“Whatever. This guy is who you’re thinking about all class period? He’s an overconfident meathead who just wants in your pants.” Melody shakes her head in disgust. “Come over to my house and I’ll introduce you to Steven Pants.”
There’s about a half of foot of space between my newest foe and Ace. Smoothly, I slide into that empty area and discreetly shove Melody away from my girl. “Sorry. Your hookup will have to be saved for some other girl. Ace is mine.”
“Steven Pants is my cat, dipshit,” Melody says. “See?” She tries to get to Ace. “This is what I’m talking about. He’s going to be up in your business and won’t let you have any fun. You just got here. Don’t let him dictate what you’re going to do. Athletes here are bad. They just want to nail girls for some kind of intramural trophy. Football players are the worst of the lot.”
My arm drops down protectively around Ace. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, Melody, but I’m a student first and sewer in training second and football player a far distant third. Ready, Ace?”
“Sewer in training? Really?”
I take that as a yes and begin steering her down the hall. “I have signed up for the sewing club. I heard the meetings got rescheduled to seven in the evening.”
“Yeah. How’d you manage that?”
“Funnily enough, when I told the advisor that I was interested in taking the class but that it conflicted with my football practices, she changed it before I could ask.”
“You dimpled her, didn’t you?” Ace accuses.
“Dimpled her?” That’s a new one.
“Yeah. You flashed your dimple at her and she just lay down and said, ‘Please, sir, I’ll have another’.”
“Ah, there was no laying anyone down in the office.” I shudder. No way I was piping Mrs. McGee. She’s got to be at least seventy.
“It’s a metaphor,” snipes Melody.
Dude. She’s still here? I sigh internally. I guess Ace picked up a friend and I’ll just have to learn to deal.
“How long is practice?”
“Hour and a half, Ace.”
“Hour and a half?” the two girls screech in unison.
I shake my ear to make sure my eardrum is still in place. “Yeah. What’s the big deal? Time goes by fast. There’s plenty of action on the field and tight asses. You, Ace, are only allowed to stare at mine. Melody, there’s a ton of single guys so please feel free to treat the team as your personal buffet.”
“I’d rather starve myself in a tree.”
“I know that reference.”
“Huh?”
“There’s a poet that once loved a woman so much that after she turned him down, he went and lived in the hollow of a tree,” I explain to my science-loving girlfriend-to-be.
Melody narrows her eyes at me. “How do you know that?”
“I’m a lover of words.” And Ace, but I keep that to myself. “My bestie will tell you all about it at practice.”
9
Alice
“Bestie?” Melody asks, her one eyebrow up so high that it meets her hairline.
I fidget on the bleacher seat and pretend that I don’t hear her. It sounds dumb when she says it out loud. Still I can’t help but find it endearing that he’s keeping this up. Melody’s eyes go to the field where they’re all starting to practice. As she watches the boys run their drills, her nose scrunches like she’s never seen people play football before. I’m a little surprised that she’s taken up residence with me on the bleachers. I figured she would have booked it by now. Crap. It’s then I remember I have a text from my mom. I told her to wait for me to text her when I would need to be picked up. I wasn’t sure how the day would go and I thought I might pick up a club that could start after school or have the need to speak to one of my teachers.
I pull out my phone to check my message and give her a heads-up about my plans. It’s then I see I have more than one missed text from her.
Mom: How’s your first day going?
Mom: Your dad knows who Owen McCoy is. Or as he informed me, Owen “fast” McCoy.
Mom: Do I need to come pick you up now?
Mom: Are you busy chatting with Owen and can’t text your mom back?
I glance up to see Owen running down the field catching a football easily. I got the fast thing but how did my dad know who he was? My phone starts to vibrate in my hand. I don’t have to look to know who’s calling. I scoot down the bleacher a bit before I hit the button to accept the call. I don’t want it to seem rude that I’m taking a call in the middle of a practice so I keep my voice low. Plus Mom’s voice tends to get louder if she’s excited about something. I can tell she’s curious about Owen and I’m not sure that I want Melody to overhear our conversation. Not that she is even paying attention at this point.