Page 32 of Home Field Advantage

“A cute couple with a girl who looks twelve?” Amber mumbles, and I can practically see her brain whirring through her hair. “Were they freshmen?”

“I don’t think so. He had a varsity jacket.”

I watch as Amber racks her brain, then shakes her head. “There aren’t any couples I’d describe like that. The only girl on the team who looksthatyoung is Cara, but she definitely hasn’t dated anyone.”

“No, that’s it. Cara.” He scratches his mustache. “I knew I’d know it if I heard it.”

Amber blinks slowly. “Are you telling me Cara Whelan came here every week with a guy, and I had no idea? We’retalking four-foot-eleven, reddish-brown hair, freckles, always wears a gold cross around her neck?”

“I don’t know about the necklace, but the rest sounds right.”

“With a varsity player? Any idea what sport?”

The guy squints at her. “I may have overstated my investment here. I really didn’t take notes, and I don’t follow sports other than…” He gestures at the bowling lanes.

“Right.” Amber tries to smile, but it comes out shaky. I don’t understand her friendship with Cara, who’s been nothing but cold to me, but I do know it goes way back and it’s clear Amber doesn’t know her nearly as well as she thought she did. “Well, sorry I don’t know what happened to them, then, but yeah, I guess they broke up.”

“It’s a shame,” he says, dusting off the counter. “They were really into each other. She even did a cheer for him.” A look of understanding dawns over his face. “Ah, your cartwheel. Guessing you’re on some sort of squad together.” He looks at me. “And I guess she wasn’t cheering for either of the fellas,” he adds, jerking a thumb at Amber.

My skin prickles as I wait for a comment that’s lewd, homophobic, or both to hit my ears, but nothing comes. I guess you can’t run a place that looks like Liza Minnelli’s dressing room without expecting some queer presence. “Nope, sir. I kicked all their asses tonight.”

“Nice.” He reaches over the counter and gives me a high five. “I do remember this about them—they were both shitty bowlers. He used to get cranky about it, argued with her theone time she beat him, even though it didn’t take much. Said his throwing arm was off after a game.” Mustache snaps his fingers. “Football! I remember now. He said something ’bout being the QB. Musta been before they got that girl I been hearin’ about.”

“That’s me,” I say before I can think better of it, earning me a bemused look from our new friend. “I’m the QB.”

“But you weren’t a few months ago,” Amber says quietly. “And neither was Tim. Which means the guy Cara was dating on the sly was Robbie Oakes.”

Chapter Seven

-AMBER-

Cara.

And Robbie.

Cara—my best friend since childhood, the person I know better than anyone on the planet—had a secret boyfriend. They went to Gutter Kittens. They dated for months. How did she even pull this off? Andwhy?

Well, the “why” is easy in the greater sense—her parents would’ve gone ballistic if they knew she had a boyfriend. But keeping it from the squad? Fromme? That’s a little harder to comprehend.

But I get it now, why she’s coming so hard for Jack. The very fact that Jack’s here must be a painful reminder of who isn’t. Cara’d be horrified if she knew where I am now, who I’m with.

My first instinct, as usual, is to tell Miguel, but I can’t tell him this. He already thinks I should’ve dropped Cara like a hot potato years ago, ever since her father appointed himself conductor of the homophobia train. Any more ammunition and I worry I’m looking at being forced to choose between them. Especially if Cara knew about the blackmail.

DidCara know about the blackmail?

God, I hope not. If there’s one sliver of light I can hope for in this entire shitty revelation, it’s that she had no idea she was dating a complete asshole. And if she did know… No, I can’t even go there. She couldn’t have. Cara might be Pastor Whelan’s daughter, but there’s a difference between “I don’t approve of your ‘lifestyle’” and “I will help someone ruin your life because of your sexual orientation.”

It isn’t abigdifference, but Cara’s the girl who stayed up all night trying to help me fix my hair when I decided to cut my own bangs. She’s probably the only reason I passed freshman algebra. She made and sold friendship bracelets and cookies with me when I overheard my mom panicking on the phone about how she was going to pay the dentist’s bill for my first and only cavity, and she’s still the person I run summer cheer clinics with for kids in the area. So yeah, I’ll cling to that tiny difference and pray to her god that I’m never proven wrong.

I certainly can’tconfronther. How would I explain why I was at Gutter Kittens to start with? And really, what’s the point? To rub salt into the wound of his death? Yes, Robbie was an asshole, but clearly Cara didn’t feel that way.

Maybe she even loved him.

Which means the only person I can really talk about this with is—

“Hey, you okay?”

I blink up at Jack, who’s sitting patiently in the driver’s seat, watching me stare at my front door without getting out of the car. Now is when we should be having an epic good-night kiss, not sitting in silence while I contemplate what it means that one of my best friends had a secret romance with the guy who tried to ruin my other best friend’s life.

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