Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“Ow!” Morgan bellows, jerking back from the hairbrush in my hands.
“Do you want braids or not?” I ask.
Morgan huffs. “Do you have to pull so hard?”
Theo looks up from assembling the three lunches on the opposite side of the counter, and our eyes lock for a split second.
It’s her first day of high school , his look reminds me.
If she wanted fucking French braids, she should have gotten up when I told her to , my look fires back.
“I’ll do my best,” I say to Morgan as I start weaving again.
To distract myself from the butterflies tickling up my chest, I go through my schedule again.
Choir, Math, AP Lang, first lunch, Chem, History, and the dreaded P.E.
At least I got P.E. at the end of the day, so I won’t have to sit through my classes all sweaty.
And I have Math and AP Lang with Wren, and choir with Emmie.
Do William and I have any of the same classes this year?
I’ve seen him off and on all summer, but only in passing.
He’s either just coming off the field from practice while I’m arriving for marching band, or I’ll see him from afar at the lake, or at the Sweet Spot, surrounded by his football friends and the pretty girls who follow them around like sheep.
What’s it like never having to beg for attention?
To be surrounded by people who adore you?
Ten minutes later, we’re climbing into Theo’s truck—me in the back and Morgan in front with Theo. Secretly, I love the first day of school. New backpack, new pencil case, new classes, new beginnings. Everything is clean. Fresh. Open. The possibilities are endless.
“Lemme borrow your phone,” Morgan says to Theo.
“Nope.” He turns out of our driveway.
Morgan gives a loud groan. “I’m getting a job so I can get my own.”
“Your job is to focus on school this year,” I say, then regret how bossy it comes out. I sound like someone’s prim governess.
Morgan rolls her eyes. “It’s dumb that lunch is closed-campus.”
Theo and I make eyes again. “There are clubs you can go to if you don’t want to eat in the cafeteria,” he says.
Morgan gives another heavy sigh. “Is it June yet?”
Theo pulls into the student parking lot and we pile out. The second Morgan’s feet hit the ground, she races off, calling someone’s name. I squint into the sunshine, but all I can make out is a group of kids huddled in the courtyard.
“She’ll be fine,” Theo says in a soft voice.
We bump fists before heading in our separate directions. When I get to choir, I’m mauled by Emmie who wraps her arms around my shoulders and squeezes the stuffing out of me.
“We’re so doing a duet this year,” she squeals.
Nerves spike under my skin but I give her a high ten. “‘Creepin’ In’ would be fun.”
“Hell yes, girl!”
Across the room, Crosby has already chosen his spot with the tenors. I look away, but not before he sees me. Even though I knew he’d be here, I’m not ready to talk to him. Ever since he kissed me, I’ve been avoiding him.
I manage to slip out of choir right at the bell, and I don’t see him again until lunch.
Thankfully I notice him first and manage to steer my friends into the upstairs hall where the French teacher lets us eat in the pod.
I’m relieved to discover that the only other class I share with Crosby is AP Lang, but when I get to P.E.
, I have a bigger problem: William and his homies are heading into the boy’s locker room.
Of course, this would be the one time I see Will each day—in my least favorite place, doing the one thing I suck at.
When I get to my locker, my stomach sinks even deeper into the floor.
I’m surrounded by athletes—on my right is a volleyball player and on the left is a soccer star—both, looking completely at ease in this dungeon.
Not only because they have all the right clothes to change into—colorful, cute sports bras and tiny little shorts and bright white socks and new sneakers—but they have the right body parts .
Toned abs and lean, muscular arms tanned by the summer sun and strong, agile legs that know how to kick and run and do everything else.
I hurry into my ugly shorts and too big t-shirt and the same sneakers I wore last year. At least my boobs finally grew and I actually need a sports bra.
After lining up for attendance, we’re ushered out to the field.
It’s like being swept up in a herd of wild buffalo—swinging elbows and loud conversations and huffing breaths and thundering feet.
I don’t even try to make eye contact with William before he takes off, in the lead. He probably doesn’t even know I’m here.
Could I just accidentally get lost on the way to the field?
“Pick it up, Hannah!” Mr. Paris barks from behind me. Startled, I try to hurry but the buffalo herd just pulls away.
Once we reach the field, I’m able to catch my breath while we’re divided into six teams—thankfully by the two teachers and not by captains choosing because I’d be last—and then we’re set loose on the field to play ultimate frisbee.
I sort of know the rules, but it doesn’t matter because nobody on my team throws me the frisbee.
But I run around pretending because the teachers will mark me down if I wander off to make daisy chains like I did in middle school.
When our team plays William’s, I get so distracted watching him operate that I trip over another teammate and crack my chin on someone’s shoulder on my way to the hard ground.
A metallic taste fills my mouth, like I’ve bit my cheek.
A shadow looms over me when I roll over to get up.
“You okay?”
With the scent of dry dirt clinging to my nose, I blink up at William, who’s not even breathing hard. “Yeah.”
He offers me a hand, and I reach for it. No sooner do our palms make contact than I’m on my feet, like I weigh nothing.
“You sure?” Behind him, our teams are playing on without us, shouting at each other while zooming up and down the field like a swarm of bees.
Huffing hard, I spit the gross blood into the dirt then lick my teeth to make sure they’re all there. “You get hit like that all the time?”
“That was nothing.” He flashes me the most devastating smile. Straight white teeth and plush lips, his deep blue eyes sparkling like the surface of the ocean on a sunny day. “Padding helps.”
“Right,” I croak.
“Hayes!” one of his teammates shouts, the frisbee soaring his way. Will darts off, snatching it in midair like he levitated, then passes it to another teammate in the end zone to score.
After thirty-nine more minutes of this torture, Mr. Paris finally blows the whistle and everyone heads for the locker room.
I would hurry if I had the energy, but it’s a hundred degrees and this is the fastest I’ve moved since the last day of PE freshman year.
Thankfully, I’m left alone in my walk of shame.
Because marching band practices right after school, I don’t have to rush off, and I’m the last one to leave the locker room. When I step outside, the sudden brightness makes me squint.
“Charlie?”
For an instant, I think it’s William, and if my heart were a kite, it would fill the sky.
But my eyes adjust, and the kite bursts into flames. “Crosby? What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.” He smiles, and I can’t help but laugh. It’s disarming how honest he is sometimes. “You’re going to band, right? I’m walking that way.”
Nerves kick up beneath my diaphragm as he falls in next to me.
“How was your first day?” He moves a little closer to me so our arms almost touch.
Is he going to try to hold hands with me? “Not bad. How about you?”
“Unequivocally good.”
“Nice.”
We turn the corner and enter the shade of the courtyard. Sometimes kids hang out here after school, but it’s almost empty today. From the front of the school comes the rumble of several buses pulling away.
“So, I um, want to ask you something.”
My stomach takes a dive.
“Homecoming,” he blurts. “Will you go with me?”
It’s like the words travel through molasses to get to my brain. Homecoming? “Oh, Crosby, I…”
“We can go as friends, if you want. There’s a group going. Josh and Crystal, and Neil’s asking Emmie. It would be fun.”
Homecoming isn’t even on my radar. It’s a month away! And it’s not that I don’t want to go, but maybe I was hoping it would be more…special.
“Do you mean it, about the friends part?” I risk a glance at him.
“Of course.” His tone has an edge of hurt, and I feel bad for avoiding him these past few weeks. “I’m sorry about the…kiss. It won’t happen again.”
I file this away for later. “Then, yes. I’d love to go.” I mean, what if this is my only chance?
His face lights up. “Excellent!”
At the band room, we say goodbye—thankfully, without one of his awkward hugs—and he continues on to where his dad picks him up on the other side of the field to avoid the traffic.
As I step into the noisy band room to trade my backpack for my trumpet, I wait for the excitement to kick on inside me.
After all, I have a date to HoCo and it’s only the first day of school!
And I’m sure Emmie will say yes to Neil because they’ve been meeting under the bleachers to make out after band practice since August. So I’ll get to go with one of my best friends.
Maybe we can go dress shopping together. Her mom is super nice.
But it’s like my internal thermostat is set at lukewarm. Be grateful , I tell myself. Crosby’s a little nerdy, but he can be fun. We’ll have a good time, with minimal drama. That’s a better experience than a lot of people will have.
“Will’s family’s having a cookout at Hazel Creek on Saturday for his birthday,” Theo says when he picks me up after band practice. “They’ve invited us.”
“Us?” I ask to clarify.
“Linnea’s friends with Mo. I think it’d be good for them to hang out. She’s a good kid.”
The things he’s not saying blip in my mind like a neon sign. Morgan’s got a reason to go, and Theo’s got a reason to go, but I’m only invited because we run in a pack?