Page 56 of Home Field Advantage

I exhale sharply and meet her warm, dark eyes. “You heard Claire. You know this isn’t about honoring Robbie.”

“Just because it isn’t for her doesn’t mean it isn’t for other people.”

“And how is this honoring him, Crys? Is the positionjust supposed to shut down? No one gave Tim shit when he stepped in, and he sucks.”

“Tim was the team’s QB3. This was the slot he was set to inherit when Drew up and left.”

“Well, he did, and he failed, and they had to get someone new, and Jack is the someone new, and she’sreallygood. And we’re punishing her for it because… what? Because she’s a girl who dared to prove you don’t have to be male to kick ass at football? Because she hasn’t been an Atherton Alligator for life? Literally none of that is her fault, and frankly I think the fact that she’s a girl is pretty badass.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Crystal says, arms crossing her chest. “Are you really gonna tell me that this is all about school spirit for you?”

I square my shoulders. “If you want to ask me something, ask it.”

“Fine. I think you like her. I think you liked Veronica, too. And I don’t know what that means about you and Miguel, but I do think you’re thinking with your…” And there she falters, because for all that Crystal can whip us in line and run a tight ship of girls in tiny skirts, she’s never vulgar about it.

And then, because I’m done denying it, because I came here to do something and I’m going to see it through, I say, “I do. And I also care about this squad and this team and this school. The same as I’m sure it would’ve been for you if Calvin had been on the team.”

I watch her try to compute the idea of me and Jack beingjust like her and Calvin, a wholesome all-American duo that likes sports and movies and going out to eat and whatever. Honestly, it’s hard formeto compute, after all the stupid hiding we’ve been doing. But the thought of getting to date like normal people, of getting to have nights like we did at Gutter Kittens but at Maggie’s, movie theaters, or the beach… Hell, even the thought of getting to wear her letterman’s jacket in public sends a little shiver over my skin. My whole time at Atherton, there’s never been an openly queer couple outside of the theater kids, and being the first isn’t exactly my dream.

But being with Jack is.

“I guess that answers why you were so adamant about fixing that cheer for tonight,” she says, and I’m so relieved that the first words out of her mouth aren’t anything hateful, even though I’ve never heard Crystal be hateful in her entire life. “And I’m guessing that isn’t all you have planned.”

“Still a joint effort with school spirit,” I assure her, “but yes. I’m sorry for going rogue. But I’m proud of her. And I’m excited for her, about the scout. And I want this night to be magical for her, as it should be. And I think everyone should want that, but they don’t, and they don’t want a captain who does. So, okay, thatCisn’t in my future,” I say, gesturing toward the letter stitched onto her uniform. “I can handle that. Probably.”

“I know you’ve been working hard for it,” she says sympathetically. “Everyone does. But—”

“I know.”

“And no matter your motivation, these aren’t exactly team player actions.”

“I know.”

“Coach gave me a serious earful and—”

“I know.” I offer her whatever fraction of a smile I can muster. “Trust me, I know. I just wanna cheer her on tonight, and then I’ll fall in line or ride the bench or turn in my pom-poms—whatever Coach decides, okay?”

She gives me a quick nod, and my heart squeezes at the realization she may not fight for me. There isn’t much she can do when Coach gets it into her head that someone needs to be disciplined, but it’d be nice to feel likesomeone’s on my side after all the friends I just shed.

Please let this be worth it, is all I can think as I trudge along after Crystal.Please, please, please let her forgive me.

-JACK-

Okay, so I feel the tiniest bit guilty about Amber getting reamed for cheering for me. It would’ve been cool as hell if I could’ve gone right up to her afterward and given her a huge, obnoxious kiss like I’m sure countless quarterback/cheerleader pairings have done in the past. But we are so fucking far from thatscenario, it’s not even funny, and I’m done trying to be with someone who has no interest in changing that. For all I know, and certainly for all everyone else knows, those flips were every bit as much about showing off her skills in her campaign for captain as for cheering me on, if not more so.

Who the fuck knows if it was about me at all, at this point?

Still doesn’t stop the guys from making their shitty jokes about it as we chow down before the game. “Careful, Santiago,” Sanchez says to Miguel, gnawing the last scraps of barbecue chicken off the bone. “You see that cheer your girl had for Walsh? I thought she only cheered like that for you. Something we should know?”

I suck in a breath, but Miguel barely even blinks. He’s no stranger to this shit. “If you think that was something, you should see how we both cheer for your mom, Sanchez. You’d lose your fucking mind.”

The rest of the guys crack up and talk shit, their mouths full of the chicken, rice, green beans, and corn bread cooked by the Student Athlete Moms Association. Objectively, the food is at least as good as anything my mom cooks, but it may as well be dirt for all I can enjoy it.

What would it feel like to say, “Yeah, fuckers, thereissomething you should know—she tastes like peach lip gloss, has the softest skin I’ve ever felt in my entire life, and can bend in ways you can’t even imagine”? What would it feel like to admit that I can’t stop turning that cheer over and over in my head, lettingmyself feel like it was at least a little bit about me, and that it feels surreal to have someone that talented in my corner?

What would it feel like to just… tell the truth? Tolivethe truth?

Guess I’ll never know.

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