head.
“Fifteen years. When Nina Knightley was a camper here.”
What? Paul DeLuca said it wasn’t very often girls were on Varsity. I didn’t realize “not often” meant every decade and a half.
“You have to stick it out. Be better than those jerks. Just be awesome and funny and ignore them. Look, I saw your audition. You didn’t make it just because you’re a girl. You made it because you deserve to be there. You have to stay on Varsity,” Paloma stressed each word. “For us. Promise me.”
My mouth was still hanging open. I closed it and swallowed. “Nina Knightley,” I repeated.
She nodded. “Be our Nina Knightley, Zelda.”
I took a slow breath in and out, trying to adjust to this new weight on my shoulders. “Okay,” I said. How could I turn back now? If Nina Knightley had to go through this challege for her career, then maybe I would have to, too. “I promise.”
“Yay, Zelda!” Sirena shouted, bolting out from behind the door, the screen door banging shut behind her.
Jonas jumped and screamed again. Will steadied his arms to keep him upright. “Has she been in here the whole time?” Jonas demanded, shaking off Will. He was on fire now.
Paloma and I smiled sweetly.
“And,” Paloma added, “she’s got the flag.”
“Dammit!” Jonas yelled. He tore after Sirena. Paloma hopped down to follow him. Will looked like he had itchy feet, but he squeezed my leg. “You can do this, Z,” he said, “you’re a warrior.”
I bit my lips and nodded.
I had to stay on Varsity to get on SNL.
Plus, the Gildas needed me.
And Will believed in me.
I nodded again, afraid if I said anything, I would start to cry. I picked up my notebook and pen and set my face. Trust yourself.
I had to show those asses what I was made of.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“They have coffee cake!” Paloma called from the front of the line.
“At lunch?” Sirena called back. “That is my real reward for capturing the flag.”
“Well, well, well!” Hanna was right behind Paloma up in front. “Gosh, I sure am hungry. This whole tray of crumbly, brown-sugary-cinnamon goodness looks like just the right amount for ME.”
“Don’t you dare, Hanna!” Sirena warned her. “If I can capture a flag, I can certainly capture that coffee cake.”
Emily ran up to Sirena and hugged her. “I heard it was you!” she squealed.
“You can’t cheer for the enemy, Emily.” Hanna marched over, holding the whole tray of coffee cake.
“Yoink.” Sirena smiled and stole two pieces in quick succession.
“I can cheer for whoever I want to,” Emily insisted, smiling as Sirena handed her half of the stolen booty. I found myself nodding, encouraging Emily’s emerging confidence. “Plus,” Emily continued, “she’s not the enemy anymore.”
Hanna shook her head and handed the tray off to Jonas. “J, will you put this on our table? I gotta grab a plate—”
Brandon and Xander walked by and lifted the whole tray out of Jonas’s hands without breaking a stride.
“Hey!” he and Hanna exclaimed. But not very loudly.
I gave them a wan smile. “Those are my teammates. Feel sorry for me. Just a little.”
I felt a tug at my elbow. Expecting Will, my eyes widened when it was Ben instead. And even though I was confused and irritated with him, my brain ignored those logical feelings and zeroed in on the contact his warm fingers were making with the sensitive skin on the inside of my elbow. My heart started beating so loudly, I was sure Ben could hear it.
“We got high ropes rescheduled for right after lunch, so wear clothes you can move in. We’ll read sketches tomorrow,” Ben said. His words meant business, but his eyes locked on mine. He was still holding my elbow.
I nodded.
Neither of us spoke.
Then suddenly, he released me and ran his fingers through that shaggy blond hair. “Meet at the gate. One o’clock.”
I nodded again. He turned on his heels and left.
“I don’t like that guy,” Will muttered.
“Where have you been?” I asked, ignoring his declaration.
“Changing out of sweaty Capture the Flag clothes,” he said, eyes still fixed on a retreating Ben. “He likes you.”
“This again,” I muttered, moving toward an open table with my tray.
“Uh, yes. Because you don’t believe me. He likes you. That is gross.”
“Thanks,” I said flatly.
“You’re not gross,” he said, following me across the dining hall. “Well,” he amended, “you’re my sister, so yes, you are. But other people don’t think you’re gross. He’s your coach. That is gross.” He set his tray down across from me. “Be careful with