I smiled widely, the outline of him fuzzy.
“I’ll go get Ryan,” he said, and just as quickly, my heart deflated, and the pain returned.
But Ryan didn’t come. I sat there staring at the ceiling for another few seconds before Staci’s face appeared.
“Oh my gosh!” she squealed, and I closed my eyes again. “Sorry,” she said softer. “That was a direct hit you got. I’ll take you back to the locker room. Can you stand up?”
I gingerly pushed off of my hands to sit up, keeping my eyes closed. My heart was still pounding from the touch of Jeremiah’s hand on my shoulder. He’d been the first to come see if I was okay. I opened my eyes and looked around, wondering where Ryan was.
He was sitting on the bench with the other guys, heads together, taking advantage of this unexpected time out to strategize.
Despite my own lukewarm feelings for Ryan, my heart sank at his apparent indifference. Jeremiah had said it last night—I was more important than basketball to him. He’d just proven it, while Ryan was still focused on the game.
A crowd of cheerleaders surrounded me, blocking my view of the guys. I was surprised to see Linzie in the group. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her frown more concerned than angry.
Coach bustled over and pushed everyone away. I had never felt more grateful in my life. I liked being the center of attention, but only when I knew I looked good. Hit over the head with a basketball was probably not my best look. I smoothed back my ponytail and tightened it automatically, then cringed at the jolt of pain it send through my head.
“Just take it easy,” she said, getting on one knee to look me in the eye. She held up a tiny flashlight and quickly inspected me, while everyone hovered a few feet away. “You didn’t pass out, did you?”
I shook my head. I almost wish I had; I could have been blissfully unaware of who had and hadn’t come to check on me.
“Does anything hurt?”
“Uh, my head,” I said, rolling my eyes.
She smiled. “You’re not too bad off if you can make a joke. Try standing.”
With Coach on one side and Staci on the other, I pushed off the floor on unsteady legs. My wrists twinged a little; they’d caught my fall after all. Things kind of swam in front of my eyes, but they got into focus pretty quick. I let go of their arms and took a few tentative steps toward the bench, where I collapsed into a seat.
“I don’t think you have a concussion, but take it easy the next few days, okay?” Coach peered at me closely, hands on her hips. “I’ll see if we have a list of symptoms to watch out for in the office.”
She hurried off. The rest of the squad kept their distance, as requested, but their worried buzz of chatter hit me like a swarm of bees.
“I’m fine,” I said, as loud as I could to anyone who would listen. The game had already started again, but the guys were clearly distracted.
“That’s so sweet,” I said, almost to myself.
“What is?” said Staci, plopping down next to me.
“The guys are all looking over to make sure I’m okay,” I said. “Well, all of them except Ryan.” I scowled.
Staci glanced at the court, where the action was heating up. Mackey passed to Anderson, and someone on the other team fouled. The crowd roared. I closed my eyes and put my hand over my ears, the noise splitting things in two.
“Ryan needs to focus more than the others,” she said, putting a hand on my back. “He’s a junior so he’ll be here next year. He wants to make a good impression on his coach and the others on the team.”
Somewhere in the jumble that was my brain post-basketball collision, that kind of made sense. But at the same time, he was my boyfriend and hadn’t even come over to check on me. I should be furious.
Instead, I was just tired. I sank into Staci, and she waved Coach over.
“I think it’s best for Sammi to go home,” she said.
Coach frowned. “You can drive her?”
Staci nodded, and I saw her grin from the corner of my eyes. She loved driving my car. Everyone did.
“You just can’t wait to get behind the wheel, can you?” I teased as she led me out of the gym. I waved a goodbye to the squad, laughing a bit at their matching worried frowns. We were nothing if not coordinated at all times.
“It’s just a bummer it’s too cold to put the top down,” she said, leaning me into the locker room to grab our bags. “How does Ryan like it?”
“I haven’t let Ryan drive it yet,” I said, making a face. “And I certainly don’t plan to after tonight.”
“Sammi, don’t be like that. You know how much pressure these guys are under during games.”
I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t the NBA championship. Kiss or no kiss, it was just rude to not come check on me. The list of reasons to break up with him were getting longer than the reasons not to. Compared to having someone worry about me, having a bouquet on Valentine’s Day suddenly didn’t seem as critical as it once had.
“Remind me why I’m going out with him again?” I said, half joking.
She glared at me. “We’re not doing this when you’re concussed. Here, let me zip up your coat.”
I groaned. Worrying about me was one thing, but I did not like anyone to baby me.
“Who’s the alpha female here?” I said with a frown, but that sent another unpleasant shot of pain through my head, so I stopped, trying to hide my grimace.
“I hereby allow you to step down from your throne for one night,” she said, waving an imaginary magic wand.
As we walked into the hall, however, I kept my head held high and didn’t lean on her for support. I couldn’t let anyone else see me in more pain than they already had.
When I walked in the door, I prayed my mom wasn’t home. This would make her even less of a fan of cheerleading than she already was. But of course she was there, reading on the couch, so there was no way to sneak into my room.
“What happened?” she cried as her book slid to the floor.
Staci was walking me through the door, her arm around my waist.
“Nothing, just a stray basketball,” Staci said, like it wasn’t a big deal.
And it wasn’t. I’d had sprains and had even dislocated my shoulder once. But every time, my mom had acted like I’d picked diving with sharks as a sport. This was just one more strike against cheerleading.
“No one called me to tell me you were injured. They’re supposed to call.”
I bit my lip. I had put my dad’s name on the forms all those years ago, since he’d been the one at home more. I didn’t bring that up now, however.
“It’s because it wasn’t a big deal,” I said, nudging Staci so she’d let go of me. I walked gently across the room on my own, so she could see I was fine. “If I’d been really injured, they’d have called.”
My mom frowned but sat back down. Her eagle eyes didn’t leave my slowly moving body until I was at the stairs, a hand on the railing.
“Staci and I can do homework since we’re home early from the game,” I said.
My mom pressed her lips together, but she nodded. I could practically hear her thinking how they’d never had to worry about my brother or sister, who had both been in band. The worst you could get there were splinters in your tongue. Which my sister had done. Even though I’d only been five at the time, I could still remember the rush of my parents freaking out about her.
“I’ll go see if there’s something to heat up,” she said, standing and heading toward the kitchen. “You usually eat with the girls after the game, so I hadn’t planned anything.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said with a smile she didn’t see as she bustled off into the kitchen.
Staci rushed to my side as soon as my mom was out of the room, and I leaned into her gratefully. When she finally got me up into my room and into bed, I reached for my bag, fumbling for my phone.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said, grabbing it out of my hand. “No screens with a concussion.”
“I don�
��t have a concussion,” I said, but not very strongly. “Coach said I don’t.”
Staci glared at me.
“Wait, that is what she said, right?” My voice came out strangled in my panic. I hadn’t lost consciousness, but forgetfulness was on the list she’d given Staci that told us what to look out for. I remembered we’d both rolled our eyes a bit at the ‘feeling emotional’ symptom. That was basically my life right now.
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take it easy. Besides, didn’t you say your wrists hurt? Phones won’t help that.”
“I have like, eight hundred messages. I need to reply to some of them,” I argued, reaching for the phone. She held it away from me and unlocked the screen to verify my statement. “I knew I should never have given you my code.”
“Not eight hundred, but close.” She smiled. “You want me to go through them for you?”
“With me, please,” I said and leaned back into my pillows. “Don’t send anything without me knowing.”
I trusted Staci with my life when I vaulted into the air, but a few misworded messages could be the end of everything. I prayed I wouldn’t regret this.
“Fine, who do you want to start with?” She sat on the edge of my bed with my phone, thumbs poised and ready.
“Just tell me who sent them, and let’s see who needs to get updates first.”
She went through all the names, and the entire cheerleading squad had sent messages. Even Linzie. I raised my eyebrows at that, and Staci laughed.
“That’s a good thing, right? Maybe she’s realized you’re not after her man anymore.”
I closed my eyes, hoping she’d think the flush on my face was because of head trauma and not from remembering Jeremiah’s kiss.
“Let’s see, who else…Preston and Mackey both commented on a picture someone took of you lying on the floor.”
“What? Who did that?”
“Someone from the other school took it,” she said. “I dunno who tagged you though.”
I opened my eyes to see her frowning down at the screen.
“You can’t see your face, just a huddle of people and your legs.”
I groaned. Thank goodness my mom wasn’t on any social media. The second she saw something like that, I’d be off the team, even if there were only a few weeks left.
“Who else commented?”
“A bunch of guys on JV. No one important.”
I sighed and closed my eyes again. I was starting to think a nap would be a good idea…
“Hey!” Staci smacked my legs, and I jerked up with a grimace. “No sleeping.”
“Okay, okay,” I said and propped myself up on some pillows. “What other messages are there?”
Staci shook her head. “That’s it, really.”
“Nothing from Je—the rest of the team?” I bit my lip.
Staci narrowed her eyes but didn’t comment on the slip.
“Nothing from your boyfriend,” she said.
I inhaled sharply at the word.
“Can I really call him that?” I said. I had been training the guy for weeks, and he still didn’t seem to understand the basic rules of dating. “He didn’t even come over to see if I was okay. And no message?”
She shrugged. “The game is still going on, maybe he’s really into it.”
Preston and Mackey had found the time to comment, but I didn’t say that. Though it would be a reason that Jeremiah hadn’t messaged either.
“I’m sure he’ll send you something soon. And he’ll be over tomorrow for dinner, right? He’ll bring you something.”
Ugh, the dinner with my mom. Hopefully she wouldn’t ask him for details on tonight’s accident.
“Should I let the girls know you’re okay?” Staci said, her fingers hesitating over the screen.
“Sure, send a group text, and include Coach,” I said. “Kill two birds with one stone.”
And then Linzie couldn’t respond with anything too mean, just in case.
My mom brought up some frozen pizza that Staci and I shared while listening to some music, screen-free as she insisted. When we got news that the team lost (no surprise), there wouldn’t be a party for Staci to go to, so she offered to stay the night.
“No, I’ll be fine,” I told her, already in my pajamas. “I’ll take it easy tomorrow, I promise.”
When she left, I placed my phone on my nightstand, the ringer up all the way so I’d hear it if any other messages came in. Now that the game was over, Ryan would definitely send something, right? I didn’t let myself hope too hard for Jeremiah, but when it buzzed a few minutes after Staci had left, I couldn’t help but take a deep, calming breath before looking.
My heart sank when I saw it was a reply from Coach.
I didn’t know if I was more disappointed it wasn’t Jeremiah, or annoyed that it wasn’t Ryan.
Turning off my phone in a huff, I decided to ignore everything and watch a movie.
My head couldn’t possibly hurt worse than my heart right now.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next day, my headache did actually rival the ache in my heart, thanks to the bad food and late night.
Still, I didn’t see any of the other symptoms on the list Coach had given me, so I figured it would be okay.
When I turned on my phone, I had a lot of messages to go through.
Most of them were from my dad, which I ignored. That left just a few from some girls on the squad and finally, one from Ryan.
Is your head okay? Tonight’s probably canceled, right?
I frowned. Tonight was…I blanked for a minute, going through everything. Was there a party? No, it was Sunday.
My mom came bursting into my room at that exact moment, interrupting my thoughts.
“Finally. You’re awake. We need to go shopping for tonight.”
“And tonight is?”
“Ryan’s coming for dinner, isn’t he?” She frowned. “I hope I didn’t get the dates mixed up.”
I held back a groan.
No, it’s tonight. I quickly typed out a message to him letting him know it was definitely not canceled and he’d better be there on time.
“So, what’s his favorite food?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” I admitted, a flush creeping up my neck.
“You don’t know what your boyfriend likes to eat?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“We only just started going out.” I shrugged, leaning back against my pillows. My head was still pretty sore, but I didn’t want to admit it. “We don’t really talk.”
She pursed her lips.
“I mean, we don’t talk about food. We talk about other stuff,” I said, my flush now taking over my entire face. I didn’t want her picturing me making out with a guy. “We spend lots of time talking. Just talking.”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled softly. “It’s fine, Sammi,” she said, jotting down a list on a pad of paper in her hand. “I was young once too. I remember what it was like to…talk all the time.”
I made a face, and she just laughed louder.
“It’s nice to hear you laugh,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. It had been over a month since my dad had left, and there hadn’t been a lot of laughing. But ever since her trip to Boulder, she’d been a little perkier. “What did you end up doing last night with Aunt Maeve?”
“Oh, we just saw a movie with some friends,” she said, with a lingering smile.
I waited to see if there was more, but it seemed she wasn’t in a sharing mood. Why did parents get to keep secrets but they got so mad when their kids did?
“So, what do you want to make for tonight?” I said, and we started planning the menu.
As we were shopping, I sent Ryan a text to both remind him to wear something nice and to check that he wasn’t allergic to anything. I didn’t bother asking if he liked what we had planned; he was a guy, they ate everything, right?
While dinner was in the oven, my mom ended up spending more time on her hair and makeup than I ha
d. I didn’t go overboard; after all, this was just a dinner at home. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
When the doorbell rang, however, there was a little flutter in my stomach. This was a big step. I would forget about the kiss with Jeremiah and move forward with Ryan. Staci was right. I was ignoring a potentially great guy for someone who just wasn’t who I wanted him to be.
Jeremiah was with Linzie. If he wanted to be with me, he would. Whatever lame excuse he thought he had for staying away from me couldn’t be anything other than an attempt to hide the fact that he just liked her better than me, end of story.
Ryan liked me. Ryan was my boyfriend. This was the life I had to get used to.
I opened the door and my heart sank. He was standing there in sweatpants. Sweatpants! I couldn’t see under his jacket but I knew it would be a sports jersey.
And, of course, there were no flowers.
“Hey, Sammi baby,” he said, leaning to give me a kiss.
I turned my head so he got my cheek. It was completely inappropriate to kiss me in front of my mom. Jeremiah would have never—
No. I scolded myself. He was not Jeremiah. If the other night proved anything, it was that Jeremiah wasn’t the guy I thought he was. He was manipulative and greedy and got people to like him then treated them like dirt. He was everything Ryan wasn’t.
Thank goodness.
But it would have been nice if Ryan had at least dressed up.
Or if he’d told me how nice I looked.
Or had asked how my head was.
Or brought something for my mom.
“Hi,” he said to my mom with a wave.
She paused at the table and walked over. I could see in her eyes she was waiting for him to extend his hand. To do anything even remotely polite. Compliment the house. Tell her thanks for inviting him. Anything.
With a growing sense of unease eating away at my stomach, I tried to fill in the gap.
“Ryan’s the only junior in the starting five,” I said. I could see him cringe from the corner of my eye. I thought that had been a compliment, but apparently not.
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