“As I was saying, due to budget constraints the school needs to find more funding for the Fall sports and clubs. And so, to make the Homecoming Court more in tune with true school spirit, the School Board has decided that the person—or captain of persons—who raises the most at the Half-Time Auction at the Homecoming game will be crowned King or Queen. They’ll have the opportunity to offer the other crown as they see fit. This alleviates the social pressures and unfortunate standards set by a blind vote of peers.”

  Oh. My. Gosh.

  He had to be kidding.

  I glanced toward the cheerleaders, watching Cheryl taking in the news. She turned and looked up the slope to the school where the teams waited to take the field again. Where Chris waited.

  Everything he’d worked for, the entire Plan, down the tubes because of an economic crisis the adults had gotten us into.

  And then I got mad. Everything that had happened over the last three weeks came down to nothing. Down to less than nothing. There was no need for the secrets and the double life. There was no need for Cheryl. There was no need for Chris to “date” her to become Homecoming king. Everything that went with that—The Plan, the double life, the rivalry with Luke, everything—none of it mattered now. Now, all you had to do to become Homecoming King was earn the most money? What did that mean?

  It meant The Plan—and the public image girlfriend that went with it—was a thing of the past. Now, Chris had no excuse to be with Cheryl… and I had no excuse not to figure out what I wanted. For the first time, there was no “big picture” to consider.

  It meant next time I saw Luke, I’d have to be single or taken—but not relationally in limbo. And, as I watched him sprint down the sideline getting open for a pass, I suddenly knew where I stood.

  # # #

  Behind me the crowd worked itself into a roar. Split by color, students and parents cheered for their jersey team as though it were the state finals instead of just the last round of tryouts-scrimmage. At my side, Rachel checked out the guys, scanned the crowd, and text messaged Jared who sat all of two rows behind our table. Basically everything someone can do at a game besides watch the game.

  As the clock ticked down to nothing—high school regulation time—Chris and Luke managed to work together to force the ball into the other team’s box. Luke circled out past their midfielders with the ball, only to be cornered by two defenders. I held the timer in my hand, hoping for the best, but knowing I’d call time the second it struck zero. Before my finger could hit the button, Luke passed the ball off to Chris.

  No one expected that. Well, no one but me. I’d known when it came down to it, he’d do what was best for the team no matter who earned the final glory.

  The unexpected pass took the Green Team off guard and gave Chris an open shot.

  The ball hit the back of the net as I blew the air horn and ended the game.

  A bunch of Blue Shirts tackled Chris to the ground. Some of the guys scooped Luke up in the standard Chariots of Fire Victory lift and the team brought them both to midfield where Coach ran out to congratulate them. The ref jogged down the field, bringing the winning ball with him.

  It was glorious. One of those moments you think can’t get better, that you want to hold onto forever in the scrapbook of your mind.

  The ref tossed the ball toward Chris—winning scorer earning the winning ball. Chris trapped it and then kicked it back into the air, sending everyone’s gaze racing with it as it soared toward the crowd and gently landed in the invisible girl’s hands—as it landed in my hands.

  Luke’s head swung toward me as I tried to wipe the silly grin off my face. Even with Luke’s scowl focused in my direction, a glow spread through me. I forced myself to not peek at Cheryl in my moment of glory. To enjoy it all because it was only going to come once. To try to ignore the fact that the entire school was looking at me. I wasn’t stupid enough to let Chris’s last ditch effort do more than give me a warm-glowy. It didn’t fix things with Chris or mean I gave him my trust.

  But it also didn’t mean that for that one second, my stupid heart didn’t flip over. Twice.

  Crushing was a bad habit. Going cold turkey was practically impossible. There should be interventions.

  But, this wanting Chris thing was a habit… one I knew for sure I wanted to break. If I was honest, I’d known that for awhile but had been afraid to let go. Afraid of what came next.

  Luke Parker. My heart actually stopped as my gaze swung toward him. And not in the same idealized six-year-habit way, but in a new, scarier-than-anything-else-high-school-has-thrown-my-way way.

  His face changed, contorted with a rage I didn’t think he had in him.

  Lowering his head he plowed into Chris, taking him to the ground with a fierceness that surprised even the other boys.

  How could he? How could he embarrass his team and me like that?

  It was a testament to Luke that the teams split immediately. I would have guessed with his new-guy status, the majority would have rushed to Chris’s aid. To have Chris’s back. That probably would have been for the best. Everything would have ended before it started. Unfortunately, loyalty seemed to be equally divided and the melee that followed was a sight to behold.

  Never in RVHS history had a riot like this broken out—even against a rival school. The team colors merged and faded into indiscernible patterns. No one color jersey defining loyalty at that moment. The crowd was too confused to jump in as the energy swept over them and pulsed with a life of its own.

  Coach and the refs finally got the situation under control and sent guys off in different directions. The adults seemed afraid to send the team up to the locker room lest the chaos continue there. The teachers and security guards started directing everyone toward the gates and out into the parking lot.

  The fear of another, bigger riot must have been overwhelming because when the cops showed up they forced all the students into their cars and off school grounds.

  “You ladies need to leave.” The cop behind us couldn’t have been more than twenty.

  “I’m with the team,” I answered, afraid to look away from the two groups separated by Coach and his cohorts.

  He shifted his hands on his gun belt, hitching it up on one side in a sad Clint Eastwood impersonation. “Sweetheart, everyone thinks they’re with the team. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let them all stay here throwing punches.”

  Rachel batted her hot chocolate browns. “Officer, do we look like the mass chaos type?”

  He glanced from me to Rachel, Rachel making the much better showing in her A&B top and denim miniskirt.

  “No, miss. But I can’t leave anyone down here that isn’t a team member.”

  She slipped her hand through his arm as though he’d offered to lead her onto a dance floor in a BBC costume saga.

  “I wouldn’t mind being escorted to my car.” She actually fluttered her eyelashes. “I mean, with all this craziness, a girl shouldn’t be walking alone up there without some protection, don’t you think?”

  I could see her pull, her magnetic vortex sucking him in and weakening his resolve. Jared was not going to be happy if he was waiting in the parking lot.

  So not my problem.

  “If I promise to wait in the car until Coach Sarche is done with Amy—to be on my very best behavior and stay out of the way—can we call that good?”

  More eyelash fluttering.

  I saw him glance at me, undecided about leaving me behind.

  “Um, Coach?” I called to where he paced among the guys settled into small groups on the ground.

  “Whalen? Are you causing more trouble?” he bellowed back.

  Great. Just great. Of course this would somehow become my fault.

  “No, sir. But this officer wants me to leave.” Which suddenly seemed like the best idea under the big night game lights. “Is that okay?”

  “Hell no it isn’t okay. You sit your skinny little ass down, Whalen. I’m not done with you.”

  I glanced at the officer as Coach turned back toward the team, his bellowing momentarily redirected.

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider arresting me?”

  The officer looked toward Coach and his battered Ravens.

  “Not a chance. I played for Coach three years ago. No way I’d cross him." He looked down at Rachel. “Still want to be walked to your car?”

  “More than ever,” she said, and pulled him away.

  “Cowards,” I called after them, sitting my butt back down and waiting for Coach’s bellowing to deafen me.

  “I’ll see you at the car. Don’t let the man get you down.” Rachel raised a well-manicured hand as she followed the officer up the slope to the lot. At the gate, she turned and shouted back, “Oh! Please try to get to the car without starting a small war.”

  As they disappeared through the gate, I collected binders and ref reports. I forced myself to concentrate on sorting and organizing the data, beginning with the reports Coach would want tonight to make his decisions for the captain spot—if that was still even an issue.

  I’d finished the summary sheet, but Coach was still railing away at the team. Settling myself in for the long haul, I watched him pace and yell, swinging his clipboard around as if it were a weapon of annoying teen destruction.

  With a final warning, he dismissed the team, threatening to call off the entire season if anything happened in the locker room.

  The guys disappeared up the stairs to the school’s back door and Coach made his way to hover over me. Studying his oversized sneakers, I waited for the explosion that was mine to own.

  “Whalen?” his voice had dropped to a softer pitch.

  I tried not to look up, afraid to see either overwhelming disappointment or uncageable anger in his eyes.

  “Amy?”

  “Coach,” I answered, still staring at those beat-up running shoes.

  “Look up here, sunshine.” He crouched down in front of me, giving me nothing to focus on but him. “I know you didn’t instigate that. I know you aren’t playing those two against each other. But that doesn’t change the fact that my two best players are treating you like a toy they’re fighting over.”

  “Coach, honestly, I’m not trying to be fought over.”

  “Good girl. I knew you were too smart for that.” He smacked his ever-present clipboard against his thigh. “We can’t lose a season because a boy can’t let go of his pride. Tomorrow, after practice, I’d appreciate it if you made that very clear to Kent. I’m going to need this to end.”

  What? What could I explain to Chris?

  “To Chris, sir?”

  “Whalen, you need to explain to that boy he should stick to flirting with his own girlfriend and leave Parker’s alone.”

  Oh. Uh-oh.

  “I’m not Parker’s girlfriend, sir.”

  I had no idea what I was, but I knew I wasn’t that. Was there a Lost And Confused status I could give Coach? How about Hopeful But Unsure of Reception?

  He gazed at me a long moment, studying me with the intensity I’d only seen him focus on the team statistics.

  “Whalen.” The word was more of a sigh than my name. “You need to figure out what you’re doing then and do it. This half-ass stuff isn’t going to work, and I won’t have my team distracted and divided. If you can’t take care of this, I’ll have to.”

  He smacked the clipboard two more times and said, “Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir. Clear.”

  He hulked up and made his way to the school, probably to ensure there still was a locker room. I watched until he disappeared at the top of the hill and gathered my stuff together to escape to Rachel’s awaiting car.

  The lights on the field flickered out and faded to darkness as I made my way up the steps. Figures. No real surprise that I’d be visible for all of three minutes and not when I actually needed lights. I stood there in the dark, re-embracing my invisibility for a moment.

  I was so done. Done with all of it. Luke Parker just humiliated me in front of the entire school before classes had even started. I have no idea how one minute you can feel so sure, so excited about something—about someone—and then the next you just want to be left alone for the next sixty years.

  I had enough problems with the only guy in my life. My dad.

  Yeah. And so I was done with both of them. Boys who played soccer were officially banned from Amy-land.

  Stomachs that flipped over. Hearts that stopped. No more!

  Unfortunately, I was almost to Rachel’s car when I heard the steps speeding up behind me.

  “Hey! Amy!”

  Not what I needed. I considered pretending not to hear him, but with the speed Luke was gaining on me, he’d overtake me before I got to Rachel’s Honda anyway.

  “Amy, listen.”

  I spun around, finally having an outlet for my anger and humiliation.

  “How could you, Luke? Seriously. You attacked your own team member. Your captain. You started a fight to rival… Gah! I don’t even know what it could rival it was so big. And you haven’t even attended a single class yet.” I glanced back to where I was pretty sure Rachel was reaching across the passenger’s seat to roll down the window on our side of her absurdly old car. “Can’t you just let it go, leave him alone? A little effort to get along with him would go a long way. You don’t get to just blow up like that for no reason.”

  Luke stared at me. Hard. When I finally gave up on him answering me, I moved to step off the curb, to hop into Rachel’s car and hopefully back to the house. I had a desperate plan to drown myself in Chunky Monkey while she chitchatted about flirting with a cop that was way too old for her—and not her boyfriend.

  As I stepped down, a firm grip fastened around my arm and spun me back toward Luke. Off balance, I stuck my hand out, bracing against his chest. Before I could jerk away, Luke was leaning down, growling in a low, intense voice I’d never heard come out of him before.

  “No. No, we won’t ever get along. I know it. He knows it. And you need to know it. I want the “C” on his shirt, his spot on the team, and the girlfriend he’s too proud to recognize in public. But know this, Amy.” He came even closer, his nose actually brushing mine. “Only the last one matters.”

  He released me so abruptly I stumbled a little, bumping into the car behind me. Before I could reply, he was gone, the oversized rectangular taillights of his Chevy disappearing at a speed that made me worry about his safety.

  Sinking into the passenger’s seat, I turned to Rachel. “Did you get all that or do you need a play by play?”

  Rachel shook her head, her gaze focused on the road. “That was by far the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

  A dull throb grew in my head as I contemplated her words. “Seriously. You’re insane. Can we go before Chris comes out and demands something too?”

  One of my double-booked conversations was enough for tonight.

  Leave it to Luke to knock down the brand new walls around Amy-land, before I had a chance to do all that decision-solidifying stuff I’d planned on. Never in my life had I been so confused. Did I have a boyfriend? Did I even want one if guys were basically crazy? And, if I wanted one, how the heck do you choose between the guy you’ve loved since elementary school and the guy who just can’t stop knocking down the wall around your heart?

  I was confused. But more than that, I was tired of being confused.

  We drove to my house in silence, the trees casting the almost-full moon’s shadow through the sunroof. Rachel didn’t ask when we stopped in front of my house, just turned the car off and followed me into the Haven.

  It was the first time girl’s night was to accommodate my angst, and wouldn’t you know? It started to rain. Again.

  Chapter 23

  The rain pounded against my window in a heavy, distracting drumming. Dad must have left even earlier than normal, probably as soon as the storm woke him. Or it was just another desperate attempt to avoid me. I hadn’t gotten a run in for a couple days, and the amount of water falling from the sky annoyed me.

  Typically I loved to run in the rain, especially in the summer heat. The smell of water spitting off the overheated pavement always pushed me farther. But this, this was a blinding curtain of water not even I would go out in.

  I switched on the TV and flipped to the local channel, hoping for a break in the clouds.

  Not good. Actually, worse than not good.

  Storm advisories ran across the bottom of the screen. In the top corner, a map with my house pretty much sitting in the middle, showed a flood warning. And the news continued to get worse.

  The call for evacuation was immediate and urgent.

  Hopefully, I could wait until my dad got home to form a plan. In the meantime, I kept sneaking peeks out the window to see how much the river had risen. By afternoon, the water sloshed over the banks and engulfed the trees lining the drive.

  As little wavelets inched closer, I realized there was more than a good chance the house might get flooded—like good as in primetime-TV-will-have-a-new-reality-show-in-the-fall good chance.

  The living room, the one place in the house that hadn’t changed in the last six years, was a comfortable shrine to family. My family. My mother’s trinkets and memories dotted the room giving it the cozy feeling I longed to hold onto. Each piece of furniture had been hand picked at flea markets and antique sales. The only reason this cottage was more than a cute house was because of the home she had made it.

  Starting with the lighter things, I began carrying furniture, knick-knacks and keepsakes upstairs to the spare bedroom. Each trip down, I glanced out the window, eyeing the rising water.

  When everything I could easily lift had been moved, I started on my studio in the back room. The paintings and works-in-progress went first, followed by my easel, sketches, and paints. After that, I remembered the den. I grabbed Dad’s work papers and the lock box and put that all on his bed.

  At the front door, I shivered from the rush of raw air and water streaming toward me. In the background, Channel 5 reported the dam upstream was being strained and that evacuation was upgraded to “mandatory”.