Part 18 (2/2)

Luke's head swung toward me as I tried to wipe the silly grin off my face. Even with Luke's scowl focused in my direction, a glow spread through me. I forced myself to not peek at Cheryl in my moment of glory. To enjoy it all because it was only going to come once. To try to ignore the fact that the entire school was looking at me. I wasn't stupid enough to let Chris's last ditch effort do more than give me a warm-glowy. It didn't fix things with Chris or mean I gave him my trust.

But it also didn't mean that for that one second, my stupid heart didn't flip over. Twice.

Crus.h.i.+ng was a bad habit. Going cold turkey was practically impossible. There should be interventions.

But, this wanting Chris thing was a habit... one I knew for sure I wanted to break. If I was honest, I'd known that for awhile but had been afraid to let go. Afraid of what came next.

Luke Parker. My heart actually stopped as my gaze swung toward him. And not in the same idealized six-year-habit way, but in a new, scarier-than-anything-else-high-school-has-thrown-my-way way.

His face changed, contorted with a rage I didn't think he had in him.

Lowering his head he plowed into Chris, taking him to the ground with a fierceness that surprised even the other boys.

How could he? How could he embarra.s.s his team and me like that?

It was a testament to Luke that the teams split immediately. I would have guessed with his new-guy status, the majority would have rushed to Chris's aid. To have Chris's back. That probably would have been for the best. Everything would have ended before it started. Unfortunately, loyalty seemed to be equally divided and the melee that followed was a sight to behold.

Never in RVHS history had a riot like this broken out-even against a rival school. The team colors merged and faded into indiscernible patterns. No one color jersey defining loyalty at that moment. The crowd was too confused to jump in as the energy swept over them and pulsed with a life of its own.

Coach and the refs finally got the situation under control and sent guys off in different directions. The adults seemed afraid to send the team up to the locker room lest the chaos continue there. The teachers and security guards started directing everyone toward the gates and out into the parking lot.

The fear of another, bigger riot must have been overwhelming because when the cops showed up they forced all the students into their cars and off school grounds.

”You ladies need to leave.” The cop behind us couldn't have been more than twenty.

”I'm with the team,” I answered, afraid to look away from the two groups separated by Coach and his cohorts.

He s.h.i.+fted his hands on his gun belt, hitching it up on one side in a sad Clint Eastwood impersonation. ”Sweetheart, everyone thinks they're with the team. Doesn't mean I'm gonna let them all stay here throwing punches.”

Rachel batted her hot chocolate browns. ”Officer, do we look like the ma.s.s chaos type?”

He glanced from me to Rachel, Rachel making the much better showing in her A&B top and denim miniskirt.

”No, miss. But I can't leave anyone down here that isn't a team member.”

She slipped her hand through his arm as though he'd offered to lead her onto a dance floor in a BBC costume saga.

”I wouldn't mind being escorted to my car.” She actually fluttered her eyelashes. ”I mean, with all this craziness, a girl shouldn't be walking alone up there without some protection, don't you think?”

I could see her pull, her magnetic vortex sucking him in and weakening his resolve. Jared was not going to be happy if he was waiting in the parking lot.

So not my problem.

”If I promise to wait in the car until Coach Sarche is done with Amy-to be on my very best behavior and stay out of the way-can we call that good?”

More eyelash fluttering.

I saw him glance at me, undecided about leaving me behind.

”Um, Coach?” I called to where he paced among the guys settled into small groups on the ground.

”Whalen? Are you causing more trouble?” he bellowed back.

Great. Just great. Of course this would somehow become my fault.

”No, sir. But this officer wants me to leave.” Which suddenly seemed like the best idea under the big night game lights. ”Is that okay?”

”h.e.l.l no it isn't okay. You sit your skinny little a.s.s down, Whalen. I'm not done with you.”

I glanced at the officer as Coach turned back toward the team, his bellowing momentarily redirected.

”I don't suppose you'd consider arresting me?”

The officer looked toward Coach and his battered Ravens.

”Not a chance. I played for Coach three years ago. No way I'd cross him.” He looked down at Rachel. ”Still want to be walked to your car?”

”More than ever,” she said, and pulled him away.

”Cowards,” I called after them, sitting my b.u.t.t back down and waiting for Coach's bellowing to deafen me.

”I'll see you at the car. Don't let the man get you down.” Rachel raised a well-manicured hand as she followed the officer up the slope to the lot. At the gate, she turned and shouted back, ”Oh! Please try to get to the car without starting a small war.”

As they disappeared through the gate, I collected binders and ref reports. I forced myself to concentrate on sorting and organizing the data, beginning with the reports Coach would want tonight to make his decisions for the captain spot-if that was still even an issue.

I'd finished the summary sheet, but Coach was still railing away at the team. Settling myself in for the long haul, I watched him pace and yell, swinging his clipboard around as if it were a weapon of annoying teen destruction.

With a final warning, he dismissed the team, threatening to call off the entire season if anything happened in the locker room.

The guys disappeared up the stairs to the school's back door and Coach made his way to hover over me. Studying his oversized sneakers, I waited for the explosion that was mine to own.

”Whalen?” his voice had dropped to a softer pitch.

I tried not to look up, afraid to see either overwhelming disappointment or uncageable anger in his eyes.

”Amy?”

”Coach,” I answered, still staring at those beat-up running shoes.

”Look up here, suns.h.i.+ne.” He crouched down in front of me, giving me nothing to focus on but him. ”I know you didn't instigate that. I know you aren't playing those two against each other. But that doesn't change the fact that my two best players are treating you like a toy they're fighting over.”

”Coach, honestly, I'm not trying to be fought over.”

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