She Drives Me Crazy(42)
She pops her lips. “Point taken. I’ll stay in my lane.”
“Thank you.”
When we pull into her driveway, she takes her time getting out of my car. She even hands me the last few Sour Patch Kids.
“Okay look, you know something?” She hovers outside my car door, her hands in her jumpsuit pockets. “I don’t understand your motivation with this whole thing, but I do think it’s … endearing … that you still believe in love. Even if it’s of the melodramatic-gestures kind.”
I narrow my eyes, pretending to be suspicious of her. “This candy really got to you, huh?”
“What?”
“‘First they’re sour, then they’re sweet,’” I recite.
She drops her head back, disgusted with me. “Wow. That was actually the worst.”
“Good thing you’re making a pretty penny off it.”
“Honestly, I need a pay increase.”
I smirk. “’Night, Abraham.”
“’Night, Zajac.”
She rolls her eyes and snaps my door closed.
12
The morning of the Christmas Classic game, I wake up to a FaceTime call from Danielle, who’s still in bed with her hair scarf on. “I’m freaking out,” she says scratchily. “My stomach’s twisted up like a pretzel. Tell me I’m allowed to quit the team.”
“Don’t ask me, ask our captain,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “But just know, she’s a hard-ass.”
“Ha ha.”
We get out of bed and go to our respective toilets, in our respective houses, and carry on our conversation.
“I can’t even pee,” Danielle groans, screwing up her face. “I hate sports. I hate them. I’m only meant to be a bookworm. I am Hermione and I will never be Cho Chang.”
“You’re both,” I promise her. “I’m nervous, too, but I have a great feeling about tonight! Aren’t you at least a little excited?”
She groans some more. We hang up after she promises to play upbeat music during her shower.
My sisters bolster my confidence when they barge into my room singing “IT’S GAME DAY! IT’S GAME DAY! FUCK CANDLEHAWK, IT’S GAME DAY!”
“Daphne!” I gasp theatrically. “Did you just curse?”
They smoosh me into a hug. Thora plants kisses all over my head, and I can’t do anything but laugh.
“I’m wearing your old practice jersey to school!” Daphne says. “My friends are gonna be so sick of me talking about you!”
“I’m renaming our lunch special The Eleven,” Thora says, referring to my jersey number. “You’re gonna kill it tonight, Scots!”
Irene picks me up before school. We’ve planned that she’ll be the one to drive me to the game’s after-party, which will hopefully be a blowout celebration after we win. She’s wearing my picture button affixed to her shirt today, and I do a double take when I see it.
“For real?” I ask, not even trying to keep the delight out of my voice. “I got upgraded to your actual wardrobe?”
She shrugs; the corners of her mouth twitch. “It’s a special occasion. I can suffer through it for one day.”
At school, I’m greeted with a roar of noise. People high-five me in the hallways and tape good-luck notes to my locker. The Cleveland triplets beg to take a selfie with Danielle and me. Even Gino goes out of his way to be seen talking to me in the cafeteria line.
By the time the bell rings at the end of the day, I’m feeling so hopeful and assured that I actually hug Irene when I see her.
“Oh,” she says, tensing up beneath my hug. “So this is a thing now?”
“We did it,” I tell her. “There’s no way in hell we’re gonna lose this game.”
She laughs, and for maybe the first time since I’ve known her, it’s a bright and authentic laugh. “You know something, Zajac? For once, I agree with you.”
* * *
The bleachers are jam-packed with fans when my team hustles onto the court. It’s the fullest I’ve ever seen our gym, and the vast majority of the crowd is wearing red. Dozens of people sport the trademark reindeer ears that are usually reserved for big football games.
“Holy shit,” Danielle whispers, her eyes wide. “There’s even more people than last time.”
“Which means we’ll play even better,” I tell her as we claim our spots on the team bench. “We’re gonna win tonight, I promise you. Look at their players—they can’t even fathom how this happened!”
Down the line from our bench, the Candlehawk players in their shiny gold jerseys are regarding the bleachers warily. Whereas my team is casually stretching and grinning at our show of support, their players are frozen in place. Tally looks more devastated than the rest of them put together.
Our starting lineups meet at half-court for the jump ball. Danielle and I take our places on either side of the center, which means I’m only a few feet from Tally—the closest I’ve been to her since Charlotte’s party.
Tally catches my eye for a fleeting second. It’s hard to read the expression on her face, but it’s something close to regret. It’s almost like she wants reassurance from me. Her blue eyes are asking if this is a fluke.