Prichard snaps.
“Three, if you count the important one, sir.” Penn rubs his cheek, indifferent boredom dripping from his voice.
He is sticking it to Prichard. This punk is unreal.
“Actually, he is here because I lost a bet and needed to kiss a thug. We’re done here, anyway.” I snort, slipping into my cheer skirt and cropped shirt. I don’t dare lift my gaze to see their reaction. It’s a lie, but it’s one that would pacify Prichard and make him understand that Penn is not my boyfriend. That way, Penn won’t get in trouble.
Prichard narrows his eyes at Penn.
“I don’t appreciate you talking back to me, young man.”
Penn rolls his eyes as though the man’s dramatics have exasperated him.
“Penn,” I whisper-shout. I clutch the fabric of his shirt next to the hole, and he shakes me off, still staring at my principal. He is fearless. That’s when I realize I’m not only attracted to him. I envy him, too.
“If I see you on my school grounds one more time, I’ll inform the authorities.” Principal Prichard turns around, his whole body rigid. I chase after him on an impulse. Penn grabs my wrist, pressing his thumb to my vein.
His snake eyes ask me a question I haven’t given anyone a straight answer to.
What the fuck?
“I got what I needed from you.” I wiggle free of his touch, yawning. “If you’re here to clean the lockers, the mops are in the maintenance room across the field.”
The walk to Principal Prichard’s office is silent and long. When we reach his door, he tells me to forget about making it to cheer practice today.
“Esme can cover for you. She’s quite clever when it comes to getting what she wants. Besides, we have some business to attend to.”
He locks the door. My heart races.
A click never sounded so final in my life.
You
Make me
Want to grow
Even though you act so small
I want to put you in my pocket and save you from yourself
“Yo, Penn, heard your balls are softer than Tom Brady’s. Maybe you could use them as stress relievers.”
Some tool from All Saints High burps behind me, crushing an empty bottle of Gatorade in his fist and throwing it in my team’s direction. We’re standing in the tunnel leading to their football field because All Saints High has a fucking tunnel like it’s the NFL. Their entire facility is top-notch and cost the parents a pretty penny. Yet the locker rooms for our use, the guest team, are closed due to flooding (read: Gus being his usual dickhead self). So we’re in one tunnel. Together.
An All Saints player faints like a bitch—they mumble it’s too hot in here, but I bet his lady corset is probably too fucking tight—and both our coaches hurry to get him to an ambulance and find a replacement.
It’s the first game of the season, and it’s a fucking shitshow before we even get on the field.
We haven’t lost to All Saints High in five years. Let that shit sink in for a second.
Five. Fucking. Years.
Coach Higgins talked to the local news yesterday. He said if we concentrate, we have this in the bag. To our faces, though, Coach is anything but optimistic. He gives us less credit than he’d give a bunch of fainting goats in football uniforms. Which is total bullshit, seeing as we’re number one in the state (ASH is number two—commence eye roll).
Coach also says I should keep my head cold and my legs warm and not vice versa. He knows ASH has mastered the form of trash talking, but other than Knight, their sophomore quarterback, their defense is nonexistent, and their plays are pretty predictable. Coming to Gus to mend shit wasn’t my plan, but I did it because Higgins suggested we put an end to the rivalry off the field. Only I didn’t count on Gus bringing Skull Eyes with him.
I haven’t spoken to her since the kiss in the locker room yesterday.
We passed each other in the hallway, avoided eye contact at dinner, and then ignored each other while doing homework at the kitchen table, where Bailey broke a record of talking about absolutely nothing for two hours straight.
But Daria stood up for me against Prichard—something no one else has ever done—and at this point, I know she talks shit to cover her good deeds, so I was unfazed by her excuse for why it happened. She’s a little pathetic, though, what with the way she thinks I have a girlfriend and still lets me