Looking my best friend in the eye, I said, “You need to keep your head about this, okay?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I just…”
“I know.”
Football, this life, was all he knew. The air he breathed.
And for someone like Jason, losing even an ounce of control was not an option.
Monday morning in the weight room was a bitch. Coach didn’t want us to get cocky after our crushing win over Marshall Prep, and had us work extra hard which meant practice was going to be a double bitch. He’d also given Jason and Asher an earful about their appearance, but he didn’t ask questions—he didn’t want to know. As long as they were fit enough to play and stayed out of Principal Finnigan’s way, that was all that mattered.
The buzz in the locker room was infectious, everyone still riding the high of Friday night.
“So, I heard Levinson are looking good this season.” Layton, one of the new players from JV said. “My cousin goes there, and he said—”
“Levinson can eat my ass,” Asher howled. “Last season, weren’t they like six losses to four?”
“Things change, man. I’m telling you, they got this new coach, and he’s really worked them hard over the summer.”
Asher shrugged. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Don’t get cocky, Ash,” Jase chimed in. “We treat every game like we’re playing the motherfucking championship game, you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t sweat it, man. We know the deal.”
“Oh shit,” someone chimed. “Yo, QB, you’d better come see this.” It was Grady.
My spine prickled as Jase stalked across the room to him, peering over the guy’s shoulder, his eyes hard on the screen. “Motherfucker,” he rasped, his fist clenching against his thigh.
“Problem?” I asked.
“Time to get to work, ladies,” Coach boomed. “And that better not be a cell phone I can see, Grady. Get it out of my sight, Son, and get out on the field stat. If you’re not out there in ten, you can spend the next two hours running suicides. You feel me?”
“Y- yeah, Coach, I feel you.” Grady mumbled as Jase stalked back to his locker. He looked furious, eyes thin, nostrils flared.
“What’s up?” I asked, but he shook his head.
“Not now,” Jase said. “We have a practice to get through.”
That piqued my interest. Whatever he’d seen on Grady’s cell had him all worked up which meant whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And my gut told me there were only two things who could get to my best friend like that.
Lewis Thatcher.
And his step-sister.
Hailee
“We need to talk.” Flick was waiting for me outside English Lit, her expression grim.
“Okay…” My brows knitted.
“Not here.” She glanced up and down the hall. “Come on.” Her hand found mine, and we weaved our way through the stream of kids coming and going from class.
“Flick, hold up, what’s—”
“Raider traitor.” A shoulder slammed into mine, knocking me backward.
“Excuse me?” I spun around, glaring at the girl’s retreating form.
“Okay, we need to go, right now.” Flick grabbed my hand again and started yanking.
“Felicity Giles, will you just tell me what the hell is—”
“Thinks she’s too good for us, for the Raiders.” The words washed over me, my gaze landing on a group of girls over by the girls’ bathroom door. They all burst into a fit of snickering when they noticed me watching them.
“What did you say?” I bristled, narrowing my eyes on their ringleader, but Flick didn’t let up as she kept pulling me toward the main doors.
“You’re a disgrace,” someone else sneered until I realized everyone was looking at me.
Every. Single. Person.
By the time we reached the main doors, I’d been called every insult possible—whore, slut, skank—and a few more I’d never even heard before. We spilled outside and I sucked in a ragged breath, my chest tight as I glanced back at the doors. “What the hell is happening right now?”
Flick chewed her thumb, her eyes refusing to meet mine. “Flick,” I urged. “What is going on?”
“Okay, don’t panic...” Her gaze finally lifted. “But Thatcher posted something on Snapchat and people have been sharing it.”
“He did?” I didn’t even have Snapchat.
She nodded. “It’s bad, Hails, really bad.”
“I see.” My voice was flat, my stomach churning. “Worse than the pep rally?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Show me,” I said.
“Hails, I’m not sure—”
“Show me.” Holding out my hand, I waited for her to give me her cell phone. She swiped the screen a couple times before handing it to me. A gasp slipped from my lips when my eyes landed on a photo of me. Except it wasn’t me at all. It was my face photoshopped—pretty convincingly—onto a girl’s body, and she was wearing an Eagles jersey, sucking provocatively on a popsicle.
“Ford’s sister sucks Eagles dick good.” My voice trailed off. “Where did that photo even come from?” Leaning closer, I got a better look. “Oh my god, is that one of my photos from the yearbook last year?” I remembered it now. I’d been in the art studio and Denny Marcus, the yearbook photographer, snapped me mid-laugh. “How the hell did they even get a hold of that?” I said, as if that was really the issue here.
“It doesn’t matter. Now everyone thinks you—”
I glared at her. “Not helping, Flick.”
“Sorry, I just... shit, Hails, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. I’m going to do nothing.” If I didn’t stoke the fire, the flames would die out.
“When Jason finds out—”
“He’ll what? Drive across river and defend my honor? Please.” It came out bitter. “He won’t care about this crap. We should get back in there.” I flicked my head to the doors.
“Seriously? I thought we’d at least skip the rest of classes.”
“It’s one photo. I’m not going to hide because of one photo.” Even if I did look like an advert for a cheap porn movie.
“Okay, if you say so.” Flick trailed behind me as we re-entered the building. “What class do you have now?” she asked.
“Math.”
“Asher’s in that class with you, right?”
I frowned unsure where she was going with this. “When he can be bothered to show up, yeah. Why?”
She gave me a sympathetic look, and said, “Because something tells me this will only get worse before it gets any better.”
Flick wasn’t wrong. In math I received four hate-notes, had numerous paper balls thrown at me, and some of Khloe Stemson’s friends spent the entire class kicking the back of my chair.
As I expected, Asher didn’t show, but I’d spotted the team through the window, running drills on the athletic field.