She's So Dead to Us (8 page)

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“What’s your problem?” I asked, turning my knees toward him.

He glanced at Chloe, Shannen, and Faith, who were hovering just on the edge of earshot, and leaned in. “Look, I’m sorry I tried to kiss you, okay?” he whispered through his teeth. “Obviously I was wrong. But I don’t really think that right now is—”

“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about the game!” I replied, blushing.

“What the hell are you doing out there?”

“Excuse me?” he blurted.

“Missing passes, giving them easy steals. I thought you were the star of this team!”

I tried to ignore the obnoxious, annoyed glares of my former friends. This was not about them right now.

“Dude, that guy is all over me!” Jake protested, throwing his hand out. “Did you see that illegal tackle? He should have gotten a yellow card for that. It’s not my fault if the refs are freaking blind.”

“Oh, wah, wah, wah,” I replied sarcastically, tilting my head back and forth. “Poor Jake’s getting defended. Are you gonna cry about it now?”

A few people in the stands laughed, Annie harder than most. Jake, meanwhile, blazed red with anger.

“Um, Ally?” Trista said, appearing behind us. “This isn’t exactly what I meant.”

“I’m not crying about it,” Jake snapped.

“Oh, no? That’s what it sounds like to me,” I shot back.

He stood up and faced me. “I can run circles around that guy.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. “Oh, so all of a sudden you’re a player?” I said dubiously, standing up to look him in the eye.

“More of a player than you’ll ever be,” he shot back. Was it just me, or was he trying not to smile now too?

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Then why don’t you try proving it?” I demanded.

“Fine!” he shouted.

“Fine!” I replied.

Suddenly, he grinned. To my surprise, he leaned toward my ear. “You’re pretty good at this.” Then he smiled at me again before jogging over to Coach and pleading his case to be put back in the game.

“Wow. Nice work, Ally,” Trista said as she walked by. “I think I underestimated you.”

I turned around, grinning over both the praise and the lingering buzz of flirtation, and found Shannen staring me down through narrowed eyes. Clearly I had somehow crossed her imaginary Crestie line, and she didn’t like it at all.

“Nice tits, Dorkus,” Hammond said, clapping David Drake on the back.

David gave us a tolerant look. Impressive, considering he was wearing a huge bra on the outside of his soccer jersey and that the bra was stuffed with rancid sweat socks from the locker room’s lost and found. He also had red lipstick on his lips and blue eyeliner around his eyes, plus a purple wig one of my teammates had borrowed from his little sister.

All Hammond’s idea. All his way of putting Drake in his place for taking my spot on the field. Which I was pissed about, but it wasn’t exactly his fault. Still, I guess it was better than the kick in the head Hammond was always threatening to give him.

“Can I get you anything, sirs?” David asked us bitterly.

“I could use a beer,” Hammond said as I tried not to laugh.

“I’m right on top of that, sir,” he said.

As soon as he was gone, Hammond and I both doubled over. “I’m a genius, dude,” Hammond said, smacking my hand, front and back. “The newbies look hilarious.”

“Yep,” I agreed with a nod. Once Hammond had come up with the idea to haze Drake, I’d insisted we make all the other new players dress up too. That was only fair. At least this way David wasn’t in it alone.

“So, dude, you figured out who you’re taking to the Harvest Ball yet?” Hammond asked me, taking out his BlackBerry to check his messages.

I automatically glanced across Hammond’s game room at Ally. A few people were starting to dance in the open space between the pool table and the arcade games, but she was hanging out by the wall, talking to Tommy Kopp. I was surprised she’d shown. Usually Norms didn’t come to these parties. But then, usually there were no Norm backslappers, either. She looked hot in her frayed jeans and OHH soccer T-shirt, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. The only question was, why the hell was she talking to Tommy Kopp? That guy had breath like a garbage dump and a face to match.

“Dude. Don’t go there,” he said. “Haven’t we had this conversation already?”

I tore my eyes away. “What? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Good. Because Ally Ryan is off-limits,” Hammond said, pocketing his phone again.

“I know, man. Please. I’m not about spoiled goods.”

I felt guilty even as I said it.

“Spoiled goods.” He laughed shortly and slapped my chest with the back of his hand. “I’m totally using that.”

Shit, I hoped not. The thing was, I bet Ally Ryan could have made the boring-ass school dance at least semitolerable. The crap she’d pulled before the half tonight had been semicheesy, but it had worked. My head had been all over the place—my mom’s obsession with getting me an SAT tutor, my dad’s threat to take away my Xbox and cable if I didn’t get my grades up, that girl from Friday night who would not stop freaking calling me—and Ally’s antics had gotten it back in the game. “Anyway, I’m weighing my options. You?”

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious, man,” he said. His eyes flicked toward Ally. Or maybe he was just looking for Chloe. “Chloe already picked out my suit and my shoes.”

“Nice,” I chided, nudging him with my elbow. “She fit you for the leash yet?”

“Hammond!” Chloe called out from her spot behind the bar. Since we were at his place, she’d taken over as hostess. “We need more ice. Do you have more ice?”

“Duty calls, man,” Hammond said, rushing off.

I laughed and looked over at Ally again. My heart did that catching thing it had only ever done since she’d moved here. She was watching me. No. We were now watching each other. Screw Hammond and his warnings. I had to talk to this girl. What she’d done at the game was unexpected, to say the least. Especially after everything. What did it mean? Had she forgiven me for the almost-kiss thing? I had to know.

“Hey,” I said, joining her.

She didn’t look at me. “Hey.”

“I’m surprised you came,” I said.

Her eyes flashed. “Not you, too.”

“Not me too what?” I asked.

“This whole no-Norms thing?” she said.

“No. That’s not what I meant.” My face was getting hot. “I don’t think you
shouldn’t
be here. I mean—”

“Good. Because this is a party for the soccer team and the backslappers, and I am a backslapper, in case you haven’t noticed.”

I sighed. Two seconds of conversation, and I’d already stuck my foot in it deep. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure. Brilliant hazing,” she said. “Not cavemanish at all.”

My jaw clenched, but I let it roll off my back. “This is nothing. Last year they made me and Hammond jump up and down on a trampoline in our underwear for three hours just because we were the only sophomores to make varsity.”

“Oh, so you think this is better?” Ally asked.

“Believe me. It’s better.”

My face burned even hotter at the memory of every hot senior girl at OHH laughing at me while I tried to keep my junk from bouncing around in their faces. This was far better than that. I wanted to tell her that I was the one who kept her little friend David from being alone in drag, but it sounded too much like a pathetic plea, so I didn’t. But why was she friends with that guy, anyway? Every day I had to watch them eat lunch together, and he was always cracking her up even though he isn’t remotely funny. It was so annoying that he got to hang out with her and no one even cared. Meanwhile I was standing here feeling conspicuous for saying two words in her vicinity. I took a sip of my beer and tried not to look at my friends. But they were starting to notice.

“Why do you have to be so tense all the time?” I asked her. “It’s a party.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved a pretzel in her mouth. I sighed and looked where she was looking. Dorkus Drake was trying to talk to Shannen, who was only half acknowledging him—doing that tight smile thing she does when she wants someone to leave her alone but isn’t in the mood to humiliate them. As I watched, she looked up at me, then at Ally, like WTH?

Snagged.

“That’ll be the day,” I said, turning to the side to avoid further eye contact with Shannen.

“What? You don’t see it?” Ally asked.

“Shannen Moore and Dorkus Drake? Uh, no.” I downed the rest of my beer and placed it on the bar. “The guy’s a total loser.”

Ally bristled. “That
loser
was one of two people who lowered themselves to talk to me on the first day of school.”

“Hey. I talked to you,” I reminded her. “You just didn’t want to talk to me.”

She blinked. I had her. Ha. But then her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me. I’m going to go hang out with my friend now.” She stood up straight, dusted some salt off her fingers, and strode across the room, where she tugged Drake away from Shannen.

Two seconds later, she and Dorkus were slow dancing. They both looked ridiculous—him in his outfit, her with his boobs in her face. She stared at me over his shoulder, like she was trying to prove some point. Whatever. Like her walking away from me to dance with a dork was going to piss me off? And now Shannen was weaving her way through the crowd and around the pool table toward me like she was out for blood. Great. Now I was going to get the third degree over talking to Ally Ryan, when all she’d done was completely blow me off. Sometimes it sucked being best friends with a girl who had such serious opinions about everything. I turned around, grabbed Lacey Goodman by the wrist, and dragged her through the door into the theater room. When I glanced back, Shannen had frozen in her tracks, and as the door was closing, I saw Ally stop dancing and stare at me.

Mission accomplished.

“Hey, Jake. I didn’t even think you noticed I was here,” Lacey said, backing into the velvet-covered wall. Only the can lights over the screen were on, and I could barely see her in the dim glow.

“I noticed,” I said.

Even though I hadn’t really. When I went to kiss her she kissed me right back. No arguments, no ducking away. Easy.

I didn’t need Ally Ryan. I could have any girl, anytime. No strings. No guilt. No judging stares. And that was the way I liked it.

On stage, David Drake was kinda hot. Well, not on stage really. It was more a cleared-out corner of Annie’s wood-paneled basement. But there was a spotlight on him and his band. And ten freshmen woo-woo girls screaming in his face. He was wearing a long-sleeved, gray waffle shirt under a black Doors T-shirt, distressed jeans, and a beanie cap, all of which worked for him. And he had the whole wide-stance guitar-playing thing down like nobody’s business.

“He’s awesome!” I shouted to Annie, who was bobbing her head in a noncommittal way to the beat. She was wearing a sleeveless, plaid wool dress with a lace top underneath and knee-high boots. Something no one else in the room could have pulled off but that looked perfect on her. It made my plain-old jeans and striped T-shirt look seriously blah in comparison.

“Not bad,” she said, lifting one shoulder.

Not bad was an understatement. Everyone loved the music, and the people-watching was a perfect distraction to keep me from obsessing about last night’s party. The one at Hammond’s. The one where none of my old friends had acknowledged my existence, David had gotten hazed, and Jake had ended up fooling around with some sophomore in the home theater.

Who was that girl? Was she his girlfriend or just some random hook-up? I glanced at Annie and thought about asking her. She, after all, knew all there was to know about the Cresties. She’d obviously know if Jake had a new girlfriend. But if I asked, she’d want to know why I cared, and that would open up a whole can of worms I did not want to deal with.

Someone stepped on my foot and muttered an apology, bringing me back to the now. My face burned even though no one here knew what I’d been thinking. So much for distraction. Controlled Chaos finished their song with a crash of drums and a peal from the guitar. Everyone in the packed basement cheered and whistled, lifting their cups.

“Whooo! Yeah, David!” I shouted, clapping my hands above my head.

“Thank you! We are Controlled Chaos!” David said into the microphone. Then he flung it on the ground, causing a loud wail of feedback, and loped out into the crowd. A few girls hugged him, and he slapped hands with some of his friends as he worked his way over to us.

“Hey, David! That was incredible!” I gushed.

He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, all casual. “Yeah. Thanks for coming.”

I blinked. This was not the excitable David I had come to know and was starting to like.

“Dude. Drop the rock-star act. You know you’re freaking out over all the groupies,” Annie said, shoving his shoulder.

David held his too-cool expression one second longer, then doubled over and snorted a laugh. “I know! Isn’t this insane?” he whispered to us. “That girl over there asked me to sign her bra!”