Cinderella Sidelined (5 page)

I look over at Stella and roll my eyes. "Yeah, okay."
 

She shrugs. "Probably wants to know what the team's favorite cheer is so they can do it during the game."
 

I purse my lips, wishing I could feel as uninterested by all of this as Stella sounds.
 

"So what's the damage?" she asks, changing the subject.
 

"I can't drive. I can't get dressed. I obviously can't play volleyball." I shake my head and sigh in disgust. "I can barely even feed myself. This is going to be the worst six weeks ever."
 

"You still have the team behind you," Stella says. "Even if you can't play."
 

I don't know what to say to that, so I say nothing. Thinking about volleyball is too hard right now, but it's like I can't get it out of my head. We sit in silence as the minutes to kick-off tick by and the bleachers slowly start to fill up.

Finally, the band starts to play, and a minute or two later, the team gathers in the tunnel and the crowd climbs to its feet. Coach Pepp leads his guys out onto the field in a slow trot as cheers erupt in the stands.

I start to put my hands together to clap when Stella reaches out and catches my left hand.

"That would probably hurt," she says, and I look down and realize what I've done.

"Jeez," I mutter under my breath. "I can't even clap right."
 

"You'll get used to it. My brother broke his foot three years ago and eventually it was harder for him to move around without crutches than it was to walk normally."
 

"Sounds like fun."
 

I stuff my good hand in the pocket of my sweatshirt so I don't try to add a few extra weeks to my cast time and instead, I just watch the events on the field unfold in silence.
 

Ashland loses the coin toss, which means Blaine won't be out on the field right away. After the kick-off, Ashland's defense trots on to go up against Waverley's halfway decent, or so I've been told, offense.

I watch them complete a ten-yard pass, run for four and throw for another three before it brings up the first third down of the game.

"This isn't so bad," I say to Stella, relieved that watching them play isn't as painful as I've been afraid it'd be.
 

I've been worried that I won't like watching other people get to do what I've just had ripped away from me, even if football obviously isn't my game.

Our defense gets the third down stop and forces Waverely off the field and now it's Blaine's turn to come out and try to score some points.

"Let's go, Eagles!" I shout out as he lines up behind the line of scrimmage. The center snaps the ball to the quarterback, who hands it off to Blaine. He takes it up the field for about four yards.

Not a bad run, but not what he's capable of, either.

"Come on, Blaine! Take it the house!" I scream, and Stella looks over at me and laughs.

"There you go. Really get into it!"
 

The quarterback completes an eight-yard pass on the next play, giving Ashland a fresh set of downs. The next pass falls incomplete and I'm pretty sure Blaine will get a chance to run now.

Sure enough, the ball ends up in his hands, and he charges straight through the mess of bodies crowding the line of scrimmage, and I hold my breath, and then suddenly he pops out on the other side of them, only one man from Waverely left to beat, and he jukes left and the defender bites on the fake, and Blaine cuts right and has an easy run to the end zone.

Touchdown, Ashland!
 

The crowd screams, everyone in red and white jumping up and down. The cheers are deafening and even though there's a smile on my face, I feel sort of numb inside.

This isn't fun.

Not like it used to be, anyway.

I don't like seeing Blaine rush for that touchdown anymore, and I hate it. I hate it so much; I've never felt this kind of jealousy that's raging in me now.

Why did it have to be me who got hurt?
 

This isn't fair.

Want to know the worst part about it, too?

There's not a single thing I can do to fix it.

CHAPTER SIX

I make it to the end of the game, but just barely. Ashland wins, of course, just like we'd been expected to, and Blaine scored three of our five touchdowns.

I'd grown number and number with each one. When he scored twice in last week's game, Stella and I had waited outside the team's locker room for twenty minutes after the game for him -- and okay, and for Richie, too -- to head over to Pinto's Pizza & Wings to celebrate.

Today? Not happening.

As soon as the final seconds had ticked off the clock, I'd grabbed my backpack, waved goodbye to Stella and bolted to the front of the high school building to wait for Dad to come pick me up. While waiting, I'd been digging through my bag to find my assignment book and see what I could get started on for homework.

And of course, I realize I've left my math book in my locker room.

Because what this day really needs is one more aggravation, right?

I trudge back into the school and through the halls toward my locker, muttering to myself, thankful the school is mostly empty at this hour because I'm pretty sure I look like I'm going insane.

Which I very well might be.

"And that's when IIIII...foooounnndddd....yoooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"
 

I stop dead in my tracks, looking around. I'd thought the halls were empty, but now I'm not so sure. I still don't see anyone, but I know what I'm hearing -- a girl's loud, high-pitched singing.

In the high school building?

Why?

Forget grabbing my math book -- I want to know what's going on.

It's not all that easy to follow a voice to its origin and I wander through the maze of halls -- usually so familiar but suddenly feeling incredibly foreign after hours -- for what feels like half an hour but must only be a few minutes before I stumble on the auditorium.

Well, that makes sense.

The singing is muffled behind the heavy closed doors but it's definitely coming from in here, the same words being sung over and over and over again.
 

I glance around in both directions, then feel my good hand close around the door handles.
 

What am I doing?

Why do I care so much about finding out what's going on behind these closed doors? I've never bothered myself with anything that's going on at Ashland outside of my friends, volleyball and the football team before, and now this?
 

Yeah, so it's been a weird week so far, and it's only Tuesday.

I inch the door open, just to sneak my head around and look, hoping that'll get rid of whatever strange curiosity is gripping me right now.

But that doesn't answer any questions, so I push it open wider and that's when my heart sinks.

The door's hinges squeal like a thousand pigs waiting for food. It's loud, it's high-pitched and it most definitely overpowers the singing on stage.

In fact, everything inside the auditorium just sort of grinds to a stop as every head swings to look in my direction.

My eyes go wide and a yucky feeling bubbles up in the back of my throat and I squeak out something unintelligible
 
and quickly bolt from the doorway.

Good thing it's not my ankle that's broken.

I back up against a wall of lockers to catch my breath, not sure what the heck this is all about. Being noticed has never been a problem for me before, but for whatever reason, I really don't like how it feels right now.
 

I start walking back outside, not at all thinking about my math homework. I've seen enough to realize a bunch of people had been standing on the stage in the auditorium. I'm about halfway down the hall when I hear the same awful high-pitched shriek of the door.

Crap!

"Hey! Hey, did you need something?"
 

I turn around and swallow hard.

I've never seen him before.
 

I'm absolutely positive of that.
 

Actually, I'm not even sure he goes to this school.
 

"What?" I say lamely.

He smiles and keeps walking toward me. I have the overwhelming urge to keep moving back with every step that brings him closer to me.

"Weren't you just looking in there?" he asks, glancing back over his shoulder at the entrance to the auditorium. He looks me up and down. "I could swear it was you. Hard to forget that shade of pink."

I glance down at my neon tank top and shrug. I consider lying to save face, but let's be real for a second: I'm standing here outside the auditorium, I'm dressed like a highlighter, my cheeks are bright red, I'm pretty sure I'm sweating, my backpack is on the floor in front of me after I dropped it in surprise, I bolted from a high school football game and, oh yeah, my hand is in a cast.
 

I'm not so sure there's a whole lot of dignity left to protect here, y'know what I mean?

"Oh." I give a little laugh and then wonder what the heck is happening to me. I rule this school, for God's sake. I really need to get it together. "Yeah, but I wasn't looking for anyone. I got turned around."

He folds his arms across his chest and cocks an eyebrow. "And just happened to wander into the auditorium?"
 

I don't think I like the way he's smirking at me, and after the day I've had, it's kinda starting to get to me.
 

"Yeah," I snap. "And I just happened to wander into the auditorium."
 

"By accident? You weren't curious about the singing?"
 

"What difference does it make?"

He shrugs, and I really look at him for the first time. He's tall, taller than Blaine, definitely, with a surprisingly muscular build for someone who clearly isn't an athlete; I'd already know him if he is. He has a light tan, which isn't unusual for the middle of September in Phoenix, and short, buzzed brown hair that might make me wonder if he's military if I don't already know he's a high school student.
 

He's too far away for me to tell what color eyes he has, but I know they're irritating and sparkling with amusement now that he's got me all ruffled.

"Do you always wear stuff like that?" I blurt out, realizing he's dressed like he belongs in Buckingham Palace.

He looks down at his clothes and laughs. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"

"What?"

"Emma," he says, talking to me like I'm a five-year-old. "We're doing a play. I'm in a play. You know, auditorium, singing, costumes. It's not that unusual."
 

I blink twice, everything he says after 'Emma' barely registering in my brain. "I never told you my name."
 

I watch him closely as he realizes his mistake. The blush creeping into his cheeks is the first sign he knows he screwed up. His cocky, confident posture is next to go as he shifts and scratches the back of his reddening neck. I resist the urge to smirk now that I've finally gotten the upper hand.

He shakes his head like he's trying to get rid of a fly that keeps landing on his face and sighs. "You'd have to be dead to go to this school and not know your name," he says at last, and it's hard for me to control my smile. "Go on and say it."
 

"Say what?"

He shrugs. "Whatever you want. People like you always have something to say."

I frown. "People like me?"

"Yeah. The ones who think they run this school."
 

"I don't think I --" I trail off as I think about what I'm about to say, and whether or not he might actually be right. "Well, whatever."

"That's what I thought," he says, making no effort to conceal his self-satisfied smirk, and somehow I realize that as quickly as I got it, I've managed to lose my advantage here in about five seconds flat. "But maybe you're different."
 

"What?"

"Maybe you're different. I don't know. Most people like you wouldn't be curious enough to look in the auditorium. It'd be a bad look for them if they got caught or something."

I roll my eyes. "What is with you and the auditorium thing? Get over it."
 

"I like curiosity," he replies with a shrug. "Shows you're interested in things you don't know about."
 

I press my lips together. I'm pretty sure he has no idea about me, and I'm pretty sure he's wrong. I like my familiar, comfortable world. And I really don't have any reason to want to leave it, either. Or at least, I didn't up until this week. Now I'm just confused.

"I better go," I say, waving around my cell phone and bending over to pick up my backpack. "My dad should be outside any minute."
 

I glance down at the phone's screen and notice I have a new message from Dad. Hopefully he's already waiting outside and I can get the heck out of here.
 

Except then I read the message.
 

 
'Hey kid. Sorry, running late at work. Can Stella give you a ride?'

"Ride just bail?" He raises his eyebrows and smiles.
 

I look up at him reluctantly. "You're either a superhero who can read minds or I'm just really transparent." I pause. "I'm not sure which one scares me more."

"I'll never tell," he replies. "Look, we're about done for the day in there." He gestures toward the auditorium behind him with his thumb. "I can give you a lift."
 

"You don't even know where I live."

"No, but I bet you do. Pretty sure I can follow directions."
 

I raise an eyebrow skeptically and think about how irritated Blaine gets when I tell him to stop and ask someone for help whenever he gets us lost on road trips. "That'd be a first."

"Give me five," he says. "And I'll take you home."
 

I reluctantly nod because I would like to make it home before midnight, and he turns to head back into the auditorium when I call out to him. "Hey! I don't even know your name."