Page 104 of Freckles

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

KINCAID

The noisefrom the crowd grows in the final minutes before kick-off. The atmosphere in the locker room slowly alters from our previous teasing. Ezra and Aidan are missing in action, and their lateness is wearing on all our nerves.

I poke my head outside for any sign of them and can’t see them in the people milling outside the door.

When I scan the stands, there’s no sign of them or of Francesca. I cross back to my locker, pulling out my phone to check for any missed messages, finding nothing. When I try my cousin’s number it goes straight to voicemail.

I stare at the floor, rubbing my forehead. Most likely, their absence is connected to the recording I gave Ezra on Friday, but how he’s chosen to use it is less obvious.

“Earth to King,” Jared calls, waving his hands like it’s not the first time. “Are they coming soon?”

He stands by the exit door leading onto the field and even from here, I wince at the sharp tang of spirits on his breath.

“Is who coming?”

“Ezra,” he says with an eyeroll. “Or Aidan for that matter. We’re due for kick-off in five minutes, and they’re not here or out on the field.”

“They’re probably hooking up,” Coxey calls with a grin. “King and the redhead aren’t the only ones in the first flushes of true love.”

“Shut your mouth, dickhead.” I open my locker and pull out my phone again, not expecting anything.

Coach Jenkins walks into the room with Ezra trailing behind and another kid whose name I can’t remember. He claps his hands for attention. “Change of lineup. Ezra is subbing in as first five-eighth, and Baz from the B squad will fill his position for today’s match.”

We all look at each other, and I’m the one who asks, “Where’s Aidan?”

“He won’t be rejoining us.” Coach’s voice clearly communicates he won’t entertain any further discussion. “Take a minute if you need to, then get out on the field. We don’t want to hand an advantage to the opposition.”

“Any more than we already have,” Jared mutters.

Normally I would nod in agreement, but my reflexes are all out of whack. I raise my eyebrows at Ezra, and he gives a single nod, his expression otherwise unreadable. It’s an effort to move through the door, my body turning to autopilot the moment my cleats hit the pitch.

It’s just fallout from the video. Nothing more than that. No reason at all to be worried.

But as I take my position on the field, my heart thunders like it’s midway through a game. My thighs tremble.

Francesca still isn’t in the stands.

Then the ref calls me over for the coin toss, and I push everything out of my mind to focus on the game.

* * *

At halftime,I scan the bleachers, senses on alert when I can’t see Francesca. Rather than sit, I pace the length of the team bench, ignoring every interested catcall from the lineup, the pressure mounting in my head.

She should be back from the car by now, sitting in the stands, wrapped in a rug or changed back to her uniform.

Another circuit of the benches and I check the time again. Two minutes.

I want to scream with impatience.

“Look alive,” Jared yells, racing from the changing rooms and throwing a ball at my head. I catch it and bare my teeth at him, not in the mood, but he doesn’t let it dissuade him.

“Come on,” he wheedles. “Pass it back. You were checked out for most of the first half. We can cover Aidan’s abrupt disappearance, but we can’t afford to lose you, too.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Not in spirit. Should I get Ezra to give you a rousing speech?”

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