Playing With the Boys

by Liz Tigelaar

  “Yeah,” a beautiful brunette agreed. “And you looked like one of them, too.” Lucy stared at the girl, confused at this out-of-the-blue insult.

  “Um …” Lucy didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know this girl.

  Regan realized, jumping in. “Oh, Lucy.This is Kendall. She’s having the party tonight.” Regan quickly turned to Kendall, worried. “I invited Lucy. That’s okay, right? I mean, technically she’s part of the football team—”

  Kendall shrugged as if she could care less. “Whatever.” Regan forced a polite smile to Lucy, who was standing in front of all these new girls feeling suddenly self-conscious. She felt as though Kendall could see right through her.

  “I’m just going to—um—put some clothes on,” Lucy said hurriedly, as she padded on wet feet to her locker. Rifling through her athletic bag, she pulled out a pair of jeans and a long shirt with an empire waist to wear over them. She liked the dress/jeans combo. In fact, she’d seen Regan sport it a few times, so it must have been cool enough for Malibu.

  Regan followed her over. “Sorry about that. Kendall can be a little intimidating to new people,” she explained. “But she’s really great and super popular. If you’re friends with her, your life is infinitely easier at this school.”

  Lucy nodded agreeably. “Okay.”

  “So you’re still gonna come, right?” Regan pressed. “To the party?”

  “Let’s go, bitches,” Kendall called. “Train’s rolling out.”

  Lucy was surprised. First, bitches? Second, was Kendall actually talking to her?

  “She calls everyone that,” Regan explained. “It’s a term of endearment.”

  I bet, Lucy thought.

  “Hurry up,” Regan urged. “Let’s go.” Lucy grabbed her stuff, excitedly—and then she suddenly remembered something. Pickle had said she and the girls wanted to celebrate after the game too. She’d become so wrapped up with the cheerleaders’ attention, she’d totally forgotten. Lucy tried to stay calm, but this was obviously a crisis situation. It was one step away from requiring canned goods, a flashlight, and a transistor radio. Lucy told herself to speak.

  “Um … I just … I actually was supposed to … actually, I forgot… .” Okay, get ahold of yourself, she thought. “Could I just finish getting ready really quick and meet you at your car?”

  Annoyed, Kendall called out, “Regan, you’re taking too long. I’m getting a ride from Ryan. Just meet me there.”

  Regan turned to Lucy. “Sure, just hurry.” She took off, nipping at Kendall’s heels. “K! Wait up! I can take you!” Lucy had a feeling Regan did a lot of following after Kendall.

  Lucy quickly stuffed her uniform and wet towel into her bag and fished around for her lip gloss. She’d forgotten deodorant and perfume. Oh well. Lip gloss would have to be enough. She pressed her lips together, then bolted out of the locker room to find her friends. Pickle, Charlie, and Max were gathered in the parking lot. They cheered when they saw Lucy.

  “You were awesome out there!” Max beamed, jumping up and down.

  Charlie agreed. “So cool, Lucy. Carla said to tell you congrats. She had to go.”

  “Oh, thanks.” Lucy smiled as she approached. Pickle gave her a warm hug.

  “So, where to, superstar?” Pickle asked. “It’s your celebration dinner, so you decide where.”

  Lucy gulped. This was where things got complicated.

  “I actually already ate dinner,” she admitted. “At Sizzler.”

  Max cringed. “Ew. I didn’t know people actually went there.”

  “Yeah, so I’m not really hungry,” Lucy said. “But there’s this party—it’s kind of for all the football players and stuff. I was thinking maybe we could all go. And you know, maybe celebrate there.”

  Pickle’s face lit up. “A football party? Really? Oh my God—we could go?” A wave of relief washed over Lucy. Of course Pickle would be excited to go to a football party.

  Lucy smiled. “Yeah, this time I can get us in without Benji. But I think he’ll be there too.”

  Max smiled. “That’s cool. I’m down.” All three girls looked at Charlie, who shifted uncomfortably in her Converse. “A football party? Are you serious?”

  “Lucy!” Regan shouted from across the parking lot. “Are you coming or what?”

  A look of horror spread across Charlie’s face. “Did Regan Holder invite you?” she asked pointedly.

  “Regan? No,” Lucy lied. “She just said she’d drive me. Since, ya know, I’m on the team and all.”

  Charlie shook her head. “Well, I’m not. And either way, I wouldn’t be caught dead at a party with her.” She turned to Lucy. “And if you want your high school experience to be the least bit pleasant, you shouldn’t either.”

  Pickle stepped in. “Look, Regan didn’t invite her. It’s a football party and she’s on the football team. No one here is friends with Regan Holder, that’s for sure.”

  Charlie looked skeptical. Lucy looked down at her shoes. She wasn’t friends with Regan, but she had certainly been friendly.

  Pickle put an arm around Lucy. “She’s cool,” Pickle said, referring to Lucy. “It’s obvious—she’s one of us.”

  Suddenly, Lucy panicked. “You know what?” she said. “Let’s just forget the party and go to dinner. I barely even ate at Sizzler. I stuck, like, three breadsticks in my purse.” Lucy headed toward Charlie’s car but Pickle didn’t budge. “Pickle,” Lucy asked, “what’s wrong?”

  Pickle shifted uncomfortably in her shoes and looked down at the ground.

  “I really want to go to the party,” Pickle admitted softly. “Charlie, I’m sorry.”

  “I kinda do too,” Max agreed. “Sorry, Charlie.”

  “Fine.” Charlie shrugged, clearly stung. “Have fun celebrating.” She hopped in her car and took off. Lucy felt both responsible for the spat and helpless to fix it.

  “She’ll be okay,” Pickle said comfortingly, trying to be positive.

  “But how are we going to get there?” Max asked. “She was our ride.”

  Just then, Charlie peeled out, nearly running over Regan, who was standing in the middle of the school’s driveway.

  “Hello?” Regan shouted at the back of Charlie’s car. “Driver’s ed? Look into it!”

  Lucy considered. “Let me see if Regan will give us all a ride… .” She ran over to ask Regan, “Can we squeeze two more in?”

  Regan raised her eyebrows as she scanned Pickle and Max up and down. A handful of cheerleaders were already piled in the back.

  Regan hopped in the driver’s seat. “Sure,” she answered. “If they don’t mind the trunk.”

  Fifteen minutes later, after a long and winding drive, Regan pulled up a narrow driveway and parked her SUV on the grass behind the dozens of other cars already lined up in haphazard rows. Lucy, crammed in the back with a few other cheerleaders, glanced at Pickle and Max, smashed in the way back, behind the last seat. It wasn’t exactly the trunk, but it wasn’t far from it.

  Regan’s SUV lurched to a stop and all the girls piled out. Lucy opened the hatch. Pickle and Max spilled out onto the wet grass.

  “Oh my God, I think my life flashed before my eyes,” Max said breathlessly.

  “Good thing it wasn’t the nachos from the game,” Pickle groaned. “I thought I was going to be sick. Regan’s driving? Whoa.”

  “Maybe they’ll have some ginger ale or something,” Lucy offered, hoping that would settle Pickle’s stomach.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Pickle said, recomposing.

  But Lucy quickly realized that ginger ale was not on the list of beverages provided. Forget the basement parties they’d had back in Ohio, where they would pass around a lone beer stolen out of Annie’s garage; this was the real deal.

  Lucy took in the sight. Kendall’s place wasn’t a house—it was a mansion. Outside, the yard was sprawling, perched high on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and the infinity pool was full of little fountains and caves where the water seemed to disapp
ear right over the edge. And inside was even better. With a step-down living room and gigantic kitchen, this house was built for parties. And Kendall was perfectly cast in the role of cute hostess, showing everyone to the provisions. “So there’s beer pong in the game room, there’s an ice luge on the patio, and the keg’s in the kitchen.”

  Max looked around, stunned. Clearly, she’d never seen a party like this. None of them had. Suddenly, a familiar voice called over to Lucy.

  “Malone, you made it!” Ryan said, seeing the girls. He was holding a red plastic cup. Lucy beamed as he headed over. Pickle smiled shyly and politely too.

  Max gave a chin nod. “’Sup?”

  He put a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Superstar on the field tonight, huh?” he said proudly to Pickle and Max.

  Max stuck out a hand. “I’m Max,” she said confidently.

  Lucy realized that they didn’t all know each other.

  “Max is on the soccer team,” Lucy explained. “So’s Pickle,” she said, gesturing to Pickle, who stood nervously frozen beside her.

  “Pickle?” Ryan asked, confused.

  “Wait—you guys haven’t met either?” Lucy realized.

  Pickle shook her head. She seemed stunned into silence.

  “What kind of name is Pickle?” he asked.

  “It’s … um, it’s kind of … when I was born, my sister … she’s older …” Pickle stammered. Lucy waited for Pickle to get to the point, but she continued to stammer out a reply. “She couldn’t say … I mean, it’s weird because she could say, you know, much harder words… .”

  Lucy interrupted. “It’s short for Nicole.”

  Pickle smiled at her, relieved. “Right. Short for Nicole.”

  “Makes sense.” Ryan thought it about it for a minute. “Sort of.”

  Pickle giggled. Kendall rushed over and threw her arms around Ryan’s neck.

  “There you are,” she gushed. Regan was close behind her, carrying two drinks, one for Kendall and one for herself. Ryan grabbed Kendall’s legs, literally sweeping her off her feet so that he was cradling her in his arms. Ryan jerked his body, pretending the arm under her upper back was giving out. Her body lurched toward the ground.

  “Don’t drop me!” she yelled, holding onto him tighter.

  “I got you,” Ryan assured her.“No one’s dropping you. I’m not Regan.” Apparently last year, in what was referred to as the Botched Basket Incident, Regan had been part of a foursome that had dropped Kendall on her tailbone.

  “That was a long time ago,” Regan said defensively. “And a total accident.”

  “Ryan!” Kendall screamed. At that moment, Regan wasn’t even on her radar.

  Finally, Ryan set Kendall back down. “Okay, okay—stop freaking out.”

  Lucy forced a smile. She couldn’t help but wish that she had been the girl that Ryan had picked up and held in his arms.

  “Who needs a drink?” Ryan asked, worming his way out of Kendall’s grasp.

  “I have one somewhere,” Kendall sighed, annoyed. “Regan?” Regan quickly handed a drink over to Kendall.

  Lucy turned to Pickle. “You wanted a ginger ale, right?”

  “Ginger ale?” Kendall scoffed. “What’re you, twelve?”

  Embarrassed, Pickle shot an annoyed look at Lucy.Then she turned to Ryan. “How ’bout a beer?” she asked.

  Max nudged Pickle in the side. They weren’t supposed to drink during the season. Well, technically they weren’t supposed to drink at all, but from the looks of the party, no one was really adhering to that law.

  “Girls?” Ryan asked Max and Lucy. “You want anything?”

  “I’m just gonna get a pop,” Lucy said.

  “Pop?” Kendall laughed. Lucy remembered too late that no one in California said “pop.” It was “soda” here.

  “Come on,” Regan said.“I’ll show you where everything is.”And together they went in search of soda. Moments later, they were pilfering the fridge for anything nonalcoholic.

  “So, you and Kendall are, like, best friends?” Lucy asked innocently.

  Regan nodded. “Yeah, totally.” She noticed bottles in the fridge. “Ew. Wine coolers? So nineties.” She found a Diet Coke and handed it to Lucy. “It’s better with rum, but whatevs.”

  Lucy smiled. “Thanks.”

  Regan leaned in close. “So … I think he likes you.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. “You think who likes me?”

  “Ryan,” Regan answered. “He was totally flirting with you.”

  Lucy tried to keep her jaw from dropping to the floor. Kendall walked in, suddenly interested.

  “Who was flirting with Lucy?” she said accusatorily.

  Regan clammed up. “No one.” Kendall nodded, choosing for this moment to believe her.

  “I need a refill,” she said, holding out her drink. “You want one, Reeg?”

  Regan took Kendall’s cup. “Sure. I’ll get it.”

  Kendall put an arm around Lucy’s shoulder. “Yeah, you should let Lucy mingle.” Then, to Lucy, she said, “I mean, you gotta mingle, unless you want to stay single.”

  Lucy smiled self-consciously. There was only one guy she wanted to mingle with. She decided to go find him.

  Walking into the living room, she didn’t see Ryan anywhere. And come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Pickle and Max for a while either. She glanced around the room and noticed Benji at the cheese squares.

  “Cheese is so much better in little squares than big triangles,” Lucy pontificated. “Don’t you think?” She gingerly sipped her Diet Coke, without the rum.

  “You know what’s the worst, though?” Benji asked. “That thin cheese. You know, the flat squares, wrapped individually. The yellow ones? Hate those.”

  “Me too!” Lucy practically yelled. “And what about that white stuff? On top of the Brie? Are you supposed to actually eat that? It’s disgusting.”

  Benji agreed. “I always eat the insides out with a cracker.” He thought for a second, then asked, “You know what else I hate?”

  “That cottage cheese is called cheese when really it’s nothing like cheese?” quipped Lucy.

  Benji pointed a finger directly at her. “Yes.”

  Suddenly, Ryan interrupted, shouting across the room. “Malone! Get over here.”

  Lucy couldn’t believe he was actually calling to her. She quickly ran over. He pulled Lucy into the hallway and put his face close to hers. She wondered what he was going to say. That he wanted to date her? That he thought she was beautiful? That he was crazy in love with her?

  Then he broke the bad news. “Your friend—the vegetable one—she’s puking in the bathroom.”

  The vegetable one? Lucy’s eyes widened when she realized what he was talking about. And that was not what she wanted to hear.

  “What?” Lucy gasped in horror. Pickle was puking? “Oh my God. What am I, like, supposed to do?”

  Ryan shrugged, distracted. “I don’t know. That freshman’s in there with her.” He wasn’t being rude, Lucy reasoned: he just didn’t want to deal with someone puking any more than she did.

  “Okay,” she said, deflated. “Thanks for telling me.” She slunk past all the laughing cheerleaders and Tank, who dramatically crushed a beer can on his forehead. She made her way down the long hallway toward the bathroom. Her heart raced and her knees felt shaky. This was so the opposite of how she wanted to be celebrating her first football game. She pushed open the door, where Pickle was hovering over the toilet. Max held her hair back. She looked up.

  “Oh, thank God,” Max said seeing Lucy. “Help.”

  Lucy stood frozen in the doorway. She couldn’t explain the panic that was enveloping her. For a strange second, she saw her mother’s face, gray and ill, instead of Pickle’s. “I don’t … really … I don’t know what to do,” she stammered. She wanted out. Out of this bathroom. Out of this house.

  Pickle’s body lurched. Lucy bolted out into the hallway, terrified.

  “Oh my God, oh my Go
d,” she whispered to herself. This was the reason she didn’t drink. Fear.

  “Lucy,” Max called out. “Get in here.” Lucy recomposed. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to burst into tears. She peeked her head in.

  “I’ll go get help,” she offered, looking for any means of escape. Before Max could protest, Lucy ran out of the bathroom and down the hall. She wasn’t sure what or who she was looking for, but as soon as she saw Benji, she knew she’d found the answer.

  “Benji,” she called out desperately. Benji set down his sixth mini-quiche of the night and rushed over.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

  “It’s Pickle,” Lucy said, breaking down. “She’s in the bathroom. She’s sick. Well, not exactly sick, but—”

  Benji interrupted. “One too many rum and Cokes? Those are her favorite. And by favorite I mean she drank it that one time last year we stole a bottle of rum from my parents’ liquor cabinet.”

  “Really?” Lucy asked, eager for a brief distraction. She always forgot that Benji and Pickle had actually spent a fair amount of time together last year. “What happened?”

  “She passed out before I could get up the nerve to kiss her,” he admitted frankly. Lucy clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. Benji was so brutally honest. It was endearing enough to make her momentarily forget how completely and utterly freaked out she was.

  “Listen, I’m supposed to be home by eleven-thirty. My dad thinks I’m at some postgame cheerleading get-together—” A whoop went up from the kitchen, where half the cheerleading team was egging on Kendall, who was drinking beer from a homemade funnel like a partying professional.

  “—which, technically, I guess I am,” Lucy continued. “But I have to get home—and get Pickle and Max home, too.”

  “I could give you guys a ride,” Benji offered. Max hurried out, looking for Lucy.

  “Hello?” Max said to Lucy, exasperated. “Thanks for bailing!”

  “I’m not bailing,” Lucy shot back defensively. “I’m finding you guys a ride home.” Okay, she was bailing.

  “Wait. You guys?” Benji asked. “Are you not coming with us?”