by Emily Lowry
I stood on the sidelines, my helmet in my hand, and watched the game clock tick down.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Game over.
The River Valley High Warriors fans burst into cheers. Their school fight song played. Players leaped around the field and dog-piled on their quarterback. They were going to the state championship, and we weren’t. We’d been up by a touchdown at the end of the first half, but then the running back who had replaced Dylan missed a block. As a result, I took a blindside hit and was knocked out for a few seconds.
The concussion spotter pulled me from the game as the world swirled in circles around me. After a flicker of his flashlight in both of my eyes, I was benched for the rest of the game, relegated to look on hopelessly at the mess that unfolded.
With Dylan, Adam and now me out of the game, it meant our offense was playing with a backup quarterback, a backup running back, and second-string receivers. Peter Landry, our backup QB, was good, but not good enough out there alone against the Warriors vaunted defense. We couldn’t move the ball.
And so, we lost.
The locker room was quiet. A few of the seniors had tears in their eyes. The season was over, and for most of them, this would be the last time they played football. Coach Clarence made a speech about how proud he was of all of us, how proud he was that we fought so hard, but I didn’t hear it. I’m not sure anyone did.
After you’re eliminated from the playoffs, you have nightmares about it. You think about the plays you left on the field. The mistakes you made. Everything is magnified. If you could’ve just done this one thing differently, maybe it would’ve turned the tide. If you’d thrown that pass harder, if you’d made that block, if you hadn’t fumbled…
I showered slowly, holding my throbbing head in my hands as the scalding water hit my aching back. I felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Payton, the reporter from the Pinnacle, was waiting for me outside the locker room. This wasn’t surprising. She interviewed me after every game. Payton said that since I was the star quarterback, I was the person everyone wanted to hear from. I disagreed. Anyway, the way this week had gone — first the break up with Abby, then getting eliminated — the last thing I wanted to do was another interview.
Her expression softened when she saw me. “Tough game.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Look, I know you need your story, but I hope you don’t have too many questions, I’m not sure I’m up for it.”
I tapped my head, trying to inject some humor into the situation.
“I’ll walk with you to your car.” Payton said. It was a statement, not a question. What was with these persistent school reporters?
The thought immediately made me think of Abby, which made my head throb even harder. I had scoured the bleachers for her after running onto the field earlier. The Friday night lights were blinding, but they didn’t hide the truth: she wasn’t there. She’d never come to a football game before we dated, so why would she come now that we were broken up?
The staged break up had been intense. The look she had on her face as we pretended to argue still haunted me. The argument almost felt… real. I texted her afterwards to check she was ok.
Chase: Wow, that was a good performance. You didn’t tell me you were such a good actress! I tried my best, but it was tough… are you ok? So, what do we do next? What do you think the saboteurs next move will be?
Chase: Abby? Is everything ok?
Chase: Abby, please talk to me? Did something happen?
Chase: Abby, are you mad at me? Please talk to me?
Chase: ???
I’d eventually given up, hurt that she was ignoring me. She didn’t need me anymore, so clearly she didn’t even want to be friends now that she was done with her use for me.
“Chase? I said I’ll walk you to your car.” Payton’s voice catapulted me back to reality.
“Oh sorry, uh, no… Jordyn’s driving me,” I told her. “Protocol says you can’t drive yourself if you’ve been pulled out of the game with an injury. Especially a concussion.”
“Is that why you left the game?”
The question irritated me. Of course it was why I left the game. True, we’d been struggling even when I was in the game, but at least we’d moved the ball between the twenties. I blinked away my frustration and tried to sound nice as I answered.
“Yeah. Tough to win when you lose guys like Dylan and Adam to injury. But we can’t make excuses. I thought the guys replacing them played well. Hand it to the Warriors — they’re a talented team. Excellent defense. They’ll be tough to beat.”
It was a standard ‘losing quarterback gives interview’ response. You never threw a teammate under the bus. But the truth was, Dylan and Adam would have made a major difference. Dylan rarely missed a block and would have stopped the hit that took me out of the game. Adam could have run circles around the Warriors’ secondary. If they were healthy, I believed we would have won. But I couldn’t say that.
We reached the parking lot.
“That’s all I need,” Payton said. “Thanks.”
I smiled dumbly, not bothering to respond. I was exhausted.
I waited for her to leave, but she kept walking beside me.
“I heard about you and Abby.”
Ugh, great. Everyone had heard about us, thanks to stupid Click. I had to watch my break up on repeat. Sometimes in slow motion. Sometimes with auto-tune. But worse, I had to see Abby’s expression repeatedly on screen: numb, then hurt.
I wished she would talk to me.
“I guess you aren’t going to the Christmas Crush with her, hey?” Payton asked.
“Guess not.” Was she trying to rub salt into the wound or what? Just leave me alone.
I tried to keep walking, to get away from her, before her next question hit me in the back: “Do you want to go with me?”
Her request caught me by complete surprise. Our relationship — if you could call it that — was strictly professional. She reported on sports, I gave interviews. I could count on one-hand the amount of times we’d talked outside of official interviews, usually chatting in passing at parties.
“I’m not—” I began.
She cut me off. “Oh no, I mean… Not like that. Just as friends. I can help you keep your mind off things. No one should be alone at the Christmas Crush.” She placed her hand on my shoulder. It was a strange gesture that felt weirdly invasive. I had an overwhelming urge to pick up her hand and remove it from me. But that would have been a bit too rude — she was just trying to help.
“Thanks,” I said. “But I’ll pass.”
“Oh.” Was there actual hurt in her voice?
“It’s not you,” I said quickly, never wanting to disappoint anyone as usual. “I just… I don’t think I’m going with anyone to the Christmas Crush this year.”
“Oh.” Her tone was brighter. “Well, if you change your mind…”
“Okay.” I just wanted the conversation to end.
She skipped away. Finally.
I turned around to find Jordyn, wanting more than anything to go home. I guess there was a first time for everything.
Jordyn sat in the driver’s seat of her car waiting for me, a suspicious expression on her face.
44
Abby
My first day back at Evermore was like being the star of my own reality show. Everywhere I went, someone was trying to take a photo, or a video, while I kept my gaze focused on the linoleum tile of the hallway floor. Last thing I wanted to do was run into Madison. Or Savannah. Or Jordyn. Or Dylan. Or Chase.
Especially not Chase.
Somehow, in the matter of a couple of months I had gone from invisible to gossip mill sensation, with a complete laundry list of people I needed to try my best to avoid. On my way to the Pinnacle’s office, a girl even slipped in close behind me and Izzy and tried to record our conversation. Izzy put
a quick stop to that. I still hadn’t turned on my phone, but Izzy’s wouldn’t stop vibrating with updates from Click.
She gave me a hug outside the office door. “You’re sure about this? You will get in heaps of trouble.”
“It’s the right thing to do,” I said.
“They might kick you off the paper.”
“They might.” I couldn’t imagine what my mom would say if I lost my position on the school paper. What I was about to do would burn my dreams of going to NYU. But sometimes you needed to start a fire — if it was the right thing to do.
And this felt right.
The familiar aroma of coffee strong enough to do pushups surrounded me as I entered the office. The normally constant chatter dropped to nothing as everyone’s eyes fell on me.
“Show’s over,” Nicholas said, standing. “Back to work, everyone. We’ve all been there. All done that. Everyone move along. And if I catch any of you even opening Click while you’re in this office — you’ll be removed from the paper. Abby, come with me?”
We went to the back office, and I sat at the desk across from him. He smiled at me kindly, and I smiled back, weakly. How could I have ever thought I liked Nicholas? Looking at him now, I realized that everything I had ever felt for the paper’s lead editor paled in comparison for my feelings for Chase.
“Thanks,” I said.
“How are you holding up?”
A few months ago, I would’ve given anything to have Nicholas ask me something personal. But now all I wanted to do was deflect the attention away from me. “I’ve been better.”
“I bet.” He leaned forward in his chair, concerned. “So, Abby. You said you needed to talk to me.”
“I do.”
It was time to do the hardest thing.
Suspension.
The word drowned out everything. I’d done what was right, and Nicholas had suspended me from the paper for the rest of the semester. He said that while he understood where I was coming from, he needed to set an example. He also said that he felt that I needed some time away from everything, and that he hoped he might reinstate me in January.
I’d have to cross my fingers.
The other journalists buried their noses in their work, making it all too obvious that they’d been trying to eavesdrop. Fortunately, both Nicholas and I spoke softly. I doubt they’d heard anything yet, and he would announce his decision to them shortly after I finished packing up my stuff.
Payton was sitting next to my bag, her life scattered across the table in front of her. She was editing pictures of the last football game. The one I hadn’t been at. The one Evermore lost, knocking them out of the championship.
It hurt to think about. Had our break up made Chase play poorly? Did he lose his focus? Was I the cause of the biggest failure in his football career? Was I being way too egotistical to think I could even affect his gameplay at all?
I fought away the thoughts before tears welled.
Then, scattered among all the notes across Payton’s desk, something caught my eye. A piece of paper with Chase’s handwriting on it — unmistakably Chase’s handwriting. Messy. Barely legible. Why would Payton have a letter from Chase?
I pretended to reach for a pencil across the table, dropping my elbow low enough to move the rest of the papers out of the way. I skimmed the note.
Ah.
It was just his fake news article, the one he used to invite me to the Christmas Crush. My heart hurt, looking at his scratchy handwriting. He tried so hard on that one. He must have had Payton help him turn it into newspaper format. It made sense — she’s the only person he knew at the Pinnacle besides me.
I left without saying a word.
Izzy was waiting outside. “How’d it go?”
“Suspension. To be re-evaluated in January.”
She squeezed my shoulder. “You did the right thing.”
“Thanks.” We left the Fine Arts building and stepped out into the late November chill. “How long do you think before Madison asks Chase to the Christmas Crush?”
“Don’t think she will,” Izzy said. “Apparently she’s going with Jebidiah Moose.”
“For real?!” So the rumor that Madison was dating a famous YouTube star was true. I had heard that months ago, but just assumed it was a decoy for her to get Chase back. In fact, I’d fully expected her to move in on Chase at the first available opportunity. But if she had, it would have been all over Click, and Izzy would have seen it. Why would she sabotage his relationships and then not make a move?
“I don’t think Chase is going with anyone,” Izzy said. “He looked so sad after you guys broke up that apparently the only person who even tried to make a move was Payton, but—”
“WHAT?” I yelped like a startled puppy.
Izzy looked surprised for a second before understanding dawned on her face. “This happens at Evermore when you don’t look at Click. You lose out on the hot gossip. Apparently, Payton asked Chase if he wanted to go to the Christmas Crush with her right after they lost. Terrible time to ask because—”
“Shh…” My brain was in overload.
Payton.
Payton, who had specifically requested to be the journalist covering our football team for the year.
Payton, who had interviewed Chase after every football game.
Payton, who was at Peak’s the morning the saboteur sent me the photo of Chase and “Savannah.”
Payton, who was so good with Photoshop that she could manipulate a photo to make Jordyn look like Savannah.
Payton, who had access to a letter written by Chase, IN HIS OWN HANDWRITING — a letter she could manipulate into anything she wanted. Even a love letter.
It was Payton all along.
45
Chase
It was tough to avoid everyone when you were the starting quarterback after an enormous loss — and a public breakup. People were either trying to capture everything I did on Click or they were making choking motions behind my back. Never mind the fact that I hadn’t played the whole second half. Evermore was never the place to let the truth impede a good story.
When anyone asked why I was so down, I told them I was upset that I had lost the big game. But the truth?
It hurt to lose the game.
It hurt more to lose Abby. I’d tried texting her, then texting Izzy when Abby didn’t reply. Izzy was cold and told me that Abby was keeping her phone off for a bit. She wasn’t used to being dumped while the spotlight was shining.
I held my tongue.
I wished I could keep my phone off. At one point, Savannah stopped me unexpectedly to see how I was doing. She touched my elbow for the briefest of moments — and someone captured the moment and blasted it all over Click: “Chase and Savannah — Back Together!” Hashtag NewItCouple. I wanted to explain to Abby that it wasn’t what it looked like, but she was a ghost.
The entire week leading up to the Christmas Crush, I kept my eyes peeled for her. But I never saw her.
“He will not snap out of it.” Jordyn said. “He’s been like this for the last two weeks. You’d think he actually liked this one.” She raised her eyebrow, but I said nothing. I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me.
While Click, and therefore the rest of school, had moved on from my breakup with Abby — I owed the mysterious Trey Carter big time for taking the heat off me, he had been spotted at the police precinct for who knows what — Jordyn had pestered me non-stop.
What happened with Abby?
Why aren’t you hanging out with Abby?
When will you tell me about Abby?
Admittedly, at this point I was refusing to tell her out of spite.
“Dude. Come on.” Dylan stood beside Jordyn. They were both staring into my bedroom where I was lying on my bed in a suit. “It’s the Christmas Crush. You have to come.”
“Why?” I closed my eyes
“Because.” Dylan faltered.
“Wonderful reason, champ.” Jordyn put her hands on her hips
and glared towards Dylan. He turned to look at her, slightly mesmerized — my sister was angry, her face red above her navy silk dress. She was terrifying.
“I didn’t hear you coming up with a better idea,” Dylan said.
“That’s because you talked before I could think.”
“Guess I’m too fast for you.”
“Word of advice — it’s not always a good thing for a guy to be fast,” Jordyn snapped.
“If you both shut up, I’ll come to the stupid dance,” I said, raising my voice slightly. They sounded like an old married couple.
Dylan and Jordyn had been nice enough to abandon their own dates to take me. I was equal parts mortified and touched by this gesture, but neither of them seemed to mind too much.
“See!” Dylan said. “It worked.”
Jordyn put her hands on her hips again — it was starting to be her signature maneuver. “Whatever.”
I stood and dusted off my suit. So, I was doing it. I would go to the Christmas Crush. I must still be concussed.
“Is Abby going to be there?”
Jordyn gasped. “She who must not be named!”
“I just want to know if I’m just going to be used again,” I said bitterly.
“You’re so dramatic,” Jordyn said — you guessed it, while rolling her eyes. “Name one time Abby used you.”
“How about our entire relationship? She was just using me so she could get into all the cool events for the social feature.”
Jordyn and Dylan both stared at me blankly.
I sighed. “The one she published this week in the lead up to the Christmas Crush?” I hadn’t opened the Pinnacle’s website or picked up a physical paper either, but I knew her article was due to be published last week and I didn’t think I could stomach reading it.
“Oh give me a break,” Jordyn said. “As if she would do that. Abby’s nice. Anyway, I can prove you wrong, because Abby didn’t publish anything this week. In fact, she got suspended from the Pinnacle.”
“What!? Why?”