And then it made her jealous, because Liz Emerson was never at peace like that. Not really. Not anymore.
Very suddenly, Liam stopped. They dropped to their stomachs with their breaths sucked in—but Liam hadn’t seen them. He was just fixing the music stand, or he was trying to.
“Damn it,” Liz heard Liam mutter. “Just . . . pull . . . out . . .”
Kennie stifled a snort against Liz’s shoulder. “That’s what she said,” she giggled.
And there it was.
The brilliantly, monumentally, hilariously embarrassing moment.
Liz pulled her phone out of her pocket so quickly that she nearly elbowed Kennie in the face. She pulled up her camera app, angled the lens at the crack beneath the door, and pressed the record button.
“And here,” she whispered, “we see Liam Oliver in his natural habitat, enjoying the primary pastime of his species: playing with his flute.”
Liam walked past, the bottom of his jeans worn, his Converses on the brink of falling apart. That was all they could see, really, but that was all they needed. There was some banging, and Kennie giggled again.
“Come on,” came his muffled voice. “A little higher, damn it.”
And then he actually grunted, and not even Julia could keep from laughing. The camera shook as they pressed their faces in each other’s shoulders, trying to keep quiet.
There was a dull crash—Liam had lost his balance and fallen against the wall, but it didn’t look that way on camera. Kennie gave a half giggle, half hiccup, and on the other side of the door, Liam froze.
But by the time he looked out the window, they were gone.
Liz sent the video to her entire list of contacts. By the end of the day, it seemed like everyone had seen it. Someone had put it on Facebook, and someone else had uploaded it to YouTube. At her locker after the final bell, she saw people laugh when Liam walked by in the hallway, and Liz turned away, because it made her feel weird, somewhere deep, when she saw his bewildered face.
Still, she went home and prepared for phase three.
Liam Oliver is a pervert.
Liam Oliver is gay.
Liam Oliver is in a threesome.
Liam Oliver gets turned on by inanimate objects.
Liam Oliver chewed on the lead paint of his crib as a child and is therefore permanently fucked up.
Liam Oliver will screw anything.
Those were the more appropriate rumors.
Phase three should have been an easy victory. Of course, everyone said that the football game would be too, and by the end of the first quarter, they were down 14-0. All of Meridian was packed onto the bleachers, soaking wet and screaming. The air smelled like rain and fish—the booster club always held a fish fry before the homecoming game, and tonight the sky was made of scales and oil and losing.
Liz stood on the rickety bleachers, stomping and jumping and screaming, dressed in nothing but a sports bra and shorts and paint. To her right, Julia was the only one in the student section who was sitting, her arms crossed tightly over her chest because the rain was making her bra half-transparent. To her left, Kennie was gripping Liz’s arm with all her strength, because Jenna Erikson had fallen off the bleachers earlier and broken her leg. Kennie pressed herself into Liz’s side and whined that the rain would wash Riley Striver’s name off her stomach before he could see it. Liz didn’t care. The JAKE DERRICK on her stomach had long since turned to watercolor.
But it was worse when the rain finally stopped. The fog was thick and it trapped the lights, and at halftime, after the band show ended, Liz shook Kennie off and made her way down the bleachers with the rest of the homecoming court, shoebox in hand. She held it carefully—Liam’s crown was inside.
The freshman girls cheered for her as she crossed the track to the field. Liz could hear Kennie’s scream above them all.
The boys were yelling too, but not for her, and they weren’t cheering.
Liam was behind her. His falling-apart Converses squished in the mud, steps mirroring hers. And suddenly that was all that mattered—her feet and his feet and the distance between them. It was like a dance, and the music was made of the screams of their classmates: step, gay, step, pervert, step, faggot. It hurt her ears.
She wanted to turn around. She wanted to take his hand and pull him . . . where? Where would she have led him?
She glanced over her shoulder, and he looked away.
They reached the center of the field and took their places in line with the other court members. At the front of the court lineup, Kate Dulmes laughed when she saw Liam and nudged Brandon Jason, and Brandon made an obscene hand gesture while the principal dug through his pockets for the list of their names.