“And I’m trying to keep you from doing something dumb. Like contacting them.”
I feel like I’m going to cry again. Why me? Why did this have to happen to me?
“I feel like I should warn them or something. I feel guilty.”
Garrett says in a soft, fatherly voice, “Keatyn, move on. You’re at a great school. Try to enjoy it there. It may be your life from now on. I know we said that maybe after six months or so you could come back, but based on what we’ve seen so far, I honestly don’t think you’ll ever be coming back. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the reality of the situation.”
I feel like an elephant just stepped on my chest and crushed the breath out of me. Smashed all my ribs. I grab my chest and try to breathe.
I just need to keep breathing.
Shake my ass.
3:30pm
I pull myself together and put on a happy face for the football scrimmage. I think the shock I feel when I see myself in my dance outfit helps me push it all to the back of my mind.
The outfit I’m wearing is a teeny gold glittery spandex dress. The sides are slit high up on my thighs. The halter neckline shows off my cleavage and leaves my back fully exposed. The briefs we wear under the skirt are gold glitter thongs. Okay, they are bigger than thongs but, still, they do not cover much up. As in, when I dance, I’m pretty sure you can see my ass cheeks—well, part of them anyway.
I know the dance team at my old school wore skimpy outfits and they looked adorable in them. I just never realized how small they are. And I practically lived in a bikini. But when you are in a bikini and everyone else is in pads and full uniforms, you feel kinda exposed.
No wonder all the boys are gaga over the dance team.
I’m out here practically naked!
Peyton comes and stands next to me. “So, I heard you kissed Dawson at the party last night. And my brother.”
“Dawson kissed me. I think he was pretty drunk.”
She sighs. “He was super drunk. Probably why he’s playing so badly today. I’m sure he’s very hung over.” She points out at the field, where Dawson is struggling at quarterback. “He’s a good guy. He took their breakup pretty hard.”
“She kinda glared at me at the party when she saw us talking.”
“Talking? More like he was pawing your chest.”
“I made him stop. So what’s the deal? They’re broken up, right?”
“Yeah, they are. She has a boyfriend in college. Well, we both do now.”
“And let me guess, she broke up with Dawson because you got a college boyfriend, so she had to have one too?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“I know how girls like her work. Dawson was a pawn. She traded him up for a rook.”
“It seemed like that, yes.”
“So you’re best friends, huh?”
Peyton kicks the ground. “Yeah.”
“How come you’re always so nice to me when she’s not around but completely ignore me when she is?”
She sighs. “She doesn’t like you.”
“Why? She doesn’t even know me. Never said one word to me.”
“She’s pissed about Dawson. She doesn’t want him, but she doesn’t want anyone else to have him. He kissed you. She’s automatically gonna see you as a threat.”
“I’m not a threat. I don’t have any desire to be like her. I was friends with girls like her at my old school. I don’t care how many friends I end up with here. I just want to know they’re not going to stab me in the back as soon as I turn around.”
“That’d be nice,” she says wistfully. “How do you know all this?”
“Stuff gets around here really fast. Like gossip, rumors. Plus, quiet, cute little Dallas hears everything.”
“You’re right. Stuff does get around. In fact, I’ve heard my brother kinda has a thing for you.”
“He doesn’t. He kinda did, maybe, like on the Ferris wheel and with the clover, but last night he decided that I’m not it.”
“What do you mean?”
“He told me that’s why he had so many girlfriends last year. When he knew they weren’t right, he’d break up with them. He doesn’t want me. Maybe we’ll be friends, though. He seems nice. And he’s, like, the most beautiful boy I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot since I grew up around Hollywood.”
“You like him,” she says in a singsong voice, teasing me.
“He doesn’t like me, so I can’t really like him,” I sing back.
Aiden runs down the field past me, leaps up and catches a pass thrown by Logan, the gold team quarterback. He was wide open and runs the ball a few yards for a touchdown. Then he runs right back by me and says, “Boots, how about I get a dance for every point I score?”
“Uh, sure,” I say, and then nervously shake my red and gold metallic pompoms.
“We’re supposed to be cheering for the Red team, Keatyn,” Peyton laughs.