“Nope,” she says, pushing up straight and wiggling her head in a triumphant display.
“Are you still going to the dance?” I ask, hoping that my friend will be there. I can’t rely on Nico alone. I need allies, people to stand awkwardly with me on the sidelines, to dance badly to pop songs and to sneak out balloons meant to be decorations. This is what Izzy and I did at last year’s homecoming. I was looking forward to the repeat, and I don’t want a boy to get in the way.
“Of course I’m going. Uhm, hello…someone gets a crown!” I roll my eyes because Izzy won’t win, but every time there’s a dance with pretend royalty, she acts like she has it all sewn up. My brother and his girlfriend Katie were the frontrunners, last I heard, but I haven’t seen them together in days. I’m not sure if that matters to the voting student body, but maybe…just maybe it will play in Izzy’s favor.
I chew at the inside of my cheek and glance from my friend to my lap a few times before squinting and looking up at her again.
“He really asked about me?”
She closes her eyes and laughs.
“Yes, he really asked about you,” she says, grinning through her words, but cocking her head to the side the second she finishes, her smile falling. “But…what’s his deal today?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my brow pinched.
“He wasn’t here at all. He missed the entire day, and word on the street is Brandon might get the start tonight,” my friend says.
I pull my phone from my pocket, hoping for some message. There isn’t one, though. I haven’t given Nico my number yet, and the only person who ever calls me is sitting next to me right now.
“I knew he missed humanities, but I just figured he was excused, or maybe left early with the team,” I say, looking around the quickly-emptying student lot. Sasha’s car is in its place, and Travis’s Jeep is here, which means they’re accounted for. I stand, lifting my camera bag with me, and I start to wonder if Nico made it on the bus or not.
“I guess we’ll find out. You’re going to the game, right?”
I nod in response, my mind now lost to wondering where Nico is and if he’s okay. A few of the other cheerleaders walk up, nodding hello to me, so I excuse myself and walk to the film room to tug on the door. It opens easily; I step inside, my eyes adjusting to the darkness until I can find the switch to flip on the lights.
“Hello? Anyone still here?”
My voice echoes, and I don’t expect anyone to respond. My dad travels with the team, and most of his coaching staff does, too. I yell out a few more times, testing the room before walking to my dad’s office near the back. My dad doesn’t keep secrets in this building, so I know it’s safe to inspect his office. The only clue I get is the list of ineligibles on his desk, and there’s only one name listed under truancy—Noah Prescott.
Maybe Izzy’s wrong. Or maybe she only has half the story. I decide the latter is probably the most likely, and I close up the office and film room, flipping down the lights as I exit the building just in time to see the cheer squad pulling out of the lot.
I walk to my car with a little more speed than normal, anxious to get to Metahill to see if Nico’s warming up or Brandon. When my hand hits my car door handle, I pause, something catching my eye on Sasha’s silver car parked only a few spaces away. I let go of the handle of my car and move to his, realizing the closer I get that the blue thing flapping against his window is actually paper.
Pulling up the windshield wiper, I tug the paper clear and unfold it so I can read whatever message is scribed on it in black marker.
Your boy ain’t playing tonight. And you’re going to get your ass flattened.
I look in both directions, the lot empty and the building behind me now completely quiet. I crumple the note up, knowing Sasha probably never saw it before the bus left, and not wanting to leave it behind for him to find later. I drop it in a trash bin near one of the parking lot light poles between our two cars, and I get into mine, backing out so quickly my tires squeal. I pull away from the school fast, and by the time I make it to Metahill, my dad and his team are just taking the field for warm-ups.
My mother came along with Linda, Travis’s mom. They almost always ride together. Travis’s parents are divorced, but his mom kept the house. Our mothers grew close when that happened, and they both serve on the booster board together. Sometimes, I wonder if Mom talks to her about leaving Dad. Football, when it’s played like this? It has a way of tearing up families.