Page 243 of Pucking Around

“What the—”

“Rach,go!” Tess shouts from behind me.

A police officer opens my door, and the shouting intensifies tenfold. Mom is already down on the pavement, holding out her hand to me. I take it, letting her pull me from the car. As soon as I step out, all the bulbs of the cameras flash, blinding me as the press start shouting and the people behind start screaming.

I’m delirious, blinking in the harsh light of the flash bulbs, as mom pulls me forward. Tess steps in at my back, and the three of us rush through the middle of the scrum, not stopping as all around us people shout.

“Hot doc spotted!”

“Rachel!”

“Price means love!”

“We love you, Rachel!”

The arena security are ready to open the doors for us, letting us inside. The doors shut and I spin around, eyes wide, taking in the surge of people outside. “What the fuck was that?” I cry.

I glance from my mom to Tess. Both of them are suddenly looking decidedly guilty. I shake my head in shocked disbelief. Whatever is happening right now, they’re both in on it. “Oh, what in the name of ever-lovingfuckis going on?”

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“Honey, don’t get mad,” mom says.

“Don’t get mad?” I cry. “Too late! What the hell was that? Where did all those people come from? What are they doing here?”

“They’re here to see you,” Tess replies. “To support you, Rach. You and the guys.”

“Support me?”

“Yeah—look, wereallyneed to let Caleb explain,” she says, nodding at my mom.

“Caleb?” I squawk. I feel like the world’s worst trained parrot, only able to echo every fourth word they’re saying.

“Come on, honey,” mom says, taking my arm. “Everything will make sense in a minute.”

The security guard scans our tickets and then mom and Tess lead me through the maze of the lower level towards our seat section. As soon as we enter the throngs of people, all hell breaks loose again.

From left and right, people start shouting my name. They surge to get closer. Mom and Tess stay to either side, holding my hands. Fans wave posters when they see me, cheering and screaming our names. Not just mine. I hear a lot of shouts for Jake and Ilmari, even Caleb. Most of the posters sport the numbers 31 and 42. And two words are on almost every single one.

PRICE IS LOVE

LOVE IS LOVE

FALL IN LOVE AT ANY PRICE

“We love you guys, Rachel!” one young woman calls out.

“Love the jersey!” comes a shout from the other direction.

“We’re here for you, Rachel!”

“Love is love!”

Suddenly, wearing this jersey feels like I’ve got a big target painted on my back. This is crazy. “I need to go to the bathroom,” I pant. I don’t need to go; I just need to get out of these throngs of people.

Mom glances over her shoulder. “But we’re almost to our section—”

“Now,” I cry, tugging us out of the flow of traffic towards the women’s restroom. I go in first. Rushing around the corner, I find the edge of the sink and hold on for dear life. I look up at my reflection in the mirror and take a deep breath.

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