No such luck.
More music as the cheerleaders line up and dance and gyrate and clap.
The MC says, “And you all know who they’re cheering for. Let’s hear it for our varsity football team!”
The crowd screams, but not loud enough. The MC demands more noise, and the crowd obliges.
There’s so much movement and noise in the gym, I can feel the vibrations inside my body. But when the football players start streaming out in their letter jackets and waving at the crowd, the thrumming inside me has nothing to do with the noise.
I try to ignore the way my insides tense, how it feels like I’m holding my breath until I see Hunter.
I thought he’d be leading the charge, but I guess they went for the save the best for last mentality, because he’s at the very back of the line. When he finally emerges and waves with that winning smile in place on his handsome face, the crowd loses their collective shit.
I couldn’t care less about football, but the enthusiasm of the crowd is catching. Even I’m starting to feel a little foam-finger-wag of team spirit.
At least, I am until the cheerleaders run over to usher the team to the folding chairs set up for them at the back of the room (apparently they can’t be trusted to find those themselves) and Valerie bounces over to give Hunter a kiss.
My heart sinks when I realize what she means to do. Cracks as she makes contact.
But then I realize… he turned away. Her lips only catch his cheek.
My stomach does a somersault.
Hunter pretends nothing happened and Valerie tries to play it off, but when she turns around, I can see how flushed her face is even underneath the layers of makeup.
Hunter looks right at me like he’s known precisely where I’m standing in this crowded gymnasium since he entered it. A seemingly impossible feat in this sea of bodies, nearly all of them wearing the school colors.
Then he winks at me.
My stomach jumps, and my heart does flips that would put even the most athletic cheerleader to shame.
I feel myself flush. Even though I know he can’t tell from so far away, I lift the camera under the guise of needing to take some pictures. Really, I just need to hide my face.
More music plays and the cheerleaders do another number. Valerie finds me on the sidelines by pure accident and shoots me a look that should sink me six feet under the gymnasium.
I’m tempted to smile at her, but I resist the urge to be needlessly mean. That’s her thing. Yes, I hate her, but I’m sure she’s embarrassed enough; I don’t need to add to it.
Now that Hunter is out in the open, I’m hopelessly distracted for the rest of the assembly, but I try to take good notes. The marching band comes out and performs, so I snap more pictures.
Finally, it’s time to announce homecoming court. The top five girls and the top five guys from senior class, as voted on by the student body.
The guys are announced first and there are no surprises: Hunter Maxwell, Wally Kazinsky, Mark Poplowski, Ryden Sherlock, and Anderson Milner.
Actually, Anderson does surprise me a bit.
I know Hunter doesn’t actually get screening privileges, but I would’ve thought he’d discourage enough of his friends from voting for Anderson to make sure he didn’t make it on the stage with him at homecoming. There can only be one king and queen, but most of the court get titles, too—prince and princess, duke and duchess.
Maybe he decided not to shun Anderson since I broke up with him. Maybe it’s a gesture of good faith because he doesn’t know we decided to give it another go.
I’ve since come to doubt the soundness of that hastily made decision, but Anderson and I have seen so little of each other since, I haven’t even found time to bring it up.
We’re still on for homecoming this weekend, but I’m having second thoughts about even going.
It’s time to announce the ladies, so I position the nub of my pen against the paper and prepare to jot down all the names as they’re called.
Valerie Johnson is announced first—shock of all shocks.
I roll my eyes as I write her name, but I don’t bother looking up. Once the whole court is announced, I’ll snap a picture of all of them, but I don’t need individual shots of each person.
Melina Eggers is next, then Angelina Adkins. One junior somehow sneaks in after that. Valerie shoots one of her friends a look of confusion as she walks up as if to say, “Who the fuck is she?”
I smile at the excited volleyball player’s surprise victory and get ready to write the final name.
Only, when the MC announces it, it sounds an awful lot like Riley Bishop.