Part 23 (1/2)

Not only was this where I wanted to be, but it's where I fit.

Running was for me. Just for me. Yeah, I loved winning. But, like I'd told Mrs. Parker, I could compete anywhere.

I'd found my place there on the boys' soccer team. Who would have thought it?

”Coach, I'm where I'm supposed to be.” I nodded, feeling the smile spread. ”I can compete on weekends or something if I get the bug.”

I swear the man rolled his eyes at me.

”I knew you were going to say that.” He waved the man with the briefcase over. ”Whalen, this is Coach Melrose.”

I had no idea where this was going, but a very strong suspicion I was about to get blindsided shot through me.

”Coach Sarche tells me you beat his entire team.” This guy really seemed to love the whole idea of that. He offered me his hand and a grin.

”Yes, sir. Luke Parker dropped out to save his legs for tryouts.” I glanced at Coach before letting myself grin. ”But I would have beaten him.”

Both men looked at me for a long moment and then laughed. It was nice to know they were laughing for the right reasons.

”Coach Melrose and I go all the way back to college. He coaches the women's cross-country team at Monroe State.” Coach smacked his ever-present clipboard against his thigh. ”You'll be running with his team every Sat.u.r.day morning. You will follow whatever fitness and training schedule he gives you during the week. You will show up at whatever event he tells you to. You will kick the a.s.s of any compet.i.tor he puts in front of you. If you slack, you're fired. I'll get one of those flaky wannabe cheer girls to take your place quicker than you can say World Cup.”

I glanced from one coach to the other. Seriously, when had my life gotten so filled with amazing men? After a moment, and obviously without a shred of thought, I threw my arms around Coach Sarche.

”Thanks, Coach. I swear I will not let you down.”

I felt him very awkwardly pat me on the back. ”Alright, Whalen. That's enough. Get your a.s.s in gear. I want to hear about a scholars.h.i.+p by the end of the season.”

I eased back and tried not to laugh at the blush crossing Coach's cheeks.

”Any more hugging goes to your running coach,” he said, giving me a slight shove toward Coach Melrose. ”Get to work. No slacking.”

With that, he stalked off leaving me with my new coach.

Coach Melrose took a small step back. ”I'm not much of a hugger either.”

”Honestly, sir, neither am I. But he really needed one.”

Chapter 29.

The next day, I kept my confidence going with a leap of insanity... I mean, faith.

”Have you lost your mind?” Rachel's ”whisper” nearly blew out my eardrum. ”This is your worst nightmare come to life and you're signing up for it?”

The ink splotch was growing where pen met paper. There were already three names there. Cheryl's was the first one. Of course.

Before I could think more about it, I signed my name and wrote ”item for sale” next to it. Even then I knew there wasn't much chance of beating out a cheerleader half-time kissing booth. But honestly, did she really think the school board was going to let the Rah-Rahs prost.i.tute themselves like that? The only hope I had was if they were shut down and had to come up with a real talent.

”If you win this, you'll be on a stage. In front of everyone.” Rachel reached for the pen, probably to cross my name out. ”In the spotlight-literally. Literally in the spotlight. Are you having nightmares yet?”

Yes. Yes, I was. But there was only one way I could think of to get Luke back: The Grand Gesture. It had been working for guys for centuries. Hopefully it was no longer gender specific.

If he hadn't been letting Cheryl shadow him for the last two weeks-if he had just talked to me, just given me a chance... But he hadn't and so I was left with nothing but desperation as motivation.

I was out of options and afraid that I was running out of time. Cheryl may have only been his way of avoiding me, but eventually some nice girl was going to cross his path, and then he'd be gone for real.

When Princ.i.p.al Edwards had given the morning announcements the second day back, he reminded everyone of the new Homecoming Court ballot... or lack of ballot. The only qualifications were that you had to be a senior and you had to have raised the most money during the Homecoming Half-Time Auction.

”What if you win?” Rachel stared at the paper with my name scrawled in shaky, black ink. ”What will you do then?”

The lights flashed behind my eyes as I pictured myself blinded by the spotlight on the risers in the gym. Everyone looked at me and whispers echoed back while people tried to figure out who the heck I was. But the only thing that slipped through my mind was that Luke would have to listen to me for the length of whatever song the cheesy DJ pumped out for us-he'd be too polite to turn me down in front of the entire school. And then I knew what I'd do.

”Beg.”

There comes a time in every person's life when they face their biggest fear head on and become the hero of their own story.

This was not that time.

Instead, it was the time I faced my biggest fear and hid in the girls' room for the entire Half-Time Auction.

As soon as I'd signaled the end of the first half of the game, I rushed up to the gym, not sure what I hoped to see. The silent auction list had grown way longer than I'd expected. But, I'd gotten a little pick-me-up seeing Cheryl frown enough to crease her makeup when the school committee had let the squad know they had to rethink their sales plan. The half-time kissing booth had been banned and they had to go with Rah-Rah plan b: auctioning off a date with Cheryl to the highest bidder.

Those were the moments I just wanted to find any other girl on the face of the planet and ask, ”Really? Is it only me or is that just as s.k.a.n.ky?”

Adults and students pressed through the doors, some heading straight to the snack bar, others wandering table to table, reading the descriptions. My painting was propped on the far side of the room. People milled about in front of it. My heart dropped. I'd known people would see it when I'd scribbled my name on that stupid list but I couldn't believe it was out there. Not just because I was showing my work for the first time, but because I couldn't believe I could give it up.

In my mind, I pictured the details of the beat-up, old pickup truck's headlights catching the heavy rain dousing it. Water licked at its tires. The door had obviously just been thrown open, one Converse covered foot stepping out into the floodwaters.

The moment before I threw myself into Luke Parker's arms. The moment I wish I could rewind to and start over from. The moment my heart left my body and rested in his hands for good.

A blue flash of a soccer jersey caught my eye and I s.h.i.+fted to see which guy had snuck out of the Half-Time ”pep talk.” Coach was going to kill whoever dared to slip his grasp. Part of me realized I should check it out. Coach would kill me twice if he knew I'd seen one of the guys and not sent him back to the locker room. The whole I'm-A-Girl thing was the only reason I didn't have to be in there as it was.

Before I could make up my mind to track down the AWOL player, my art teacher Mrs. Cleary headed my way from table thirty-three where an undersized easel propped up my painting. Of all the people to not want to disappoint, she topped the list. There was only one thing I could do. I did it well, so it wasn't a problem. I ran. Straight to the girls' room.

If no one bid on my entry, I'd rather know after the game than sit at the stats table thinking everyone behind me was looking at the back of my head with pity.

”Amy?”

Sometimes I wondered if Rachel had BFF radar.

”In here.” I kicked one of my feet under the stall door so she knew which one I hid in.

”We're alone. You might as well come out.”