,” she said, clearing her throat before reading out a list of names.
Livvy Cortez was named as captain, followed by Tori Kane.
I held my breath, unsure of the order she was announcing names as it didn’t appear to be alphabetical.
Jessica, Emma, Lindsay, Abby were called, and I only relaxed when Sadie Hill was named.
If Sadie had made the team, I was certain of a place too.
“Well, congratulations to all those girls,” Coach said, “and to those who didn’t make it, we thank you for trialing.
” She led a round of applause and I clapped along with everyone, but in a state of shock and mild panic because I hadn’t heard my name.
Had I been too nervous to listen properly or had Coach mispronounced it in such a way that I hadn’t recognized?
Sometimes people could be confused by the spelling of Devereaux.
In the past I’d been called Quinn Dever-roo and even Quinn Dever-rocks.
In a daze, I watched girls move around me, some heading straight for the door, others milling around and high fiving, my predominant thought still being that if Sadie was in the team, I must’ve made it.
Because, without intentionally being mean, Sadie had been a terrible player, like really terrible.
“Well, you can go now.” Livvy stood in front of me with Tori. “Coach only wants to talk to the team now.”
“Yeah, bad luck,” Tori said with the most insincere smile.
I rose to my feet, everything a blur as I tried to comprehend that I hadn’t made the team. But how? If Sadie Hill had made it, surely I should’ve been selected!
“Bye bye!” Livvy giggled, waving her fingers at me in a sign that I should clear off. Tori joined in and I could do nothing but head for the door.
“Devereaux!” Coach’s voice boomed and the noise in the gym lowered.
I hurried over to her with a quiet optimism that she’d realized the error of her ways and had accidentally missed my name.
“Yes, Coach?” I brimmed with confidence.
“You trialed well and showed some nice skills, Devereaux,” she said.
“Thank you, Coach” I said, smiling and ready for her apology, but baffled as to why she was suddenly calling me by my last name.
“It was a tough decision, but I had to make it.” Coach’s mouth tightened and a deep groove embedded between her eyebrows. “In this case, I didn’t think you were the right fit for the team.”
“Excuse me?” I exhaled in a puff of disbelief.
“I just don’t think you’d be a good fit for the Sonics,” she said. “I know you’ll be disappointed but that’s life.”
“A...a good fit?” I’d stuttered, unsure what that meant. Weren’t players selected on merit, on ability, on athletic talent?
“One of my coaching slogans is ‘We rise by lifting each other up.’ Unfortunately, I don’t see you as a team player.” Coach cleared her throat and offered a suggestion. “Perhaps you’d be more suited to an individual sport. Golf, maybe?”
With a curt dismissal, she turned from me and strode away. Livvy and Tori were right there in my face. They both made a heart shape with their hands, heads tilted, openly sniggering and taunting me.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, I implored myself, drawing air deep into my lungs.
“Too bad,” Livvy whispered with a disingenuous smile. “Thanks for trialing, Prep School Reject.”
“Yeah, Prep School Reject,” Tori echoed in a mocking tone.
Terrified that they knew the real reason I was no longer at Brizendine, I stammered, “Well, good...luck for the season.” I was determined not to drop to their level of nastiness but thinking, ‘You’ll need it.
’ Yet I didn’t allow those words to escape my lips.
I would exit with dignity, my head held high, my ears ringing with Mom’s instructions to always act with grace and class.
My quick feet took me to the locker room, retrieving my bags in a rush.
Loading my backpack onto my back and my tote onto my shoulder, I didn’t bother to change out of my soccer clothes.
I headed out, aimlessly trudging my way through the hallways, not particularly in a hurry to get to the salon because Mom wouldn’t be expecting me so early.