“Hold up,” Gretchen said. “What’s this all about?”
Lucy grinned. “There are some boys at school who like Brooke. And they’re the nice ones.”
“What do you mean?” I jumped on that comment.
“Just that not all the boys at school are nice. But the ones I heard who like you are,” Lucy clarified.
“What boys aren’t nice?” I asked. I knew I sounded too aggressive, and tried to ease up a bit. “I mean, so I can stay away from them.”
Lucy thought for a moment. “Well, Cal for one. You shouldn’t be hanging out with him. You shouldn’t even talk to him, Brooke.”
Alarm bells were going off in my brain. “Don’t blow it! Don’t blow it!” they screamed, and I tried to draw it out of her gently. I wished Gretchen weren’t here, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
“Cal seems harmless to me,” I said. I watched Lucy’s face carefully.
“Yeah, he seems like a lot of things. Good student. Good guy,” she said. And then she stared off in the direction of my closet.
Gretchen looked at me as if to say, “What’s wrong with her?” and I shook my head.
I tried for lightness. “Lucy, anything you wanna tell me about Cal?”
Lucy continued staring at the closet door.
“Lucy?”
No response.
“Lucy!”
She jerked her head and looked at me. “Huh?”
“I said is there anything you want to tell me about Cal.”
Her stare penetrated me.
“Yeah. Stay away from him.”
***
I stood near the concession stand surveying the home team’s bleachers. The wind whipped my hair about and caused my eyes to tear up, making it difficult to spot him. I wasn’t even sure he’d be at the game, but I assumed popular students didn’t miss Homecoming.
Homecoming. Packed bleachers. Wild fans. Some painted. Black and red and white all over the place. We were the Crusaders. Don’t ask how a public high school could get away with that mascot considering the whole separation of church and state thing. But no one seemed to have a problem with it, evidently, because our mascot came tearing down the field before the game, plastic sword in one hand, plastic shield in the other, screaming about righteous retribution with a large red cross slapped on his chest. It happened every game. Every year. I watched him circle the field now, thinking absurdly that I fit right into this school, though I had no plans to take out my righteous retribution on the football players. I was more interested in the swim team and exposing their secret sex club.
I knew it’d be difficult to spot Cal amidst the fans. Football in the South was a pretty big deal. Everyone was here, even people like me who could care less about the game. Something about tradition draws even the most reluctant observers, and I suspected that if they didn’t attend the game, they’d watch it on the local TV channel.
My eyes moved up and down the bleachers methodically until I found him. He was sitting with a group of friends, Parker among them, and I almost squealed at my good fortune. Not because Parker was there, but because there was an empty seat a few spaces down from them, and if I moved now, it could be mine.
I climbed the bleachers and started in on their row. My plan was to fake trip into Cal, landing in his lap. It was time to get my hands dirty. It was time to touch him and see how he reacted. I figured I could seal my fate with a little bit of clumsiness and good girl charm.
Things didn’t go quite according to plan, however. As I made my way past Parker, I felt a foot shoot out, catching my ankle, and sending me head first into Cal’s lap. I grabbed his thighs on instinct, smacking my head against his crotch. My right knee hit the metal bleachers with a smart crunch, and I cried out in pain. Not the way I wanted to trip. I wanted to be cute about it. This was awkward and embarrassing.
“Wow, you okay?” Cal asked, stifling a laugh. He helped me off his lap, holding my hand until I was safely sitting in the space beside him.
I rubbed my forehead. “I didn’t realize how rough jeans fabric was.”
“Here, let me look,” Cal said, and pushed my hand away from my face. He brushed my hair aside and studied my forehead. “It’s a little red, but I think you’ll live.”
“Great,” I mumbled.
“That’s the second time I’ve watched you smack your face, Brooke,” Cal said. “Better be careful. Don’t wanna mess up all that pretty you got going on.”
I chuckled.
“Is your knee okay?” he asked, noticing me rubbing it.
“I think so,” I replied, and leaned forward to look down the row at Parker.
He smiled at me, a smug smile that ignited a holy fire. Fitting, I thought, and wished I were the Crusader but with real armor and a real sword. What would I do with the sword? Simple. Run it through Parker. Or if I was feeling especially generous, maybe just give him a few lacerations here and there. I sat back and shook my head. What was it about these boys that made me so violent?
“You here alone?” Cal asked.