Page 40 of Home Field Advantage

And maybe I wanted to feel certain, too, that we had something significant in common, that this isn’t some goofy “opposites attract” mess that isn’t going anywhere. I want it to go somewhere.

I just don’t know where.

“Hey!” A tiny little ghost pops up at my locker after first period, and even if it weren’t obvious from her build and voice that it was Cara, the plain white sheet—the kind on every bed in her house—is a dead giveaway. Over time, the rest of us have realized that it makes the day a lot more fun to wear sheets with cartoon characters or pro sports logos, but Cara goes classic. “You mixed it up this year.”

“My mom was so upset about spilling nail polish on her good sheets, I promised her I’d make good use of them,” Iexplain, holding out the red splatter design for closer investigation. “We did the whole thing Jackson Pollock style with some paint to cover it up and voilà.”

“Very industrious of you. Maybe you should be in charge of the signs for Friday’s pep rally,” she says with a twirl of her sheet.

“I’m always happy to take on anything and everything,” I remind her lightly, because that’s been my mantra for the past two years as I try to push my way into everyone’s brains as the obvious choice for captain. I haven’t exactly been showing it lately—leaving practice as soon as it’s over in the hopes of catching Jack to drive her home, letting Sara Copeley take charge of the signage this Friday—but I still mean it when I say I’ll do anything for this team.

They don’t even know how much I’m proving it by staying in the closet.

“You’ve seemed a little preoccupied lately,” she says, not for the first time in the past few weeks. “Are you stressed about the game?”

Of all the things I could be stressed about, the game is dead last. We have PSATs around the corner, I’m way behind on my campaign for captain, I have a secret girlfriend, I knowCara’sunsettling secret, I’m in a fake romance with my gay best friend… whether or not the Alligators can win a game they haven’t won in at least a decade isn’t exactly at the top of my concern list.

She doesn’t wait for me to respond, though. “I am too,honestly. It’s, like, we’re supposed to be cheering and wanting the guys to win, but, like, nobody wants to win this way. It’s bad enough she’s getting credit for their wins this year when everyone knows they’re just upping their game to make Robbie proud.” She stands a little taller when she says this, and I don’t know whether I’m gladder I can’t see her face or that she can’t see mine. “But now the alumni are gonna come back and buy that same bull if we win. I’d rather they see how much she sucks.”

But she doesn’t suck.There’s no reason to state the obvious here, especially now that I know about Cara and Robbie. There’s nothing I could say to make her accept that Jack’s the hero here if she’s determined to believe that somehow Robbie’s “magic” is at play, the driving force behind the team’s newly winning record.

I can’t bring myself to say anything really shitty about Jack, so I go with the safest bet: “Considering how long it’s been since we’ve won a homecoming game, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

She snorts. “Yeah, right?” She leans against the lockers. “What is it then? Are you nervous about performing in front of the old squad? I know Jamie will be back. I bet if you impress her, she’ll put in a good word to Crystal.”

Jamie Rhodes was last year’s captain and she would’ve done a fifth year of high school to do it again if she could. Cheerleading was her entire life, and it paid off—she got a partial scholarship to the University of Central Florida. She threw aparty when the news came in that probably ate up a good portion of the money, but it wasn’t about the thousand bucks for her; she loved the prestige that came with it.

I need the freaking money.

“Well, Iwasn’tnervous about that, but now I am.” I’m not sure if I’m kidding or not, but Cara laughs anyway.

“You’re gonna be great. We always are.” She gives me an air-kiss from beneath her sheet. “See you at lunch?”

The very idea of eating with one more thing added to my anxiety plate makes me want to puke. But I cheerfully say, “Yep!”

It only occurs to me that she can’t see my flutter-wave goodbye when she’s already out of sight.

Turns out to be a good thing I’m not in charge of pep rally signage, because before we can even pack the signs up into Sara’s car that night, my phone beeps with a text from Miguel.Drip?Another text quickly follows.Please.

The use of actual words instead of emoji-code gets me, andpleaseis the icing on the cake. Miguel never says please.

I’m so not in the mood to do anything but crash on the couch, but thatpleasewill not be ignored.K, I text back with all the energy I can muster, and then I make my apologies about slipping out and get in my car to make the drive.

Nausea creeps up my throat with every passing minute, afeeling in my bones that this has to do with Malcolm, that Miguel’s just had his heart broken. Malcolm’s his third boyfriend—first was some guy he met on the internet in eighth grade but never met in person, and then there was Stephen, the guy he was dating when we met—but Malcolm is the first one Miguel’s felt really serious about, and he’ll be shattered. Hell,Ireally like Malcolm; we had a great time with him on our double date. Not that this is about me.

I practice the sweet, comforting things I’m gonna say for the length of the ride, but when I step into Drip and see Miguel waiting, he doesn’t look sad; he looks… nervous? His foot is frantically tapping on the floor and his hands are already doing that straw-fiddling thing. And yes, there’s a drink waiting for me, too.

He has to tell me something bad.

Jack.

Fuck.

All the platitudes I’d been ready to say to him fly out of my head and I take the other empty seat, ignoring the drink and dropping my bag like a stone. “Did she get into another fight?”

“Did who what?” He knits his thick brows. “Oh, Jack? No, no—just the usual stone silence today. This isn’t about Jack. Or, I guess maybe it is.”

“You’re starting to seriously stress me out, Santiago.”

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