Page 3 of XO

“Say hi to the gym floor when it hitsyouin the face,” I retort.

His eyes alight in humor while he laughs at my comeback, and it’s the sexiest sound ever.Damn him.“Challenge accepted.”

“Team Kennedy, are you ready?” Mr. Allen asks.

“Yes,” my team says in perfect unison—we’re off to a good start.

“Team Lincoln, are you ready?”

“Yes,” Jacob and his mixed team of football players and cheerleaders all yell.

It really is a competition between the populars versus the nerds and outcasts. Me being both a nerd and outcast. I wonder how Mr. Allen had created the teams and how much bias went into his decision-making. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he’d placed an insider bet on Team Lincoln winning. He’d probably be shitting himself with the score being so close right at this moment. Team Kennedy had snuck up from behind, our strength being the very tall and nimble Hans. Nobody would have guessed that the loner German exchange student with Coke bottle glasses would take to the track and field events like he was a contender for the Olympic games. But he did, and the football jocks simply cannot outrun, outthrow, or outjump the boy they never knew existed.

“Lincoln and Kennedy, this is your decider,” he announces for the crowd in the bleachers to hear. They yell their support, a sea of blue banners waving for a Lincoln win, a few flashes of red for my quiet, yet determined team. “At the sound of my whistle.” Mr. Allen holds the rope firm as players on both teams dig in their heels. Jacob and I both lower in position, eyes locked, ready for combat.

“It’s on, Posie.” He smirks, and I want to make him hurt.

The whistle blows, and we all heave against the pull, the thick rope tearing at our skin. My feet slip, the bandana crossing the centerline toward Team Lincoln. The crowd cheers as their favorite team inches closer to the winning line.

“Dig in, Cody,” I yell above the noise, hoping our anchor has more in his reserves.

Jacob smiles at my desperate plea, but that’s quickly wiped clean when he and his team are forced to take a step forward, centering the bandana.

Now it’s my time to smile, my foe’s eyes flickering with a sudden concern that he may well lose, and worse, lose to me.

Both teams grunt and grimace, the banner shifting a few inches here and there. That is until the worse possible scenario occurs. Team Kennedy is nothing withouthim. In fact, had we not convinced him to partake in the game’s decider, we would have had to hand victory over to Team Lincoln. So, when Cody’s lack of shoe grip slips on the polished basketball courts, resulting in a twisted ankle, he falls flat, and fatefully releases the rope. Team Lincoln staggers back with the sudden release of tension which catapults me forward. The rival team falls in a heap, and I drop perfectly on top of the one and only Jacob Lynch. It takes me a moment to gather my senses and comprehend the fact he can feel my bits, and I can feel his.

“I decided to catch you after all,” he says playfully.

“No, you didn’t. Had you a choice, you’d rather see me fall on my face.”

“So ungrateful, given your knee almost pulverized my balls.”

Jacob’s friends snigger, and I’m embarrassed to find everyone in the gymnasium laughing and gossiping at how the art nerd continues to lay upon the high school heartthrob, well after what would be considered acceptable.

I’m horrified.

Mortified even.

“You’re such a jerk,” I say when he winks yet again. Damn him and the effect that sly wink has on me. I slide off him and return to my sorry and worse-for-wear group.

“Are you okay?” I ask Cody, who’s being attended to by the school nurse with a handful of icepacks.

“Was it worthwhile for you?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ew… no.”

So why am I still blushing?

“Quiet down,” Mr. Allen calls to the crowd. It takes a few moments before they follow his instruction. “Quiet!” he says it again, but this time much louder and continues, “Well, that was closer than I guess any of us expected.”

I roll my eyes at how clearly transparent the man is. He’d planned it to be a whitewash victory, and his shock and disappointment is obvious. “A valiant effort from the underdog, Team Kennedy.” He starts an applause, and few but not many obliging audience members contribute.

“Did he just call us the underdogs?” Nessie, my best friend since pre-school, asks in disbelief while tying up her mass of curls and straightening her black glasses.

“Yep,” I say.He’s right but throw a dog a bone.

“Our winners today go to the victorious Team Lincoln, who remains in possession of the trophy for yet another year.” Mr. Allen turns to Jacob. “Does the captain want to make a speech?”

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