Page 11 of Home Field Advantage

Everyone cracks up, and I happily join in. Amber, 1. Jack, 1. Everyone else… who cares?

My heart thuds in my chest as I stand outside Jack’s window that night, grateful she lives in a strip of single-story apartments, just like I do. Ordinarily I’d have another base with me, lifting me up, but tonight I’m the one member of the squad who’s on her own.

Just leave, my heart pounds out.Get out of this mess. No one will mind. Hell, they’ll thank you. And the fact that you’re wondering what she sleeps in isnot good.

Unfortunately, I’m too stubborn and stupid to listen, and I’ve got the stepladder I brought with me. All I need to do is climb it and knock.

So, I do.

There’s a crashing sound and the flicker of a lamplight turning on in the windownextto the one I knocked on, and then there’s Jack, low light highlighting her sharp cheekbones and the curves of her biceps bared by her tank top. I can see her lips mouthing “What the hell?” through the window before she throws it open. “Cheer Girl?”

“At your service!” I wave imaginary pom-poms. “I’m here to get you for Midnight Breakfast.”

She rubs her eyes and yawns. “What the hell is Midnight Breakfast? And stop knocking on my mom’s window. She sleeps like the dead, but if you do wake her, she’ll kill both of us.”

Oops. I scurry down the ladder and move it to the right window, then climb back up until we’re face-to-face. Behindher, there’s a pull-out couch messily covered in boring sheets, so I guess she sleeps in the living room. As far as I can tell, the walls are completely bare, and there isn’t much more to speak of, furniture-wise. It definitely does not look like a place a family has actually settled. “The varsity squad picks up the starting lineup the night before the first game and we all go to a diner to eat breakfast. At midnight. Hence the name. Didn’t anyone tell—You know what? Never mind.”

Her lips twist into a scowl-smile combo. “Yeah, so weird I didn’t see that in the team newsletter Dan Sanchez gently places on my lunch tray each day. Anyway, I’m already asleep. Why would I want breakfast?” She fumbles for something else on the nightstand, then slips on a pair of glasses. “Don’t you dare tell a soul I wear these.”

I roll my eyes. “There’s nothing to tell, precious; you’re wearing ’em to breakfast. Come on. The whole idea is to go however we found you.”

“But you get to be dressed and made up?”

I’m glad she can’t see my blush in the darkness. My momdidpoint out that I was a little prettied up for something that takes place when most people are in their pajamas. That’s what I get for asking to borrow her mascara, I guess, especially since she’s one of the only people in the world who knows I’m not wearing it for Miguel. “Right. Because I’m a cheerleader and if anyone sees me looking like a mere mortal, they turn to stone.”

She snorts and there’s a genuine laugh in there and itsoftens me a little despite myself. Maybe more than a little, or maybe it’s the late hour, because I get a bit too stupid and say, “The glasses look cute. Seriously. Come on.”

“Cute?”

I’m about to snap out a reminder that she’s the one who asked me for a favor and maybe she should consider not teasing me, but when I catch her eye, it feels like there’s a question in it, wanting to know exactly how I meant “cute,” and my stomach tightens.

I know the queer girl dance. I’m pretty sure it just began. And maybe I’m projecting or maybe I’m stereotyping because she’s built like a brick wall and exudes more masculinity than half the football team or maybe I’m not. And as a frequent hater of this dance, I can’t help but want her to know that at least in this, we’re on the same team. “Very fucking cute, okay? A little too cute, if I’m being honest. Don’t make me say it again.”

There’s no more fight as she grabs a sweatshirt and follows me down the ladder and out to my car.

The ride to Maggie’s is short, but Jack still finds a way to be an asshole for the length of it. “Do the other cheerleaders know that you’re treating me like at least half a human? Is that gonna get you in trouble?”

It might, I bite my tongue to stop from saying. “They know I’m here,” is all I offer.

“Funny how they were a whole lot friendlier when they thought Jack Walsh was a guy, decorating my locker and leaving me cookies like I was an actual member of the team. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Oh no. This girl is not baiting me. “Maybe I’m just as disappointed,” I say coolly.

She snorts. “Maybe you are. Somehow not one person in this school gives a shit that Sundstrom approachedme, or are we all pretending we don’t know that because, oh right, he’ll get in deep shit if anyone calls him on recruiting? My stats make your last QB’s look like a joke. It’s the whole reason I’m here, and yet it doesn’t seem to count for a damn thing.”

Okay, number six might be a pain in my ass, but even so, I know it’d be cruel not to warn her to keep herself out of even hotter water. I pull up to a red light and turn to her. “Listen, I know being a badass is very important to you, but you can’t say stuff like that about Robbie,” I tell her. “It’s only going to make them hate you more. Robbie’s dead, so he’s a saint. He’s dead, so he’s the greatest they ever had. And the fact that you make him look like a joke is a very big part of the problem.”

She’s quiet for so long, I’d wonder if she even heard me if not for the cold look in her deep brown eyes and the defiant set of her jaw, bared by her omnipresent tight blond topknot. Then the light turns green, and I’m forced to look away and concentrate on the road again. Which also makes me feel freer to keep talking.

“I know you wanna prove yourself, and I’mnottelling youto play any worse than your best. I just want you to get that if people are a little harsh right now, that’s why. They’ll chill out once the season starts and they’re getting wins they’ve never seen before.”At least I hope they will.

“If I were making him look like a joke but I were a guy, they’d be okay with it, though, right? It’s only embarrassing because I’m doing it in a sports bra.”

There’s no point in lying about that. She’s not stupid. “Correct.”

She sighs. “So what am I supposed to do, then?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “This kind of thing isn’t in the cheer manual. But I think doing team-bonding stuff like Midnight Breakfast is a good idea.”

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