William ran toward us, his chin hiked over his shoulder. I watched his bright red hair and freckled face sprinting over, not looking where he was going. His eye was on the spinning ball and so was mine. Adam and I jumped apart and William threaded the space between us, narrowly missing a death stomp to my toes.
As the ball hurtled toward me, I did that awful thing girls do when they screw up their arms and elbows. I hated sports. Even more than that, I hated team sports. And even more than that, I couldn’t handle balls flying toward my face. A chorus of squealing girls split the morning bustle just as William dove. He crashed onto the Oilerette table, squishing the smiling faces of the pom-pom-toting future Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders of America and buckling the table’s legs so that it pitched onto its side. As for the ball, it landed with a bouncy ker-thunk directly in front of Adam’s feet.
“Did that even make sense in your head?” Paisley Wheelwright, pint-sized blond and summa cum laude in high kicks and spray tans, shrieked at William, who was crinkling glossy calendar spreads with his rear end as he tried to wriggle free from the wreckage.
“What?” He roughed his hair. “It’s not my fault.”
Feet away, Billy Ray clapped and held his hands out. “Toss me the ball, man.”
Adam stared at the football, still rocking on the concrete walkway like a dying cockroach. Time seemed to freeze over. Slowly, Adam reached down and wrapped his hand over the leather laces.
William stopped his shimmy. Adam looked down at the ball then up at Billy Ray. I clenched my teeth.
Billy Ray rubbed the top of his shaved head and looked around as if to say Are you seeing this? “It’s not a snake. It ain’t gonna bite you.” His accent made for a slow drawl.
Adam’s expression was serene. His elbow arced back so fast that his hand was a blur of motion as he released the ball. It sped like an arrow straight into Billy Ray’s gut. He grunted and doubled over, a whoosh of air rushing out of him.
Nearby, William was pushing himself off the broken table. He stopped to stare at Adam, then at Billy Ray, and then at Adam again, squinting one eye shut to look at him cockeyed like maybe he’d been seeing him from the wrong angle before. As he trundled past, he kept staring back at Adam and shaking his head. “You ain’t gotta kill him, you know,” he said before reaching his friend and clapping him good-naturedly on the back.
“See what we mean?” Owen asked, returning to join us.
Adam spun to me. “I killed him?” He pointed at Billy Ray, who was still rubbing his belly. “Can you bring him back, too, Victoria?”
“Shhhhhh.” I glanced around, looking for anyone who might have overheard him. I pushed his arms down to his side. “It’s called a figure of speech. You didn’t literally kill anyone. But, just to be safe, let’s not use the K-word in public. We don’t need to draw any more attention to ourselves than … well, than you just did.”
Adam appeared chastened while a group of girls stood whispering behind their hands and casting looks in Adam’s general direction.
“Way to fly under the radar.” Owen looped his thumbs under his backpack straps.
“It was one thing,” I shot back.
“Hey, kid.” I stiffened at the voice of my nightmares. The she-devil with horns that must have been hidden somewhere under all that highlighted hair. “Kid with the arm. Come over here.”
Adam lifted his chin. “Me?”
Paisley nodded.
“You don’t have to go to them,” I said, but he was already walking over.
Paisley leaned against the side of the overturned table. “I don’t remember seeing you around before, and Hollow Pines isn’t exactly a big place. Who are you, anyway?”
“Hello. I’m Adam Smith. I come from Elgin, Illinois. I’m sixteen years old. I’m a junior. Victoria is my family friend. I am staying with her while my parents wrap up our move to the Lone Star State.” Adam reached down and retrieved one of the scattered calendars from the ground and held it out for Paisley to take. “I can help.” He picked up another calendar and tried to straighten the table.
“I’m—”
“You’re the Whore Core.” Adam smiled. “I remember.”
I choked on my own spit. “Adam,” I hissed, but kept my distance.
Paisley’s eyes snapped to attention. Her left eyebrow arched slowly. Her glance flicked to me. “Is that what they’re calling all the girls who didn’t make the spinster squad?”
I scowled.
Adam’s brow dropped. “I don’t know. I’m new here,” he said with a tone of complete seriousness.
Paisley dropped into a seat behind the cash box. “I see that. Here.” She shuffled around for an undamaged calendar. “For you, free.” She flourished a silver marker from her pocket and signed her name across the front. Autographed it. Like she was famous. “Welcome to Hollow Pines, Adam Smith.” She handed him the calendar, which he held clutched to his chest as he wandered back to me. “Hope to see you around more often.” I turned away in case she did something truly gag-worthy like wink and I was forced to upchuck my breakfast.