Secret Girlfriend (6 page)

“So you aren’t here avoiding all those people at the pool?
Avoiding watching Kent ooze his way around that cheerleader?”

“Why would I care what a group of people I hardly know
does?” I fisted my hands trying to make them stop shaking.

“You don’t care that the guy who turns on the charm for you
when he thinks no one is looking is doing the same thing for a bikini clad
cheer-dealer as we speak? You don’t care that every senior on the field today
is there but you?”

“I wasn’t invited, alright?” My answer echoed off the walls
in the sudden silence. “I wasn’t invited,” I repeated more quietly.

Luke stepped toward me. “Amy…”

I raised my hand again—protecting myself this time, not my
painting. “Don’t.”

“Amy, he isn’t worth it. I don’t know what’s going on, but
it obviously isn’t good for you.” Luke came toward me and didn’t stop this time
when I waved my hand in front of me. “He isn’t one of the good guys, and you
deserve the best. Even I can see that already.”

I had no idea I was crying until his hand came up and
brushed a tear away.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Not for him.”

He looked like he wanted to do more, to say more, but that
word-searching look crossed his face again and he just stood there, looking
down at me, invading my sanctuary.

The too-much feeling washed over me again, pushing
everything I tried to ignore through my mind.

“I’d really like you to go now.”

After a moment, he nodded and left. The door fell shut. The
room fell silent. And my heart fell back out of my throat.

# # #

“You’ve reached the middle of nowhere. Leave a message after
the beep.”

BEEP.

“Rachel, it’s me. Seriously, call. Life is insane and things
with Chris are even weirder and this guy Luke is going to crush him and he’s
arguing with me and wants Chris’s spot on the team and…” I lowered my voice
feeling really stupid. “Rachel, he can see me.”

I waited, wondering how soon she’d get this message.
When she’d be able to call me back.
A girl needs her best
friend in times of absolute emotional chaos. Hopefully, that call would come
soon… like,
nowish
would work.

“Okay then. Call me. K?”

# # #

The phone dinged three times in a row. My heart stutter-stepped
as I reached for it even though I knew it was probably Rachel
this
time.

Party was lame

Wish we could have
hung instead

The brownies made me
think of you

I grinned at the screen, knowing exactly what he meant. Each
evening, as the kids headed out, Chris would bring over a
loot
of
caf
brownies while we waited for the
“I’m-so-sorry-I-hit-traffic” everyday parents to show up.

I hated missing the party, but part of me loved the idea
that he was thinking of me while he was there.
While he was
with her.

Another ding.

Stay away from Parker,
Okay?

And a little jealousy never killed anyone… of course, the
fight for the spot on the team might.

Chapter 8

To say I wasn’t looking forward to evening tryouts was an
understatement. Between having to watch Chris mastermind this year’s power
couple and facing Luke after humiliating myself in the art room, I was pretty
much done. I contemplated lacing my Nikes and running until exhaustion downed
me. I thought I could make it through at least two towns, maybe hit the third
before my legs gave out.

My short-term plan would be to then lie in the road until
someone ran me over.

Instead, I stacked the binders on the table and waited for
the team. Tonight Coach might start giving me notes. I hoped he didn’t tell me
who he was naming tryout captains so I didn’t have to lie to Chris and claim
uninformedness
.

I’m not sure I had that in me anyway.

“Hey.”

The little hairs under my ponytail leapt like springtime
crickets. Only one guy started every conversation like that. As if I had tons
of guys seeing me, let alone
chatting
me up.

Without turning around, I said, “I don’t want to talk about
it.”

The breeze ruffled stats pages as I flipped through the
binder looking for the session 5-Evening roll call. Already guys had begun
dropping out.

“Okay.”

Wow.

Mr. Pushy was backing off? I glanced at him over my shoulder
and he gave a small shrug. “I know when something’s none of my business. I’ll
stop. I’ve said everything I had to already. So…”

So, what?

“Thanks,” I
said,
when he didn’t
finish his thought.

“Parker!”
Coach’s voice cut across
the field to where we stood, argument diverted. “Are you going to join us or
sit on the bench and chatter like an old woman with the stats girl?”

“See
ya
.” Luke sprinted toward
midfield, pulling his socks over his shin guards as he went.

My gut felt wrong for a moment. Like I’d made one of those
big mistakes you didn’t know how to
fix,
only I didn’t
know what the mistake was. Luke was on the field with the guys. Chris was
looking at me with some type of new, deeper interest. I was where every girl in
school wished she could be… if not hanging with the Rah-
Rahs
,
that is.

“Welcome to your last free ride, boys.” Coach slapped his
clipboard against his leg as he circled the group stretching on the ground.
“Tonight, we’re
gonna
run till we’re done. The bottom
ten can sleep-in tomorrow while the rest of us continue with tryouts.”

Heads whipped up, finally giving him their full attention.
One of the juniors shot glances at the rest of the upperclassmen and then dared
to speak.

“Coach,
it’s
second session and we
all just ate.”

Wow.
Again.
Apparently this was
going to be Wow Wednesday.

“
Gerrard
, do you want to
not
run?”

Everyone but Mike
Gerrard
could
see that was a trick question.

“Does anyone ever want to run, Coach?”

Coach threw his clipboard at the ground with a vengeance. I
snatched it
up,
afraid he’d snap it like a baby twig
as he strode back and forth in front of the team.

“
Gerrard
, should I count you as
one of the bottom ten and give everyone a little leeway? It sounds to me like
you don’t want to play on my team.”

Eyes rounded as everyone glanced from Mike to Coach waiting
to see how Mike would get himself out of the ugly corner he’d super glued
himself into.

“Alright,
Gerrard
.
I’ll give you an extra push. Is there anyone on this team you’re sure you can
beat? As long as you beat that person, you stick around for me to torture one
more day. And they go. They beat you—they have a spot and you can hold “Go
Ravens” signs in the bleachers all season.”

“Anyone on the team?”
Mike studied
the circle until his gaze landed on me.

Coach checked his watch and glanced at the sun, obviously
annoyed by the hold up. “You can even pick one of the freshmen if you think
that will keep you here.”

Mike’s smirk rivaled
Cruella
De
Vil
when he spotted me. “I pick the stats girl.”

Chris and his friends laughed. Yeah, not the kind of laugh
that showed they knew who the joke was really on. Coach glared at them before
stalking toward me. The guys must have thought it was to reassure me, but when
I met Coach’s gaze, I knew he was biting back a smirk of his own.

“You don’t have to do this, Whalen,” Coach offered in a low
tone just for me. “But I’ll admit there’s nothing I’d like more than to see you
kick his ass. I’d hate to have that sexist little snot on my team. Not to
mention find myself a new stats girl.”

I glanced past him, trying to guess what he really wanted me
to do. Everyone was looking at me, the weight of their stares heavy and
uncomfortable. But, invisible as always, the guys’ gazes slid away as if I
wasn’t the pinnacle of the situation. My fifteen minutes of fame only lasted
three seconds.

“Of course, if you don’t beat him,” Coach continued, “I can
quit asking myself why the best stats girl I’ve had in four years is wasting
her time counting how many times my guys kick a ball in a net instead of being
on the cross-country team where she belongs.”

“Come on, Coach,” Mike whined. “If she’s not going to run, I
might as well go home and get some sleep tonight. I don’t want her to get her
panties in a bunch playing with the boys and all. She might break a nail or
stub a toe.”

Coach’s smirk got wider, and maybe a tad bit meaner, as I
handed him my binder.

Tightening my ponytail, I looked the group over wondering if
I really wanted to put in an effort. Chris was shaking his head as if
embarrassed for me.
All the guys but Luke avoided my gaze—or
maybe they still hadn’t noticed me standing there.

But Luke, Luke studied me like I was a game he could beat.
Measuring me.
Making more judgments and storing them away.

“Circle up, men.
And Whalen.”
Coach
closed ranks and tapped a beat with the clipboard he’d collected. “Tonight’s
run is an easy five miles. I was not teasing you little boys about the last ten
in. We’re going to make this even more interesting. Anyone passing the
five-mile mark can play last man standing. Whoever makes it the farthest beyond
the five miles gets my parking spot for the first week of school.”

I thought about Rachel and how she picked me up every
morning for the last year no matter what. And then I thought about how she
would love to not have to deal with her creepy ex-boyfriend in the senior lot
when she got back for school.

Plus, Rachel had a problem with gifts that cost money. This
was the perfect chance to get her something that cost me only sweat.

I bent to stretch and tighten my laces as Coach explained to
the new kids how it worked.
Laps on the track.
Four
laps is a mile. Twenty laps and you’re done.

I’d rather run in the woods, but I can eat up the pavement
with the best of them. I flashed a glance at the guys, scoping out the ones who
looked confident without the telltale cocky swagger. When Coach finished, we
ambled down to the track and lined up, the seniors and juniors working their way
to the front.

“Stats girl,” Mike shouted. “The least I can do is let you
join us at the front. Make space on the line guys.”

You know, before today I thought I liked that guy. I mean,
not like-him
like-him
, but not
dis
like him. At the moment, he was truly getting on nerves I hadn’t
even known existed.
The ones just past my last nerve and to
the right.
For a five mile race, I didn’t need a spot on the line, but
it was easier to take it than to explain that to him.

My shoulders tensed as I toed at the white paint on the
tarmac. I missed the start listening for the gun that would have marked the
beginning of a cross-country race. The guys around me surged forward before I
caught my step and moved with them. My inner athlete snickered at the ones who
took off, spacing themselves into the lead. I let some of the pushier guys make
their way around me. All I cared about was getting a little stride room and
landing on the inside lane.

The first four laps were incidental. By mile two, groups
started to form. Two guys stepped out as mile three slipped into mile four. By
that time, the front tenth was lapping the guys in the back half.

“Hey.”

I had no intention of wasting time, energy, or focus on Luke
Parker right then.

“How
ya
doing?”
He seemed at ease with his pace.

I’d been watching him. He didn’t push for the front. He kept
his times even and looked comfortable despite the sweat soaking his T-shirt.
Basically, the male version of me.
How depressing.

“Good.” I slid a glance at him again.
“You?”

“Oh, I’m doing
just
fine.” Luke scanned the group in front of us. “I was wondering which guys you
planned on letting beat you.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that caught my breath. “Well, I
know you aren’t on that list.”

“You didn’t make mine either.” He jerked his head toward the
leaders. “Did they?”

I knew what he was asking, but it was still none of his
business. Even while I thought that, I heard myself answer.

“That parking spot is mine.”

It was his turn to laugh as we crossed the four and a half
mile mark. I hoped it knocked the wind out of him.
Or at
least cramped him up a little.

“You don’t even have a car.”

“I have a best friend with a car.”

“Alright.”

I waited for him to lengthen his stride and pull ahead. I
could only hope my goading had gotten to him and he’d wear himself out.
Instead, he stayed at my side. He even fell behind as we passed a junior on the
inside. Winding my way through the slowing masses, I joined the leaders,
checking for Mike in the crowd. Chris, Ben and two other guys made up the rest
of the group.

Mike’s friends held the inside lane and the other guys
spread out for the last lap, fighting for the front. I tried to cross on the
inside, but Mike stepped into the field making sure I had to pull back. That
move would have disqualified him if it
were
a track
meet, but I had a feeling all was fair in this last quarter mile.

A small tug snagged my tank top. At my right shoulder, Luke
scowled at the back of Mike’s head. Luke raised his finger to his lips and
motioned me behind him. I’m not sure why I let him pass me, but I fell in
behind him and opened my gait to match his longer one.

As soon as our feet sounded on the pavement in unison, he
kicked up the speed and shouted as he blew toward them.

“On your left!”

The guys didn’t stop to think. They broke rank and let Luke
through with me on his heels. The moment we’d cleared, I stepped to the outside
and tightening my stride, pulling my shoulders back and crossing the line at
the same moment, tied for first place with Luke Parker.

Coach blew the whistle as we crossed the line, ending the
race.

Luke turned his head just enough to catch my eye.

“Ease up?”

I nodded, trying to catch my breath after the sprint to the
end. I was going to need every bit of stamina I had left. The laps may be done,
but the parking spot was still anyone’s to snag.

Taking the short curve of the track, I glanced back. Behind
us, Mike looked pissed, but he still ran with Chris and one other guy. He must
have been hoping if he outlasted me, Coach would let him stay.

I let Luke pull away and waited for the others to pass. My
breath caught in my throat when I took an elbow to the shoulder as the trio
went by. I waited for Chris to say something, but his attention was locked on
Luke’s back.

From the rear, I watched the guys jockey for the lead. Poor
dears didn’t know the joke was on them. If there was one thing I knew, it was
how to win a race. Now that we’d passed the final mile marker, it was all about
Last Man Standing. With my shorter stride, speed may not be my friend, but time
certainly was.

The sun skittered toward the tree tops as one-by-one almost
all the guys gave up. The most relief I ever felt—ever—was when Chris stepped
off the track after finishing his five miles. Knowing I wouldn’t have to beat
him took all the pressure off. I rolled my shoulders, lowered my arms and shook
my hands loose again as I watched the two guys half a lap ahead of me.

Luke’s gait still looked fairly comfortable, but he kept
twisting his head as if to force a crick loose. Beside him Mike leaned forward,
his stride shortening. He was going to drop. I hoped the ground hurt when it
rushed up to meet his thick skull.

He slowed.
Slowed.
Slowed.
Slowed—and turned and rushed to the outside of the
track.

By the time I passed him, he’d lost not only his dinner, but
most likely lunch and breakfast too.

Ahead of me, Luke lessened his pace, glancing over his
shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, as I caught up with him. “You know, I have a
truck.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He checked his watch, pressing the split button as we
crossed the mile line and I knew I was in for a long night.

“I could
even,
say… fit two girls
in it each morning.”

“Luke Parker,” I raised my voice as we passed the guys
cheering him on from the sidelines. “Are you trying to bribe me into stopping?”

Luke glanced toward the crowd, judging if they’d heard my
words but not breaking stride.