Jacob
“All right, everyone, my apologies for the suspense,” Mrs. Dutton said on Friday afternoon. Because of the rotation schedule,
to his stomach all day long. Most teachers just posted grades on Saturn, the school’s academic hub. But not Mrs. Dutton. She
was old school. She liked to hand the tests back in class, despite the fact that everyone could see your reaction when you
turned your paper over.
Good times.
Everyone in the classroom was dressed in red and gold, and some kids had even painted their faces.
One thing that could never be said about Woodmont High School was that it lacked school spirit.
Somehow it made Jacob feel even more anxious, though.
Spirit day always had this frenetic, anticipatory energy, and it was only adding to the drama. Even his palms were sweaty.
Mrs. Dutton slowly moved down the aisle, handing papers back face down on each desk. Why did he have to sit in the back? What
was he thinking?
She finally arrived at his side. Jacob gripped his hands into fists under the desk, held his breath, and looked up at her.
She met his gaze and . . . smiled.
“Mr. Reilly. Big improvement,” she said, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
As she moved on, he slid the paper toward him and turned it over. There was a giant, red B+ in the top right corner.
Holy shit.
Quickly, Jacob logged on to Saturn on his phone. If she had already entered the grades into the system, it would have recalculated
his average. The test was worth twenty-five percent of his semester grade, so it should have brought it up high enough, but
his brain was racing too fast to even try to do that math. His hands shook as he logged in. And there it was.
A seventy-four percent average in math. He had a C. He could stay on the squad.
Somehow, Jacob managed to sit still through the rest of the class period, but the second the bell rang he darted for the door so fast he got there before anyone else.
The halls instantly filled with kids cheering and laughing, excited as they streamed toward the gym for the pep rally.
Jacob fought the current, headed instead toward the world languages hallway.
He knew Rory had French this period, and he wanted to intercept her.
Just as he was walking into the breezeway from one side, she stepped in from the other. She was wearing her uniform—as was
he—and her hair was in those two braids that he loved so much. She instantly found him, her expression questioning and hopeful.
He held up the paper with the big B+.
“Oh my God! Jacob! You did it!” she shouted.
“We did it!” he replied.
She ran into his arms, and he held her so tightly he felt like he’d never let go. This was where she was supposed to be. Right
here. With him. Happy. Closer than close. When he finally managed to let his arms loosen, she didn’t move back. Her face was
mere inches from his. People nudged and shoved around them, but Jacob barely noticed. All he could feel was the beating of
his heart and his breath, short and shallow in his chest.
“Jacob, I—”
“What are you two doing? We gotta go!” Carlos shouted, yanking Jacob by the arm away from Rory.
She laughed and shook her head as he was dragged off.
Okay, so maybe now was not the time. But he was going to kiss that girl. And soon.
Jacob was about to walk out of the bathroom and join the squad in the wrestling gym to stretch and warm up when Tucker and Kai walked in.
They both wore their soccer jerseys over sweats, and there was an odd sort of energy in the air as they approached.
Tucker’s head was tipped slightly back, like he was trying to look tough.
A skitter of apprehension raced up Jacob’s spine.
Had Tucker somehow seen that hug? Or had someone told him?
Was it that obvious how much he liked Rory?
But then again, it didn’t matter. Tucker had nothing to say about it. Rory had dumped him days ago. And his own relationship
with Tucker wasn’t in much better shape.
“What’s going on, guys?” Jacob said finally, unable to bear the silence.
“You gotta change,” Tucker said, then flung something at Jacob’s chest.
Jacob flinched, but caught it—a ball of fabric—and let it unfurl between his hands. It was his soccer jersey, the red-and-gold
number nine big and bright against the white fabric. Jacob was very confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“The team is wearing our jerseys to the pep rally, like always,” Tucker said as Kai crossed his arms over his chest, still
not breaking the stare. There was a beat of silence. “And you’re back on the team.”
Both Kai and Tucker broke into huge grins, and Kai clapped his hands twice. “Let’s go!” he cheered.
“What are you talking about? I’m not back on the team.” Jacob tossed his jersey back to Tucker. “And I can’t change. I’m cheering
with the squad in five minutes.”
“Dude. Are you out of your freaking mind? The joke’s over,” Tucker said. “There are going to be scouts at the game this weekend.
You need to be there. Or do you not want to play soccer in college?”
“We need you there,” Kai added. “We can’t lose another game, man. And everyone’s blaming me, just FYI. Which is totally unfair.
I’m just trying to stand in for the superstar who bailed on us.”
“How hard are you rewriting history right now?” Jacob snapped. “I didn’t bail. I got kicked off the team!”
“And then you immediately joined the cheer squad, making it impossible for you to come back!” Tucker retorted.
“You told me to try out!” Jacob shouted. “This is insane. I have to go.”
He started to brush past Tucker, but Tucker stopped him with a strong arm to his chest, shoving the jersey back at him. “You
either wear this to the pep rally or you’re off the team. Permanently.”
Jacob took in a deep breath, filling his lungs and puffing his chest. His nostrils flared as he looked down at Tucker’s hand on his torso.
More than anything in the world, he wanted to fling the kid off him.
He didn’t understand how he’d ever been friends with this person, let alone best friends.
That was over after this. Tucker wasn’t worth another second of his time.
He stood his ground and looked Tucker in the eye, glad he had a good two inches on him. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is
Coach Fitz’s decision, and he hasn’t changed his mind.”
Tucker smirked and Jacob’s heart dropped. “Shows what you know. He’s the one who told us to give you your jersey back.” Tucker
gave him a shove, letting go of the shirt. It fell into Jacob’s hands. “He doesn’t want to lose another game, dude. But whatever.
You’re either one of us, or you’re not.”
Jacob looked down at the red-and-gold lettering spelling out his last name. Coach wanted him back? Why hadn’t he told Jacob
that himself? If this was true . . .
His felt his pulse thrumming in his wrists. Back on the team. Back on the field. His calf muscles actually twitched at the
thought. Soccer was his first love. He’d missed it so much.
He didn’t move a muscle outside of his traitorous calves, and he didn’t think he changed his expression. But then Kai clapped
his shoulder and grinned.
“Welcome back, man.”
And Jacob knew what he was going to do.