“Have any ever said yes?” I stop and turn to him, my hands thrown up in the air. “Wait. No. You know what?” That image of Bo in the storeroom flashes through my memory. I hear him say my name and the thought feels like nothing more than a dead end. “Yes. Yes. I will go on a date with you.”
He holds his hand out for a shake and I take it. I expect his palm to be sweaty, but it’s not. Like Goldilocks and her third bed. It’s just right.
Mitch taps my phone number into his phone and promises to text me so that I can save his. He veers off toward the locker rooms outside of the stadium.
I think this might be a bad idea, but I think a lot of things. And I need to forget Bo. This seems like a good start.
“Will!” snaps Ellen. She speed walks through rows of junior parking, her hips swishing back and forth like those people who do Olympic speed walking. “What. Was. That?”
I shrug.
“You fucker. You gave him your number.”
Tim comes up behind her, his phone dangling from one hand. “Wait,” he says. “Was that Mitch Lewis?”
Ellen answers before I can think of the words. “Oh, it so was. And this little hooker gave him her number.”
“That guy’s a beast. I heard scouts have been all over him.”
That’s the story with every decent football player in Clover City. Every once in a while it turns into more than a story. The only thing that comes close to football is the pageant. The both of them make up the lifeblood of this place. I don’t even mean it in a bad way. The pageant and football pull this little town out of itself and turn it into something more. Because when those stadium lights are on or when that curtain parts, we are the best versions of ourselves.
“Doesn’t matter how good he is,” says Ellen. “He’s friends with Patrick Thomas.”
“Oh Christ. Not that asshole.” I can still see him glaring back at me after school that day when I diverted Millie.
Tim nods. “It’s true. They’ve been friends since we were kids.”
We walk toward my car, with Tim trailing behind, buried deep in his phone again.
“So, maybe the seating arrangement in Krispin’s class won’t be so miserable after all,” says El. If she knew about all that had happened with me and Bo, she would be my conscience and tell me that it’s too soon. That I need to get over Bo first.
I reach around to the front pocket of my backpack and fish out my keys. “Yeah, I guess, but I’d still rather sit with you,” I tell El.
“You guys aren’t sitting with each other for second period?”
“No,” I say. “Thanks to y’all’s raging hormones, this one”—I point to El—“we were too late.”
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “Have I said I’m sorry?”
“Well, at least you have Callie,” I tell her.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”
“But really, babe,” says Tim. “You know she’s the most annoying person ever?”
“Y’all need to back off my shit. She’s my friend, okay?”
“But we’re your only friends,” says Tim, a smile curling at his lips. “You don’t get to have any other friends.” He kisses her cheek.
“Yeah,” I pipe in. “Just us.” And I almost mean it.
El knocks her shoulder against mine. “I missed you today.”
“Me too.” Even though she’s standing right here next to me, she feels far. Further than I can see.
EIGHTEEN
That night, at work, my phone rings. I leave Marcus at the front, and answer it as I’m walking to the break room. “Hello?”
“Hi. Hey. It’s Mitch.” The line is dead for a second. “I was calling about that date?” He doesn’t sound nearly as confident on the phone. It’s kind of endearing, and also sort of like false advertising. But I guess it was pretty sweet of him to do more than text.
“Oh. Right. Of course.”
“How about this Saturday?” he asks. “Our first game is on Friday.”
“Yeah, that’ll work.”
“Sure.” I can hear him smiling. “Cool.”
“Okay, so Saturday. But I’ll see you at school before then,” I remind him.
“Right. Yes, I’ll see you before then. Because of school. And because that would be weird if I avoided you until then.”