Chapter Sixteen

James

“High knees, high knees!” Coach bellows from the sidelines.

My quads burn like a Roman candle and—God—it feels amazing to torch out all my excess energy. Being around Edelweiss ignites me, and I’m finding that the less we talk and the less we hold hands, the more edgy I’ve become. Not being able to sit down with her for dinner last night sucked.

She is everything I didn’t know I wanted from a girl. All week I’ve walked her to class and dropped her off with not even a kiss on the cheek, terrified she’d realize I’m teetering, about to fall head first into her world with my heart in my hands, begging her to take it. Our rules keep me in check—though, I have to admit I’ve dodged the getting-caught-making-out rule completely. The temptation would be too much, and I know I’d end up letting my lips find hers if we ducked into a dark corner together.

Which is exactly why I can’t tell her how I feel. I don’t even know how to be a boyfriend. The rules are the only reason we look like we’re a real couple. Without them I’d be messing up in every way possible, and I can’t bear the thought of hurting her.

“Parson! Backpedal, backpedal!”

Right, practice. I propel backward. The younger receivers already have a twenty-yard jump. When I hit the fifty-yard line, I sprint back to keep pace with them. Then, we repeat the cycle.

Edelweiss deserves better than me. Maybe I should introduce her to Gavin. He’d be able to write songs for her.

“Parson!” yells Coach Davvy. “Get off the field. Didn’t you hear me? Practice is over.”

My head snaps up, and the entire team is staring at me while I’m still driving up high knees. “Sorry about that. Just really wanted to push myself.” The clock on the scoreboard shows that practice ended two minutes ago.

“Admirable that you push yourself, but I expect you to stop when you hear my whistle.”

“I understand, sir.”

I follow the team back into the locker room. The buzz from the conversations and the fluorescent lights makes the hair on my neck stand on end.

Mason nudges me. “Bet I know what you’re thinking about.”

Proctor pulls off his shoulder pads. “Come on, you’ve got to let us in on the plan.” He reaches into his locker and grabs a toothpick to place between his teeth. He’s been doing it since the beginning of junior year because a cheerleader at an away game told him he looks cool. For the record, he doesn’t.

“What plan?”

“For the senior prank.” He hits the back of my head. “Thought you’d have the details ironed out by now. Last week the only info you had was that we’d be pulling it off during the Ghoul Ball.”

“Right.” Talking about the prank is doable, since it really isn’t much of a prank at all. Dad would be livid if I pulled a prank that breaks rules, but, since Creighton approved guest vouchers, now I can finally share my epic plan. And the best part? Just because we aren’t breaking rules doesn’t mean they know that. For all they know, this will be the most outrageous moment in Brockmore’s history.

“We’ve got to do something memorable. What if we egg Creighton’s office?” Pickles pounds his fist on the seat, and Proctor agrees.

“What if we change her computer to autocorrect the word ‘thank’ to ‘fuck’ so all of her emails to parents would end with ‘fuck you’?” Proctor says.

Mason groans. “No. We need better than that. A freshman could think up something like that.”

“Agreed.” Nothing will happen to Julie on my watch. Last year the senior guys parked Julie’s car in a blown-up swimming pool filled with bubbles. Because the bozos stole it in the middle of the night and let it sit in water, it had to be towed away for repairs. “Let’s think bigger than Creighton this year. This is our opportunity to shape the legend of Brockmore Academy.” Excitement racks down my spine. “That’s why I want to stage a zombie attack at the Halloween party.”

“That seems a bit childish, doesn’t it?”

“Not if we aren’t the zombies. We’ll dress up in regular costumes—ghosts, Captain America, whatever you want—but we’ll all be ‘killed’ in a zombie attack that the school won’t see coming. It will be legendary.”

“I like this,” Pickles says. “But how?”

“I’ve already contacted the captain of Dayton’s football team. They’ll dress up as zombies and raid the school. We’ll have them target the senior guys, pretending to bite us and eat our brains. We’ll have a fake scrimmage on their field where we can practice everything. It’s already scheduled for Saturday morning.”

Proctor grins. “Think of the fake blood capsules. Oh! Mason, you could make that Jell-O-applesauce concoction that your mom makes for Thanksgiving, and we could all have packets to squeeze to make it look like our brains are spilling out onto the dance floor!”

“I like your thinking, Proctor. Tonight, let’s round up all the senior guys to finalize it.”

“I’m in, too.” Mason pulls off his workout shorts and boxers, hanging in all his questionable glory.

I toss him my towel to cover up. “So let’s meet tonight at 9:30?”

“Where are you going?” Proctor asks.

“Dinner.”

“Can’t you go later? We could start hammering out some details now.”

“Nope.” Any other girl would be easy to ditch with an excuse, but with only five days left, I don’t want to waste a moment together.

Mason shakes his head. “I never thought I’d see the day when a girl had whipped James Parson.”

“Whipped.” That word always makes me cringe. I never wanted to be that guy. I was always adamant that guys with long-term girlfriends give up too much freedom.

I can’t help but laugh at myself while I walk by Mason, giving him a sharp bop on his head. I was such a fool before Edelweiss stepped into my life, thinking guys were weak for being considerate of their girlfriends. Edelweiss is inescapable, and I like it that way. Thoughts of her swirl through my brain 99 percent of my day, allowing a measly one percent for school and football. “Have fun eating your burrito with your Xbox tonight.”

Proctor laughs at Mason. “Get it? Because you’re single?”

Just like I will be soon.