“Elizabeth made mistakes too.”
Jack shook his head. Something told me he loved Elizabeth Bennet as much as I did.
“It’s funny,” he said. “The difference between books and real life. I figured, heck, if it worked for Darcy—”
“If what worked?”
“Remember when he went after Wickham to make him do right by Lydia?” Jack touched the yellowing remains of his black eye. “Rick was talking shit about Moni that Saturday after practice, and I went after him. I was so pissed. At him. At me.” He shrugged again. “Seemed like the thing to do. Besides, the way I figured it, I was about to lose a hundred bucks.” His grip tightened around the book in his hands. “I still can’t believe you showed up for that last meet.” He paused as if considering something. “Neither could Mangers.”
Neither could I. But…my mind whirled, and I struggled to pull all the pieces together. “So, that bet?” Maybe I really didn’t know what I thought I knew, which made Rick Mangers right about something.
Jack turned away. For a moment I thought he might walk away, and that would be it. I swallowed back panic and tears. But then he looked at me.
“Which one?” he asked.
“Which…one?”
He held my gaze. “There were two, Bethany. One about whether you and Moni would cheer for every wrestling meet. And one about—” He stopped speaking but still looked into my eyes.
“Right,” I said.
“Yeah. But for what it’s worth, I think Rick’s serious this time. R.J. Schmidt made a crack about Moni the other day. Mangers nearly beat the crap out of him.”
Not that R.J. Schmidt didn’t deserve a good beating. “So, when you fought Rick…?”
“I wanted to prove that I was…serious, that it was never a joke.”
“Never?” And no matter what, I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.
“Okay, it started that way for Mangers. But I thought, if we were supposed to, you know, I could use it as an excuse—”
“You never needed an excuse,” I whispered.
Jack studied the ground, kicked the toe of one shoe with the other. “By the time I figured that out, I’d screwed the whole thing up.” He looked at me. “It was too late.”
“Who says it’s too late?”
“Then here.” He pushed the book at me.
I took it and turned it in my hands. The novel felt lumpy, unaccountably so. The pages fell open. In the crease sat a ring. I stripped off my mittens and held it between my finger and thumb. Beneath the yellow lamplight, the opal glowed in its setting. The slender gold band was engraved class of ’89.
“It was my mom’s,” he said.
My lungs held zero air. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I shook my head, hoping to shake away the tears. “I can’t—I mean, it’s way too special. I—”
“My dad said the right girl would say that.” Jack gave me that little-boy grin. “It’s mine. He gave it to me a couple of years ago, and I want you to have it. I couldn’t think of anything else that would prove—”
“A rose would’ve worked. Even a two-day-old one.”
He laughed. “Maybe. I really liked mine. It got me thinking, you know? About everything.” He stepped forward and took the ring from my hand. “Will you wear it?”
At some point I must have nodded or said yes. It was the only explanation for how the ring came to rest on my finger and for the quick, soap-scented kiss from Jack.
“So,” he said, his eyes warm and mischievous. He glanced toward the school. “You going inside?”
He scooped up the basketball, his gym bag, and my pom-poms, and we raced through the cold to the back door.
At the gym entrance, I tugged some loose bills from my coat pocket while Jack pulled out his wallet.
“Let me?” I asked, four dollars in hand.
His chin tilted with that hint of pride, but his face softened. “Next time, okay?”
Jack opened his wallet. Inside were five twenty-dollar bills.
I felt my eyes go wide. “What the heck?”
But Jack only grinned. Without another word, he pulled me inside the gym. I dumped my coat and pom-poms in a corner, one not far from where Todd stood, surrounded by debate dorks, a few freshman wrestlers, and oddly enough, a couple of gauntlet girls. Okay, so they were third-tier gauntlet girls. Still, apparently the wow factor had kicked in.
Maybe some things did change.
The DJ cued up a slow song. “This one goes out to all the girls on the Prairie Stone High School varsity cheerleading squad.”
The dedication echoed through the space. A squeal went up from the center of the gym. I rolled my eyes. Jack laughed.
Then again, some things never changed.
Jack tugged me toward the dance floor. He hadn’t shed his letter jacket. He pulled me close, pulled me into the jacket itself. My arms went around his neck, my head rested against his chest, the cotton T-shirt soft against my cheek.
Geek Girl, I thought, and snuggled closer to Jack.
Meet World.
About the Authors
CHARITY TAHMASEB was a 2003 Golden Heart finalist, and one of her short stories was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She lives in Minnesota.
DARCY VANCE’s essays on family life have appeared in regional newspapers, and her first novel was a finalist in the Get Your Stiletto in the Door Contest. She lives in Indiana.
The Geek Girl's Guide to Cheerleading Page 25