taking off their shirts for the big finish. The crowd always goes nuts. Imagine what the school will do when they see more than their naked chests . . .
A whistle quiets the girls. “Girls, I have been waiting!” Coach Harkins says. She must have finally noticed that the entire squad was missing from practice. Mia takes the lead. “My apologies. We were discussing some secret stuff. Girls, let’s hit the mats!”
Everyone heads out. I fast-walk over to Kelly and pull her sleeve. “Hey, I’m sorry, Kelly. Are you all right?”
“It’s not a big deal, G. I’m fine.”
“I know—you’re tough as acrylic nails,” I say. “Funny thing, I just remembered something.”
Kelly smiles at me. “Oh, here we go.”
“No.” I stop her. “Anthony told me once that the football team has a secret storage closet. Maybe the suit is there?”
“Nice job, Private Investigator Roberts. You might have cracked the case.”
We head down the hall, past the weight room and soda machines. I have never seen Kelly this quiet, no jokes, nothing. When something is wrong with someone as funny as Kelly, you can tell immediately. She’s trying to hide it, but she’s shook.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but those guys were out of line. We should tell someone.”
“Georgia, no way. Mac and Ryan might get kicked off the team, and I would be outcast. Snitches gets stitches,” she says, pretending to shiv me.
“But what they did is, like, a hate crime.” I am so hip to the lingo now that Pony is my friend.
“But I’m not a lesbian! And if this got out, I would have an even harder time convincing people I wasn’t.”
“Well, it’s OK if you are,” I say.
“Well, I’m not. Can we drop it?”
“Sure,” I say, and we arrive at a door behind a broken weight bench. The sign reads DO NOT ENTER. I push the bench and open the door, no lock. Sure enough, there’s Boomer. The suit is stuffed into a trash bin, safe and sound.
Kelly grabs it and walks off.
IPHONES, 8:56 P.M.
PONY: So, Friday?
GEORGIA: Yeah, what about it
PONY: We have a date
PONY: to the museum of science
GEORGIA: Not a date
PONY: ☹
PONY: That’s no way to talk to a fellow winner winner chicken dinner
GEORGIA: Lol.
PONY: Should we do this?
PONY: Me. You. Science
GEORGIA: Yeah just one problem
GEORGIA: A pep rally
PONY: Duty calls, I guess
GEORGIA: But! Not until 3:30
GEORGIA: And whatever. I’m over it
GEORGIA: Long story.
GEORGIA: Let’s do this thing
PONY: Great. It’s a date.
GEORGIA: NOT A DATE
PONY: Ok.
PONY: It’s an undate
FOURTEEN
Friday, October 11
PONY, 8:50 A.M.
Today must be perfect. You don’t get many chances at undates, so today actually needs to be beyond perfect. Epically perfect. It should feel like a movie montage of a couple falling in love. Profoundly perfect.
No pressure.
I’m amped without coffee, gripping the steering wheel tight as I head to pick up Georgia. I couldn’t sleep last night, my mind running endless scenarios on how this day will unfold. Sometimes ending badly with awkward silences. Sometimes ending good with a kiss.
Here’s the plan: remain calm, collected, and just indifferent enough about her presence. Flirt . . . but not too much. I have a list of things to do in Dallas, but I want to make today feel spontaneous.
I pull into her driveway at 8:30 a.m. on the dot and honk a few times while pushing empty water bottles and wrappers under the passenger seat. I tap on the air freshener that has never been refilled. Change the song. Adjust the volume. Change the song again.
Georgia appears at the front door. She’s got on black jeans, a bright red coat, big smile. And today, she’s all mine.
I hand her a Starbucks cup when she sits down. “Pumpkin Spice Latte.”
“My hero,” she says, buckling up. So far, so good.
She removes the top and sips directly from the cup. I knew she would do that. I like knowing the little things about her.
“Pony, I am thrilled about our day, but I need to head back around two thirty to make it to the pep rally.”
My heart sinks a bit. I wanted to spend more time with her, and now we have a hard stop in six hours. I’ll just need to condense my charm. She changes the song, and we head out.
The traffic slows us down. We creep along the highway, bumper to bumper with people headed to their jobs. Georgia looks out the window at the other cars. “All these people, all dressed up and headed to their desks. Every day, Pony,