Page 41 of Home Field Advantage

His eyes dart around the coffee shop and he exhales deeply before saying, “I want to take Malcolm to homecoming.”

“Huh.” That was the last thing I expected him to say. “Okay.And you want me to ask Jack to bring him as her date? I don’t think she was planning on going at all, but—”

“No.” He wraps his hands even tighter around his drink, until his knuckles go white. “I… I want to bring him as my date.”

Okay,thatwas the last thing I expected him to say. Lowering my voice to a whisper seems silly, given that we’re literally talking about him being out in the open, but judging by the way he glanced furtively around the room a moment ago, he’s still not totally comfortable. Besides, it’s too ingrained a habit for us both at this point. “You want to come out at homecoming, of all places?”

He sighs. “It’s not that I want to come out at the dance. Honestly, that sounds like a fucking nightmare. But I don’t wanna keep missing out on shit. Nothing about this year has been normal. If I’m being real, nothing’s felt normal since Robbie first started blackmailing me.”

“Yeah, and he was able to blackmail you because you wanted to keep your sexuality a secret,” I say carefully, “so what changed?”

He sets the drink down and puts his foot up, then drops it back down, like he’s still trying to figure out just how comfortable he can get. “I guess I’m just finding it harder and harder to give a shit what the guys think. I see them around Jack, and the way they talk about Saint Robbie, and it feels like I’m watching some surreal-as-shit movie. They’re deranged. They don’t feel like my friends. And I’m a little tired of trying to hidefrom them. What’s the worst that could happen? They’ll want me off the team? Honestly, being on it kind of sucks this year anyway.”

“Even though you’re finally winning?”

“Especially because we’re finally winning,” he says with a snort. “Like, if we can stop sucking and there’sstillno joy in it—even less than before, really—then what the fuck am I doing? My mom would kill for me to spend that time on something else. I could get a job, save up for college, actually spend time with Malcolm.…”

“And what if ‘the worst that could happen’ is worse than that?” I ask, because I have to, because this isn’t exactly a town where people fly rainbow flags and vote in a blue wave.

“I don’t know. I’ve never known. But I know I can get through shit better with him than without him.”

“Dude. That is the most effing romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” I hold out my arm. “Chills, a little.”

“Oh, shut up,” he says, but he laughs. Then he grows serious. “Listen, though. Are you okay with this?”

“Am I okay?” I lean back in my chair and finally take my first sip of the drink. Mmm, caramel macchiato. Which will probably keep me up half the night, but whatever, it’s worth it. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie—I’m nervous for you. But if you feel this is what you want, of course I support you.”

He coughs into his fist. “No, um. I mean, if I bring him to homecoming…”

That’s when it finally hits me—why he’s brought me hereand why he’s paying for my drink and what he’s trying to say. “Oh. If you bring him to homecoming, everyone knows our relationship has been a sham.”

“I mean, I guess we can say you had no idea.…”

“But then everyone will think you’re an asshole,” I fill in, “and I’m not exactly gonna look like the brightest bulb in the chandelier.”

“Unless maybe… you wanna take Jack?”

His voice is so hopeful, and for the briefest of moments, I consider it—the ultimate in solidarity. The four of us riding there together. A night dancing with the person I actually wanna have my arms around.

But just as quickly, I push the idea out of my head. “I can’t. I know you’re burned out on the team, but I still need the squad. I need a shot at becoming captain. I can’t destroy that by coming out, and definitely not by coming out with Jack Walsh on my arm.” I hate asking him to do this, but we had a deal, and if I didn’t break it when I got my first girlfriend, he shouldn’t be able to break it now. “We can have Jack bring Malcolm. He’ll still be there. But I can’t come out. And I definitely can’t force Jack out. This is a chain reaction, Migs, and on, like, five seconds’ notice. I’m sorry, but I can’t just…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He’s trying to hide the sourness in his voice, and he’s failing. “Fine. Maybe Jack will bring him. Then at least we get to be in the same room. Though that’ll probably make it even harder for me to talk to him.”

I hate how true that is, but yeah, talking to Jack Walsh inpublic isn’t exactly the key to winning a popularity crown. And speaking of which: “Hey, remember that we’ve got decent shots at king and queen. That’s not nothing.”

I haven’t forgotten for a second; it’s yet another part of my plan to get cheer captain. Because cheerleaders and football players take the titles so often, it’s Atherton tradition to crown the king and queen at the dance, rather than do a whole halftime thing when we can’t exactly don our finest royal attire. Our nominations to the upperclassmen court were announced at last Friday’s pep rally, so now all I need to do is win the actual title. How can you not want a captain who’s been celebrated by the whole school and gotten to wave like a beauty queen with a pretty little tiara on her perfectly coiffed head?

“Yep, great,” he says with a weak-ass smile, holding up his drink in a mock toast.

I pretend I don’t see that he’s absolutely faking it, and clink my plastic cup to his.

-JACK-

“Soda?”

No hesitation there. “Mountain Dew.”

Amber’s face takes on the disgust of someone who’s juststepped in roadkill. “That’syour favorite soda? How are you not radioactive?”

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