Chapter 15 Sabrina
The first football game arrives on a truly gorgeous Friday, and I’m more excited for it than I’ve been in a long time.
The halls are full of students in blue, many wearing jerseys and face paint.
Posters line every bank of lockers, Ms. Moore brings football-field dip to math and invents some problem sets to make it “educational,” and I pass out pom-poms and flags during every passing period.
“Go, Hawks!” I chirp, and it gets echoed back to me so much, it may as well be my own name.
As long as I don’t think about the kiss—the earth-shattering, ill-advised, plan-disrupting kiss that will absolutely not happen again—everything is going smoothly.
Priya and Naomi locked in the Greenfield theater for homecoming, which is almost out of our budget, but at this point, I’ll take anything that gives us a venue so I have something to tell all the girls who are desperate to match their dresses to the vibe.
We’ll get creative with decorations, fish for donations from local businesses, and—as long as I follow the plan—pull it off just barely in the black.
Like Tyler said, maybe it’ll even be better than our typical dance.
I can’t stop smiling.
The handful of clouds in the otherwise blue sky turn to cotton-candy colors as the sun sets.
When the lights flick on over the field, casting everything into dramatic light and shadow, I shiver.
The marching band kicks in, perfectly synchronized, all brass and snares and wheeling color guard, and my entire chest expands with pride.
There’s a reason football feels so epic, and it’s not just the way it mimics old problematic wars.
It’s impossible not to be filled with a sense of wonder and power when you survey the expanse of turf and imagine your team courageously putting up a stand against your greatest enemies (the town next door).
I laugh to myself as I set up the merch table. It’s all just a game—but it’s more than a game too, and I’m delighted to be any small part of it.
When the gates open, a flood of blue and white storms up the bleachers, feet pounding against the aluminum. Fans turn my way as soon as they see the signs the Spirit Committee made.
Team Pride, One Bead at a Time!
Because the Best Fans Deserve the Best Jewels!
Where Spirit Meets Style!
Harper had muttered something about going a little overboard, but I disagree. I can still see between the signs, which tells me there’s room for at least one more next time!
Sure enough, we can barely keep up with demand.
Students flood our table, clutching Styrofoam cups of cider and oohing over Harper’s wares.
I’d tried to convince her to keep it simple—most people like school colors, player numbers, and easy slogans about the Hawks—but she brushed off my advice and started monologuing about artistic integrity.
And she knew what she was talking about, because even her stranger designs are flying off the shelves.
Hawks Don’t Huddle, We Hunt!
Most Talon-ted Team in the League
Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose!
“You don’t need to know much about football to make some Hawk puns,” Harper says smugly.
I frown. “Is this one a Friday Night Lights reference?”
She ignores me. “You should pick yours out before they’re all gone, Sabrina. Can I interest you in a number? Maybe… thirteen?”
My eyes fly to the poster of the team hanging above our table. Three guesses who number 13 belongs to.
“There’s nothing happening there.” But I’m fiddling with the ribbon in my hair, and the smug smile creeping onto Harper’s face tells me she definitely notices.
She raises an eyebrow. “Mm-hmm.”
Her tone is as dry as the Sahara.
I busy myself keeping records of our sales, but my mind is already spinning out.
Tyler and I haven’t had any time alone since that kiss. The team’s been practicing late and I’ve been preparing the Spirit Committee for this game, so the most we’ve exchanged is a smile in the halls or a wave before or after school.
I’m not mad he kissed me. I flush at the memory—God, I’m anything but mad. It was the best kiss of my life, hands down. The way his hand cupped my cheek—the arm around my waist—the tentative pressure of his lips, which I’d been the one to escalate, no hesitation there—
I shake my head to jolt myself out of my daydream.
It might have been a good kiss, but I have so many reasons I shouldn’t date him.
I don’t know anything about him, and Kara heard those rumors about his supposed dark backstory, whatever that means!
It can’t happen again. We’re already lucky Ryan didn’t catch us the other night.
The thought of him finding out we lied to him—even if we didn’t mean to!
—and being hurt, and getting mad at me… It makes me shudder.
Ryan doesn’t have a vindictive bone in his body, but if he’s already making up stories about what happened between us, I can’t risk any more.
There’s no going back once the Hamilton Lakes High gossip mill gets going—my safe space would be ruined for good.
Even if I can still feel Tyler’s lips against mine. I raise a hand to see if they’re as swollen and tingling as I imagine, but of course it’s all in my head.
Harper’s watching me with a soft gaze. As if she sees every emotion flickering across my face.
So, I deflect. “How’re you doing this fall, by the way?
” I pour concern into my voice. It’s genuine—I’ve been meaning to check on her, have been caught up in too much other nonsense to find the time.
It’s just especially convenient that doing so might throw her off the scent of what is turning out to be a full-blown and very ill-advised crush.
“With Dawson gone? Are you managing the distance okay?”
Harper sets down the bracelets she’s been fiddling with, turning to me with a frown.
“Yeah. I don’t think I could manage it with anyone but him, though.
He’s never missed a nightly FaceTime, I wake up to ‘good morning’ texts—he shipped me deep dish pizza his first week with the Steel, so I could participate in the team’s Sunday-night ritual—”
I laugh. “That boy is so down bad.”
Her face glows. “Yeah. Yeah, and I’m pretty obsessed with him.
So, it’s worth it, and we’ve got a schedule worked out so we can see each other about every other week.
But I miss him, you know? You get used to having someone around, and suddenly even the little things remind you they’re gone.
Every bacon cheeseburger I serve at the Lakeside, every time I see the hockey facility, every game…
” She waves a hand around at us. “This kind of thing makes me wish he were here. Or that I was cheering him on.” She makes a face and laughs. “Wow, what have I become?”
I can’t help grinning. “Love does things to a girl, huh?” I wrap an arm around her.
It’s nice seeing her so happy, after everything she was battling last year.
It sends a tiny pang of longing through me.
Harper and Dawson navigating hurdles better than my own parents makes me wonder if maybe it really is possible.
If maybe it’s worth it. Mostly I don’t mind my friendly-and-flirty stance, but for some reason, this year…
I shake it off, squeezing her comfortingly. “This year will be over before you know it. And if anyone will come out of it even stronger, it’s you two.”
She leans into me. “Thanks. Now…” Her voice gets shrewd. “About love doing things to a girl? I recognize the signs, you know…”
I grimace. So much for throwing her off the scent.
But then, thank God, Marissa’s marching toward us holding a thermos and wearing an extremely grumpy expression. “Okay, can you fill me in on the rules of football real quick?”
Harper straightens up, frowning. “What’re you doing here?”
“Logan got sick.” She rolls her eyes. “Can you believe it? God, it’s a good thing we didn’t elect him editor in chief this year.
He doesn’t understand the meaning of the word ‘deadline.’ Though I might end up giving him some hands-on experience with the ‘dead’ part if he keeps this up,” she grumbles.
Then she brightens, holding up a finger.
“However! An editor in chief never lets her paper down. And besides, a sports column will add diversity to my portfolio. So, I’m trying to make the most of it. Now, explain.”
She fixes me with an intent look, and I realize she’s not messing around. “Oh. Okay. So, um, there’s this thing called downs…”
Marissa scribbles notes while I walk her through the basics, then looks up skeptically. “That doesn’t sound so bad. What’s all the fuss about?”
I can’t help laughing. “Well, it gets a lot more complicated once you get into the details. Don’t get me started on flags.”
The roar of the cheerleaders peaks to a deafening volume, which means we must be getting close to kickoff. Marissa’s eyes narrow behind her glasses. “Okay, well, I’ll interrogate you about those another time. Thanks, Sabrina. I owe you.”
And that’s when an idea strikes me. “Actually,” I say carefully, “there is something you could do for me?”
“Name it.” She’s not even looking at me, still scribbling notes in her old-school reporter’s notebook.
“You know Tyler?”
Harper looks over sharply. Football rules did not at all catch her interest, but— “Holloway? Number thirteen?”
I ignore her. “Can you maybe find out why he left his last school?”
Harper and Marissa both look at me with wide eyes. “Are you asking me to sleuth?” Marissa asks.
I shift from one foot to the other, feeling strangely guilty. “I just don’t know the full story, and Kara said there was one and it wasn’t good, and I don’t know, if he’s going to be on the team this year, I feel like we should know—”
Marissa holds up a hand to slow my verbal diarrhea. “Say no more. I’m on it.”
Then the whistle blows to start the game, and I’m not thinking about Marissa and Harper anymore. My eyes are fixed to the field as the players run out, number 13 standing head and shoulders above the rest.