Page 10 of Wicked

I sit out and watch Harper’s team pummel mine. One by one, the kids, from the one dressed as the Green Hulk to the girl dressed as Harley Quinn from Suicide Squad, get picked off by Spider Man, Thor, Gamora (April), Little Red Riding Hood (wait, isn’t the theme superheroes?), and hers truly, Wonder Woman.

Round two isn’t better. Neither is three. In the end, the joke’s on me. My team lost on purpose.

We walk out of the trampoline place as a large group. The kids run up to their parents, excitement in their voices as they point to me and Harper. The adults surround us. Do they recognize me? Is that the reason they have shit-eating grins on their faces?

My ego takes more pummeling when they pull Harper into a group hug and thank her for spending time with their little snots. Hold up. Let me clarify. To me, the kids are little snots. Their parents are using different words. Precious. Wonderful. I want to gag.

“So two weeks?” one of the parents ask after the kids went on and on about the water park and me paying becauseI’mthe loser.

Never once did those little snots mentionconspiracy. No wonder Harper wears nothing but black. The company she keeps has hearts as black as night. Every one of them, except Elsa.

She took a ball to the back of the head for me. A small hand slides into my big one. I glance down.

“Hey, Elsa.”

“It’s Esther.”

“Hey, Elsa.”

She smiles wide.

“Hey, E,” I say.

Her smile grows and, wait a sec, are those dimples?

I smile back. Pink tinges her small cheeks.

“Are you Harper’s boyfriend?”

Shit, here we go again. I stomp down the urge to roll my eyes or answer, sending that ball into Harper’s court.

“He is,” Harper says.

“When?”

This from Collin. No surprise there.

“I asked her to be my girl on Friday.”

“Likesix daysago, Friday?”

My brows slant low. “You got a problem with that, kid?”

Harper clears her throat. “April’s dad is expecting her home soon. We should get going.”

We, meaning she and April. I met them here.

“Well, E, I should bounce. Thanks for having my back.”

We fist bump. I stare at her fist. So tiny next to my mammoth one.

“See you next week?” she asks expectantly.

“Be there or be square.”

“Huh?”

“NVM? TTYL?” I offer.

---