BadApple: thx, G. ur a good guy.
BadApple: a good friend.
GideonD17: u2
BadApple: don’t lose ur other friends, ok? The team has ur back. Dont fuck that up.
GideonD17: if any of those guys were as good as u, they would stand up 2 it instead of joining in like cowards
BadApple: don’t write stuff like that here. It’s not as secure as u think. If u want 2 b part of this, I’m so happy. But not if it means u get hurt. We can’t risk anyone, and u can’t risk urself 4 the cause. K?
GideonD17: how much can u believe in it if u won’t take a risk 4 it?
The bell chimes before I can argue, and I give him a tight smile and head for the door before he can try to talk to me and make this more awkward. This was not supposed to happen. My life is complicated and messy enough.
I have no attraction to Gideon—of course not. He’s all wholesome and innocent.
I like dangerous guys with tattoos who can rock my world and wreck my soul.
I sit with Dixie in my next class, trying to focus and not think about Gideon. I don’t want to lead him on, but I also don’t want to lose him. His involvement in the protest today was huge. Just like it was huge of him to cast his vote for me with the Swans. That night, only the rulers of the school saw it, though. DeShaun had already broken rank, so they probably didn’t think too much about a new guy saying which side he favored. They could keep it quiet, though. Only the Swans know there was dissention in the ranks.
Now, everyone knows. Everyone saw a football player say he didn’t agree with how the football players treat other people. And yeah, it sucks that it’s the man they’ll remember, the only guy who joined the cause besides Colt, who is still a pariah as far as anyone else is concerned. Gideon isn’t just a man, though. He’s one with status, even though most people don’t know he’s pledging for the Swans. They know he usually sits with the Dolces. That he’s one of the kings, or at least a prince. And more than that, he’s a football player.
That comes with status baked right in.
I may be the one who started this, but I’m not suffering under the delusion that I’m the most important part of it. I never would have made that speech and told people what was going on if Magnolia hadn’t convinced me to get up there and do it. And Gideon, he’s the key to all of this.
I can’t just upend everything the school has ever done, the social order of the whole town, of schools everywhere. Football matters in this town. Athletes have status in just about every school, and I’m not going to change that by putting up a fight about it. That’s just the way it is. The best thing I can do is focus on the things I can change—the way they treat other people at this school. And I can’t do it alone.
Without Gideon, we’re just a bunch of disgruntled outcasts. Colt hasn’t had status here in years. Everyone knows he’s the friendless rebel under the bleachers. They saw me stirring the pot last year, so it’s not exactly revolutionary for me to do it this year. Josie’s radical. Dixie is popular, but she’s also a goth chick and a doesn’t fit the standard norms for popularity. Magnolia does, but she’s a freshman and everyone knows what the Dolces do to Darlings, so they probably expect her to refuse to join them.
Gideon is the wildcard, the unexpected one in the group, the one who has everything going for him and nothing to gain by joining us. Which means I have to find a way to make him realize he’s misplaced his feelings without hurting them in the process.
“Are you going to the game tonight?” Dixie asks when class is about to end and everyone starts talking.
“This whole thing kinda started because Baron got in my face about being his Dolce girl, so… It kinda defeats the purpose if I go.”
“You should go,” she says. “Actually, you should be on the cheer squad if you really want to be queen bee.”
“I don’t.”
“Then what’s the point of all this?” she asks. “I mean, I put up a blog about lunch, and I’m going to put up another one this weekend about the idea behind it. But I thought you wanted to be up there at the top of the social ladder with the Dolces.”
“I don’t want to be up there as someone’s cheerleader.”
“You don’t have to be someone else’s cheerleader,” she says. “I’m on the dance team, and Colt’s not on the team. He doesn’t even go to the games.”
“True,” I say, wondering if she knows where he is on Friday nights—running the fights at the Slaughterpen.
“Be your own cheerleader,” Dixie says. “It would be good for you to be there if you want a place on the social ladder. Hey, you could wear Gideon’s jersey!”
The bell chimes, and I grab my stuff with relief. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She shrugs and gathers her books. “I don’t really know him, since he was a freshman last year, but he seems like a good guy.”
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s the problem.”
“Maybe you could use a guy like that,” she says. “I mean, I don’t know what happened with you and Royal, but I know dating him couldn’t have been easy.”