“Um…” Andrew has been trying to talk us into going, but Matt doesn’t want to. “Maybe.”
Carson grins. “Well, maybe I’ll see you there.”
I almost smile back, but stop myself, annoyed by the impulse. “Maybe you will and maybe you won’t.”
MATT
At the end of the week, Raychel and I meet as the entire school bottlenecks at the gym doors. I’d rather go to seventh period than a pep rally, but school spirit is compulsory. When most of us are crammed into the stands, the cheerleaders start a disjointed routine. “Did they practice at all?” I ask.
“They’re junior varsity,” Raychel scolds me. “They’re still learning.”
She claps for them when they finish, giving me a pointed look until I follow suit. At least the next group’s picked some decent music. I’m halfway enjoying the James Brown tune when something flicks my ear. “Damnit!”
“What’s shakin’, kids?” Andrew leans in from the next bleacher up and points at the girls on the floor. “Besides Mindy Merrithew, I mean. Scoot over,” he says, shoving in between us.
Raychel leans over and inhales. “Someone’s been busy.”
“Cruz and I skipped lunch for some herbal refreshment,” he says, winking. “Are y’all coming to his house tonight?”
I roll my eyes at his “y’all.” Much to my Chicago-born parents’ dismay, my brother and I have picked up some of the local accent, but I think he makes his worse on purpose just to annoy them. “We’re not going,” I tell him right as Raychel says, “Maybe.”
I turn toward her. “I thought we were hanging out with Asha and Spencer?”
Her response is lost in a swell of voices shouting “Cowboys!” The cheerleaders point across the basketball court, where the other side yells, “Big Springs!” When it’s our turn again, Andrew jumps up. “Cowboys!” he yells, doing a little jig on the bleacher.
Raychel yanks him down by the hem of his shirt. “You’re going to bust your ass. Or get your ass busted.”
“Nah,” he says, but he sits down and watches the next routine. “Oh shit,” he says admiringly. “Keri Sturgis got hot.”
“Who?” Raychel asks.
He points to a short Asian girl in the back row who I’m pretty sure he dated last year. “Eh,” I say, “she’s all right. Not really my type.”
Raych rolls her eyes at me. “Your type? She could be a body double for Hana.” I start to protest that she looks nothing like my ex when Raych adds, “I wouldn’t kick either one out of bed.”
Luckily I don’t have long to think about that because Trenton Alexander Montgomery the Third grabs the mic. “Give it up for our spirit squads!” he says, raising his arms like he’s directing a gospel choir. The crowd more or less obliges. “Now, some other fine ladies would like to show the football team some support. Let’s hear it for the Big Springs High School Diamond Dolls!”
Seven baseball players come out in drag and start dancing. Carson Tipton is in the middle, his usual hat perched atop a blond wig, his hairy tree-trunk legs sticking out of a cheerleading skirt. At the end, he flips up the back to reveal red shorts with “Big” emblazoned on the ass. The other asses line up to spell out “Springs.”
“That takes some balls,” I say.
“Or not,” Andrew replies.
I notice Raychel doesn’t weigh in.
*
After we escape the gym, Andrew spots Eddie, one of the school janitors. “Y’all go on,” he says, slowing down. “I lost a hoodie and I want to ask Eddie to keep an eye out.”
“Good idea,” I admit. Eddie’s a good dude who’ll try to find it. One time he dug through every trash can in the cafeteria to rescue a girl’s retainer.
Raychel doesn’t reply. She’s been moody all week and I keep asking what’s wrong, but she keeps blaming it on getting fired, which I’m pretty sure means “Figure out what’s really wrong so I don’t have to tell you.”
She slows as someone calls her last name across the lobby. Carson, thankfully back in his own clothes, bypasses me to catch her sleeve. “Hey, you dropped this,” he says, holding out a piece of paper. He gives me a quick nod. “Richardson.”
I twitch my chin in response and wait for Raychel to cram the paper into her backpack.
“So where you headed?” he asks her.
“Home.” She’s half turned toward the door already, which gives me some petty satisfaction.
He smiles anyway. I have to admire his dedication, at least. “About that party tonight—”
“Matt!”
I turn around, bracing myself. Mindy’s hair bow flops on top of her head like a broken red propeller. “Hey!” she says. “Applebee’s called and they are totally in for cheese sticks.”
“Oh.” I can’t eavesdrop and answer her at the same time. “Um. Great! That’s awesome. Nice work.”
She beams. “Did you—”
We both look over as someone hoots across the room. Carson flips the guy off and turns back to Raych. “Well, maybe I’ll give you a call?”
She gives him a shrug and he leaves, seemingly undiscouraged. Her eyes find me, cut to Mindy, then back to me. “Ummm…” I say, trying to remember what Mindy asked.
“The bakery,” she says, taking pity. “Did you ask them about cookies?”
“Oh.” I shake my head, trying to focus. “I did, yeah—the manager is supposed to call me back.”
“Well, let me know when you hear. Are you going to Cruz’s party?”
“Are you?” I ask, surprised. Mindy’s not really a party girl.
She smiles. “I might.”
“Oh. Um…” I glance at Raychel, who’s pretending to read a poster on the wall. “I’m actually busy already.” Mindy’s smile slips just enough to make me feel bad. “Have fun, though.”
“Yeah, you too,” she says. “Bye, Raychel!”
Raych waves back limply, not saying a word until we get in the car. Then she gives a huge sigh.
“Problems?” I ask.
“Huh?” She buckles up. “No. I’m just tired.”
I try not to grin. Maybe she’s jealous that Mindy tried to make plans with me. She did just shut down Carson. “Well, at least we have a chill night ahead of us.”
“Yeah,” she says, gazing out the window at Carson climbing into his ugly Blazer. It’s bright red, with KC lights on the bumper and the roof, and a horn that plays “Dixie.” Anyone with tires that big is compensating for something.
I start to ask Raychel if that’s true, but she turns on some obnoxious music of Andrew’s full blast, so I decide against it.
RAYCHEL
Carson asked me out.
Not a date, exactly, but close enough.
While Matt was distracted by Mindy, Carson offered to take me to Cruz’s—to pick me up and walk in together as a couple. Not in so many words, of course, but that’s what it means: an unofficial declaration of togetherness.
Carson’s willing to make an honest woman out of me. After making it clear, on the night we hooked up, that he had no interest in such a thing.
And honestly, I’m so confused that I almost said yes.