Page 163 of Rock Bottom Girl
My front line backed off the goal and lined up. One of the midfielders jogged up to play decoy to Rachel’s throw-in.
“This could be the greatest moment in Culpepper sports history,” Vicky breathed.
This could be the greatest moment inmyhistory.
We clung to each other on the sideline. The players on the bench stood and joined us, arms wrapped tight around each other. I could feel the confusion from the crowd behind us. They knew something was about to happen.
Rachel backed up off the sideline several paces. The ref blew the whistle, and she started running toward the line. Six feet out, she bent, planted the ball on the grass, and flipped.
The crowd gasped.
The momentum from the flip sent the ball in a high arch toward the Buglers’ goal. Vicky clung to me, her arm around my neck like a hungry boa constrictor.
My front line started running. The defense was left flat-footed and confused. And my girl Libby left the ground like an NBA dunker. With a deft flick, Libby headed the ball, changing its direction.
The goalie leaped into the air.
The entire stadium held its breath.
And then erupted when the ball found the net.
“Oh my God!” Vicky shrieked over the final buzzer. She shook me like a rag doll until my teeth chattered.
Game over. Victory Barn Owls. We did it. We fucking did it.
The field was pandemonium as players tackled Libby and Rachel at half-field. Fans poured forth from the bleachers, jumping the low fence and joining in the celebration.
It was a mob scene, and I stood all alone in the middle of it, soaking it in.
Then there were hands on my waist, and Jake was lifting me in the air, spinning me around under the field lights.
“You fucking did it, Mars!” My parents were behind him, his uncles behind them. My faculty friends. The team parents. Rachel and Libby and Ruby were lifted on shoulders as the boys soccer team joined the party.
And when Jake slowly lowered me to the ground, when his mouth found mine, when he kissed me twenty years after that first kiss, I felt like I was the winner.
Until they upended the cooler of ice water over me.
69
Marley
After the Homecoming that Shall Not Be Mentioned
Iwas simultaneously a hero and a pariah. My parents were baffled with my revenge plot and suspension. Rather than punishing me—a parental responsibility with which they were entirely unfamiliar—they took a “wait and see if she does it again” attitude.
With people Amie Jo had emotionally tortured and personally victimized—students, teachers, and the entire register staff at Weis Markets—my Homecoming stunt and subsequent suspension gave me mythical popularity.
Unfortunately, there were just as many Team Amie Jo members who felt that “poor, sweet, Jesus-loving Amie Jo” had been unfairly targeted because of her God-given popularity. Their party line was that I attacked her because I was jealous of her hair, her car, and her breasts. In that order.
Team Amie Jo numbers were growing thanks to her post-suspension goodwill tour. She joined the Culpepper Emmanuel Lutheran Church’s choir and handwrote apology notes with the I’s dotted with hearts. The pièce de résistance was a spa sleepover at the Hotel Hershey scheduled for this weekend. She invited every girl in our class.
Except me.
I suspected Dr. and Mrs. Armburger hired a publicist to spiff up their daughter’s image. And as my edge of self-righteous victimhood dulled, I was left with a low-level guilt. Revenge hadn’t been sweet. It had been a little icky. Okay. A lot icky.
Essentially, I’d stooped to Amie Jo’s level and now I was covered in mean girl cooties. Really, the only upside to the whole mess was that Amie Jo now gave me a wide berth at school. I’d bitten back, and she had to inflict her damage from a safer distance now.
I headed in the direction of my locker, accepting a high-five from Marcus Smith, whose reputation as a booger eater originated from second-grade Amie Jo after he took the swing she wanted during recess. I ignored the pointed giggles from Mindy Leigh and Leah, starters on the field hockey team and Homecoming princesses.
