Troy High (15 page)

“GO, TROJANS!” THE CHEERLEADERS DOVE INTO a series of flips and cartwheels along the sidelines as the Trojan defensive line charged down the field toward the Spartans.

Perry managed to bring down Lucas, but not before Lucas passed the ball to Owen. A Trojan intercepted the throw and gained a few yards before being tackled to the grass.

On the sidelines, Hunter paced back and forth. Since Patrick had been taken out of the game, Ackley had taken over stalking him. He was focused only on Hunter. His threats about taking down Hunter and getting revenge for his injury last year repeated themselves over and over in my head. I shuddered as I remembered the fire I had seen
in Ackley’s eyes when he thought Hunter would be too injured from last week’s fall to play tonight.

“Go, Perry!” a girl near me shouted. She and her friends cheered, pumping their fists in the air.

On the field, after Lacede had called a time-out, Lucas slammed hard into Perry as they passed each other.

Perry turned toward the ref, pointing an accusing finger at Lucas.

“Sorry, accident,” Lucas said, loud enough for his voice to float toward the bleachers. He had taken his helmet off and plastered an innocent look on his face.

The referee gestured for both Perry and Lucas to go to their respective sidelines. When the referee turned his back, Lucas sneered at my brother before heading away.

I turned to the sidelines, where I saw Elena watching with fear.

Hunter and the offensive line headed back onto the field. As did Ackley and the Spartan defense.

The sun had set, and only the floodlights around the field illuminated the players. The grass glistened with water from the light rain that had fallen during halftime, and the guys seemed to glow as the light reflected off their helmets.

Hunter’s lips moved as he shouted out plays to his teammates, but the roar of the crowd made it impossible
for me to hear anything he said from where I was sitting in the bleachers. He snapped the ball, and the players went into motion. The guards blocked Ackley long enough for Hunter to make the pass, but then Ackley broke through, still intent on charging at my brother.

Hunter didn’t back down. He met Ackley head-on, and the two tumbled to the grass, arms swinging and legs kicking. Neither of them seemed to realize that another Trojan had caught Hunter’s pass and moved the team sixteen yards closer to the end zone before being tackled. The referee ran toward them, his whistle screeching.

“Personal foul, number fourteen, Lacede,” the referee shouted, giving Ackley a penalty.

The play resumed and again, Ackley went after Hunter. He was more careful this time, doing whatever he could to keep from getting another penalty but still attack Hunter.

The Spartans came alive now that Ackley was on the field. They stopped the Trojans from advancing and intercepted passes at every opportunity.

On the next play, Ackley lunged at Hunter, causing him to throw a wild pass. Lacede intercepted and regained control of the ball. The Spartan offensive line returned to the field, working as if they all had one mind. The guards brought down any Trojans who tried to reach Lucas or
anyone else in possession of the ball. Owen managed an impressive thirty-yard run, scoring a touchdown.

At the end of the third quarter, the teams were tied 17–17.

Hunter didn’t sit down to rest whenever he was off the field. He paced along the sidelines and kept his hands balled into fists at his sides. Some of the other guys tried to talk to him, but I knew he probably didn’t even hear them. Ackley was tormenting him, and I knew Hunter was focused on nothing else.

The final minutes of the game ticked down. Lacede had managed to pull ahead, 24–17. The guys on both teams looked visibly tired, but the Trojans huddled one last time, trying to rally themselves. The other guys slapped Hunter on the back and shouted encouragements, but Hunter seemed as if he barely noticed his teammates’ existence. He kept his head turned toward where Ackley stood across the field from him. And Ackley did the same, watching my brother’s every movement.

“Come on,” I whispered, glancing at the game clock. “Let’s get this over with.”

The sooner the game ended, the happier I would be. Maybe once Lacede and Troy had fought here on the football field, we could move on from this stupid rivalry for a little while.

With six seconds left on the clock, the Trojans lined up to attempt the last few yards for a touchdown. The center snapped the ball and both teams lunged forward.

Ackley, of course, charged at Hunter. One of the Trojan guards reached out to grab Ackley to stop him from hitting Hunter, but Ackley leaped over the guard’s hands and continued on.

Ackley caught Hunter by surprise and he was unable to make the pass. Hunter had no time to hunch down and prepare for the impact.

Ackley wrapped his arms around Hunter as he tackled him roughly, turning Hunter so he landed on his right side. Hunter’s feet flew out from underneath him first and he landed hard on his shoulder in the grass. The ball fell from his hand and rolled a couple of feet away.

The clock buzzed as it hit zero.

The bleachers were silent.

The coaches and medics for both teams rushed onto the field. People around me stood so they could get a better look at what had happened. But for a long moment, I couldn’t do anything other than sit exactly where I was, my flute clutched tightly in both hands and my heartbeat throbbing in my ears.

Then something inside me snapped.

Ms. Holloway tried to stop me as I raced down the
bleachers, almost kicking several people in the head as I scrambled over them. “Cassie, stay here!” she shouted, reaching for my arm.

I had learned a thing or two from playing football with my brothers in the backyard, and I easily dodged out of her reach. I practically leaped over the people on the bottom bench as I hurried toward my brother.

Please let this be like last time
, I thought.
Just a mild sprain
.

But as I pushed my way through the small crowd gathered around, I knew this wasn’t like last time. Because as I drew closer, what I had seen in my dream weeks ago played itself out on the grass in front of me.

I skidded to a stop, staring horrified at my brother as he lay so still.

Ackley pushed himself up and stepped back, limping slightly on the ankle Hunter had injured last year. He pulled off his helmet and watched as the medic pushed at Hunter’s shoulder, a sneer on his face. “The Trojan prince has fallen,” Ackley shouted.

As Ackley turned around, his gaze met mine. His big eyes were wild. A large welt grew on one cheek and a little bit of blood trickled from his lip. I shuddered as he stared back at me. He looked so frightening; I had to look away.

Hunter grimaced. He bit his lip to keep from crying
out as the medic pushed on his right shoulder with his fingertips. I started toward him, but a hand grabbed my arm. Perry.

“Let them do their work,” Perry said. “Hunter will be fine.”

I shook my head as Hunter grunted in front of us. “He’s hurt,” I said. “What if he …”

I had started to say “What if he can never play football again?” but I couldn’t even get the words out. Hunter without football was impossible to imagine. It had been his life since Dad had bought him his first football when he was six. For as long as I could remember, Hunter lived and breathed football. And he was counting on a scholarship for college.

The panicked, frightened feeling from my dream overwhelmed me. This wasn’t just another injury; I knew in my gut that something was terribly wrong. I squeezed my eyes shut as Hunter let out a low moan.

“Let us through!” said a familiar voice behind me. “That’s our son.”

Mom pushed through the crowd first, followed by Dad. They dropped to their knees at Hunter’s side. Mom leaned over him, smoothing back his hair and kissing his hand.

“He’s landed hard on his right shoulder,” the medic said. “He needs to see a doctor.”

Behind us, the crowd in the bleachers murmured as they watched. For the second time that night, the medics carried a stretcher onto the field. They carefully rolled Hunter onto it, but I noticed the intense look of pain on his face.

I started after the stretcher as the two medics carried Hunter away, but Mom turned around and stopped me. “No, Cassie. It’s okay. He’ll be all right. You stay here and enjoy the dance.”

“You expect me to
dance
at a time like this?” I asked, waving my flute around.

Mom patted my cheek. “There’s nothing you can do for him. We’re taking him to the hospital, and I’ll call you later to let you know how he is. Okay? You have a big night ahead.”

I knew Mom was right. I wouldn’t be of much use at the hospital.

“Call me as
soon
as you know anything,” I said.

Mom nodded, blew a kiss to Perry and me, and then hurried after Dad and Hunter.

“He’ll be okay,” Perry said, squeezing my hand. I knew he was trying to sound strong for me, but I could hear a waver in his voice. “He has to be.”

“STOP BLINKING!” ELENA GRABBED MY CHIN IN one hand, digging her fingertips into my flesh.

“Stop trying to tear my eyelids off!” I snapped.

“It’s just a little bit of eye shadow,” Elena said. “And I wouldn’t be pressing so hard if you would just sit still.”

Sitting still was impossible. My entire body felt as if it wanted to move constantly. My right foot bounced up and down while my left foot twisted back and forth. My right hand twirled a lock of hair around one finger while my left hand rubbed the fabric of my dress.

“You’re going to ruin your dress,” Mallory scolded me, slapping at my hand. But she didn’t sound quite like her usual self, more like she was distracted and unable to put her full effort into criticizing me.

We all weren’t quite as focused on getting ready for the dance as we might otherwise have been, if the game hadn’t ended like it did. Ackley bringing down Hunter meant the end of the big homecoming game. And a huge victory for Lacede: 27–17.

My chest felt tight and tears threatened to spill down my cheeks whenever I thought of my brother. How was he doing? What was happening at the hospital? Would he be okay?

I tried to push those thoughts aside and sit as still as I could while Elena finished her work on me. “There,” she said after a few more moments. “All done.”

I looked at myself in the spotty locker-room mirror. The lighting in the room was an unflattering yellow, but still, my cheeks glowed with a rosy color and my lips seemed fuller thanks to the pale lipstick Elena had insisted I wear. I certainly didn’t look like myself. Would Greg even recognize me?

My stomach did backflips. I pressed my palms to my abdomen and took a deep breath.

“You look great,” Elena said, stepping up behind me. She had gotten ready in half the time of the other girls so that she could help me. Even with doing her makeup and hair quickly, Elena still looked amazing with her smoky eye shadow and dark red lips. Around her neck, a
small gold charm was fastened. The charm was a delicate golden apple.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered. “I feel like I’m going to get sick.”

“You’d better not get sick and mess up your lipstick,” Elena warned me. “And you
can
do this. Greg is out there, waiting for you. He won’t even know what’s hit him once he sees you.”

“Do you think anyone will be angry that I brought a Spartan as my date?” What I really wanted to ask was, “Am I a traitor to my brother for wanting to be with Greg tonight?”

Hunter’s injury had changed things for me. It wasn’t just about what I wanted anymore. Almost all my thoughts focused on Hunter. He had tried to get me to stay away from Greg, and I hadn’t listened. Had my dream about the game been a warning? Would Hunter be in the boys’ locker room right now getting ready for the dance if I had just done what he’d said and ended my friendship with Greg?

“It’ll be fine,” Elena said. “Perry and I will keep things under control.”

I snorted. “That makes me feel
so
relieved.”

Elena smiled and pushed me toward the door. “Just shut up and get out there.”

My body trembled again as I approached the door.
Calm down
, I told myself. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was Greg. My Greg. Well, not
my
Greg, but Greg as in my best friend.

With Elena leading the way, I hurried across the school grounds toward the gym.

The lights shone through the glass doors and windows along the front of the building. Students stood on the front steps, the guys trying to look cool and casual while the girls checked out one another’s dresses. The low, hushed voices of the crowd and grim expressions on the faces around me echoed the general mood of the evening. It was homecoming, but no one was excited, not after losing to the Spartans and not after what had happened to Hunter.

Elena found Perry quickly and ran off to him, leaving me alone in the courtyard. I scanned the students gathered on the front steps, but there was no sign of Greg. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears. Had I been stood up for my date-that-wasn’t-really-a-date-but-that-I-hoped-wasa-date?

“Hey, Cassie.”

Greg appeared at my side and I let out the breath I had been holding.

“Hey,” I said. He looked great in his dark-gray pants and light-blue shirt, with a gray-and-blue striped tie.

“I didn’t know if I should bring a corsage or not,” he said, holding up a single white lily. “So I compromised and got this.”

I took the lily with a slightly shaky hand. “Thank you,” I said, trying to fight back the flush that I knew was creeping up my neck.

Greg offered me his arm. “Ready for our big entrance?” He sounded a little nervous and he glanced warily at the doors of the gym.

I slipped my arm through his, tingling at the warmth of his body through his sleeve. “Ready.”

I gave the teachers who attended the doors my dance tickets and they waved us inside. The music already blared throughout the room so that I could feel the vibrations all through my body. The overhead lights had been turned off, with only a few colored spotlights shining. At the far end of the gym hung a huge painted sheet of fabric that proclaimed the theme of the dance with the words
TROY HIGH HOMECOMING—HAPPILY EVER AFTER
. Along the wall, directly under the sheet, stood the horse float the Spartans had built.

A refreshment table had been set up nearby and students gathered around it. Others danced in the middle of the floor and some sat at small tables along the sides to people-watch.

The mood was strained, but still, as soon as Greg and I entered, I felt the air in the room change. People glanced our way, then turned to whisper to one another. A few people even snickered and sneered.

I considered turning around and leaving, pulling Greg with me. But I didn’t want to run away and hide. So I stepped farther into the gym, clutching Greg’s arm. We found a small bit of floor space, but immediately everyone cleared away from us.

After a moment, Greg leaned toward me and shouted to be heard over the music, “Do you have any idea what we’re supposed to do at a school dance?”

I laughed and relaxed slightly. “I think we’re supposed to dance and then drink some punch. But other than that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Okay,” Greg said. “Then, do you want to dance?”

I nodded and he led me onto the dance floor. Around us, students jumped and bumped into each other in time with the fast music. We stayed on the edge of the frenzied crowd, just trying to do our own thing. Neither Greg nor I were great dancers, but we had fun doing silly moves to make each other laugh.

After a couple of songs, I got the feeling that more than just a few people were watching us. And it wasn’t entirely because of our bad dancing.

I couldn’t tell if Greg had noticed. If he had, he did a good job of ignoring it.

“Want to get something to drink?” I asked.

Greg nodded, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The crowd parted as we moved through, allowing us a clear path to the refreshments. Teachers patrolled the table, I assumed to make sure no one spiked the punch. Greg ladled out two cups of the red drink.

Across the table, Paul Baker and his date, a senior named Jessica, stopped to get some punch. One of them muttered “traitor” as they walked by me.

“What?” I asked, looking at Paul.

He looked up at me, his expression unfriendly. “You heard me. What would Hunter think if he could see his own sister here with the enemy? Especially after we just lost the most important game of the season?”

“Greg doesn’t play football,” I pointed out.

“He’s still a Spartan,” Jessica said, scowling at us.

“Hey,” Greg said softly. “I’m not here as a Spartan tonight. I want peace between our schools as much as you do. I’m just here to have a good time and let you all see that the Spartans aren’t as bad as you think.”

Paul snorted. “Go back to Lacede,” he growled before turning and marching away.

My face was hot with embarrassment. How could I have thought that bringing Greg here might be a good idea?

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“It’s not your fault,” Greg told me. “It’s understandable that people are angry about the game. Hopefully soon everyone will forget about it.” He smiled at me, but I didn’t feel reassured.

I sipped my drink and faced the dance floor while watching Greg out of the corner of my eye. He drained his drink fast and then stood with the empty cup in his hand, his eyes scanning the crowd but not looking at anything in particular.

He looked stiff and nervous. I should never have asked him to come to this dance. What was I even doing here in the first place? I didn’t do school dances. I was not a heels-and-dress kind of girl. And I was crazy for thinking Greg might be with me on an actual
date
. He’d only come because he felt it was his duty as my friend. He probably wished he were with someone else.

I could save us both some embarrassment and frustration by ending the night early.

“Greg—” I said.

But just as I started to speak, he turned to me and said, “I’m going to the bathroom for a minute. Wait here for me, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

After Greg disappeared into the crowd, I let my eyes wander over the people on the dance floor. I spotted Elena and Perry dancing close. Elena smiled and looked up at Perry with a peaceful expression on her face. I had never seen her look at Lucas like that.

When Greg returned, I tried to think of something to say to keep us from falling into uncomfortable silence again.

“So … the horse is kind of cool,” I said, gesturing toward the parade float.

Greg glanced at it, then looked away quickly. “Oh, uh, yeah. I guess we didn’t do so bad.”

“We?” I asked.

“The student council. Mr. Yancey asked the entire student council to build it, so I helped out a bit. See that front left leg? That’s my work. Impressive, huh?”

I laughed. “A work of art. Why didn’t you tell me Lacede was doing this?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Greg said, not meeting my gaze. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around nervously.

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was just the two of us, as it had been so many times before. Only this time was different. This time I was aware of every
movement I made, every movement he made. What I wouldn’t give to be a mind reader right then. Was he remembering our kiss? Did he want to do it again?

“Cassie,” Greg said. He opened his mouth again, but no sound came out. He paused, running a hand through his hair.

I turned toward him. “Yes?”

He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Cassie,” he said again.

“Greg,” I said. “Now that we’ve established each other’s names, was there something else you wanted to say?” I squeaked out a laugh, trying to lighten the moment. He was just Greg and I was still just Cassie, his best friend. I didn’t want that to change, no matter what else happened between us.

Greg took the tiniest step toward me. “I … I’ve thought … I mean, I wanted …”

“I guess we know now how Lacede put laxatives in the spaghetti sauce,” a voice behind us interrupted.

We spun around, jumping slightly as if we’d been caught doing something wrong. My heart pounded against my ribs as I faced Mallory and Kelsey and the small crowd of cheerleaders behind them.

“What?” I asked Mallory, glaring at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, Cassie.” Mallory walked around us
slowly. “The two of you look awfully cozy over here. You claim to be only friends, but it certainly looks like something more than that to rest of us.”

My cheeks grew hot. I couldn’t look at Greg to see how he reacted to her words.

“Twice now, Lacede has gotten into Troy to play a prank,” Mallory continued. “First with the spaghetti and then again with the chickens. I’ve been wondering just how they’re doing it. How are they getting in without anyone noticing?”

“And now we know,” Kelsey said. “An insider is helping them.”

“I got sick from that spaghetti too,” I reminded her. “Why would I eat it if I knew there were laxatives in it?”

“To throw us off your track,” said Mallory as she glared at me. “You knew it would make you look less guilty if you were sick like the rest of us.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’d really make myself sick just to get back at all of you. And as for the chickens—I was in class that morning. Ask Elena. When I walked into the hall, the chickens had already been set loose. How exactly did I let them inside the school while I was in class?”

Mallory looked stumped for a moment, her smile faltering. But then she raised her chin, smiled again, and said, “Why don’t
you
tell us?”

I wanted to punch her right in the nose.

“Cassie has had nothing to do with these pranks,” Greg said. “You can blame me all you want, but leave her out of it. She’s been trying to get everyone to see how stupid they’re acting. It might do you some good to listen to her.”

Mallory looked back at Greg, one side of her lip curled into a snarl. “Is that a threat, Spartan?”

“No,” Greg said. “Just some friendly advice. We’re not all bad, you know. If you took the chance to get to know me, you might find that—”