Page 26 of Home Field Advantage

That’s when I realize Coach has arrived.

“What thehellis going on here?” he roars, taking in theguys grabbing at Dan and how we’re all locked in some grand standoff. “Walsh?”

Because of course, the sole girl on the team, currently staring down ten other guys, is the one in the position to answer this question. Sure. I clearly started it.

“Nothing’s going on, Coach,” I say coldly, my eyes flitting from Sanchez to Devlin before briefly landing on Miguel Santiago, hoping I’ll find some confirmation there that I’m doing the right thing. But his face is impossible to read, and it’s all a little too ridiculous, the lone hope for sympathy on the team being the guy whose “girlfriend” I’ve been making out with. “Just a pre-practice chat.”

My knuckles flex and crack, wishing we could make this chat a little longer.

“There a problem, Sanchez?”

“No, sir,” he grunts, and then it’s over as quickly as it began, everyone shifting into place as if it were a perfectly normal, threat-free afternoon. Of course, Sanchez flubs catches left and right during passing drills as if that’ll disprove my commentary and makemelook bad, but Coach just tells him to get his shit together.

I’m guessing that’s not gonna make me any more friends. And what kind of cheer do they create for a girl who socked her own teammate? I’m sure it’s a doozy.

Of course, thinking of cheerleaders just makes me think of Amber, which feels like taking one more bite of a shit sandwich. Homecoming is up in less than two weeks, and whatdo I have to show for it? Not a coach who supports me. Not a team who appreciates me. Not a girl I can go to the dance with. Not a school that gives a shit about me. Not friends who can hold a candle to Sage and Morgan, both of whom think I’m being a lousy home-wrecker right now.

In that moment, I feel done. And since I’m done, I don’t really need to go to class tomorrow, right?

The second I’m back in my school clothes, I head for my car and peel out of the lot.

Chapter Six

-AMBER-

I know it’s not a good sign when “Walsh, Jack” goes unanswered in first period. It’s certainly not good when I don’t spot her by her locker afterward. And the rumors that are hitting my ears… Yeah, somebody’s having a bad morning, and judging by the way my stomach’s felt filled with lead since that conversation with my mother, that somebody is more to me than just a good kisser.

I finally catch up with Miguel and yank him aside for details, putting aside that I’m showing my hand by caring waytoo much about somebody I’m not supposed to. “What the hell happened at practice yesterday? Was Jack in a fight?”

“Hard to even call it a fight,” Miguel says with a snort. “She got ambushed by Sanchez and the rest of the guys, and he threw a weak-ass punch. She would’ve kicked his ass if Coach hadn’t shown up. She got a good swing in anyway. But yeah, it was a mess.”

Oh God. I knew it was bad, but not physical-fight bad. That is fucked-up. That isfucked-up.

“Yeah, it is,” says Miguel, which is how I realize I’ve said it out loud. “I guess you’re still on your thing about creating unity or whatever? You seem pretty upset. Everything okay?”

The truth is on the tip of my tongue—about Jack, about Cara, about everything—but I can’t force it out. Not here. And not before I talk to Jack. “Where is she?”

He shrugs. “Stayed home, I guess.”

“Okay, thank you. Do me a favor and take notes in physics for me?”

“Why?” He narrows his eyes, but I’m already turning away, pulling out my phone to see if I have any messages from Jack. Nothing. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll fill you in later!” I call back over my shoulder, meaning it. “Just take the notes!”

I am not a girl who cuts school, especially because it means getting benched if I miss practice, but I jump into my car and floor it to Jack’s, perfect attendance record be damned.

The second Jack opens her front door, my hands are on her face, checking for bruises. Only when I’m satisfied that Dan hasn’t chipped a tooth or broken her nose do I finally speak. “What the hell happened, Jack? Miguel just told me you threw down with the entire football team. Are you okay?”

She laughs bitterly. “Come on, Cheer Girl. Do you really give a shit if I’m okay? Because not a single one of your friends does.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course I care. I’m here.”

“You’re here now, yeah. But what’s the point? You can’t actually be there when I need someone to stick up for me and say that I belong here. And you won’t be there the next time someone comes at me.” She looks so tired, it makes me want to pull her into my arms and just hold her. “I’m not in the mood to fool around right now, so maybe go find somewhere else to cheer.”

She starts to close the door in my face, but I catch it with a firm hand, even though I don’t know what to say. She’s right. I haven’t been there. But I wanna be. I want to be able to stick up for her and hold her hand and kiss her and keep my friends and become captain and why is that too many things to want?

“Jack. I care. Please let me in.”

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