Chapter Nineteen
“Hey, I heard you’re coming to the scrimmage today,” Hailey, one of Hannah’s teammates, says. She leans against the locker next to mine, her field hockey bag slung over her shoulder, the hook of her stick poking out.
“Yeah, Hannah invited me,” I say, having practically memorized my excuse for coming to the game. “I figure since you guys are showing up and supporting the festival committee, the least I can do is return the favor.”
“Aww, Clarity! You’re welcome at every game, VIP,” Hailey says.
We cut through the few students between mine and Hannah’s lockers, joining more girls from the team as Hannah shoulders her bag. I recognize Rowena and Olivia. Hannah flashes me a smile, one that I mirror while quietly thanking the Lord it’s hard to see when I blush with my skin tone.
“Did you hear that the scrimmage got changed to a game?” Rowena asks Hailey.
“What are you talking about?”
“The coaches decided to make this game count. It’s not just for practice,” Hannah explains, focusing on Hailey but glancing at me.
“Is that good or bad?” I ask, noticing the way Hannah subtly moves to stand next to me.
Olivia opens her mouth, but Hannah jumps to answer first. “It’s good because it means this could get us one step closer to playoffs, but it’s bad because we didn’t spend this week’s practices preparing strategies against Twinsburg.”
“We’re gonna do fine,” Rowena assures everyone. “We’re way better than Twinsburg.”
“You’re in for a good game, Clarity,” Olivia tells me. I smile back at her, happy to be included, impending first date aside.
“Clarity!”
I jump, the sound of Kristen’s voice shocking me out of the moment. I turn toward her, aware of the rest of the girls following suit.
She shuffles down the hall, passing the thinning crowd as students leave, eager to start their weekends. When she reaches us, she’s a little out of breath. She pauses to look at everyone. I catch the way she lingers on Hannah before focusing on me.
“Where’s the fire?” I ask.
“I was… getting stuff… from the… photography… room,” she huffs, holding up a finger so she can suck in one final deep breath. “Anyhoo, I wanted to see if you need a ride home.”
I blink, momentarily confused. She didn’t say anything about a ride or hanging out when we were just in history together. But after Tuesday, even if I did need a ride, I’m not in the mood for any surprises today.
“Actually, I’m going to the field hockey game,” I say.
“You can come if you want,” Hannah adds.
No no no.
“But I understand if you don’t want to,” I say quickly. “I mean, I know school sports aren’t really your thing.”
“Well, I have homework I can do,” Kristen says, twisting her mouth the way she does when she’s doing an internal mental debate.
“There will be baked goods,” Hailey interjects, bobbing her eyebrows at Kristen.
“Baked goods?” Kristen asks.
“The first wave of homemade desserts for the festival committee bake sale,” Hailey explains. “My mom made some so we could catch the scrimmage crowd. They’re all fall themed.”
Kristen, being a fellow baker herself, considers this with an impressed expression. She nods at Hailey before telling me, “I’m in.”
“Great! We’d better get going,” Hannah says, turning and leading the way toward the girls’ locker room.
Kristen and I fall a few steps behind them as we head down the hall. We part ways when they go to change, and Kristen and I push on the double doors and step outside at the back of the school, facing the fields.
“You really don’t have to come. I know you don’t like Hannah,” I say now that we’re alone, hoping to somehow get out of what will most likely be the most awkward afternoon ever.
“I don’t not like her,” she says, though it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “I just wish she wasn’t imposing on what was supposed to be your one-woman president-ship.”
“I told you already that she’s not imposing.”
“Okay, but I worry. Clarity, sometimes you don’t speak up.”
“I speak up,” I insist.
“But, like, you’re the kind of person who if you want orange ribbons and Hannah wants red ribbons, you’re going to buckle.”
“I’m not going to buckle. I’m not spineless,” I say, a little offended.
We follow the path past the football field over to the field hockey field.
“Hannah isn’t some bully,” I say, huffing a little from how heavy my backpack is.
“I’m not saying she is. Right now, I’m simply tagging along to the game I was invited to,” she says, leaning on that word and making a point of looking at me. I roll my eyes.
“If you insist,” I say. I know if I keep pushing, she’ll figure out that the fact is I don’t want her there.
A little while later, the game is in full swing. No one has scored yet, but both teams have been keeping each other at bay, pushing the ball up and down the field without getting close enough to either goalie to make a shot.
I keep tracking the plays, catching myself every few minutes and relocating Hannah on the field whenever she’s not in the thick of the action.
Kristen lets out a snort behind me and I turn to look at her.
She’s lying down in the grass. We decided not to sit in the bleachers because we didn’t want to be in the crowd of students and parents.
With her head resting against her backpack like a pillow, Kristen is propped up enough to see the game whenever it’s at our end of the field.
“God, they’re almost as bad as the cheerleaders,” she mumbles.
“What does that even mean?”
“The super-short skirts,” Kristen says, like it’s obvious.
“That’s just their uniform,” I point out.
“Still, just seems like a bunch of girls wanting attention—just like cheerleaders.”
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask, sitting up and turning around to look at her.
She glances at me before pulling her phone out of her pocket. “What do you mean?”
“When did you start insulting random girls you don’t know?”
“When did you start caring about random girls you don’t know?” she asks, mocking my tone.
“I don’t care,” I say quickly, instantly realizing that’s a lie.
I might not know the team, but they saved the committee, they welcomed me to dinner even though I don’t belong, and Rowena even offered up her house for the festival committee baking party tomorrow.
And yeah, they did that all for Hannah, because Hannah is the kind of person who I myself would do almost anything for.
“I’m just saying they haven’t done anything to us,” I mumble.
“Okay, but they have,” she insists, sitting up. “They took over the committee.”
“They’re helping,” I say, my guilt getting replaced with disbelief. “Why are you so stuck on that?”
“Stuck on what?”
Vincent materializes, coming around the fence.
“Hey, babe,” Kristen coos, her tone shifting away from confrontational to something more familiar.
Vincent plops down on the grass next to Kristen and leans over to give her a kiss. I look away, shut out of their private moment.
“We were just talking about how Clarity is becoming a field hockey groupie,” Kristen tells him.
“We were not,” I snap, looking down and pretending to be combing the grass for a four-leaf clover instead of giving Kristen the chance to undoubtedly catch how much her comment bothers me.
“Clarity, lighten up, I’m just messing with you,” Kristen says, laughing.
I look over at her and she winks. Just like that, her attention shifts.
“So, how was detention?” she asks.
She and Vincent sit facing each other, legs folded crisscross applesauce with their knees touching. She wraps her arms around his neck, and just like that, it’s not Kristen and me anymore. It’s Kristen and Vincent, and I’m here, a few feet away.
Even though Kristen dropped it, I can’t help but wonder what she would’ve said if Vincent hadn’t shown up. Her poking holes is exactly what I’m afraid of. Field hockey groupie is practically a stone’s throw from field hockey girlfriend.
I’ve never had to lie to her before, but in just a matter of weeks, it’s become part of our friendship. Like we’re a trio now: me, Kristen, and all the unsaid things.
When the game ends, we make our way across the field. Ridgeway’s team is still high-fiving and reeling from the win, but Hannah is quick to grab her bag and walk over to us. Her uniform is drenched, and she has some dirt smudged across her exposed skin, yet somehow she looks exactly right.
“What did you guys think?” she asks.
“You dragged them through the dirt,” Vincent says. “Y’all are ruthless.”
“Definitely not as boring as football,” Kristen relents, to my surprise. I tear my gaze away from Hannah, and Kristen gives me a small smile. I return it with more appreciation than she’ll ever realize.
“I agree, not boring at all,” I say, shifting my weight.
I bring most of my books home with me on the weekends, so my backpack is extra heavy.
I catch Hannah’s eye, and the hint of concern reminds me of when she carried my bag for me on the first day of school.
I doubt she’d offer to carry my bag right now; that would be too obvious.
But I can see the conflict in her expression when I shift my weight to my other hip again.
“We should get going,” I say to Hannah. Then, to Kristen, “We need to prepare for the baking party tomorrow.”
Kristen reels back, her eyebrows flying to the top of her forehead. “You are having a baking party?”
“A bunch of committee members are getting together to bake stuff to sell this week,” I explain.
“And you weren’t going to invite me?” Kristen asks, her voice dripping with disbelief.
I didn’t even think of that: Kristen loves baking, and even though she’s not on the committee, she would be an asset in the kitchen. She could still help out… if I invite her.
“You could—” Hannah starts.
“It’s just going to be committee members, and it’s at Rowena’s house. She’s one of the field hockey players. I’m sorry, Kris,” I say, cutting Hannah off.
Kristen’s face falls and I hate being the one to steal her smile.
“We’ll have to have our own baking party sometime. We could do a movie night and make some insane dessert,” I propose, hoping to smooth over the sting.
Kristen shakes her head, but a small smile sneaks through. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
As she and Vincent make their way toward the opposite side of the field, I’m surprised to realize that I’m glad she has him.
Hannah and I head to her car, passing some of her teammates on the way and snagging a couple of spiderweb brownies.
“Thank you, God,” I groan when I set my backpack down in Hannah’s trunk.
“I bet you put weights in the bottom just to look impressive,” Hannah teases, chuckling.
“A weighted backpack is how I keep up with my athletic gir—with you,” I kid as we climb into the front seats.
With the doors closed, shut in the small space of her car, Hannah and I are alone. Not as alone as I’d like, evidenced by a few straggling players still crossing the parking lot, but more alone than we have been.
I turn to Hannah, excited to say something—anything—without feeling nervous about someone overhearing. Only, I catch her sniffing her armpit. She locks eyes with me, and for a moment, we just stare at each other, frozen. Me, open-mouthed. Her, arm raised in the air and head dipped low.
I break down laughing. She does too, and while the release is familiar, I can’t remember the last time we let go like this together.
“Okay, so,” Hannah says, regaining her composure, “I should shower so that I’m not stinky for our first date.”
I love the way the words “first date” sound in her voice. I love the fact that she said it so casually, as if we don’t have so much baggage behind us, so much buildup to this moment. Today is simply the first time we are going out.
And I am simply more than excited.