Pivot Point (Pivot Point, #1)(54)

“Yeah, he does. There is nothing but extreme-brain-cell-deterioration going on at Poison’s house.”

At the game, I wish I had brought an extra layer of clothing—it’s pretty cold. I blow on my hands and then rub them rapidly across my thighs. Laila is bouncing up and down next to me, and I can’t tell if it’s in an effort to stay warm or if she’s excited. She solves the mystery when she says, “I don’t believe we’ve never been to an away game before. What’s wrong with us? This is fun.”

“Yeah, exciting.”

“The Norms seem so … normal.”

“Here they come.” I point to where the team, led by Duke, runs out of the tunnel as the announcer says a drawn-out version of our school name.

Duke runs to center field and bows.

I sigh. “I wish he wouldn’t do stuff like that. It makes him seem more cocky than he is.”

“It’s just Duke having fun. If we were closer, you’d see the teasing twinkle in his eye.”

Teasing or not, the whole stadium probably thinks he’s full of himself. Why doesn’t that bother him? To our left is the other team’s student section. I notice Laila looking over.

“What?” I ask.

“Norm boys are pretty cute.”

I scan them as well. They seem like the guys I see on a daily basis at my own school.

“We should mess with their minds.”

I laugh. “How?”

“Okay, pick out one of those boys and I’ll get him to come over here.”

“How?”

“He’ll think it was his own idea. You should do it too, since you’re supposed to be practicing Thought Placement. How is that going anyway?”

Not well, and I’m tired of practicing. Whenever we have free time, it’s all Duke wants to do. “I think I’m getting better.”

“Prove it. We’ll have a race. Whoever gets her boy to come over first wins.”

I roll my head to the side and groan. “Fine.”

“Okay, name your boy, so we’re not trying to call the same one over.”

This time I study them closer. “The one with his hands in his pockets. Cowboy boots. Dark hair.” He looks sort of familiar to me, but I can’t place him.

She rolls her eyes. “Of course, typical Addie boy. I pick the guy with the foam finger.”

“Which one?”

“The one jumping all over the place. Shoulder-length hair, beautiful skin.”

I zero in on him. Just when I think I’ve figured out Laila’s taste in guys, which for a while I thought was just any male between the ages of sixteen and twenty-two, she surprises me by picking someone completely different. Like this guy, for example; he’s cute enough, but thin and too dressed up for a football game. I thought Laila liked to have the upper hand in the style department.

“Ready?” she asks.

I nod.

“Go.”

Without trying to be obvious, I take several glances at my guy and concentrate. Go talk to the girl with the blue stripe in her hair, I say in my mind and then try to push it into his. He meets my eyes once and then looks away. I try again, but by this time Laila’s guy is already walking toward us. I let out a low growl, and she laughs. “Ha! I picked a guy with less impulse control. You have to look for the wild ones, Addie, not the conservative ones.”

Ah, so that was her criteria this time.

He takes a seat two rows behind us. Does he think he’s being subtle? Poor guy is being told he wants to come over here and has no idea what to do now that he’s here.

“I told him he wanted to sit by us. That’s not really by us.” Laila turns around, looks up at him, and says, “Really? Are you that much of a wimp?”

“He’s probably intimidated by you,” I say, but he walks down the cement steps.

“What’s your name?” Laila asks, when he sits down next to her.

“Rowan.”

“I’m Laila. This is Addie.”

“Hi,” I say.

“You guys here with the visiting team?” he asks.

“That’s kind of why we’re sitting in this section.”

“This is a long way to come for a game. You must be friends with some of the players.”

“As a matter of fact, that’s Addie’s boyfriend.” She points to the field, where Duke is dropping back for a pass.

“The quarterback?”

“Yeah, his name’s Duke Rivers. Have you heard of him?”

“He’s up for All-American this year, isn’t he?”

I shrug my shoulders, but Laila says, “Yes. Is he up against any of your players?”

“No. Our quarterback sustained a major injury.”

“That’s too bad,” I say.

“It really is. He was awesome. He might’ve beat Duke this year.” He points back to where he had been sitting. “That’s him right there—Trevor.”

Laila laughs, and I know exactly why she’s laughing—Rowan’s pointing at the guy I had done Thought Placement on. Was that why he looked so familiar? Had I seen his picture in some of Duke’s football albums?

“What’s so funny?” Rowan asks.

“Nothing, my friend just thought he was cute. And my friend swears she doesn’t like football players.”