“Shit.” I pressed my hand to my forehead.
Paisley raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, now that’s more like it.”
“I—” My mouth tried to form itself around words. “I—I—last night—I was at—your house, then? I was at your house?” I pointed between us.
Paisley scrunched her nose and she let her eyes cast side to side like she was looking for someone to complain to that I was crazy. “Look, I know you’ve always kept up the reputation of a party girl, but don’t you think you’re taking it a bit too far? I mean, there’s the party train and then there’s the train wreck. Word to the wise, you, my friend, are off the tracks.”
“Shit.” She frowned. I didn’t have time to figure out what the stunt was that I’d pulled on the balcony. Or question how it was that Paisley knew about Sunshine. I had to grab tight to whatever ends I had left before I ran out of rope. “I’m sorry, Paize. It was a stupid joke,” I tried. She looked skeptical, but I pressed on anyway. “Tell your mom I take complete responsibility. I’ll pay for the damage.” How I was going to make good on that promise was a problem for future me.
Paisley’s lips parted. Then, they closed again. They opened. And then they closed. It was clear she hadn’t been expecting that response. Finally, she spoke. “Cassidy, we’re worried about you.” I rolled my eyes. Probably unconvincingly, but I rolled them anyway. “Okay, I’m worried about you. Tonight we have the play-offs and…” She hesitated. “Maybe you should step down. Give it up. Clearly it’s too much stress on you.”
I stiffened. “Give it up to who?” I asked. “You?” Her mouth was sealed. This time she didn’t stop me when I opened my locker door. I grabbed the notebooks I needed and stuffed them in my bag. “That’s what I thought,” I said. “I told you for the last time, Paisley, I’m fine.”
One of my cheeks dimpled in a half smirk as if to say to her, Don’t know what else to tell ya.
And I didn’t. I couldn’t give up the Oilerettes because giving up the Oilerettes felt like giving up, period. And if I started giving things away, I wasn’t sure what parts of myself I’d get to keep.
*
I AM FINE. I am fine. I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m fine. I’mfinefinefinefinefine.
“Uh, Cass?” I jolted at a tap on my shoulder.
“What?” I snapped, and then softened when I saw Ava peering at me. Outside the locker room doors, the crowd roared for game one of the play-offs against Lamar.
“Pines, Pines, Pines, Pines,” the fans chanted. Their voices trickled into where the Oilerettes were gathered, ribbons in hair, laces tied, muscles limbered.
Ava pulled back her hand as if I’d literally tried to bite it. “Whoa, you look … totally wigged out.”
The girls turned to me expectantly, cracking knuckles, stretching hamstrings. This was it. Last night—whatever had happened—had clearly been a setback in the girls’ trust for me. But they’d given me until the Lamar game—the first night of the play-offs and the weekend-long tournament—to prove myself as captain and, true to their word, here I was, still captain. The stakes were high. It was time to put up or shut up … and get out.
The thunderous roar of feet stomping at bleachers split my aching skull. “I’m not wigged out.” I pulled my spine straighter, drawing myself up taller. My tone was brittle. “I’m focused. Big difference. And can’t say I’m loving your lackadaisical attitude.” A sickly sheen of sweat coated my forehead. I could use a dose of Sunshine right now. I was practically kicking myself for throwing it down the toilet.
Ava wrinkled her nose. She had splashes of glitter on her cheeks. “Lacksa-what-ical?”
I’m fine, I repeated internally. Only I knew exactly what Ava meant. Three layers of concealer couldn’t hide the purplish circles seeping out from the skin underneath my eyes. The space between my ears rang, I hadn’t taken a bite out of anything all day, and now my stomach felt as hollowed out as the inside of a jack-o’-lantern.
I scanned the fifteen pairs of eyes that circled me and reminded myself not to feel claustrophobic. They were supposed to be looking to me for guidance. I was, after all, their captain.
“Erica,” I snapped. “Spit out your gum before I chew you out. Ashley, core tight. Paisley, less bitch face, more smiles. Remember to put the ‘cheer’ in cheerleader.”
“Okay, captain, whatever you say. But remind me again. Who’s going to put the leader in there?” Paisley pinned a phony smile across her face.
Several girls snickered but stopped when I shot them a poisonous stare. I could tell the events of last night left them a little more nervous around me than usual. I seemed to have something of a ticking bomb effect.