“Cooper?” I whispered under my breath. My brother, wrapped up in a red OSU jacket, waved his arms frantically as the bus zoomed by.
Scrawled in red paint, the sign read, “KAYLA: Ohio State is red.”
I blinked, totally confused. Had he lost his mind? Why was he standing out in the cold to tell me something so obvious? I pulled my phone from my bag and was halfway through composing a text, when Courtney called my name and pointed out the window on the other side of the bus.
I scrambled across the aisle and gasped.
Standing on the grass at the side of the highway were Marcy and Dave. They smiled brightly and held a giant piece of cardboard between them with another message. “KAYLA: Michigan is blue.”
My heart fluttered with anticipation. I didn’t understand what they were doing or why, but I was eager to figure it out.
When we exited the highway in Ann Arbor, a third sign came into view. One of the freshman up front spotted it first, but even from the outline of the figure holding the sign, I knew who it was. My father. He held up a poster and the corners flapped in the wind. The thick, black writing announced, “KAYLA: Win or lose, it doesn’t matter.”
The entire bus was buzzing about it, asking me what it meant, but I shook my head, just as confused as they were. Sure, winning wasn’t everything, but to say it didn’t matter? He’d never say that.
The bus wound through campus toward the stadium, and when it pulled to a stop, my heart lurched right along with it.
The final sign revealed the total poem.
Ohio State is red; Michigan is blue.
Win or lose, it doesn’t matter; as long as I have you.
—Jay
And the poster board was clutched in my mother’s hands.
Nervous, excited flutters tickled every inch of me.
The cheerleaders unloaded quickly, but I stumbled toward my mom, my shock making my feet slow. She was carrying a message from Jay Harris, a Michigan football player from the biggest game of the century. How had he gotten her to do this?
The stadium was already active, and a few Michigan fans booed us as we were escorted by security. I had to stay with the group, but my mom sensed I wanted to talk to her. She moved along the other side of the corded area, keeping up with us.
“How—” I started.
She gave me a tight smile. “When he couldn’t get ahold of you, Marcy gave him our number. He called us to say thanks for lending you a car, and ask for help.”
Oh my God. I was all twisted up inside. The conversation with my mother had to have been painful for him, and I was floored by the gesture. It made it hard to organize my thoughts. “With what?”
She glanced down at the white posterboard in her hands, written in thick black marker. Jay’s message to me, written in my mom’s handwriting.
“Your sign is from him,” I said, stating the obvious.
What kind of blackmail did he have on her to get her to do this?
She shrugged. “I realized he can’t be all bad, because that boy is completely in love with you.” We reached the gate where the cheerleaders were ushered through, and my mom ran out of real estate. Her eyes gleamed as if my swirling emotions were amusing. “Good luck today, and go Bucks!”
The surrounding Michigan fans groaned and lobbed insults at her, but it only made her stand taller and her smile bigger.
Her words echoed in my mind and made my jitters worse, but in a good way. In one phone call, he’d gotten my mother on his side, at least a little. Everything was upside-down, unfamiliar and thrilling.
Plus, she thought he was in love with me.
I didn’t have much time to think about that. It was time to focus and get ready for the game. The holding area we were led into was all sleek, modern, and every freaking inch was plastered with yellow and blue. “Am I at Michigan, or an IKEA?” I whispered to Courtney as we put our bags away.
She snickered. “Did you ask your boyfriend to lose and give you an early birthday present?”
Since my birthday was tomorrow. I smiled. “I totally should have.”
I tried to soak it all in, but the pregame went so fast. It was my last regular game as a cheerleader, and the emotions were shockingly powerful. As we lined up in the tunnel behind the OSU football players, I stared at the silver helmets decorated with Buckeye leaf stickers, each one awarded for a good play. Tariq’s was full.
I turned my eyes up to the ceiling of the tunnel, squeezed my pom-poms tightly, and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. I couldn’t have asked for a better season and didn’t want it to end. But no way was I going to cry now. I was too excited, and it was time for my game face.