“What?!” Mazy demanded to know, hungry for details.
“I can’t say.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not my business. I shouldn’t even have found out about it. I’m not going to use his secret against him. Everyone has secrets.”
“Everyone?” Becca asked.
“Yeah,” Maggie said.
“But sometimes people need to come forward. If it could hurt someone, or if it did…”
“True, but sometimes the only thing the truth would do is hurt more people,” Maggie said, knowing exactly what Becca was thinking of. “I would tell if there was a reason. That’s what I told him. It was one of those things that’s only really a big deal to him anyway,” she said dismissively.
“Ooh, now I’m intrigued,” Mazy teased playfully. “Mysterious Maggie has a secret.”
She didn’t know why she said it; she hadn’t planned to, but she replied, “Yeah, M, what about you? Do you have a secret?”
“Of course. Like you said: everybody does.” Mazy winked. Unnerved, Maggie blinked and looked away.
She caught Tommy’s eye for a second. She wanted so badly to tell him about the letter, but she needed to find it first. Tyler noticed her looking in their direction and, to her mortification, waved.
She wasn’t the only one to notice his wide gesture. Trying to focus on the linoleum floor, Maggie found herself looking at cute, sparkly shoes. She looked up to find they belonged to Ashley.
“Uh, hi.”
“Hi.” Ashley gave her one of those sickeningly over-sweet smiles, lookings like someone shot lemon juice at her eyes.
“I’m Maggie.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” she sneered.
When she said she needed to talk to Ashley, this was not what she imagined. “Okay, can I help you?”
“I heard you went out with my boyfriend.” She crossed her arms. Maggie blew some air into her bangs.
“EX boyfriend,” Mazy added with a cute smile.
“Thanks to you,” Ashley said through gritted teeth.
“You’re welcome,” Mazy said politely back.
“Look, you can have him,” Mags jumped in. “The date was awful. We have nothing in common aside from both believing the date was awful. Although, I can’t say I expected different. I thought the way he broke up with you was totally rude.” Ashley’s face softened a little at that. “Maybe you should be thanking Mazy instead of hitting her.” Maggie turned around on her stool seat, back to her friends, hoping that would end the conversation. She waited for the girl to yank her hair or yell.
“So you’re not going to Homecoming with him?” Ashley asked instead.
“No.”
“He told me you were.”
“Well, I’m not, and if you want to know which of us is lying, come tonight and see for yourself. If I’m with Mark, you can hit me, and if I’m not, you can apologize.”
She was sure she was about to get slapped then. Her friends’ expressions certainly agreed. Seconds later, Maggie had to peek over her shoulder to make sure the girl had really walked away.
“Guess she had nothing to say,” Becca snorted.
“Thanks, M,” Mazy offered quietly. Maggie stared at her. Was she innocently playing along with the nickname, as innocently as Mazy could, or was she implying they were on the same side now?
“Mark’s not that bad,” Sarah offered, but she didn’t look so sure.
“Sure,” Maggie lied, humoring her. “Maybe he’s just going through a weird time right now.”
Not long after lunch, class let out to head toward the football field. The pep rally, as usual, included all the cheerleaders and all the football players. Suddenly, it became apparent to Mags why those kids all joined the teams their friends were on—she had no one to sit with while watching them.
Or so she thought. She should have known better. Wordlessly, someone took the seat next to her in the stands. She recognized his scent. Their legs just barely brushed against each other.
“I should have known.” She smiled, looking at the field. “New girl sitting alone at a pep rally, least spirited thing here. It just begs for a nice guy to come and join her.”
“I told you,” Tommy said. “I’m not Nice Guy.”
“Uh huh,” she said skeptically.
“It’s not like I’m being a social martyr sitting with someone with no social skills who is totally unattractive.”
She playfully gasped. “Did you just say I’m not totally unattractive? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”
“Shut up.” He slapped her knee.
Becca was watching. She was not smiling. Maggie moved her leg away.
The first cheers sounded like all she’d heard before, but when they started their dance routines and gymnastics, they were like something from a teen TV movie. She clapped, honestly impressed by the team. They were coordinated, perfectly timed. She could see why Sarah was captain.
Tommy stood as the players ran onto the field, through the painted banner, yelling for his brother. “Go, Tyler!” He didn’t yell for Mark. Smiling sideways at her friend, Maggie joined in cheering.
There was a lot of yelling, getting pumped with music, and a ridiculous game where Mark and Tyler had to spoon feed each other blindfolded in some sort of race with two other players. Small prizes were given out to the freshmen for spirit. The stands rumbled with stomping underneath her .
One cheer routine later, the marching band gave a teaser of their halftime performance—something about brass and a bass line made her heartbeat quicken whether she felt interested or not. Then, the coach gave a short pep talk to the boys. It was something oddly sophisticated about Greek mythology, though he was the history teacher,. It was a metaphor about Hercules killing the bull in his labors, the opposing team being the Battoon Bulls and the home team being demigods of incredible strength. She snickered a little at that and was pleased to spy Tommy doing the same.
As he finished, Becca took the megaphone to address the crowd.
“Tonight is an important night for all of us,” she said. From Sarah’s expression, Maggie could guess this was not part of the plan. “But it’s also important to remember someone else to whom tonight was also very important. Someone who should be on this field with us, but isn’t.” Everyone was silent. Maggie supposed they were all recalling some memory of the girl who was still among them a week ago. But she had no memories. Just the awkward sensation of intruding on something personal.
Mark stood up, walked over to her and head hung, managed, “We win tonight for her, for Amanda.”
They repeated in low voices like a praying congregation, “for Amanda.” It was nice, she supposed, but something about it made the hair on Maggie’s arm stand up.
Becca rubbed Mark’s arm in support. “And remember, if you know anything, if you can help, please do the right thing and come forward—”
Mark took the megaphone, to Becca’s annoyance. “And come out tonight and support our school, all of us!”
“Yeah!” they cheered. Maggie couldn’t make a sound. Why would Mark take the megaphone like that?
Maggie chanced a glance at Tommy. His eyes were sad again. She was suddenly miserable too. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
Of course, she had to ride back with either him or Becca, and she wasn’t looking forward to either prospect. Walking back toward the school, a voice stopped her.
“Hey, Margaret!” It was Tyler.
“Watch your lips, mister,” she joked with him.
He smiled, clearly relieved at her fresh sense of humor. “So, I wanna do you a favor,” he announced.
Maggie couldn’t really raise one eyebrow, so she raised both and crossed her arms skeptically. “Really?”
“Yes. I know you need a date for tonight since you broke Mark’s heart and Ashley’s threatening to kill you. Plus, I mean, if you want to keep up your cool kid look,” he clicked his tongue, “you can’t go alone.”
> “I see. And why are you volunteering for this noble position?”
“Because,” he said rather frankly. “My brother isn’t ready yet. And I really don’t think you should go alone.”
“What do you mean? Like I’m in danger?”
“Why would you be in danger?” He shook his head.
“I thought you thought that,” she said quickly.
“Why would you think that’s what I thought? Do you think that?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Well then, go with me. Come on, I’m the only guy here that you know you won’t regret later. Best case scenario, we make Tommy jealous. Worst case scenario,” he winked, “well, you already know I’m a good kisser.”
She whacked him.
“Ouch. That a yes?”
“Thanks, Tyler. It’s a yes.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Black.”
“Sexy.” He wagged his eyebrows. “Okay, I’ll meet you at the dance after the game. Oh, and you have to come down and wish me luck before halftime, and after we win.”
“Oh, I do?” she laughed.
“Uh-huh.” He was already hurrying to catch up with the team. “See you tonight!”
Her mom’s car met her in the parking lot, surprising her with a honk to get her attention.
“Mom! What are you doing here?”
“Well, this is kind of a big deal, and nothing interesting was going on at work, so I’m going to help you get ready. Come on.”
Maggie climbed into the car, which smelled like her mother. She wished for the millionth time she could replicate that smell. She would try again tonight.
Soft curls, volume at the roots, and hairspray. Lots of hairspray. Her locks looked free and graceful. They weren’t, but her mom made them look like that. The color looked deep, dark and shining. She kept swishing her hair back and forth. It wasn’t her best feature, even if it was a unique shade, but tonight it looked its best.
“So this guy, is he the one you kissed?” Her mom’s voice was low and quiet, a few inches away as, tactfully, she assaulted Mag’s face with a sponge, a dozen different brushes, and an eyelash curling contraption that looked like a torture device.
“He kissed me.”
“I see. And he’s cute?”
“Well, yes but…I like his brother.”
“Ouch. Then why are you going with him?”
“Well, his brother’s not really available.”
“If he’s not married, he’s available enough.”
“It’s more complicated than that. He was dating that girl that died.”
“Oh.”
“But he’s a good friend.”
“He’s the one that gives you a ride?”
“Yeah. He’s nice.”
“Nice is good. Nice is different. Does kissing-boy know you like his nice brother?”
“Yep.”
“Well then, it’s not so complicated. Done.”
If Maggie had done her makeup, it would have looked like she was going to a Halloween costume contest instead of a dance, but her mom knew it as an art form. Theater experience came in handy with her job. When her mom finally finished using Maggie’s face as a canvas, she didn’t appear to be wearing much make-up at all, but Mags kept staring at her reflection.
She pulled on the chosen dress. It was simple, mid-length, but its shoulders and back were mostly black lace, so that was sexy. Her mom insisted on jewelry, even though it wasn’t really Maggie’s style. Pearls were the only thing she was really comfortable wearing—simple but classy—and she had to admit they made a perfect touch to the dress. Still, the string of pearls seemed a little dressy to her, so luckily her mom had a large, single, tear-shaped faint pink pearl on a silk, black ribbon and matching pink heels Mags could actually stand in. She opted out of any more ribbons, no matter how popular they were.
There was ice cream and a hurried last minute trip to the drug store for cheap, black panty hose.
“You look great, Mags,” her mom said, dropping her off at the game. Maggie smiled, not as widely as Amanda, but with full dimples. If her mom said it, she must have meant it. “I have to do something in town tonight. Be safe, okay? And take your medicine before bed.”
“Okay!”
She walked alone toward the field. The fact that she walked in the dark somehow made her more alone. The fact that just ahead there were lights like a spaceship, many voices yelling, and a band playing made her feel more alone, too. For a moment, she felt like a ghost hovering unseen and unheard by the living, on the quiet dark edges of things. She was doing the haunting now, she thought, instead of being haunted.
As she neared the stands, nervousness made her stomach feel bottomless, her body cold. But it also made her smile.
Then, she hit the crowd, a wall made of people. At least it was warmer there, like it was warmer in a beehive. She pushed through politely, a few familiar faces catching hers, but no welcoming smiles of Becca, Sarah, or even Mazy. No Nice Guy in sight.
For the first time, she realized he might not come tonight. It might be too hard. He had probably planned to watch her during the game, then go to the dance with her. Now he’d be watching the empty space Sarah had tried hard to last-minute choreograph over, and what were the chances of him going to some dumb dance alone?
She spied the opposite side of the field, the scattered groups of Battoon High supporters huddled on the visitor stands. Ironically, she could probably find someone to talk to more easily over there, as a blank slate,whoever they wanted to be talking to. Now, on this side of the field, she had a label, after one week. A group. There were certain tables where she wouldn’t be invited to sit. As in, any of them.
Her only welcoming group was currently out on the field, under the lights. Fortunately, that reminded her that she needed to drop by the bench and see Tyler, her date. She shook her head at that. Ever the surprise with him.
She approached the bench through less of a crowd, but shyly, like some bodyguard was going to block her path and tell her in a booming voice that she did not belong there. For the most part, however, no one seemed to notice her, everyone being busy for the big game. What seemed like giants, big teen boys in even bigger uniforms and pads, walked past her. Any one of them bumping into her could have knocked her over. And one of them was Mark.
Their helmets obscured their faces and she realized she didn’t know which number Tyler was.
A massive figure in uniform stopped right in front of her. She felt small.
After a long pause, he pulled off his helmet and shook his hair, smiling broadly a crooked smile. Tyler. She breathed out in relief.
“Hey, kid,” Tyler said. “You almost missed it. We’re about to make our grand entrance.”
“Can’t wait.” She smiled, crossing her arms in the breeze.
“You’re going to freeze. Hold on.” He strode over to the bench, grabbing his jacket. Before she could protest, he had already put it on her.
“How can I enjoy you in that dress if you freeze to death before halftime? Don’t forget to come see me then.”
She laughed. He was excited, like a kid. “I will.”
He swooped down and gave her an innocent peck on her right dimple. “For good luck,” he said. “Oh, can you do me a favor, since I’m doing you one?”
“Name it,” she answered in earnest. She wondered if his mischievous look ever went away.
“My brother is sitting alone up there. Could you keep him company?” He winked before she could respond, putting his helmet back on and hurrying to join the impatient team.
“Good luck!” she called, smiling again.
“Hey, Maggie,” Mazy called absentmindedly from behind her.
She turned to see them looking even more made up and cheer-ful than normal—face glitter, tighter ponytails in ribbon— but with their game faces on. “Hey, you guys look great!”
“Thanks,” Becca said, in a tone that meant she appreciated it, but she al
ready knew.
“See you after.” Sarah smiled, reminding Maggie that she was standing among the cheerleaders about to rush in front of the crowd.
“Sure. Good luck to you all,” she wished them, happy to get out of the front and center.
“Thanks.” Mazy, sounding surprised at the sincere compliment, watched her go.
Maggie pulled out her phone as the stands erupted upon sight of cartwheels and the rhyming cries. Want company? she texted Tommy.
She surveyed the stands for a moment, but didn’t spy him in the sea of faces. Feeling pathetic, she turned to watch her friends, standing back from the sidelines.
They were impressive again, cheering as the band boomed loudly, as the guys burst onto the field, yelling like primal creatures. It was a fit of pure testosterone and adrenaline. From afar, it had been easy to criticize the ritual, but when she was close enough to feel the music vibrating her insides, feel the heat of the lights, and smell the human pheromones, it was something else entirely.
Her phone vibrated. I see you. Tommy replied.
“Hey,” he greeted from behind her, offering a soft pretzel with a coy smile. “Shall we?”
She knew she looked happy to see him, but she didn’t care.
“Nice coat,” he joked, rolling his eyes.
“Thanks!” She took the pretzel, deliciously warm in the cool air, smelling mouthwatering. They found an open spot near the top, a few feet away from anyone else, and settled there.
“Go, Sean!” Tommy shouted. The kicker was kicking. That was all she knew.
“What number is Tyler?”
“09, why?”
“I forgot. Feel bad not knowing my date’s number.”
“Your date?”
“Tyler didn’t tell you?” Her mouth fell open. “He didn’t think I should go to the dance alone, so he graciously offered himself.”
Tommy didn’t seem angry, just a little annoyed, his eyes darting to the sky. He tittered a little. “Oh, Tyler.”
She didn’t know what to say. But that was okay because at that moment the crowd went wild—not in a good way. Then they fell utterly silent.
She had not seen it, but she had heard it. The impact was so heavy, the softened thud had reached the stands. The sounds of pure muscle and hundreds of pounds of pressure hitting another human body at full speed, crashing through it, taking it to the ground.
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