Dammit.
I seem to be getting as obsessed about my tormentor as he is with me.
The royalty leaves the field and the band plays a couple numbers.
The cheerleaders and pom-pon girls make two lines outside the stadium doors where the team comes out and lift their shivering pom-pons overhead to make a tunnel.
The crowd gets on their feet cheering for the grand entrance.
“Woo hoo, you ran out on a field,” I mock in a voice only Rayne can hear.
She elbows me in the ribs. “Get in the spirit. Games are fun.”
Games are fun.
Okay. I’ll have to take her word for it.
I scan the players. They all look the same in their big shoulder pads and helmets.
“Number twenty-six,” Rayne says.
“What?”
“That’s Cole’s number. You were looking for him, right?”
My face grows hot. “Nope.”
She grins. “Liar.”
I find twenty-six and instantly wonder how I didn’t recognize him. Cole struts out on the field with that predatory grace, making the rest of the team look like lumbering idiots.
The coin is tossed. The teams line up. The other team gets the ball.
I watch the game with less interest in the actual sport, although I am fairly fascinated at the prowess of one quarterback in particular, but more as an anthropological study.
Sports have replaced battle in our culture. They’re a proving ground for young warriors—part of young people’s rite of passage into adulthood. What else can we do with these amazing physical abilities we no longer need in today’s society? Use it or lose it in evolution, right?
I have to admit I’m impressed by the beauty of the dance out on the field. And truly, Wolf Ridge High’s players are ten times better than the other team’s. More coordinated, stronger, bigger.
Just better.
I can see why sports are big here.
At halftime, I brave the crowds to buy some nachos. Rayne sticks by my side, although she darts nervous glances at the people around us.
“Do you hate big crowds?” I ask to ease her tension. “I do.”
“Um, yeah. Totally.” She gnaws on her lip, and I get the feeling there’s more to it.
While I’m waiting for the nachos, the homecoming queen cuts into the line. What’s her name? Oh yeah… Adriana.
She catches sight of me and gives me the once-over, then does the same to Rayne. Her lip curls. “What are you doing with the new girl, Rayne?” There’s venom and accusation in her voice, and it sends chills up and down my spine.
I remember what Cole said to her in the tattoo shop: What are you doing here?
Was there some rule about no one befriending me?
No, that’s nuts. I’m being way too paranoid.
But Adriana advances on Rayne, crowding into her with a level of physical intimidation I’m not used to seeing in girls. “I’m serious. What. Do you think. You’re doing?”
I grab Rayne and pull her behind me. She may be small, but that doesn’t mean people can push her around.
“Back off, princess.” I eye her crown, fantasizing about ripping it off her head and breaking it. Or better yet, putting it on Rayne’s head. I’m not the type to get into altercations—ever—but I swear the culture at this school is all about aggression and intimidation, and I’m not going to tuck my tail and run this time. I’m done staying quiet while everyone acts like asswipes.
Adriana lets out a sound that resembles a growling dog.
It’s not attractive.
“Don’t.” Rayne pulls my arm with urgency. “Seriously, walk away. Come on.”
It’s only because Rayne’s alarm seems so genuine that I let her tug me away. It seems like it goes beyond social discomfort and into real fear, and that disturbs me.
We get some distance between us before I remember my nachos.
“Leave them,” Rayne says. Her eyes are still wide and frightened. “Seriously. Don’t start trouble with those girls. You could get hurt.”
“Like… physically hurt?”
She nods rapidly. “Yeah.”
My stomach turns over. Jesus. This town just gets weirder and weirder. Its vibe is somewhere between Deadly Class and the 1990s horror movie Disturbing Behavior.
There may have been a few mean girls at my old high school, but I don’t think kids were quaking in fear over getting beat up. That’s a problem that needs to be rectified. Like the culture here needs to change.
“I was hungry,” I complain.
“Come on,” Rayne says. “There’s a Dairy Queen on the corner. We can walk over.”
I’d just as soon head home, but since I don’t drive anymore and I told my mom to pick me up at ten, it’s not an option. Besides, I don’t want to leave Rayne in the lurch. Seems like she needs my friendship as much as I need hers.
Also, Oreo Blizzards go a long way toward fixing most problems.
We stay for the entire second half of the game, not walking back until we hear the victory cheers echo from the stadium.
By the time we get to the parking lot, it’s empty of over half the cars carrying parents and families, and teeming with kids from school getting into every kind of trouble you can imagine. There’s a full-on bare knuckle brawl going on in one corner, the scent of pot wafting through the air. One group openly passes a huge bottle of vodka around their semicircle, taking pulls of it and handing it over to the next person like it’s a joint.