Moving through the courtyard crowds to find Becca, I spotted Tristan leaning against a wall. Anxiety must have been leaking from my pores, because he took one look at me, said something to his buddies and beelined my way.
“Parker, you upset?” He fell into step with me.
“You could say that.”
“Anything I can do?”
I glanced up into his dark blue eyes and considered blurting out all that had happened in the past few hours. Then my gaze zeroed in on his lips, and I realized that the last thing I wanted to use our mouths for was talking….
“ Uh- huh,” I said, then grabbed his hand and pulled him into the building. I didn't care who saw.
I dragged him to Chrissandra's favorite alcove, under the stairs, which I figured would be empty at this hour. “What I could really use right now,” I told him, “is that See-You-Later Kiss.”
A smile sparked in his eyes. Then, no questions asked, his hand went to the back of my tensed- up neck, and he pulled me close. Closer. Closest. Until our lips were together, then our tongues, and our breath—even, I think, our heartbeats.
It was heaven not to talk, not to think. Not to be JV captain or the girl Chrissandra was supposed to hate or even Tristan's make- believe girlfriend. Inside that moment in time and space, I was just me, Parker Elizabeth Stanhope, throwing caution to the wind and losing myself in the arms of one heck of a guy.
“Omigod, you two,” said a voice, cutting into my stream of consciousness. “Get a room!”
Tristan and I pulled back to see CeeCee Stevens making a fourth-grade gross-out face.
It was as good a time as any to part, so I broke free, only to feel oddly cool and empty.
“See you later,” I told Tristan, then winked as I walked away.
He returned a goodbye that I didn't entirely catch, but I couldn't miss his tone, all deep and throaty.
I was no longer a walking bundle of nerves when I caught up to Becca. I gratefully accepted my cheeseburger, and in between bites, I unloaded all the dirt.
“Chrissandra,” she responded with certainty when I was done. “She's the one who's trying to take you down.”
I didn't argue but didn't agree, either. It just seemed too easy. She'd come to me privately about AJ and the pills. Why wouldn't she have come back for my answer?
When I got to my locker after lunch, a Baby Bottle Pop hung on a pink ribbon from my locker vent. I calmly untied it and threw it into my backpack. As long as the girls were still hassling me, they were still on my side. Weird as that sounded.
And who didn't like Baby Bottle Pops?
At practice, it was business as usual. We suited up and raced onto the field, with Heartless charging around, shouting out pointers and blowing her annoying whistle. I desperately wanted to talk to her—about the note, Chrissandra, my odds of moving up to varsity now that AJ was on suspension—but knew putting my head down and working hard was my best play.
I took my Smurfs over to a patch of grass to work on footwork again. I wanted Hartley to notice. And, well, I actually sort of liked working with them. I also couldn't help but wonder, if some older player had given me this kind of time and consideration when I'd started out, would I be a junior on JV?
My good intentions died a quick death when I cast eyes on Emma (whose paw prints I still imagined all over Tristan). I cheerfully designated her our water girl of the day so that every time somebody's bottle got low, she had the honor of refilling it, necessitating a couple of long runs across the field to top off the cooler.
When she glared at me, with sweat beading along her hairline, I simply smiled. “Don't worry. I know how you like to go all out to please your teachers, and I'll make sure Coach Hartley gives you extra credit.”
The resentment in her eyes deepened, to which I turned a Chrissandra- worthy cold shoulder. Then I charged off to set up a defense drill, secretly pleased that I'd learned a thing or two from my years at the feet of the Ice Queen.
•
Becca and I wandered over to the DQ after the movie. We ordered a hot fudge–brownie sundae, then dug in with two spoons, talking and joking around. No agenda, no talk of cals or carbs or fat or farts, no one to trash or kiss up to.
Later, a few players from the boys’ varsity soccer team came over, and despite one of them asking me why I wasn't home babysitting my boyfriend, we had a good time.
Eventually, Becca and I decided to call it a night and hightailed it to my mom's SUV. As I headed for the exit, a car came in fast, straddling the line. I had to veer to keep from sideswiping it, and I turned to try to see who'd almost hit me. I wasn't surprised to see Kyle behind the wheel, his queen in her position of royal prominence beside him. They pretended not to see me, and I pretended it was because his inadequacy behind the wheel embarrassed him and not because they were too cool for us.
I dropped Becca off, then headed home. Turning into my street, I saw Tristan's long legs stretched out from the curb to the circle of streetlight. I wondered if he'd just gotten home from a night with friends, or had maybe shot hoops until he dropped with exhaustion.
I pulled into the garage and made the split- second decision to go say hi. I figured at this hour we'd be safe from prying parental eyes. But when I got to the bottom of the drive, he was standing, his head bobbing, suggesting that he was talking to someone. A five- alarm fire bell suddenly clanged in my head.
I skulked to a dark space on our lawn and waited with a bunch of chirping crickets. Until he took a step and a body appeared from behind him. A short blond body. Emma.
Crap, I should have killed her with push- ups and laps instead of just water duty!
I wanted to march over there. I wanted to run into my house, slam the door and pretend I'd never seen a thing. But most of all, I wanted to go grab my dad's cell phone to call the city to report the most heinous property eyesore of all: Tristan with another girl.