Chapter 16
I’m all nerves as the maroon-and-silver sign proclaiming Mystic Hollow High comes into view in front of the brick building at the end of a tree-lined street.
“No way—is this your school?”
“In all its glory,” he jokes. The worn large brick building is idyllic, with green ivy creeping up the sides and tall windows glinting in the sunlight.
Sitting beside Gabe, I can’t help imagining what it might feel like driving to school with him.
The fuzzies I’d feel walking with him as we passed weathered brick walls and entered through the large double doors.
I imagine school bells echoing down long hallways and lockers shutting with satisfying clangs as we rush to class. Gabe walking me to first period.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going inside,” Gabe says, interrupting my daydream.
I’m slightly disappointed. It might’ve been nice to see somewhere Gabe has obviously spent a lot of time. Kind of like looking through old photos to learn more about someone.
He drives around the front of the building, and soon we’re approaching the school’s athletic fields.
As he approaches the football stadium, I tilt my head. “I don’t think you’re familiar with how ‘art lessons’ work,” I say as he parks near the field. “There’s usually a classroom, and easels?”
“Keep an open mind,” he says as he hops out his door, comes around, and opens mine.
As my sneakers kick up dust from the track surrounding the football field, I imagine how exciting it must be here on a game night.
The bleachers full of rowdy students and the field illuminated by Friday-night lights.
I get another pesky vision, this time of Gabe and me hanging out during a game.
I laugh nervously because of course this fantasy hits me as we walk behind the bleachers.
I start to wonder if Gabe ever spent any time under the bleachers with someone special.
I feel Gabe’s eyes on me and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
He clears his throat. “Do you like your clothes?”
My body flushes. What is he thinking? I glance at my shorts and a tank top from a NASA center. “Did I miss some kind of dress code instructions?”
He smirks. “Dress code? Really? I’m asking because if your clothes get ruined during your art lessons, would you be upset?”
I study him, not sure I like where this is going. “These clothes aren’t special, but if we’re painting I prefer an apron.” Gabe only laughs in response.
As we turn the corner, I see a few people sitting on the bleachers. Immediately I spot the twins, Billie and Jaisha, from Kyle’s lake house, along with a couple others I vaguely recognize from the party.
“They’re here,” Billie exclaims as soon as she spots us.
“Gabe, why didn’t you respond to my text?” Jaisha demands. Both are dressed in identical maroon basketball shorts and gray tank tops. “I’m glad I told Kyle to bring extra balloons.”
“We were going to need extras anyway with how bad your aim is,” Billie retorts. The folks behind them laugh.
Everyone is wearing some kind of athletic apparel. My Spidey sense tingles. Whatever is going on, it involves balloons, “art,” and a football field.
Meanwhile, Gabe takes his backpack off and pulls some camera equipment out. Jaisha shakes her head. “There Gabe goes. Setting up his camera equipment everywhere and anywhere but can’t take photos for the school paper anymore.”
Gabe doesn’t miss a beat. “What can I say, I use my photography for art, not gossip.” He winks at me and my stomach flutters.
“Ignore her,” Billie says, giving her sister a dirty look. “She’s annoyed Kyle was selected to be editor next year.”
Jaisha huffs. “Seriously, he covers the state championships, and I handle all the school funding controversy, and Kyle gets editor in chief? At least with Gabe, our paper had some serious news coverage.”
Serious news coverage? I turn to Gabe for an explanation, but he seems more interested in his equipment. I make a mental note to ask him about it later when we’re alone.
“Where is Kyle, anyway?” Billie asks, looking around. “He said he was just going to his car. Should’ve been back by now.”
I jump back as something small and fast flies through the air. It lands with a thump on Gabe’s chest.
Gabe curses as a bright green splotch appears on his white T-shirt. My hand flies to my mouth as my horror turns to laughter. He looks like he was just slimed.
“See, it’s just paint,” a whiny voice says. Kyle holds a bright green bag as he approaches alongside a displeased Shaw and Nessa. This explains why Kyle was running late. He was getting a dressing-down from my security detail.
I swipe a finger through the green goop on Gabriel’s shirt. It feels like a cross between paint and slime.
“It’s milk paint,” Kyle says with pride. “And the water balloons are made of seaweed. Everything is eco-friendly.” He holds up the little green golf ball–sized spheres that wiggle like water balloons.
“It checks out,” Nessa barks before striding off the field. Shaw gives Kyle one last warning look and then joins Nessa on the sidelines.
I tap Gabriel’s shoulder and point at the bright green splat across his chest. “So this is your idea of ‘art’? It looks like a smoothie exploded on you.”
“Art is in the eye of the beholder,” he says smugly.
Kyle bellows so hard his curly hair wobbles like red Jell-O. “It did feel pretty good pelting Gab-a-saurus.”
Gabe’s face turns several shades of red.
“Gab-a-saurus?” I echo.
“I went through a dinosaur period when I was young,” he mutters. He glares at Kyle. “That was a cheap shot, bro.”
Kyle shrugs. “I needed to demonstrate that the balloons aren’t a danger.”
Gabe huffs. “Funny. I’m about to show you how dangerous they can be.” Several folks ooh and aah at the challenge.
“Ohh, are you going to get Jurassic on me?” Kyle says, mimicking a T. rex’s small arms.
“You’re going back to the Stone Age,” I say, and cover my mouth. Gabe and the rest of the folks cackle. “Nice one,” Gabe says, offering me a high five. “Should’ve added ‘throw some shade’ to that bucket list of yours,” he whispers conspiratorily to me.
“Okay, okay, I know when to concede,” Kyle announces.
He rubs his hands as he addresses the group.
“I’m sorry to report that our game of Assassin—an innocent party game where we secretly target one another—is over.
So our grand prize—the best table in senior quad—is still up for grabs.
That’s right, a prime table for you and your buddies to claim bragging rights and bask in legendary lunchtime status. ”
Prime seats and bragging rights—is that something Gabe’s into?
“I couldn’t care less about the table,” Gabe says to me like he’s reading my mind. “Kyle’s dumb game does check off two things on your list: art lessons and a team sport. If I do win, I’ll let anyone sit at that dumb table.”
“Even me,” I say playfully.
He makes a face. “Abby, you wouldn’t have to ask.”
“Listen up,” Kyle shouts. “The game is Last One Standing.” He holds up two sacks full of golf ball–sized water balloons. One bag filled with the green balloons like the one that splattered Gabriel and the other bag with blue balloons. “And these are our weapons.”
He counts everyone. “Perfect, there are twelve of us, so we’ll have three rounds.
Starting with two teams of six and eventually down to the final round and the last three players standing.
The goal: eliminate opposing players by landing a paintball hit directly on their torso.
Only frontal hits count—no back, arms, or legs.
If you’re tagged square in the chest or stomach, you’re out.
And hits to the head are forbidden. The team that eliminates all the players of the opposite team first wins, and those players advance to the next round. ”
My cheeks flush as Kyle announces that I’m his first pick.
I try to play it cool, but inside, I’m a little stunned—and weirdly flattered.
Not missing a beat, Gabriel insists that he join the team with me.
Billie and Jaisha are next since the other players didn’t want to have to deal with being able to tell them apart.
Our sixth player is a guy built like a bulldog, stocky and intense.
Gabe leans over and whispers, “He was the best slugger on his baseball team.” And I believe him.
He looks like someone who could knock a water balloon into the next ZIP code.
I’m relieved he won’t be pelting any water balloons at me.
Kyle and the Bulldog get a couple buckets by the bleachers and set them on opposite sides of the football field. “We’re the Blue Team,” Kyle shouts. “If you’re hit with a green splat on your chest it means you’re out.”
Gabriel grumbles as he looks at his T-shirt, which already has a green splat on it from when Kyle hit him earlier. I look away quickly when I see him begin to remove his shirt. How am I going to be able to concentrate with that body running around?
Kyle rolls his eyes. “Here comes Gabe the Babe,” he teases.
He claps and yells for everyone to line up at the fifty-yard line.
I turn to follow Kyle but hear Gabe calling my name.
He walks beside me. His copper eyes look concerned.
“This is honestly a lot more intense than I thought it would be,” he says.
“Billie said ‘water balloon fight with paint.’ I didn’t think it would be the Hunger Games.
Seriously, if you want to bail, we can. No judgment. ”
I sigh. “Regular Abigail would probably prefer to watch than play, but Operation Bucket List Abby says, I volunteer as tribute.”
Gabe snorts at my impersonation. “Then may the odds favor us, or however it goes…”
As our two teams line up at the fifty-yard line to face off against one another, the air is charged with tension and my heart pounds in my chest. This might be even more nerve-racking than debate competitions—at least those I’ve prepped for. A water balloon fight? I don’t have the faintest idea.
The player across from me is a girl who looks like she’s captain of the rugby team. One hip-check from her and I’ll be sent back to the Reagan Administration.
She gives me a curt “hey.” I try not to melt into a puddle. I play tennis, do yoga; I don’t do these physical group things. I manage to squeak a “hello” back and then force myself to stop my usual small-talk pleasantries. The game is Last One Standing, not Miss Congeniality.
Another large presence settles besides me. Gabe leans close. “As soon as the game starts we’ll need to grab as many balloons as possible while avoiding getting hit in the chest.” I follow his gaze toward the bucket of balloons at the twenty-yard line as an idea forms in my head.
Kyle yells, “Game on!”
A rush of adrenaline surges through me as I grab Gabe’s hand. “Here’s the plan. We stick together. I’ll stand in front of your chest as you throw and you’ll block my chest as I throw.”
Gabe laughs. “Abby, our backs are going to get pelted!”
“I know, but at least we won’t be eliminated.”
We reach the bucket and load up on water balloons.
“Three o’clock!” I yell at Gabe as Rugby Girl comes barreling toward us with water balloons in hand.
In a move that Shaw would appreciate, Gabe throws himself in front of me in time to block a balloon. It pelts him hard on his arm. Another one goes whizzing by both our bodies.
As Gabe blocks my body I peek out and launch a water balloon. It’s a direct hit on Rugby Girl’s chest. She looks at the green splat in shock.
I launch another water balloon at a boy and pelt him ten yards away.
Gabriel looks at me. “Wait, the girl who trips over her own shoes is an amazing shot.”
I eliminate another player. “Right? I’ve gone to so many county fairs on the campaign trail and played those hit-the-target games, I guess I am a pretty good shot.”
Gabe laughs. He looks behind to make sure we’re all clear and then bends so his lips are inches from mine.
My body quivers as he lifts his fingers to my face, gently streaking green under each eye. I’m positive my face is full-on campaign-poster red from his touch. “That’s your war paint, FDOTUS,” he says with satisfaction. “Here’s the strategy. I’m your human shield. You take the shots.”
Our eyes lock, and for a heartbeat, the rest of the world blurs. It’s just us.
“What happens if we have to eliminate each other?” I ask.
He grins, warm and unshakable. “Then I hope you let me sit at your table.”