Page 423 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

My gaze darts to the side.

I don’t even know which team wins the coin toss, because that’s when I see Harper by the boundary fence separating the bleachers from the field.What the fuck is she doing here? She’s supposed to begrounded. And what is she wearing? It’s not quite a cheerleading outfit, but it’s close enough. A tight silver crop top, a black, pleated tennis skirt. Her hair is even braided like the Darlings. And she’s holding legitimate Cinderhart pom-poms.

As soon as we lock eyes, she grins wide and yells, “Go, Jude!” again at the top of her lungs.My heart gives a solid thump in my chest. Fuck it, I’ll figure out what she’s up to when I’m not?—

But then another voice shouts out. It’s deeper and much more familiar. Someone’s talking to me on the field, but I’m not listening. I’m staring in shock at my father sitting high up in the bleachers. He’s on his feet, his old CH letterman’s jacket on full display. Rosie and Diana are with him, and both are wearing black shirts, Rosie with her hair up in two little buns, glittery things dangling from them.

“Dude, we’re receiving,” Sean calls out, ripping my gaze away from my family. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I trot away, blinking hard. What made Dad change his mind? I asked him earlier this week if he’d be at the game, and I got the usual “no”. I wasn’t expecting him.Anyof them.

“Go, Jude!”

I force the sound of Harper’s voice out of my head. That more than anything has me fucking perplexed. Is this her way of currying favor with our parents so she can get a few weeks knocked off her sentence? It has to be—she’d never willingly come to a game...would she?

“Jude!” Sean yells. “What the fuck?”

I’m in the wrong position. I shake my head and trot over to where he’s pointing while Coach glares at me from thesidelines.Focus, Jude. Don’t let your stepsister throw you off your game. Maybe that’s her fucking plan. Distract me so I’ll fuck up.

Sorry, Harper.

If there’s one thing you can’t fuck up, it’sthis.

Chapter 38

Jude

I’m not in the least surprised when Coach calls a timeout seconds after my fumble on the 34-yard line. I haven’t been able to stop looking at Harper. She keeps yelling my name and waving her pom-poms like she’s at fucking cheerleader tryouts.But instead of heading over to the huddle Coach is calling on the sidelines, I head straight for my stepsister.

She squeals like a gutted pig when she sees me headed her way, and hurries out to the edge of the field.

“Thefuckare you doing?” I grate out at her as soon as she’s in earshot.

Her face falls. “What do you mean? I’m watching your game.” She spins around and waves at our parents up in the bleachers. “I made them come too. Cool, huh?”

I grab her arm, wrenching her around to face me, and immediately realize my mistake. The majority of the crowd is staring at me, trying to figure out why I’m talking to a fake cheerleader instead of huddling up with my team. I’m sure Coach is about to head over here to cuss me out. And I’ve just gone andgrabbedmy stepsister with obvious hostility.

The fuck is wrong with me?

Oh, right.Thisbitch.

“Get lost,” I growl, leaning in as much as I dare. I plaster a fake smile on my face, but I push my words through that barricade of teeth. “Or do you want me telling our parents whatreallyhappened at Sean’s house?”

Harper’s face pales, but her smile stays stuck on, just like mine. “God, Jude, if you can’t see that I’m trying to make things right then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.” She glances up nervously to the bleachers, then past me, toward the field. “Your coach is coming over.”

“Then fuck off so I can get back to my game. If I see you?—”

“I’m sorry, okay? I thought I was helping,” she says quickly, her smile even wider. “Here. So no one thinks we’re fighting.” She hands me an energy drink.“I’m already grounded for likeever.”

“I don’t want it.”

“People arelooking, Jude.”

Fuck it. She’s right. I know the expression on my face is anything but charming right now. I need the crowd’s support—I don’t need them thinking I’m a fucking monster who pushes his stepsister around. So I take the bottle and down half of it in a few big gulps before shoving it back into Harper’s hands.

“Go sit up there,” I tell her, moving my eyes to the bleachers. I even give Dad and Diana a big wave. “And stop trying to fucking distract me. It’snotworking.”

The crowd cheers like the wave was meant for them. Harper nods quickly, gives her pom-poms a quick rustle, and scurries off the field like the chastised mouse she is. When I turn, Coach is two yards out and closing. I hold up my hand as I trot past him, heading for the huddle.

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