“Oh, yeah?” I ask, perking up. This is definitely pertinent information if I’m going to woo the cheer squad into letting me—and her step-niece—join partway through the season. I wonder why Dixie never mentioned it. “Which one is she?”
“Dolly Beckett,” the mayor’s wife says.
“Oh,” I say, quickly masking my surprise. “I should have known. She looks just like you.”
Majorettes don’t cheer. Her mother should know that.
Mrs. Beckett sniffs. “She’s my stepdaughter.”
“Oh, right! I’m sorry.” I’m too flustered to say more. Apparently, I’m not good at schmoozing in Arkansas, either.
“Of course she is,” King says, swooping in to save me. “I would have thought she was your sister.”
Thank fuck for my brothers. I shove a Twizzler into my mouth before I can put my foot in there again. I’m happy to let King flirt and charm Mrs. Beckett while I watch the cheerleaders do a quick routine and then move to the sidelines. The bleachers begin to shake as everyone in the stands pounds their feet in unison, faster and faster, drumming excitement into the air as the announcer comes on. His voice booms out over the field.
“Let’s make some noise for the Faulkner High Wampus Cats!”
The other side goes crazy, throwing popcorn into the air, stomping the bleachers, and screaming.
“What the fuck is a wampus cat?” Duke asks.
“It’s a six-legged wildcat,” Baron says. “Haven’t you ever read Harry Potter?”
“No,” Duke shoots back. “Haven’t you ever gotten laid?”
“Tonight’s matchup is one of legend,” the announcer goes on. “Let’s welcome our hometown rivals, Devlin Darling and the Knights!”
I stiffen in my seat, shock knifing through me. Surely they didn’t let him back on the team already. There’s video of him assaulting my brother while he’s clearly passed out on the ground.
“I’ve just been informed that the Knights’ star players, Devlin and Preston Darling, won’t be playing tonight’s game,” the announcer says after a short pause. “That’ll put a crimp in their style, but I’d say it’s still going to be one heck of a matchup. Let’s show Willow Heights our support!”
Our side of the stands cheers and shakes their pretty pompoms, but we’re not as loud or wild as the public school fans. Their side looks like they might riot if they lose. Or maybe it’s because they just announced their school like a regular team, and they announced ours like a band fronted by a famous rock star.
From the first play, the game doesn’t look promising. Faulkner wins the coin toss, and their quarterback makes a series of smart plays, getting them within field goal range before they have to turn it over. Our quarterback, the backup for Devlin, proceeds to make some seriously questionable passes, which leads to a third and long and then an interception.
I look over at King, and despite Willow Heights’ poor performance, he’s grinning broadly. Of course he is. Devlin might rule the school, but while he’s suspended, our school could definitely use a smart quarterback our brother.
Faulkner scores another field goal, and then we turn it over. It looks bad until Colt catches an interception and runs all the way in for a touchdown. If I expected Colt to be slow and lazy on the field like he is in class, I’m in for a disappointment. He’s fast—really fast. Again I get that sense that his school persona is all an act, that he’s more than he shows the world.
We’re behind by two touchdowns at halftime, and I get up to stretch my legs—and to avoid making small talk with the sleazy mayor and his grumpy wife. I’m starting to get nervous that they’re going to blame us for the game’s outcome. After all, my brothers got the Darlings suspended.
Everyone is milling around, chatting in excited voices about Colt’s touchdown or just hanging out. The buzz of the crowd, and the lights, and the cool October night wash over me, sending a little chill of familiarity through me even as I stand alone in the concession line.
In front of me stands Dolly Beckett. Great. Now I get to stare at her ass and wonder what’s going on with her and Devlin. Does she know he worried about his game enough to be up at midnight, throwing passes? Or that for the last week, since we wrecked his car and got him thrown off the team, he no longer practices? Would she care?
After all, she likes to slip out of class and rendezvous with Preston nearly every day. And why do I care whether she’s thinking about Devlin or Preston tonight?
I shove the thought away. I don’t care.
“I think he did it on purpose,” Dolly says to her friend, another majorette. “I mean, it’s like he wants to get hurt sometimes.”
“He wouldn’t get suspended on purpose,” her friend says. “We need him. The team is falling apart without him.”
Dolly sighs. “I’m just saying. You’ve seen the way he throws himself around out there. It’s like he has no regard for personal safety.”
I perk up. This is information my brothers will want. So, Devlin’s reckless for a quarterback. Someone like Royal would never make the mistakes his second-string QB is making, and he’s not careless.
“Do you think he noticed me before the game?” Dolly asks.