I glanced around at the masses knowing I’d never flit through them comfortably let alone count myself as one of them. “You are kinda hot, you know.”

  “Yeah. I know. Not the point.”

  I swatted his shoulder. He had too much of his brother in him anyway.

  “Seriously. If you panic, I’ll be standing right here.” He looked over my shoulder toward the soccer team. “But don’t panic. Okay?”

  Principal Edwards hefted the mic off its stand. A resounding thud-thud-thud echoed as he tapped it to check if it had magically turned itself off since the DJ had introduced him.

  “Happy Homecoming Weekend!” The man could get excited about anything, but even he was juicing it up a little much. “We had an amazing turnout for our auction and raised enough money for the fall teams’ new uniforms. And now, for the moment you’ve been waiting for…” He raised an envelope in his hand and the DJ kicked on a synthesized drum roll.

  Justin squeezed my shoulder again and whispered, “Don’t panic.”

  “It was a very close race,” Mr. Edwards continued. “At the last minute, we had a bid for the winner that pushed the crown her way.”

  Beside me, Rachel bounced on her toes whispering, “It’s you! It’s you!”

  I shook my head, not sure how I wanted the contest to go. “It could still be someone else.”

  “But,” Mr. Edward continued. “Before I make the announcement, I want to tell you all how very proud I am to serve at a school where the desire to help others overtook the need to run a popularity contest.”

  Rachel snorted. “Yeah, because keeping the popularity vote that is Prom Court cuts all that right out.”

  “And so, without further ado, the winner…” He broke open the envelope with an overdone flourish and raised it toward the spotlight to read as if he didn’t already know whose name was written there. “With a last minute anonymous bid—Amy Whalen.”

  I stood there and did exactly what Justin told me not to do. I panicked.

  “Amy,” Justin whispered. “It’s you.”

  He gave me a little shove as the light swung our way. I froze, suddenly shocked to have everyone not only looking at me, but notice me.

  Justin’s hand at my back still urged me forward, but his voice came low and clear at my ear. “I’m right here. You can take the envelope and come right back if you need to.”

  I don’t want to run crazy with the symbolism or anything, but I took a deep breath and—literally—stepped into the spotlight.

  I worked free of the crowd and made my way to the stage where Mr. Edwards held the mic and spoke in low tones to a now-frazzled looking Efficient Girl.

  At the top of the rickety stairs, Miss Efficient waited with a shiny tiara and an oversized crown about as royal looking as the cardboard ones from Burger King. She immediately pulled me into a tight hug. “I wanted to tell you when you asked who bought it, but Chris made me promise to take the “bought by” tag down. Which didn’t make a lot sense. But I figured he must be in on the surprise!”

  Oh. My. God.

  She put the tiara on my head, giving me another bright smile as she did. The upper and lower teeth smile. “You aren’t going to be sick, are you?”

  “Maybe,” I answered, but not completely for the reason she thought. Chris? “But not until I’m off stage.”

  God, I wished Cheryl had won.

  I couldn’t believe Chris bought my painting, especially since it was of Luke coming to rescue me. What was he expecting? Was he trying to Grand Gesture with my Grand Gesture? Did he think I’d choose him because he’d made me queen? That I’d forget the hurt and embarrassment and place that crown on his head? Did I owe him?

  That he’d suddenly be the right guy?

  Even as I herded those questions out of my mind, I pictured him the moment Luke had left us standing in the hall.

  Chris had looked vulnerable and sorry. He’d done and said all the right things. And since then, kept his distance while still keeping an eye on me. Waiting after practice till Rachel picked me up. Making sure underclassmen carried the table back to the locker room… Not hovering and forcing me to choose. But now Fate—or Chris—was forcing the choice.

  I suddenly felt like I couldn’t win and I couldn’t lose.

  Mr. Edwards was pushing the smiler away and moving me toward the front of the stage where the stairs dipped toward the floor. “Queen Amy, you may choose your king.”

  I sought Justin out amidst all the vaguely familiar faces. He was right where he said he’d be and, somehow just knowing he was there made everything so much easier. At the bottom of the stairs, the spotlight shifted, following me through the crowd toward the far end of the gym where the soccer team hung out with their groupies.

  That’s when it dawned on me. These people, these “peers” hadn’t known I even existed for years. I could count on one hand the people who really mattered. The rest… they were just background noise. Noise that got in my way as I waded toward the bleachers where the biggest choice I’d make waited.

  From behind me, as the group gave way, the spotlight showed a path to Chris at the end, lit up like a Christmas angel. He gazed down at me as I stopped beside him, his eyes bright like those night lights he loved to play under so much and my heart stopped as I considered my next move.

  One choice would leave my heart bruised, the other his.

  But before I even said a thing, his smile dimmed a little and he gave a tiny nod before stepping out of the way.

  “Amy.” His voice was low, but still managed to catch me up short. “If he says no, I’ll be right here.”

  I couldn’t make eye contact, couldn’t even look at him as I nodded knowing I’d never do that to either of us.

  The path didn’t wait for me to start to clear this time. Everyone on that team knew where I was going and the poor boy couldn’t have hidden if he wanted to.

  At the end of my yellow brick road—okay, so it was a foul line—Luke stood, one hand in his pocket the other fidgeting at his side. I stopped in front of him, praying that if he was going to let me down, it would be after the dance.

  “Would you like to dance?” I asked, realizing how lame that sounded but not knowing what else to say. Great preparation there, loser.

  His face was hard, that crooked grin hidden in the tight line of his lips. Hopefully his Mr. Manners side would kick his stubborn-streak’s butt and he’d put me out of my misery before the entire gym started laughing.

  “Amy, you’re messing up your chance.” He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “If you grab it now, you’ll be set with him. You’ll be with the guy you wanted.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I stood there dumbfounded. Not only did he not want me, but he was pushing me toward the guy he’d been trying to convince me was bad for me since the day we met.

  “Don’t blow this, Amy.” His hand fisted at his side. “I didn’t have Jared spend all of Half-Time trying to win that painting so you could go the safe route.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth I knew he hadn’t meant to say them. I could see him practically trying to grab them back from the air between us.

  My heart stopped and my eyes fell shut, afraid of what he was saying. Afraid of what I’d see.

  “You want me to pick Chris?” I waited, still not looking, forcing him to say the words out loud.

  When the answer finally came it was low, barely a whisper in my ear. He was so near I could smell his soap and feel the heat rolling off him.

  “I want you to have everything you deserve. I want you to be happy. I want you to know you’re worth whatever the price was.”

  My eyes flew open, afraid I was reading into what he wasn’t saying. Afraid I was hearing what I wanted to hear. I took his fidgety hand in mine, tethering him to me, afraid he’d bolt.

  He stared down where our hands wove us together. “All week I watched you watching him. How he ignored you the whole time, and I wanted to beat the crap out of him again.”

  OMG. Not even a chance this was happening. Not. One. Chance.

  I squeezed his hand, hoping he’d look at me now that my eyes were open—in more ways than one. “I was watching him because I felt bad. Because I told him no. Because I told him I wanted you.”

  His head came up, searching my face as I continued.

  “If you say yes, if you take this ugly crown, I’ll be with the guy I wanted. The one who always saw me.” I looked up past those thick lashes and hoped my heart and gut were right. And then I did it. I begged. “Be the guy who wanted me. Who wants me.”

  His other hand slid from his pocket and took the hokey brass-plated crown and shoved it on his head. “I’ve been that guy since the first moment I saw you.”

  That crooked grin hitched back up, finally showing itself again, as his gaze lowered to my mouth. I knew—I knew—what he was going to do. Even standing there in the spotlight with everyone looking at us, and pretty much guaranteeing a detention for PDA, I smiled back.

  Luke’s free hand came up to brush my hair away from my face.

  “Thanks for not giving up on me,” I said the moment before his lips brushed over mine and everything faded as colors crashed into one another behind my eyelids.

  In the distance, I heard the team start hooting at us and Luke pulled back, his cheeks flushed pink as he glanced toward them.

  The music started and his hand fell to my back, leading me to the center of the gym. I didn’t even care that the tiara dug into my scalp when I rested my head on his shoulder. All I cared about was me and him and the fact that there was nothing secret about the way we felt about each other.

  Chapter 31

  Everything fell away as my Nike covered feet slapped the pavement. I focused on my breathing, drowning out the sounds and smells and sights around me. Just like every other time I tied those shoes on, I was alone. The internal world of a runner. Me versus myself.

  And five hundred other racers.

  I focused on the time I had to beat and felt another little pump of adrenaline shoot through my body. Coach Melrose’s training schedule had been brutal. If I’d wanted it easier, I could have gone back to the RVHS cross-country team and dealt with the snotty girls there. Yeah, not so much.

  The cool September breeze kept my skin from getting too heated, but on a short 5k that wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I liked the run. I liked feeling my body work and knowing I was pushing it. And then pushing it some more.

  A third person fell from the pack in front of me and I kicked it up a little, just enough to pass her by. One by one. Just like Coach M talked about. Track them. Stalk them. Pass them. Win.

  I’d never thought of myself as a competitive person. Running was for me. But the way he pushed and trained, when that gun went off I wanted to beat every runner in the world.

  Another one dropped back and I maneuvered myself past him. I wasn’t as close to the front as I wanted to be, but it was my time I actually worried about. I’d been mid-pack at that starting line. Hopefully I’d made up the difference to cross the finish with the official race time hitting my goal.

  I didn’t want to let Coach down. Either Coach.

  The crowds along the edge of the road became thicker, louder, too obvious to ignore. The end was getting near. I gave myself a mental nod and pushed. Pushed myself like I never had in a school race. Pushed myself like I never had to in a school race.

  I shot by three more people before the finish line timer came into view. It was going to be close to break that time. Push, push, push. There was no way I was going to be this close to Coach Melrose’s set time goal and not make it. With a last ditch effort, I all but threw myself forward over the finish line, the timer a blur over head.

  One of the race coordinators placed a hand on my shoulder, guiding me out of the way, walking me to a grassy area where those who’d beat me were already walking it out or stretching to cool down.

  “I said by the end of this season.”

  I fought a smile at the mixture of pride and annoyance coming from the shouting coach stalking toward me.

  “I said play it cool, let’s see what you can do. I told you not to push it too hard. We talked about this being a pace-race to re-gear your training.” Coach Melrose squatted in front of me as I dropped to the ground and reached for my way-to-far-away toes. “So, can you explain to me what that was?”

  I grinned up at him, unsure if he was really upset at my aggression or not.

  “It was a good day to run.”

  “Whalen, I can see why Sarche handed you over. He didn’t have the patience for you.”

  A gruff voice came from my other side. “The best thing I ever did for you was hand you my girl here.”

  The two coaches glared at each other. I can only imagine they considered their own competition a sign of a deep, long-standing guy friendship.

  “Good job, Whalen. Stop standing around here. Don’t be late.” And with that Coach Sarche stomped off.

  Don’t be late? When was I ever late? I beat him to practice half the time.

  “Alright. You’re dismissed. Anyway,” Coach M jerked his head toward the edge of the park. “That boy is hovering. It’s distracting.”

  And with that, another coach stomped off.

  A pale purple bottle drifted under my nose. Check him out knowing Rain was my favorite Gatorade.

  “Hey.” And—of course—he still hadn’t learned a new way to start a conversation. “You were great.”

  Luke’s strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the ground.

  As soon as my feet hit the dirt, I pushed away.

  “And sweaty. Like, yucky sweaty.”

  His grin hitched up on the right, the one I secretly was convinced was just for me. “You hug me after my games.”

  Yeah, how to explain that was completely different. His sweat wasn’t all yucky proof of not being a girly-girl thing.

  “What’s up with Coach Melrose?” He asked, watching the man walk away.

  “Apparently, I ran too fast.”

  Luke stared at me for a long moment before busting out laughing. “Only you could annoy someone by excelling.”

  He tossed a bag at me with my clean, dry shirt and the tea tree oil wipes I was addicted to. I’d thought I’d have to wait to get to the truck. Seriously, has there ever been a better boyfriend?

  In case you were in doubt: Nope.

  But then he just stood there with that Luke Smile watching me.

  “Um…”

  “Yes?” He looked at the bag. I could see him wondering if he’d forgotten something.

  “Could you look over there?” I pointed in the opposite direction of where I stood, which was where the Port-a-potties just happened to be. Figures.

  He glanced over his shoulder and then back.

  “Nope. Keep looking.” I rummaged through my bag, tugging the T-shirt out. I could feel my skin heating. Man, I hated blushing.

  He looked again. Briefly. “Amy, what exactly am I looking at?”

  “Luke,” I sighed his name. And not in the he just kissed me way. “Would you just look over there until I say so?”

  There was that grin again. “So you can change your shirt?”

  Proof! Proof guys weren’t total idiots. “Yes!”

  I knew it wouldn’t be a simple pivot-and-look-elsewhere deal when that smile quirked again.

  “But you run in your sports bra when it’s just the two of us.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “We’re not running now.”

  “Well, it definitely covers more than your swimsuit.”

  “We’re also not swimming now.” I glared at that quirked-smile-face. “And, are you saying my bathing suit is too skimpy?”

  His ears flushed pink. If I was going to blush, he might as well too.

  “No.” He drew the word out like he wasn’t sure what the next one should be.

  “Then turn around.”

  Yeah, I know. One thing didn’t equate to the other, but it helped to force the issue while he was flustered. I was learning. Rachel would be so proud.

  “Okay,” I said, after pulling a clean tee on.

  He turned back to face me, his ears back to normal beige-tan, and hoisted my gym bag over his shoulder. “Ready?”

  I nodded and threaded my fingers with his, palm to palm. At the truck, Luke opened my door and waited, as always, for me to climb in so he could close it.

  The day was so comfortable, so happy. I knew I was being all Introspection Girl, but I couldn’t help but really love my life today. My life and what it was now.

  I had my dad and the perfect boyfriend and the best girlfriend and two Coaches who were pushy and overwhelming. I had running and art. I may not have been invisible any more, but the important people saw me for who I really was. And I wasn’t afraid of being seen by everyone else anyway. Which was good since the whole invisible thing didn’t seem to be working out so hot.

  It was the perfect day to just—

  “Luke, you just passed my street.” I must not have been the only one zoning out.

  “I know.” He gave my hand a quick squeeze, but kept driving. Right to his house. Where there were a suspicious number of cars in the driveway.

  “What’s going on?”

  “A Celebration Barbeque.”

  He pulled me around the side of the house to where the Parkers and Rachel and the Coaches all lounged on the deck while Mr. Parker and my Dad worked the grill.

  “What the heck is going on?” I whispered before they noticed us, some of my old panic flaring up for just a moment.

  Luke leaned down to whisper back, holding us apart for just a few needed heartbeats. “Your dad. He wanted to do something for your first race, but didn’t know what. So my mom kind of planned a barbeque. You know my mom.”

  I glanced back at the group, again worried about… everything.

  Luke squeezed my hand and grinned. “You’re lucky she didn’t have a marching band or something.”

  Oh. Dear. Thank goodness for small blessings.

  “I’m kidding, Amy.”

  Luke pulled me toward the porch, the warm smell of barbeque and the cool scent of autumn mixing in the perfect Indian summer kind of way. Everyone cheered and the two Coaches didn’t even scowl as we joined them.