Page 10 of Home Field Advantage

Well. Girl cuts right to the point. Guess the least I can do is the same. “I do. Hoping you’ve got a little more kindness in you. I’m prepared to do whatever in order to find it.”

Her eyebrows shoot up high enough that I can see them over the frames of her sunglasses, and I realize that sounded like a come-on that it absolutely was not. Great. The literal last thing I need is a cheerleader thinking I’m trying to get under her skirt.

Her whole body shifts then, and it hits me as she tilts her head that whomever she’s waiting for is coming, and I only have a couple of seconds; I can’t waste them on reassuring her that I’m not a perv. “I really, really need the guys on the team to listen to me, and I’m hoping you can somehow help. That’s all.”

“Me?” She sounds completely puzzled, but I have no time to get into it, because when she speaks again, it’s to yell, “Cara, do you evenknowhow late you are?” She turns back to me. “We have to run.”

“No problem,” I say, quickly stepping away before Cara—the tiniest of the cheerleaders, I recognize now—stomps on my foot in her rush to Amber’s passenger seat.

I’m not nearly far enough away yet when I hear Cara say, “What the hell didshewant?”

And I’m still close enough to hear Amber reply, “Just the English homework. Chill out.” For the first time all day, I get to breathe a sigh of relief that someone somewhere is kind of listening to me, and hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s a snowball’s chance in hell something can actually change for the better.

Chapter Three

-AMBER-

Jack and I don’t exchange a word the next day, but I’m still thinking about it over smoothies at Diana’s pool with the rest of the squad after practice. It was just so sad. Like,I’mher best bet at getting taken seriously? We’ve barely exchanged five words, and they haven’t exactly been nice ones. Does this mean she realizes I’ve been checking her out? Does she think I’m an easy mark because she’s spotted me mentally licking her biceps in English?

Or is she serious that I’m literally the only one who’s been nice to her for even point-five seconds?

It doesn’t matter, the more responsible part of my brain, which doesn’t get hung up on strong, sad girls with incredible arms, demands. I readjust the edges of my leopard-print bikini and shift on the chaise I’m sharing with Cara to take a long sip of strawberry-banana deliciousness.Forget Jack Walsh. You are not friends. These are your friends.

“I think you’re starting to burn,” Cara observes, lifting up her sunglasses an inch and poking at my shoulder. “Hand me the sunscreen. I’ll do your back.”

See?I think as I do exactly that.Cara is my friend, who cares about protecting me from wrinkles and cancer. You, Jack Walsh, are just a girl I happen to find very attractive, and that is probably because I am queer-starved. And you are a freaking quarterback—you’ll be fine. You don’t need my help.

As soon as Cara’s done, I thank her (I’d reciprocate, but she’s already wearing a caftan over her SPF 70) and lean back in the chair to watch Sara, Zoe, Claire, and Ella compete for who can stay in a handstand the longest while Virany judges. On the chaise to our right, Kelsey Coleman’s leafing through the newest issue ofMegaphoneand flagging every page for stuff she’s gonna beg her mom to get. On her other side, Taylor keeps texting someone and giggling as if no one can hear, which means Matt Devlin is definitely on the receiving end of some smut. In front of me, Crystal, Nia, and Diana are sitting with their legs in the water and discussing homecoming dresses and nail polish shades.

This is my happy place, with the girls I love and know likethe back of my hand. I don’t have to think about Jack. I don’t have to think about anything. I can close my eyes and let myself drift off, just a little bit…

I’m not sure how long I’ve been dozing when the sound of Jack’s name brings me back to reality, but the handstand contest is definitely over. Everyone’s gathered around our area of the pool now, and Cara’s moved from our shared chaise to a wicker armchair with Kelsey behind her, braiding her hair. At first I think the mention of Jack was just in a dream, but then Cara says, “Comeon,” and I know I’m not about to hear anything good. “We can just skip her.”

“Seriously,” says Kelsey. “Who wants to sneak intoherroom at night?”

Everyone cracks up laughing, and that’s when I realize the topic at hand is Midnight Breakfast, one of my favorite traditions, and yet another thing that looks like it’s about to go sideways. It’s always done the night before the first game, and it involves sneaking into the football players’ houses at night, dragging them out of bed in whatever they’re wearing, and bringing them to Maggie’s Diner—an Atherton institution that also happens to be one of our squad’s sponsors—for a carbo load.

I guess no one’s fighting over who gets to creep into Jack Walsh’s bedroom the way they do over Lamar Burke or Dan Sanchez.

“You’re not really talking about leaving the quarterback out of Midnight Breakfast, are you? Come on, guys.” I’maddressing everyone, but I keep my eyes fixed on Crystal, because if anyone else can put what’s best for the squad over everything else, it’s her.

“Look, I wish it weren’t true that the team would probably be happier without her there, but…” Crystal shrugs like it’s totally out of her hands. She doesn’t look entirely comfortable about it, to be fair; she’s Atherton’s first Black cheer captain, which means she knows exactly what it’s like to go through some shit on her way to the top. But that was from a few asshole alumni, not the squad itself, which voted for her unanimously. Having someone whose own people want them to fail is uncharted territory for all of us. “It’s not being mean to say that no one wants her there. It’s being honest. And we have to think about what the team wants.”

“She’s part of the team,” I argue. My voice sounds feeble and I hate myself for it, but it sucks arguing with Crystal. It isn’t that she’s the type who’s never open for debate—one of the reasons I most respect her as our fearless leader—but having fought her way to where she is means she doesn’t like having her final decision questioned, either. Most of the time, that’s fine; it’s rare I disagree with her. But I sure as hell do now.

That said, how hard do I wanna fight for this? I need the squad to see me as a team player; they aren’t gonna want a captain next year who isn’t. But if I back down as a leader, is that any better?

I can’t imagine shoving Jack to the side is the best thing forteam unity, but maybe Crystal’s right that including her isn’t either. And it’s not like I promised Jack I’d do what she asked; all I did was listen. I don’t owe her anything.

But if that’s true, why is guilt settling into my bones?

“Tell you what,” Zoe says, a smug smile on her face as she stretches her right heel over her head. “You want her there so badly?Youcreep into her room at night and bring her.”

Everyone else laughs and whistles, and oh myGodthe irony that seeing Jack in whatever she sleeps in (if anything at all—oh God, please let it be something or I am going to die) is supposed to be some sort of punishment. But I believe this is what they call a win-win scenario, and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna pass up on that, even if I have to pretend this is somehow the nightmare everyone else thinks it should be.

“Oh, leave her alone,” says Cara, shooting me a look that’s somehow both sympathetic and a warning at the same time. “Ammo’s just full of team spirit.”

She’s trying to come to my defense, and usually I appreciate it, but this time around, it irks me. Of course, I can’t say or show that, so I just roll my eyes dramatically, complete with a little wrinkle of my nose. “No, you know what? Iwilldo it. I want that Team Player trophy at the end-of-the-year banquet.” I toss my hair to give it some extra drama, and there’s more laughter. “But y’all are buying my breakfast if she sleeps naked.”

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