We’re in the locker room, changing for the pep rally. Coach Kerry said that since I’m now officially a part of the varsity track team, I have to go out with the rest of the team at the rally, which is when the kids on student council make announcements about all the “really fun activities” coming up, which never sound that fun, things like fund-raisers and themed dances and all sorts of stuff I never really pay attention to, and then the cheerleaders do a dance routine, and the marching band usually makes some noise, and the varsity sports teams are introduced and everyone’s supposed to cheer (not just for the sports teams but for the cheerleaders and even the student council kids and the band). I’ve seen Marcus in the line-up so many times. I never thought it would be me. I don’t have to say anything, I just have to stand in a row and smile. Not trip. Not make a fool of myself. Eliza will be introducing us. She’s done it before.
We’ve been back at school over a month now, but this is the first time I’ve put on my track uniform. I’ve never had a uniform before, never had anything that declared to the world that I was a part of something, that I was good at something. It feels strange, like I’m putting on a costume. I tug at the bottom of my shorts. They seem way too small and insubstantial. My ass feels huge in them. Like it’s going to burst free at any second. The jersey is a little snug on top too.
“Damn, girl.” Eliza whistles. “You look good.”
Eliza looks amazing in her uniform. She’s all long and lean, like a supermodel. Her short dark hair is swept to the side, sleek and shiny.
“You all right, Wing?” she asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice to work.
“Then let’s go.”
The lights are brighter in the gym than they’ve ever been before. When the pep rally commissioner, the master of ceremonies, some senior named Jill who loves the sound of her own voice, calls for us, for the varsity track team, we have to walk out in front of the whole school. My heart starts beating, beating, beating, so fast I’m sure it will pop out and fall to the floor for everyone to see and stomp on.
Jill passes the microphone to Eliza so she can introduce us all. I don’t even hear what she’s saying. All I see are all the eyes staring at me. And then.
Clapping. The noise rushes in my ears and I think it has to be a cruel joke, but then Eliza comes over to me and lifts my hand in the air like I’m a champion boxer and people start cheering even louder.
“I told them you were the fastest girl at our school in years … and that Olympic scouts are lookin’ at you and you’re gonna make our school famous,” Eliza whispers in my ear.
“You said what?” I whisper back. I look over at where the teachers are and see Coach Kerry shaking her head but smiling. She knows Eliza is bullshitting everyone.
“Hey, it could be true. Who knows? Anyway, look at them, they love you. And now they’ll come see you run. Everyone wants to say they were there before a star took off.”
I grin, feeling ridiculous, feeling foolish, feeling adored, and loving every second.
I feel like Marcus. Like I’m the one people cheer for. I’m the one they watch. And for the first time, I kinda want people to watch me.
Someone catches my eye in the crowd, a face I immediately recognize. Oakie. The other guy in the car with Marcus. The guy who got out of the whole thing with just a badly broken leg. He’s smiling, and when he sees me looking back at him, he gives me two thumbs up.
A feeling I can’t place courses through me as we go back to our seats and Jill calls up the varsity basketball team. I don’t think Oakie was making fun of me, but I don’t know. He’s never talked to me, not before the accident, not after. But his smile … it looked like he really was happy for me.
Maybe that means he doesn’t blame me for what Marcus did.
Maybe it means he forgives Marcus.
I wonder if anyone else has.
CHAPTER 35
“You’re still a freak.”
I’m in the bathroom after the rally, washing my hands, when Heather Parker bursts in.
“Now you’re just a freak that goes on parade.”
I tense. Waiting for her words to burrow themselves deep inside me, the way they always do. But this time they slide right off and fall to the floor with a splat.
“Such a freak show.”
I look into Heather’s green eyes and notice a small trickle of blood coming from her left nostril.
“Heather?”
She blinks three times in rapid succession. I don’t think I’ve ever called her by name, and it’s throwing her. “What?”
“I think you have a nosebleed.”
Heather raises her hand to her nose, looks at the blood and back up at me. Her eyes go wide, wide, wider, and her face gets so pale I’m sure I can see her veins. “I don’t like blood,” she says. And then she slumps forward and before I realize what I’m doing I’ve stepped toward her, arms outstretched, and she collapses against me, head lolling to the side, blood still dripping out of her nose. More than dripping now, so much coming out that it gets on my new uniform.
I prop her up under the sink and put a damp paper towel on her forehead and hold another wad of tissues under her nose. The blood blooms like a peony. I’m not sure what to do. Only person I’ve ever seen faint was Monica in the hospital, that night, and there were doctors there who took care of her.
I pat Heather’s cheek a few times, like they do in the movies. And then I slap her. Not a hard slap, not as hard as I would like to, but enough that my hand stings.
It does the trick. Her eyes flutter open.
“Wing?”
Just like she’s never heard me call her by name, I’ve never heard her say my name. Never heard her refer to me like I’m a real person. “You got a nosebleed and passed out,” I explain.