Part 12 (2/2)

Demetrio: WTF u talking bout now, loca?

I looked up at him, and he shrugged at me in annoyed puzzlement, but he also cracked a grin to show he was amused by my continuing (and, one presumed, cute) stupidity. My mother, horrifyingly, watched this exchange, her lips growing thin and white with suspicion.

”Maria,” she hissed. She motioned me toward her with her finger. I leaned over, and awaited whatever she was about to say in my ear. ”Did you give that delinquent your phone number?”

”Yes.”

She seemed ready to strangle me. ”Are you out of your mind? Don't encourage him.”

”Mom, he's fine. He's actually really nice.”

”Shh,” said Coach Amy, her annoyance growing. My mother put a finger to her lips as though I were the only one talking, and scowled at me.

I settled down, and tried to focus on the compet.i.tion. The teams from the other schools were all very good, but predictable. I began to grow excited about my team's routine, which was very hardcore and break-dancey, and not at all what anyone would expect from us. My adrenaline began to flow as I antic.i.p.ated our performance. The judges for this contest always appreciated the unexpected, well executed.

A few minutes before ten, Coach Amy directed the team to the hall outside the side door that led to the performance area, meaning I'd have to walk past where Demetrio leaned against the wall on my way out. I got up, squeezed Kelsey's hand, and nodded my appreciation to Victoria and Thomas, who wished me luck, and, accepting a blown kiss from my still simmering mother. I glanced at Demetrio as I pa.s.sed by. He gave me a supportive fist-pump; my body reacted with adrenaline and blus.h.i.+ng.

As soon as I got out into the hall, I heard a familiar male voice call my name, cheerfully.

”Maria!”

I spun to look behind me, and was astonished to find Logan trotting toward me down the hall, in his ski parka, jeans and duck boots.

”Logan! What are you doing here?” I asked him.

”Came back early. I wanted to surprise you.” He grinned gorgeously, healthy and strong as always, and held out a beautiful bouquet of pink roses. ”For you.”

”I can't, I mean, thank you, they're beautiful, but I can't hold them just now. We're about to go on.”

”Miss Ochoa,” barked Coach Amy. ”Information, please.”

”Go,” said Logan. ”I'm glad I didn't miss it. Break a leg, babe.”

I gave him a quick peck on the lips, and joined the team in line.

Moments later, the applause died down for the team that had gone before us, and the announcer said, ”Now, ladies and gentleman, please welcome the reigning champions for eight years running, the Lady Chargers from Coronado Prep, under direction of award-winning ch.o.r.eographer Amy Stern. They'll be performing to 'Starstruck' by Sterling Knight. Put your hands together!”

The crowd went wild as we danced our way to the center of they gym floor, smiling and waving to the audience as we'd been trained, and took our positions. I had mixed feeling about the song, but Coach Amy thought it was just the right mix of edgy sound with family-friendly inspiring lyrics. To my horror, I now saw that Logan had taken a spot along the same wall where Demetrio leaned; even worse, they were looking awkwardly at each other, then trying to ignore each other to watch me.

With my heart pounding, I told myself to ignore the men who were here to see me, and to focus on finding my spot and waiting for the music. I remembered the words my mother had told me so many times, about no man being worth losing your own dreams for, about women having to make their own way and have things they were good at and proud of on their own. I scanned the crowd for her face, found her sitting attentively and proudly with the rest of Coronado Prep parents, and smiled. She smiled back, and for a moment, I felt like everything was going to be just fine. And the music began.

Every girl every boy they got your posters on their walls, yeah Photographs autographs when you step out the door you will meet the applause, yeah Paparazzi's hiding in the bushes trying to make a dollar, dollar Wanna be you, when they see you, they scream out loud Starstruck, camera flashes, cover of magazines Starstruck, designer sungla.s.ses, living the dream as a team...

I leapt to life, lost in the heavy pop beat, swiveling, s.h.i.+mmying, ponying, kicking, head-banging and shaking my way through a complicated, athletic, elaborate popping routine that Amy thought was street-meets-sweet. The crowd screamed as we moved in perfect synchronicity. For three short minutes that I wished could last forever, I danced, lost in my own world, without a worry. For that small speck of time, I was safe.

Then it was over, as quickly as it had begun, and Coronado Prep parents and fans were on their feet, screaming. I saw my friends, my mom, Demetrio, Logan, everyone united in their support. The score was announced, and, as we expected, we were now in the lead. We strutted off the floor, back to our spots in the bleachers, high-fiving and whooping. Then we settled down to watch the rest of the compet.i.tion.

Logan used the brief break between performances to stalk across the gym, away from Demetrio and the wall, toward me, his previously loving expression tainted with a touch of confused jealousy now. He hugged me, kissed me, then hugged and greeted my mom, who could not have been happier to see him if he'd been her own boyfriend. She loved him. Of course she did. His father was one of her staunchest campaign supporters and donors.

Logan squeezed onto the bench next to me, dumped the flowers in my lap, and put his arm around me a bit roughly, pulling my ear in toward his mouth as the announcer introduced the next school.

He spoke through a clenched jaw. ”What. The h.e.l.l. Is that lowlife. Doing. Here.”

”I don't know. I told him about the compet.i.tion when I crashed. We made a lot of small talk.”

”You're going to end up in trouble if you're not more careful, babe.”

”He's not that bad. Don't judge a book by its cover.”

He released me and stared balefully at me. I ignored him, turned my eyes to the team on the floor. There was no way they were going to beat us. Unable to stop myself, I glanced at Demetrio, who was staring hard at Logan with a calm authority and intelligence.

”What's the deal, huh?” Logan asked me, in close, aggressively close.

”He's a friend,” I replied. ”You have a problem with that?”

”Yeah, I have a problem with that,” he said, as though I was crazy. ”And so will everyone you know. Guys like that are never out to be friends with girls like you. Are you crazy or just stupid?”

”How do you know he doesn't want to be my friend?”

”It's ridiculous. Look at him! He's a common thug. What's really going on here? You have something with him? Did he touch you after the crash? Is he blackmailing you? What is it you're not telling me? I'll kill him if he touched you.”

I felt my phone vibrate with a text message, and looked at it. Unknown number.

Demetrio: u ok?

I stuffed the phone back into my jacket pocket, and felt tears well up in my eyes. This wasn't how my life was supposed to go. Kelsey watched with worry, and tapped me on the arm.

”I have to go to the bathroom,” she shouted at me, over Logan. ”Come with me?” To Logan, she added, ”You know us girls, we can never go to the bathroom alone!”

I agreed, and together we walked out, past Demetrio, who gave me a look as if to ask if everything was okay. I shook my head and smiled for him not to worry, even as a tear spilled over and ran down my cheek. Kelsey and I found the girls locker room and decided Logan was completely out of line.

”What is Logan's deal?” she asked me.

”I don't know. I guess he's just jealous.”

”No, he's controlling. No one treats you like that! No one!”

”I've never seen him like this.”

”Did you see how he just grabbed you like you were his property?”

”See it? I felt it.”

”G.o.d! I hate him! Do you believe me now? Can you finally see what an idiot he is?”

The tears came hot and fast now, and I dabbed them away from my mascara with a bit of wadded-up toilet paper.

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