Rory
out completely.
The crowd had long since dispersed from the stands, only the pep band and a few dedicated parents hanging on until the bitter end.
The cheer squad gathered just in front of the bleachers, chugging water and waiting for the postgame debrief.
Jacob walked over to stand across from her in the circle.
She was impressed with how he’d handled himself tonight.
He’d shown up on time, with his uniform on, his brand-new cheer sneakers shining in the field lights, and his energy high.
As the game had worn on, he hadn’t once flagged, even when he messed up the moves to one of the cheers.
He just kept clapping to the rhythm and shouting the words he did remember.
He’d even managed to ignore Tucker and his band of soccer boys, who had spent almost the entire first half screaming Jacob’s
to her. Couldn’t he just let the whole Jacob thing alone for five seconds?
“All right, team. Good game.” Rory said, clapping her hands. “Everyone did an excellent job keeping the crowd in it, even
after that ridiculous pick-six in the fourth quarter.”
She did not understand why Bryan Ramsey had thrown that ball. Literally no one on their team was open. He deserved to have
the cornerback snatch it and run it back for a touchdown.
“And let’s all give a round of applause to Jacob, our newest member, for completing his very first game!”
Jacob blushed as the rest of the squad whooped and cheered. He stepped forward and raised a hand, humbly bowing his head.
“Thank you. Thank you. I’d like to thank the academy. . . .”
“You weren’t that good, Reilly,” Layla chided him, pulling him back to the edge of the circle.
“No, seriously, though, good job. This couldn’t have been easy, and we all really appreciate you stepping up,” Rory told him, looking him in the eye. She might not be his biggest fan, but as captain, she wanted to acknowledge a good showing when she saw one.
Jacob slowly smiled, and Rory felt her heart reluctantly flip-flop. Why did that damn smile have such an effect on her? “Thanks,”
he said, almost shyly.
“Okay, everyone rest up tomorrow, and I’ll see you at practice on Monday!” Rory announced.
The crew dispersed, grabbing their stuff and heading off toward the parking lot. Rory picked up the plastic crate full of
poms. They had another home game next weekend, so the gear would be stored in the shed behind the concessions stand this week
for easy access. Usually Tucker stayed until the end of the game and helped her with this, but she’d noticed him sneaking
off with his friends after halftime and he’d never returned. He’d probably gotten bored of mocking Jacob and decided to go
play Xbox or something. She hesitated, wondering if she should put the two megaphones on top of the box or come back for them,
when she turned around and saw Jacob standing right behind her.
“Need a hand?” he asked.
She glanced around, but everyone else had already bailed. “Uh . . . sure. You want to take this and I’ll get the megaphones?”
He gave a little bow and took the crate out of her hands. “Oh captain, my captain.”
Rory grinned. “Okay, you’re really going to have to stop doing that.”
“Why would I, when it clearly makes you so happy?” he shot back.
She had no idea what to say to that, so she just gestured with the megaphones, indicating that he should get moving.
“So tell me the truth,” Jacob said, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “How did I really do?”
“You did really well!” she replied. But even she could hear that her voice was an octave too high to be a hundred percent
believed.
“Uh-huh,” he said dubiously.
“I mean, except when you almost dropped me during ‘Go, Woodmont, Go!’ ” she said.
He paused. “You felt that?”
“How could I not? I had visions of my skull splattered on the track!”
“Ugh, I’m so sorry,” he said, leading the way over to the storage shed. “I’m just not used to this yet. I spend a lot more
time working my legs in the gym than my arms.”
“Well, you definitely need to rectify that,” she said. “I like my face the way it is, thank you very much.”
“You’re not the only one,” Jacob said under his breath.
Wait. Had she heard that correctly? Rory paused, trying to figure out how to respond. She decided it would be best to pretend
she hadn’t heard him.
But did he mean it? And . . . why did she want to know so badly?
She put the megaphones down next to the shed and unlocked the padlock with the key she’d been given at the beginning of the
school year. The janitor who had given it to her had acted like he was handing over the Holy Grail, when all that was inside
this oversize closet were stacks of hurdles for the track team and a bunch of torn soccer nets.
“Thank you for helping,” Rory said as he placed the crate full of poms inside. She set the megaphones next to the crate and
relocked the shed.
“Anytime,” Jacob told her. “You need a ride home?”
“No, Gwen’s driving me,” she said. They both looked over at the parking lot. It was almost completely empty. There was definitely
no sign of Gwen’s car. Or Gwen.
Rory texted Layla:
Rory:
WHERE DID YOU GUYS GO?
The response came instantly:
Layla:
THOUGHT YOU AND OUR NEWEST SQUAD MEMBER COULD USE SOME BONDING TIME.
GWEN WANTS YOU TO KNOW IT WASN’T HER IDEA
This was followed by a tongue-stuck-out emoji and a skull. Rory texted back:
Rory:
I HATE YOU
Layla:
YOU LOVE ME
“Um . . . it looks like I do need a ride after all,” she said.
Jacob smiled. “After you, oh captain, my captain.”
Rory rolled her eyes and led the way.
“Okay, do you want to make a scary pumpkin or a silly pumpkin?” Rory asked the little boy sitting next to her at the table.
Brian was an adorable seven-year-old with big brown eyes, a flop of brown hair over his forehead, and a SpongeBob SquarePants
sweatshirt. He was also a patient in the children’s ward of the local hospital where Rory volunteered. She wasn’t sure what
he was in for, but she hadn’t met him before, so he was a new patient. And even though she, Gwen, Layla, and the rest of the
volunteers had gone all out decorating the common room with pumpkins, skeletons, bats, and witches, Brian seemed totally untouched
by the festive mood.
“I want to make an angry pumpkin,” he answered, and looked at her with a challenge in his eyes.
Clearly he thought she was going to tell him that “angry” was not an appropriate emotion for a Halloween pumpkin.
Like she would ever tell a seven-year-old who had to be in the hospital it was inappropriate to feel angry.
“That is an excellent idea,” she said, nodding. “Let’s paint the angriest face we can imagine.”
Brian gave her the briefest of surprised smiles, then dipped a paintbrush into the black paint and painted two diagonal eyes,
tilted down toward the center, onto his small, round pumpkin. He looked up at Rory for her approval.
“Those are perfect. Keep going and call me if you need anything.” She gave his little shoulders a squeeze, then got up to
check on the rest of the group.
There were about twelve kids participating in this year’s pumpkin painting activity, three to each long table so that no one
shared germs. All the volunteers were masked, and she, Layla, and Gwen had painted silly mouths onto their face coverings.
Gwen’s was a smiley face with a tongue sticking out the side. Layla’s looked like a big, black carved pumpkin grin with one
tooth. Rory had painted red kissy lips on hers.
“How’s everybody doing?” Rory called out.
The response was a round of “good” and “fine” as the kids continued to concentrate on their painting.
Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” played at a low volume in the background, and parents stood around the periphery of the room, chatting and snapping photos.
It was as much of a break for them as it was for the kids—an hour to be social and watch their children have fun and not worry about illness for a bit.
Layla strolled over from the far corner, and Gwen stood up from where she’d been crouching next to a little girl who wore
a fairy costume and a blond wig.
“This is going well. No tears so far,” Layla commented under her breath.
“That little girl, Allie, came close,” Gwen said, sliding her eyes toward a tiny girl who painted while sitting in her mother’s
lap. “But then her mom told her she could try as many pumpkins as she needs until she gets it the way she wants it.”
There was a pile of discarded pumpkins on the floor next to the mom’s foot. Rory was suddenly very glad she’d overordered.
She could not handle any meltdowns this time around.
Last year there had been a particularly rambunctious child who had gotten up in the middle of the party and slashed red paint
across the faces of all the in-progress pumpkins. The fallout had taken them an hour to repair, ending in bribes of extra
apple juice and doughnuts to all the offended artists.
“So we haven’t talked about last night’s game,” Layla said, turning to face Rory. “Jacob was very much not a disaster.”
“Well, he did almost drop me during the Woodmont chant,” Rory pointed out, feeling stubborn about that point.
Though, honestly, it had been a very small wobble.
And at the end of the night, she’d actually felt proud of Jacob, as well as of herself and the rest of the team for getting him so far in two days.
“Key word being almost,” Layla said.
Gwen nodded. “I was impressed. Remember how long it took for me to learn all the chants?”
Rory met Layla’s gaze. Way too long, they were both thinking.
“Thanks again for bailing on me and leaving me alone with him,” Rory told them. “That was not at all awkward.”
“I saw how he helped you carry the poms to the shed,” Layla said in a leading way. “Which was nice, since Tucker and his friends
took off before the game was over.”
Rory felt a blush creep up her neck. It had been sweet that Jacob had offered to help when no one else had. And those comments
he’d made about making her happy . . . and about liking her face . . . She hadn’t told her friends about any of it, and she
wasn’t about to. These were things she wanted to keep to herself to ponder endlessly and obsessively. At least for now.
“What are you trying to say, Layla?” Rory asked, not sure she actually wanted an answer.
“Nothing. Just that—”
“We think Jacob is crushing on you!” Gwen announced with a little bounce to her tiptoes.
“Ooooooh!” the kids closest to them cooed.
Rory’s cheeks went full pink. She could feel the heat on the back of her neck. “He is not crushing on me. He’s just sucking up to the captain. He knows how skeptical I was, and he just wants to prove me wrong.”
“Because he looooooves you,” Layla said, earning more ooohs from their audience.
“Oh my God, stop. I have a boyfriend,” Rory reminded them.
“Right, and wasn’t he supposed to be here today?” Layla asked, glancing around as if she might have missed Tucker’s sudden
appearance.
“I’m sure he has a good reason for missing this,” Rory said. She pulled out her phone to check her texts. Nothing. Except
Jacob had sent her a picture of the two of them in a liberty, her with a thousand-watt smile on her face, him looking up to
make sure she stayed steady. His arms looked a lot more muscular from this angle. . . .
“Nice shot,” Layla said, looking over her shoulder with a wry smile.
“You’re blushing!” Gwen added gleefully.
“Shhhh!” Rory shoved the phone into her back pocket. “We’re here for the children.”
“Rory! Come see my angry pumpkin!” Brian called out.
“Saved by the children,” Layla teased.
“You are dead to me,” Rory told her. Then she strode over to rejoin Brian at the table. She was going to have to sneak him
an extra Hershey bar later.