Page 9 of Home Field Advantage

“I’ve been gone for a week, Jase; I’m not off to sea. Come on. Just half an hour. I could really use it,” I try.

Definitely the wrong way to go. “Oh, well, ifyouneedsomething, then I guess everyone has to drop everything,” he snaps.

Some variation on that remark has been his response to pretty much everything I’ve said since my parents told the twins we were moving, so it barely even stings at this point. Barely.

Fine. I’ll just take a deep breath and sidestep that. “Where’s Jer?”

“‘Studying’ at some girl’s house.” At least he engages long enough to make those obnoxious finger quotes.

Somegirl’shouse??Jesus, even my little brother has more game with girls than I do. God, this is sad. But okay, not the point.

“You’ve gotta be bored. Come on.” I can’t believe I’m begging to play a game I don’t even like that much, especially when my arm feels like it’s gonna fall off, but I need something to go right today. Something to feel fixed. If we were home—together—I’d drag him outside to throw a ball around the yard, but right now this is the best I can do.

“Not bored enough to play with you because you feel bad for leaving and don’t want me to be mad at you,” Jason says sourly. “Thanks, but no thanks on the pity game.”

“Jase! It’s not a pity game!” God, I wanna tell him how much it would mean to me to hang out with someone who actually loves me, but I know he’ll use it against me if I tell him how cruel the team is being. “I wanna playLegendswith you. You think that’s changed just because I moved?”

“I think everything’s changed because you moved.” His voice is flat and he gives me no chance to respond before he cuts off the connection.

As if on cue, a new bruise on my shin starts to throb, and I take it as my sign to go grab an ice pack and see if my mom wants to get subs from Publix for dinner.

I am grateful I am grateful I am so goddamn grateful.

I’m on edge all day Wednesday, waiting for Coach to pop his head into any one of my classes and tell me I need an extra session or whatever before our first game on Friday night at Lawndale High. It’s still a huge issue that the guys don’t wanna listen when I call plays, and while they’re the ones being complete and total fucknuggets, I’m the one who’s gonna suffer if we can’t work shit out.

I let my gaze travel around my English class, drifting over Bro of All Bros Chase Hamill, overachiever to the stars Aisha Bates, and uber-preppy Austin Barrett, who is, as usual, pretending to listen while sneaking glances at Cheer Girl’s legs every three seconds.

In fairness, they are extremely good legs. Strong legs. Strong legs that can do a split on command.

Strong legs that probably still want to kick my ass for being such a prick to her the other day.

It shouldn’t bother me. She was just being fake and cheerybecause it’s literally her job. But I didn’t realize it would be my one and only experience here with anyone being friendly. Even if she was faking it, that’s still more than anyone else has done. Maybe Ishouldapologize. Hell, it certainly wouldn’t hurt for anyone to see me getting along with a cheerleader.

And then it hits me. What if she were willing to broker a little peace? Anyone that hot has definitely got at least one guy on the team willing to do anything she wants, and maybe, just maybe, I can talk her into getting that guy to see how much I have to offer. Maybehetalks to the other guys on the team about that. Maybe we stop wasting so much fucking time and finally get somewhere.

Of course, there’s no reason she’d be willing to help me, but I’m desperate, and I’m already late to the season; I don’t have any more time to let my skills earn my respect for me. I’m gonna have to kiss some miniskirted ass, and not in a fun way.

Whatever it takes, I tell myself as I let my gaze drift over to Amber again, (mostly) ignoring her legs in favor of scrutinizing what would be the best way to get her on my side.Whatever it takes.

I don’t catch up with her after class, because if that first day was any indication, she’ll be running right into cheerleaders who think I’m an abomination unto the Lord. But Amber proves to be a hard girl to track down privately. Every time I spother in the hallways, she’s with another cheerleader or Miguel Santiago, the one guy on the team who doesn’t treat me like shit. (Not that he talks to me; he just doesn’t glare at me or mutter about me like I personally killed Robbie Oakes.) I can’t decide whether it’s better or worse if Santiago’s her boyfriend. He seems well-respected enough by the other guys, but he also never stirs the pot—something I’m guessing has to do with being one of the few players of color on a team whose assistant coach drives a truck with a huge-ass Stars and Bars decal on the back. He’s probably not the guy to go to for making any waves.

Plus, for all I know, Cheer Girl isalreadywhy he’s being as nice to me as he is. Maybe this is what he’s like maxed out on Not Being a Dick.

If that’s the case, I’m fucked.

But I can’t try nothing, so I keep on keeping an eye out until I finally see her alone in the parking lot at the end of the day, standing at her car and tapping her foot as if she’s impatiently waiting for someone. I’ve probably got a minute, and despite thinking about this all day, I still haven’t come up with any script. Still, it’s my one window, and I take it.

“Hey! Amber!”

She looks up, huge sunglasses obscuring most of her face, and I’m sort of glad for them. “You remembered my name this time. What’s up, Jack?”

The little butterfly flitting around at the fact that she remembersmyname needs to quit it right the fuck now. Of course she remembers my name; I’m the fucking quarterback.It’s her job to know, every bit as much as leading our atrocious offense is mine.

Also, I’m about to have to swallow a whole lot of pride.

“Listen, I’m really sorry I was such an asshole the other day. I’m still getting used to being an outcast here. You were the one person who was actually nice to me, and—”

“And now you want something.”

---