Page 4 of Home Field Advantage

The other girls mumble something along those lines and retreat, except for Amber, who lingers as I turn back to my locker and see the cookies in question. I’d expected a box full of homemade or something, since that’s what the guys at my old school always got, but instead, it’s a bag of Famous Amos straight out of the vending machine. Oh well—beggars can’t be choosers, and these happen to be my favorite.

“They’re nice girls and great cheerleaders,” Amber says as I tear open the bag. Chocolate chip. Yum. I hold it out to her, but she shakes her head. I stick one between my teeth and stuff the rest of the bag into my backpack. “They—we—just expected someone a little different.”

“A guy.”

“Well, yeah.”

At least she’s honest. “Sorry to disappoint.”

She blushes a little and, damn, she really is cute. But the whole “nice” thing… I’m not falling for it, and I don’t have time for bullshit. It feels like a game of good cop/bad cop and that’s not the sport I signed on to play. “I didn’t mean—”

“Look, Cheer Girl—”

“It’s Amber,” she snaps, aqua eyes flashing as the nice girl mask finally drops. Well, that didn’t take much.

“What the fuck is the difference?” I’m being an asshole, but in my defense, everyone else was being an asshole first. “Listen, I get that I’m not what y’all had in mind, but I can play ball just fine without a dick to swing in the locker room. And I don’t need any cheery shit to do it either, okay? So you can go follow your friends. I’ll find my own way around.”

I turn back to my locker, expecting to hear her stomping away, but no such luck.

“Not having a dick doesn’t mean you need tobeone, FYI.” She waves imaginary pom-poms. “Rah-rah and a sunny fucking day to you, too.”Nowshe storms off, her little skirt swishing behind her, and for a quick stupid moment, I consider calling her back and apologizing. But I’m not ceding any ground here, certainly not to a cheerleader, even if she has more of an edge than I first thought.

I may not love Atherton, but I do love football, and if all I get is two years to play it, I’m gonna do it while keeping my mouth shut.

By lunchtime, it’s clear that word of my identity has spread, and I can’t go anywhere without seeing gawkers and hearing whispers. Hiding in a bathroom stall to eat isn’t my style, and Lord knows I need to carbo-load before practice, but I don’tknow where the hell to sit in this place. Certainly not at one of the two tables of football players and cheerleaders holding court in the middle.

I’m not the sentimental type, but the whoosh of missing my friends from Butler comes fast and fierce. Sage and Morgan, the best of the best, have been texting me all morning, wishing me a great day and sending pictures of everything from their morning Starbucks orders to classmates’ new haircuts. I hate that I had to leave them behind, hate that I did it for a team and school that doesn’t even want me.

I know they’re hurt that I left, even though they get it. They both have passions of their own—Sagewillbe on one of those absolutely ridiculous baking shows one day, and Morgan’s love for LARPing and cosplay is outshone only by how fucking talented they are at crafting and design. They both plan to pursue those passions after high school.

I just happen to have jumped ship a little earlier to pursue mine, leaving them behind in the wasteland that is Butler High. Which means I can’t let them know that, so far, things here are Quite Shitty, Actually.

And that’s just my friends. I broke my family in half for this, my mom moving with me to Atherton since she can work remotely as a customer service rep, and my dad staying behind with my brothers, who refused to move. That means as far as everyone’s concerned, this must be the most worthwhile thing I have ever done, and I’m proving it with a uniform selfie, alocker photo, and anything else that screams “I am Atherton’s new Golden God.”

I have to make this work, for all of them.

And yeah, for myself, too. This is my shot. Myonlyshot, since while select high schools might be making exceptions for female players, the chance at playing in college is even closer to one in a billion. There may come a day I can’t name every single girl who’s done it, but for now, I chant some of their names in my head like a mantra of possibility, even though I know being a placekicker or safety isn’t like being a QB.Katie Hnida. Sarah Fuller. Morgan Smith. Toni Harris.

Each name is a deep breath, getting me back to where I need to be, which is being able to face a lunch crowd. I’m never gonna be a team leader if I can’t even do that, so into the masses I go.

Any minute now.

Okay, really, I should spend lunch reviewing the plays in those videos Coach Sundstrom sent me.

Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.

I’ll make friends tomorrow.

Probably.

Chapter Two

-AMBER-

Cara’s seven minutes late meeting me at my car after practice, but that’s no surprise. She’s late for everything, always; it’s a wonder she even still has a job. Now I’m gonna have to drive like a maniac to get her there on time, praying I don’t get yet another ticket. My car isn’t anything fancy—an old Nissan Altima handed down by my dad when he and his then-new wife, Angela, upgraded (always upgrading, that father o’ mine!)—but if I lose the ability to drive it, I can kiss every single thing in my life outside of school goodbye.

I scroll through my phone while I wait, flipping throughpictures from cheer camp this summer, feeling the corners of my lips lift up at the memories. I may be a dork, but I love everything about it—jump contests on the beach, impromptu dance parties, Spirit Night—and yeah, managing to sneak in some time with a certain cheerleader was definitely a seasonal highlight.…

“Hey! Sorry!” Cara runs up to me, breathless, and I nearly drop my phone, as if she can hear my thoughts. The picture I was looking at wasn’t evenofVeronica, but it still feels like too close a call. Not that Cara doesn’t know I made out with a cheer captain from Tally—unfortunately, too much adrenaline and a poor location choice meanseveryoneknows—but it’s been written off as cheer camp shenanigans, fully endorsed by my Extremely Heterosexual Horndog Boyfriend, Miguel Santiago, star Wide Receiver of the Atherton Alligators.

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