Page 6 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“Any bands I would know?”

“Maybe some. But most are indie, which I prefer. Nothing worse than an artist who sells out commercially for a paycheck.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he says. “I hate when one of my favorite songs winds up on the radio. Ruins it for me.”

“Oh my god! Me too. I mean, I get it, they want to be rich and famous, but once they hit the radio, all their music turns to crap.”

“Like you said—commercialized.”

“It’s like people are scared of originality. They all claim to be original, but they’re really just like everyone else.”

He laughs, quipping, “Clones.”

“Exactly.”

The bell rings and groans fill the cafeteria as everyone throws away their trash and heads to their next class.

Noah stands and grabs his backpack. “It was nice meeting you,” he says before picking up his small milk carton and tossing it into the garbage. “I’ll catch you later.”

“See ya.” I idle in my seat as I watch him file out of the cafeteria with the rest of the herd. I pop the last chip into my mouth right before someone bumps into the table, causing my soda to knock over.

It spills onto my lap, and when I jump up, Sebastian is laughing.

“Why are you such a jerk?”

He doesn’t say anything as he and Kassi snicker at me.

“Dude,” Brent announces loud enough for everyone to hear, “Cricket pissed herself!” He then takes Emily’s hand in his as they walk out.

Embarrassment flames my cheeks, turning them hot while everyone stares and laughs as they pass me on their way out. I pick up the can, throw it into the trash, and make a beeline to the bathroom.

Wadding up a handful of paper towels, I soak them under the faucet before blotting my pants. My whole crotch is soaking wet when Emily enters. She looks at my pants as she walks over to one of the other sinks.

“I don’t think he did that on purpose,” she says as she pulls out her lip gloss.

“I don’t know why you hang out with them.”

I go to the hand drier as she looks at herself in the mirror, rubbing her lips together. “They aren’t that bad.”

“Whatever.”

After she leaves and the door closes behind her, I punch my palm against the round silver button that brings the drier to life with a loud hiss.

There’s a light mist in the air tonight while I snap photo after photo of the players on the field. It’s nearing the end of the fourth quarter, and we’re up by one, not that I care. I keep behind my camera as I stand on the sideline. When the clock runs down, I capture the final moment when Sebastian makes a last-minute goal, securing the team’s win.

Everyone cheers from the stands, the team celebrates like the obnoxious boys they are, and I pack my things. As I make my way through the stands, I run into Phoung, who’s on the newspaper staff with me. We chat about nothing in particular for a few minutes, and when the bleachers have practically emptied, we say a quick goodbye before I head out.

As I’m walking, I fumble around in my bag for my keys. When I can’t find them, I grow frustrated and stop next to the concession stand so I can dig through my backpack. My hand is still blindly searching for my keys when I hear Kassi whining about something. Peeking my head around the corner of the concession building, I see her and Sebastian, and I eavesdrop.

“Why can’t I ever come over?” she asks.

“What’s the big deal?”

“I just don’t know why you won’t introduce me to your mom. Are you embarrassed of me or something?”

“God, you’re annoying,” he gripes. “You act like we’re getting married or something. Who cares that you haven’t met my mom? It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, if it isn’t a big deal, then let me come over.”

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