“She likes me. You can tell me she doesn’t, but my heart speaks the truth.”
“You’re delusional.”
Case glanced at a pair of girls as they passed. I slugged him on the shoulder to regain his attention.
“You’re delusional and hormonal,” I corrected.
“Don’t judge me. I’m the one with the cash.” He pulled a wallet from his back pocket and retrieved a pair of ten-dollar bills. “Before I give these to you,” he said, raising the money out of reach, “please tell me why you deserve an extra allowance when I’m the one who bought gas.”
“I get an extra allowance because I put up with you,” I replied. “My payment should be way more than twenty bucks.”
“You need to work on being more persuasive,” he answered. I attempted to grab the money, but Case shook his head. “I’ll give this to you, but I get the car next weekend,” he said. “No car. No money.”
“I can’t promise you the car. Mom and Dad haven’t told me when I can visit Baker Heights. I won’t make a deal I can’t keep.”
“It won’t be next weekend,” he answered. “The game is in town, and you’re supposed to be there. Remember?”
“Not participating in football activities. Shouldn’t matter either way.” I tried for the money again, but Case kept it out of reach. “Please give me the money,” I pleaded. “I’m asking you as nicely as possible.”
“Mow the lawn Saturday and you can have it.”
“I’m not bartering for money Mom and Dad already said I could have!”
“Then the money stays with me.” He crammed the tens in his pocket and shrugged.
I started to protest but caught myself. Maybe Case was onto something.
“Claire!” Riley’s ribbon-wrapped ponytail bounced as she passed computer science and stopped beside Case. “You riding with me to Big Sal’s? We can leave as soon as the pep rally is prepped for tomorrow.”
“I would,” I answered, “but I forgot my money at home.”
Case pulled the tens from his pocket and handed them over. “No problem. I have some money you can borrow.” He winked at Riley and pushed a hand through his dark hair. “What time will you be there? I might join.”
“You’re not invited,” I replied.
Case gawked at me as I moved toward government. The answer was rude, but the last thing I needed was him hitting on Riley in front of Tate. He wouldn’t live to see October.
I reached the government room right before the bell rang. Adam was already in his seat. He leaned across the table as I slid onto my chair.
“Look who decided to join us,” he said.
“It was a hard choice, but I figured someone had to put up with you.”
“Hey, your parents love me,” he answered.
I pulled my notebook from my backpack and turned in my seat. “What do you want? A billboard with your name on it?”
“A billboard would be cool,” he said, nodding, “but I’d prefer a personalized sign for tomorrow night’s game. I’m thinking block lettering and a little bit of glitter, with ‘Adam’s number one fan’ written on it. I’ll even sign it, if you want.”
“You’re something else. You know that?”
“Yep.”
The class monitor dimmed the light. Our government class was part of a long-distance learning program, given through a junior college. The professor lectured through a TV screen, but we were expected to keep notes and finish the assignments like every other college student.
Adam stood the minute class was dismissed. “Tell me,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “You ordering vegetarian tonight, or is your inner carnivore screaming for succulent beef?” I ignored him and finished jotting notes. “Earth to Claire,” he said. “C.C. phone home?”
“Do you come up with this material on your own, or do you pay someone to do it?” I shut my notebook and stood. “If you pay someone, ask for better material.”
“Funny.”
I went to my locker and twisted the combination lock. Adam stopped beside me, his arms crossed as he surveyed the inside. “Need something?” I asked, switching my government book for computer science.
“Nope.” He tilted his head for a better view, then poked an Auburn magnet stuck to the back of the door. “Tiger fan?”
“More than you know.” I slammed the locker, just missing his fingers. “Got to go. Mr. Acua hates tardies.”
“See you at Big Sal’s?”
“Yes. I’ll be the vegetarian in the corner booth.”
* * *
“I feel like I’m coming down with something.”
“Yeah, football fever.”
I scowled at my mom. “That’s the best you’ve got? Now I know where Case gets his humor.”
“My humor is amazing,” she said. “You’re just mad I’m funnier than you.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
I leaned against the counter and glanced at the clock on the wall. My mom followed my gaze, tossed a pair of shears on the counter, and untied her apron.
“Why didn’t you tell me what time it was?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be there in five minutes.” She crossed the polished wood floors, flipped the lock on the front door, then turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. “Who’s going to be there?” she asked, pivoting. “Anyone named Adam?”
“Ugh. You’re too involved in my social life,” I groaned.
“I’m involved because I care.”
We entered the shop’s back room, where multihued flowers filled the shelves and their fragrance ran rampant. The iridescent lights flickered off, and my mom opened one of the large double doors. Warm afternoon air joined the already humid room.
“You’re lucky I’m the kind of mom who gets involved,” she continued. “I should have your undying gratitude.”
“You do. It’s hidden behind eternal embarrassment.”
I followed her to the white SUV. Behind its tinted windows, the black leather interior radiated heat. I was careful not to leave my bare legs flush against the seat too long. I would wear red marks on the back of my thighs for hours.
Country music played on the radio, but it was drowned out by the air conditioner I cranked to max speed.
“So,” my mom said as she backed out of the space, “seems like you and Riley are becoming quick friends. Happy to see you’re giving Pader a try.”
“That was the deal,” I answered. I shifted and glanced at her across the middle console. “Speaking of our deal, any news on when I can go to Baker Heights?”
“Right now, it’s looking like Thanksgiving,” she said.
I sighed and slumped against the leather. Leave it to my mom to crush my hopes and dreams.
“That’s forever,” I grumbled.
“Sorry.” The car hummed as she turned a corner and increased her speed. Vintage shops whizzed by in a blur of red brick, white signs, and cracked concrete. “I would let you go sooner,” she continued, “but football season is the busiest time of the year.”
“I don’t care about football. Football got me into this mess.”
“We’ve had this discussion,” she answered, her tone turning flat. “Your dad couldn’t turn down the offer. It was too good to—”
“Dad could’ve turned it down,” I interrupted, “but he chose not to.”
Her lips spread into a thin line, and I shifted my attention to my phone. Across the screen, a text from Seth appeared. My heart quickened, but my hopes fell at Do you have my calculator?
I moved a hand to my heart and willed away the ache settled there. The text was a far cry from the I miss you I sent him on the first day of school.
Thinking we’d get back together was ridiculous, but I held out hope. This was a punch to the gut. Seth didn’t want me. He wanted his calculator. How tragic could this get?
No, I answered.
The SUV slowed. The school parking lot held only a small group of students and a handful of cars. Clad in red, black, and white, Riley stood in the middle. Her hands were on her hips as she spoke with the students.
“I know that wasn’t the answer you wanted,” my mom said, putting the car in park, “but you’re the happiest you’ve been in a long time. You’re smiling again. You’re going out and doing things. I was so worried about you, and now that you’re moving on, I’m worried what going back will do. It’s selfish, but I don’t want to lose you again, hun. I just want you to be happy.”
My heart ached. I understood where she was coming from, but I could handle it. I could go back without letting Seth derail my happiness.
“I’ll be fine,” I answered. “I promise.”
“Then I’ll talk to your dad about moving up the trip.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
The sun was almost parallel with the school, but heat clung to the air as I got out of the car and shut the door. Riley met me and waved at my mom, who returned the gesture as she backed away from the gym.
“Ready for food?” Riley asked.
“Yep.”
I followed her across the gravel and slid into a tiny red car a few spaces down. Within minutes, we pulled into an unmarked space at a small diner. A white Mustang sat beside us. On the back window, a football emblem read MACK.
“Tate beat us here,” she said.
She pulled the key from the ignition and led the way through a set of glass doors. A small metal bell rang with our entrance, and the smell of french fries bid us hello.
“Welcome to Big Sal’s!” a voice called.
On our right, positioned behind an off-white counter, a middle-aged man stood opposite Tate. He shifted his attention back to the notepad and continued to jot Tate’s order while Riley closed the door behind us.
“Couldn’t wait?” she teased.
“Nope,” Tate replied. He pulled her in for a hug and motioned at me with his free hand. “New addition,” he said, addressing the man. “That should score me a discount.”
“If I gave you a discount, you’d eat this place out of business,” the guy answered. He winked at Riley and looked at me again. “Name’s Sal. Happy to have you here.”
“Thanks.”
“Best burgers this side of Charlotte,” he said. “You’ll be here once a week like these two. Where’s Meade? He want a burger, too?”
“Probably,” Riley replied, “but Claire can’t eat meat. Got anything else?”
I cringed. I could tell Riley the truth and be the newest liar on campus, or I could suck it up and deal with the consequences. Which was worse, embarrassment or faking vegetarianism?
Before I could decide, Sal answered, “Got some tofu in the fridge.” He scribbled down tofu burger. Once he had all the orders, he handed each of us a Styrofoam cup. “Machine’s in the back,” he instructed. “We do free refills, and if the guys win tomorrow, there’ll be a fifty-percent discount on ice cream.”
“We’ll win,” Tate assured. “Just make sure you’ve got plenty of the Butterfinger kind.”
“Always do,” Sal replied.
Riley pulled away from the pair and ushered me across the linoleum floor. We stopped in front of a large soda dispenser. The machine sat beneath framed sports memorabilia that extended the length of the wall. Football team photos ranged from present day to the early fifties. They were mixed with various cheerleading photos and three retired jerseys.
“This is my favorite place in town,” she said. “I love all the pictures. My mom’s in a few.”
“I like it, too,” I replied. “It’s old-school, and these pictures are awesome.”
After we filled our drinks, Riley moved to a booth in the far corner and slid across the red leather upholstery. “Finally got the pep rally stuff done,” she said, setting her cup on the table. “You would’ve gotten recruited to help if I wasn’t done when you got there.”
I took a seat across from her and shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I prepped for a pep rally,” I answered. “Last year it took hours to get everything set up. The cheer coach and the team captain could never agree where to put the signs.”
“You were a cheerleader?” I nodded, and she shook her head. “Bummer you didn’t move here sooner. We could’ve been on the team together.”
“Been on what team?” Tate asked, taking a seat beside Riley.
“Claire was a cheerleader,” she said. “If she would’ve gotten here in May, we could’ve been on the same team.” Riley leaned against the table. “I feel like such a terrible friend for not knowing this. What else did you do before you moved here? Where did you move from? Were you in band? Did you play sports? Any boyfriends?”
“Boyfriends?” Adam slid into the booth beside me and wedged me against the wall. I scowled at his profile as he sipped from his cup. “Who has a boyfriend?” he continued, looking at Riley. “Besides you.”
“Why do you care, Mr. I Don’t Do Relationships?” she said.
“Inquiring minds.”
She rolled her eyes, and Tate chuckled. “Riley’s still upset about you standing up Brooke. She’ll deal.”
“It was the week before school started, and she’s still angry,” Riley said. “You deal with mood swings and passive-aggressive comments and see how happy it makes you.” She scowled at Adam. “The next time you can’t make a date, call the girl and let her know. Brooke sat here for over an hour waiting on you.”
“I was busy,” he answered, “and my phone was dead. Besides, I told you I wasn’t interested in Brooke, and you set us up anyway. Next time, check before you volunteer me to go out with one of your friends.”
“Sorry. I was trying to help you find something to focus on, other than football. Don’t worry. I won’t set you up with anyone else,” Riley replied.
She glanced at me, but I looked at Sal, who reached the table with a large red tray. Thankfully, food eased Riley’s and Adam’s moods.
“Two number fives,” Sal said, placing the baskets in front of Riley and Tate. “One number eight.”
He sat a basket with two mouth-watering double cheeseburgers in front of me, and my mouth dropped. If this was what tofu looked like, I’d happily eat it every day of the week.
“I’ll take that,” Adam said, sliding the basket over as I moved in for the kill.
“But that’s—”
Sal sat a basket in front of me and my throat knotted. The patty was a nice golden brown, but something didn’t smell right. The sandwich smelled like nuts with fishy undertones.
“Everything good?” Sal asked. The rest of the group nodded. “Great! Let me know if you need any ketchup.”
Sal backed away while I tilted my head toward Adam’s cheeseburgers. When he cut into them, revealing cheese-covered, salty strips of pork, I wanted to cry. My nasty-smelling burger couldn’t compare to cheesy bacon.
“I can’t believe Sal had tofu burgers,” Riley said. “I thought you’d be limited to fries. This is way better.”
“Yay,” I said, my voice flat.
I poked the burger with my fork, then looked at Riley’s and Tate’s food. This wasn’t fair. The world hated me.
“Who wants fries when you have such a health-conscious meal?” Adam teased. Grease dripped from the bottom of his burger as he raised it and took a bite. He hummed with satisfaction and nodded at my food. “Better eat up,” he said, swallowing. “Wouldn’t want it to get cold.”
“Yeah, Claire. Try it,” Riley agreed.
My instincts told me to run, but my conscience told me to be polite. I sniffed the burger again and placed the bun to my lips. One bite and my taste buds were sacrificed to a bitter, nuttytasting sponge. I gagged and willed the food down my throat, suffocated by the rancid smell of the burger and the accompanying flavor of mayo and … an itch spread down my neck.
No, no, no.
“Shit, Claire. What’s wrong with your face?”
I ignored Adam and threw off the wheat bun. Beneath it, staring at me in its green glory, sat a bed of mayo-covered spinach.
“Are those hives?” Riley asked, standing as I pushed Adam out of the booth ahead of me.
I followed her concerned gaze to the splotches on my arms. Red hives extended from my wrists to my elbows, and burned every inch they covered. I tried not to scratch them as they spread beneath my tee. I needed cortisone cream and Benadryl stat.
I booked it out of Big Sal’s and pulled my phone from my pocket.
“Are you dying?” Adam asked, matching my stride as I walked to Riley’s car.
“I’m allergic to spinach,” I said. My mom’s phone went to voice mail. I hung up and tried my dad instead.
“Are you deathly allergic?” he asked. “If so, could I have a time frame for how long it’ll take you to keel over?”
“Shut up, Adam.” My dad’s phone went to voice mail. “Grr!” I clenched the phone in my fist and stared at the sky. It was getting harder and harder not to scratch my boobs. “No one’s answering,” I groaned. “I need medicine, or it’ll get worse.”
Adam pulled his keys from his pocket as Riley and Tate pushed through the doors. They held three paper bags and came to a stop beside us.
“Here,” Riley said, handing one to Adam. “Sure you’ve got her?”
“Yes,” Adam answered. “I’ll get her home, no problem.”
I looked from him to Riley, then back. “Oh, no you don’t,” I said. “Point me in the direction of the nearest pharmacy, and I’ll be fine.”
“You’d rather walk than let me drive you?” Adam asked, his mouth tilting at the corner.
“Um, yes.” I gave into the burning sensation on my arm and scratched it with my nails. “Just tell me how to get to the pharmacy. This town is tiny. It can’t be far.”
“You’re not walking,” Riley said.
“Well, you can’t drive her,” Adam replied.
“He’s right,” Tate agreed. “It’s the first Junior Varsity game of the season, and you’re the cheer captain. You have to introduce the cheer team.”
I moved my fingernails to the space between my shoulder blades. I couldn’t reach the spot but needed to relieve the itch that flamed across my skin. Adam’s hand gently wrapped around my biceps and turned me around. I glared at him over my shoulder.
“You won’t reach it,” he insisted. “You don’t want me to touch you? Fine. Just trying to help.”
I tried again but couldn’t relieve the burn. I was torn between pride and need.
“Okay,” I answered. “Scratch it. Scratch it now.”
His fingernails scraped the fabric, and I let out an embarrassing sigh of relief. My attention returned to my arm, where hives continued to sprout.
“I’ll take her,” Adam repeated. “Call me with the score, and let me know how they do.”
“Sure thing.”
Riley and Tate got into their cars, but I didn’t tell either good-bye. I was too distracted by what set of hives to scratch next.
“Think you can make it to my truck without looking weird?” Adam asked, pulling his hand away.
“Think you can make it to your truck without looking weird?” I replied.
He rolled his eyes and crossed the parking lot to his black Chevy. After unlocking the doors, he tugged open the passenger one and motioned inside.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” he said as I slid onto the seat.
“There’s a first time for everything, Meade.”