At lunch I leave the classroom building with nowhere to go. But the girls are waiting at the usual place, the footbridge over Blue Creek.
“We’re not fighting?” I ask, walking up.
Charity grins. “That was funny about her shoes.”
“Thanks,” I say. Icy.
“It’s dumb to fight,” Jacey says. “Let’s have lunch.”
“I am not going near Ag,” I say.
“Steve won’t be there,” Charity says. “He’s got detention.”
“I know he has detention. I’m still not going there.”
“You have to face it sometime, Angelyn.”
“Come on,” Jacey says. “We can watch the JV guys at lunch practice.”
I look at her. “You mean, watch JT. You don’t care if he sees you with me?”
“We have to hear your side, Angelyn. That’s fair.”
I tell her okay. But something still seems wrong.
We sit in the football bleachers, the school stretched before us. Across the athletic fields I see the outside corridor where Jeni and I stood this morning. The girls rummage for their food, Jacey next to me, Charity a row below.
“I shouldn’t have said that to Jeni.”
Charity squints at me. “Who?”
“You know who,” I say.
“The bathroom girl,” Jacey says. “I bet she’s heard worse than that.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But not from me.”
I stare out. From here, everything looks pretty.
We share what we have. Deli turkey and Kettle chips from Charity; celery sticks, string cheese, and cranberry bars from Jacey. Goldfish from me.
The JV boys trot out in practice clothes. JT notices me right off. He’s staring up while the rest start their laps.
“You’re in trouble,” I tell Jacey.
She waves him on. “You and Steve will get back.”
“No,” I say.
“You have to,” Charity says.
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you’re crazy,” she says.
“Never mind now,” Jacey says. “Tell us what happened.”
I sort the details.
“We were at the reservoir, you know, parked, and Steve wanted to do more than I did.”
Charity swirls her hands. “Go on, Angelyn!”
“We fought about it. And—he left me there.”
Charity nods, like, more, more. I can’t read Jacey.
“This dog was there,” I say. “It turned out he dumped her too!”
Their expressions don’t change.
“Steve came back, but he was a total ass about it. He said this stuff about you, Jacey.” I nod to Charity. “And you too.”
Charity touches her chest. “Me?”
Jacey is frowning. “You don’t do everything with Steve?”
I blink. “Sometimes I do. I didn’t want to then.”
“You’re playing him, Angelyn. JT wouldn’t put up with it.”
“But—we don’t have to, right? They can’t make us.”
“Did Steve try to make you?” Jacey asks. “Really?”
“Well, no. You think it’s okay he left me out there?”
“Steve told everyone he came right back,” Charity says.
“He told that?” I curl away from them. “God, what else did he say?”
“He’s a guy,” Jacey says. “You pissed him off. You’ll work it out.”
“Steve was wrong.” My voice is small. “I can be right.”
“Just don’t think you’re better,” Jacey says.
I look at her. “I didn’t say that. I never did.”
Charity grins.
“What’s with you?” I ask, wishing I hadn’t said a thing.
“Steve is coming.” She says it like she’s announcing Santa.
The lunch detention crew is sweeping across the field toward the track. A different teacher is with them today. Steve covers his territory like a wounded bear.
I ask the girls: “What do I do?”
Together they say: “Talk to him.”
JT is flagging Steve and pointing to me. The detention teacher peels off to talk to the coach. Facing away, they laugh together.
I stand. “I’m not staying for this.”
Steve shadows me along the track as I cross the length of the bleachers. I start down the steps, and he starts up them.
We meet somewhere in the middle.
Steve pushes his hair back with a muddy hand. “You hiding from me?”
I look at him until I can’t. “What are you saying about me?”
“Huh?”
“This morning,” I say, pushing past. “I heard all about it!”
“Angelyn!” He’s on my heels.
I run-stumble-jump down the steps, grabbing the rail as I slip on one.
Steve blasts around me. Blocks me as I’m bent, breathless.
“What are you doing?” he asks. I look up.
“You’re wrecking me here!”
“You know we’re over,” I say.
“I don’t know that,” Steve says.
I straighten. “We’re so over.”
He waves an arm backward. “How do you think my folks took this?”
“Your detention? Mr. Rossi gave you that. I didn’t.”
“Rossi let you walk. I don’t have a cute butt to shake, so here I am.”
“Hey! We were late because of you, and that’s why—”
“I was pissed at that,” Steve says. “This morning, and you weren’t there.”
I wait. So does he.
“Is this you saying, Sorry?” I ask. “Because, some apology.”
“It’s the truth,” he says. “I can’t do better than that.”
“Well, I’m not saying, Oh, okay. And, It’s all good. No.”
Steve turns up his hands. “No?”
“No.” I say it softly. Direct. “Find another girl.”
He teeters on the step. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Steve is still as I pass him.
The detention crew watches in a knot on the track. The players too, heads turned, their drills in slow motion.
“You’re still wrapped up about that dog, aren’t you?” Steve calls.
Genius, I think.
“I’ll get her for you, Angelyn. She’s yours!”
He’s not serious. “Too late!” I shout.
“For what?” Steve is at my shoulder.
I break from him. “For us.”
The action on the field dies. The coach and teacher turn.
“Coslow!” the teacher calls. “Down, now.”
The coach points at me. “This is off-limits for student lunch.”
Hands at my elbows, Steve sets me to one side. “We’ll talk later.”
“We will not!” I call, watching as he trots down.
I follow at a distance. The detention crew is massed on the track. I step into them, and they part for me, barely. Someone smacks his lips. I flinch. The kid laughs, and the rest take it up. Kiss-kiss all around, from lips I’d never touch. I push through. From the field, a catcall—oww—and then another. The sound goes on, stretching like taffy, pulled from many mouths. The coach’s whistle doesn’t dent it.
Steve stands between the groups. Our eyes meet. He turns his back. Hands raised, he makes like he’s conducting.
I pass him and all of them, my arm raised, a finger to the sky.
Against the sunbaked gym, I am seeing, hearing, and feeling it again.
Lunch is still on. Kids eat at picnic tables under the awning. The breezeway swarms with people all the way up to the street.
The girls come charging around the corner.
“The coach made us leave too.” Charity’s voice is high and breathy.
Jacey asks if I’m all right.
I peel myself from the wall. “Now do you believe me?”
“Believe what?” she says.
“Steve really wants you back,” Charity says.
“Oh yeah.” My throat catches. “Did you see what just happened?”
“I saw you guys talking.”
“Talking. Yeah. Steve sold me out.”
“Don’t get dramatic,” Jacey says.
“Angelyn is all about the drama,” Charity says.
I point toward the field. “I did not make that up.”
They look at me like the problem is mine.
“And what is this crap about listening to my side? If we’re friends, there is no side. You’re with me.”
Jacey scratches her arm. Charity says, “You don’t deserve him.”
I look at her closely. “Oh my God. You think you have a chance.”
She flushes pink. “No, it’s just that Steve’s a friend, and you’re not being fair.”
“Steve’s a friend?” I say. “Then why’d he call you skank?”
“He did not!” Charity says.
I nod. “He did. Don’t know why.”
Her face shades to red. “Yeah, everyone knows you’re the skank.”
“Because I’ve actually done stuff with a guy.”
Charity’s mouth twists. “One guy? Try twenty. I hear anybody’ll do.”
I look at Jacey. “She can’t say that to me.”
“Charity, shut up,” Jacey says. “Angelyn, forget it.”
“I can’t forget everything!”
Things get quiet around us.
“Girl fight,” someone says.
“Walk away,” Jacey says.
I nod. “I’ve got no reason to stay.”
A hard look at Charity and I weave off through the watchers.
“Trash!” she calls after me. “Welfare witch!”
I swing around. Kids arc out of the way, clearing a path.
Charity’s chest heaves. I look her over, head to toe.
“All that money and nothing to spend it on.”
“You never should have been our friend.” Her voice snaps like a loose wire.
“Who’s your friend?” I ask. “Jacey’s busy and Steve don’t go for fugly.”
Charity runs at me.
I throw my backpack down. She rumbles around it, banging into my chest, pinning my arms as I stagger backward.
A ring forms around us, kids yelling.
I piston my shoulders but Charity holds me like iron. We circle in a crazy dance.
“Stupid,” I say, and she growls something back.
I lift a boot and bring it down on her sandal. She yowls and hops, and I work an arm free and smack her shoulder. Charity spins off.
“Enough?” I ask, shaking out my hand.
She runs at me again. I sidestep, grabbing a fistful of product-heavy hair. I yank it. Charity kicks at me, missing by inches as I work to stay behind.
“Stop now?” I ask, close to her ear.
She elbows my gut. I jerk back and my feet tangle with hers. We fall, landing hard, Charity on top. I stare at the circle above. Laughing faces—most of them. Yelling. Happy. Jacey, silent. Pale as milk.
Charity shifts and straddles me, and I shut my eyes, taking her sissy slaps like I deserve them. She’s crying. I’m not. I hear her sobs and the roar above. It rises and falls, and rises and falls again.
Charity’s weight lifts off. I breathe in, opening my eyes. Mr. Rossi is there. He sticks out a hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.
“If it weren’t for bad luck,” he says, “would you have any luck at all?”