Jacob
for hot days—in that the cab of his truck stayed cool—but generally not so great for his paint job. The birds really loved
to crap all over poor Rosie.
The old truck had come with the name. The local farmer he’d bought her from had insisted he keep it or he was going to add
Today’s issue didn’t have anything to do with birds, though.
The issue today was someone—and he had a pretty good idea as to who—had decorated his truck with bras.
Yes, bras. They were strewn all over the hood, hanging from the side mirrors and the old-school antennae, and hooked over the tailgate, flapping in the late-afternoon breeze.
As he got closer, he saw that across the rear window of the cab, in what looked like pink shaving cream, were scrawled the words CHEER BOY.
Still sweating from practice, he knew his face was already bright red, so at least anyone watching couldn’t tell how pissed
off and embarrassed he was. It wasn’t enough that Rory had forced them all to do laps like some drill sergeant and then shouted
at him about his spaghetti arms for two hours on end. Now he had to collect a few dozen bras—that belonged to, from the looks
of them, somebody’s grandma—from his truck.
The second his hand touched the door handle, the whoops and hollers and hooting started. Jacob paused, took a breath, then
turned to face his audience. Which was, of course, the entire varsity soccer team. Plus a few of their girlfriends and other
random jock friends.
Kai lifted his phone, filming the scene for posterity.
“Say ‘Go, fight, win!’ ” Tucker crowed.
It took a hell of a lot of effort, but Jacob managed a winning smile. “Thanks for the underwear, boys. But what are you all
going to wear tomorrow?”
Everyone laughed. It was what they expected from him, of course.
Jacob could take it as well as he could dish it.
He loved nothing more than a good prank, even if he was the victim.
Most of the time, anyway. And he could appreciate the creativity here.
Honestly, he was kind of shocked they had thought of it without him.
He reached for the nearest bra and flung it at Tucker’s face.
Then he launched another one into the crowd like a rubber band, pulling back and using the elasticity to make it fly.
Just like that, the crowd broke up and everyone rushed the truck, grabbing bras and whipping each other with them, flinging them around.
A few of the guys even wrestled Kai to the ground and managed to secure one around his skinny waist.
Gradually, Jacob stepped back to observe the mayhem, wondering when he could make his escape. He was exhausted and he had
a physics test to study for, an English paper to outline, and some Spanish homework that would probably take half the night.
Cody noticed him standing on the sidelines and sauntered over with Everett. Cody was in his school clothes, but Everett had
clearly gone hard at practice. There was a telltale streak of dirt running up his neck to his earlobe. It gave Jacob a pang
of longing. He’d been happy the cheer practice had taken place in front of the football team rather than the soccer team,
because he knew his friends would have been relentless. Now he realized it was a good thing for another reason—he wouldn’t
have been able to hide his FOMO if he’d been forced to watch soccer practice.
“Really, though, man,” Cody said. “The team missed you out there today.”
“Thanks,” Jacob said, and the two of them slapped hands, then bumped shoulders. He did the same with Everett, then asked Cody,
“How’re you feeling?”
“Pretty okay.” Cody shrugged. “Still have a headache, which is annoying, but the vision thing is better.”
“I’m so sorry. Again,” Jacob said.
“Hey, shut up about it already.” Cody waved him off. “We were all messing around.”
Jacob nodded, trying to push aside the guilt that was twisting inside his gut. “You went to practice?”
“Yeah, trying to show Coach I’m still invested, you know?” Cody said. “Plus, I gotta make sure my understudy here is living
up to my standard.”
He slapped Everett on the back, and Everett coughed. “Doing my best,” he said.
Jacob’s already sour mood soured further. Should he be going to watch soccer practice to prove he was still invested? Was that what Coach Fitz had wanted from him when he’d suspended
him from the team? Why couldn’t adults just say what they were thinking? Maybe if cheer practice ever ended before soccer,
he’d jog over and hang on the sidelines to show his dedication.
“How was cheer practice?” Cody asked.
Jacob looked for the teasing in his friend’s eyes and was surprised when he didn’t find any. Cody genuinely wanted to know.
“Not bad,” he replied, giving his neck a roll. His shoulders felt tight. “Not used to using my upper body so much.”
“Well, hopefully it won’t be for long. We’re working on Fitz.”
“Yeah? You think he’ll let me back on the team?” Jacob asked.
“He has to.” Cody brought his heavy hand down onto Jacob’s sore shoulder. “As soon as we get creamed by Fulsom tomorrow, he’s
going to see the error of his ways.”
“Let’s hope so,” Jacob said.
And he meant it. But he also wondered . . . if he did get invited back, where would that leave Rory and the squad? The whole
point of this was that they needed a male body for homecoming—for regionals. They needed him. Rory needed him. And he couldn’t be at two practices at once.
Jacob glanced at his phone. His dad was working late tonight, and he was pretty sure his mom hadn’t gotten to the supermarket.
She was probably going to need his help figuring out dinner. God knew Ford wasn’t going to pitch in. “I gotta get home.”
“Here, let us help.”
Together he, Cody, and Everett swept the rest of the bras off the truck—there weren’t many left—leaving the ribbons that were
tied to the bumper and the words that he was going to have to scrub off. He knew everyone would notice the second he slammed
the door—it needed to be slammed to stay closed—and he started to sweat all over again as soon as he was behind the wheel.
He turned the key in the ignition, and Rosie’s engine made a coughing, wheezing sound.
“Wait! Come back, Cheer Boy! Don’t leave us!” Tucker and Kai shouted.
“Come on, Rosie,” Jacob said through his teeth. He turned the key harder, as if that was going to help the situation. “Come on, girl.”
Miraculously, the engine turned over and Rosie roared to life. Jacob let out a breath and popped her into reverse, pulling
quickly out of the spot. As he motored away, Jacob glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Rory and her friends storming over
to Tucker and the rest. Before he turned the corner out of the parking lot, Rory was lacing into Tucker, gesturing with a
bra in her fist. For the first time that day, Jacob laughed a real laugh. Who would have thought there’d come a day when Rory
would have his back?
He really hoped none of those bras had been hers.
On Saturday morning, the morning of his first official football game as a cheerleader, Jacob awoke to the sound of his youngest
sister screaming. He flung himself out of bed and ran to her bedroom, met there by Willow and Ford, who were both equally
out of breath. Chad was still comatose in the second bed in Jacob’s room. The kid could sleep through anything. Two years
ago there had been a fire across the street, and not even the sounds of sirens, shouting firefighters, and the engines of
six huge fire trucks had roused him.
“What is it, Linnie? What happened?” Ford demanded, slipping into her room as their parents arrived.
Ford was an asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, but never when it came to their youngest sibling. She stood next to her bed, her little face all blotchy, practically hyperventilating. Blond curls stuck out in all directions around her head.
“There was a spider on my pillow!” she cried, her lisp more prominent in her heightened state of fear.
“Okay, come here.” Ford went in to pick her up on one hip and used his free hand to look under her pillow and sheets. Willow
joined in the search—she loved bugs and knew that if Ford found it, he’d kill it, so she probably hoped to find it first.
Jacob would have helped as well, but Lindsay’s room was an actual converted closet and couldn’t fit more than the number of
people already inside.
“If you kids have this under control, I’m gonna go make pancakes,” Jacob’s dad said from the hall, scratching at the back
of his head. His mom followed him downstairs.
Jacob retreated to his room and grabbed his phone, his heart still pounding from being woken up in such a startling manner.
Chad snorted a snore and rolled over.
Jacob had a bunch of texts from last night.
He assumed it would be the team complaining about the horrendous loss to Fulsom and blaming him for it.
After what Cody had said to him in the parking lot about showing his dedication, Jacob had attended the away game, driving himself there and sliding into the front row of the stands next to Cody.
He’d noticed Coach noting his arrival and clocking that he wore his varsity jacket, but the man hadn’t looked back at him once after that.
Probably because the five-nothing drubbing the team had taken was far too distracting.
He’d tried not to blame himself afterward. After all, it wasn’t his fault Coach Fitz had gone completely over the edge and
thrown him off the team. But then again . . . maybe it was?
The texts were not about the big loss, however. Apparently, his friends had been up until one in the morning playing Madden, and the smack talk was out of control. As he was laughing over a pretty good takedown of Tucker’s defense skills, a new
text popped up. It was from Rory.
His breath caught and he tapped it open.
Rory:
MEET ME AT THE FARMERS’ MARKET AT 8:30.
He glanced at the time—8:02.
He texted back:
Jacob:
***
Rory:
WEAR COMFORTABLE CLOTHES.
Jacob:
***
Rory:
JUST TRUST ME.
Jacob snorted, imagining what she would say to him if he told her the same thing. Willow raced past his room with her hands