Bookish and the Beast (Once Upon a Con #3)(61)

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I ENVY THE PEOPLE WHO LOVE FOOTBALL GAMES, because I don’t understand the sport at all. Even as I make my way up the aluminum bleachers with Annie, picking our way between popcorn on the seats and gum on the ground to an empty section next to the band, I don’t understand the appeal. It’s October and the air is sticky and humid still, and there’s a weird smell that I can only assume is coming from the marching band, but otherwise it’s a beautiful night. It’s almost game time, and the band is beginning to file out of the bleachers and onto the sides of the field, near the end zones, to start the pregame show.

During halftime, those running for Homecoming will parade onto the field one last time, and the principal—Mrs. Rogers, an ex-Marine whom I am thankful I have never crossed paths with on the disciplinary scale—will announce them one last time. Garrett and a few of his buddies are already down by the sidelines, along with most of the other contestants.

I frown, squinting down the sideline. “Where’s Quinn?”

Annie, with a tray of nachos, shrugs. “Dunno. They said they didn’t need a ride to the game.”

“Really? They’re your best friend!”

“Yours too, don’t forget. And there are things neither of you know about me, so it ends up being fair,” she replies mysteriously.

I roll my eyes. “Your AO3 username isn’t as hidden as you think, you know.”

She mock-gasps. “How dare you! It’s very hidden.”

“I guarantee I can search ‘Starfield Carmindor/Sond hurt-comfort fantasy AU amnesia’ and your fic will be at the very top.”

She blinks, frowns, and then shoves a chip into her mouth and says around it, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm-hm.”

We laugh, because she knows that I am one hundred percent right, and I’ve definitely read her fic and it’s smutty as hell. I know her deep dark kinks and will take them to my grave.

“Excuse me—pardon me—starflame, is it really so hard to get through the bleachers?” a girl with pink hair mutters, her popcorn raised high. Behind her, a tall and lanky boy with dark hair follows.

“Mo, you know we sit on the other side of the field, right?” the lanky boy says, irritated. “With our team?”

“There aren’t any good seats over there. And this side is better—go, Milo!” the pink-haired girl cries, and points to a spot beside me. “Is anyone sitting here?”

“Nope,” I reply, and scoot over a little toward Annie to give them more room. “All yours.”

“Excellent!”

Her companion gives a tired sigh. “Well if we’d gotten here sooner, maybe all of the good seats on the other side wouldn’t be taken.”

“Stop grumbling like a grumpy old man and sit down,” she says, patting the bleacher beside her, and he thumps down. She snuggles up next to him, to the point that I think his grumpiness is mostly an act, and cheers again, “Go, Milo, go!” which earns her quite a few looks on this side of the bleachers. “My brother’s going to kick everyone’s ass.”

She doesn’t seem to care at all who glares.

Annie leans in quietly and says under her breath to me, “I think that pink-haired nuisance is now my mortal enemy.”

“Um, why?”

“Her brother’s Milo Lovelace. The other team’s quarterback.” Fire ignites in her eyes, and she jumps to her feet and shouts, “Go, Keith! You can do it! Knock the Goliath out!”

In return, the pink-haired girl narrows a look at her, then shouts, “You got this, Milo!”

“Keith! I believe in you!”

I sink down between the two of them and pull The Starless Throne from my backpack. Vance was right, it turns out. This book is coming in handy, and I tune out Annie and the pink-haired girl shouting over each other for the next ten minutes until the clock runs down and halftime begins. Our mascot, a Wildcat, grabs a lightsaber from the sidelines and runs toward the other side, where they have a short mock battle with the Blue Devils while the football teams leave the field, which ends in the Blue Devils force-choking the Wildcat to the ground. The score is tied, but I don’t know what any of it means, really. Annie tries to explain to me that the teams are tied because we can’t run the ball—whatever that means—and so we’ve had to take two field goals, and they missed an extra point.

…Whatever that means.

“I still don’t see Quinn, do you?” I ask, to which Annie frowns.

“No, I don’t,” she says, but then she pulls out her phone and selects Quinn’s name in an app, and a pin pops up on a map of the area—exactly where we are. “But they have to be here. Their phone’s here.”

My eyes widen. “Hold up, can you pinpoint my phone, too?”

“You still haven’t found it?”

“…No.”

She rolls her eyes and selects my name, and the exact same coordinates come up. Annie frowns. “Huh…are you sure you don’t have it in a pocket or something?”

I give her a deadpan look. “I’m not that forgetful.”

She just shrugs. “Oh, they’re starting.”

Principal Rogers makes her way out onto the field with a wireless microphone, and the band marches out with her, making a (sort of) cornucopia shape on the field. They play the school fight song, and when they finish the principal looks like she might need new eardrums.