She Drives Me Crazy(43)

I purse my lips and look away from her, and in that moment, I realize I’m the one who has the power now. It feels incredible. And yeah, maybe I feel kind of disgusted with myself for that, but I don’t dwell on it.

At the last second, before the ref tosses the ball into the air, I lock eyes with Irene. She’s standing with her pom-poms behind her back, her hair up in its perfect ponytail, her stance confident and balanced. Her squad is lined up neatly behind her, watching with bated breath. She catches me looking and winks. A weird surge of affection shoots up my chest.

The ref tosses the ball up, and the game begins.



* * *



A few minutes into the second quarter, I know for certain we’re going to win. It’s impossible to deny our momentum, our energy, the electricity rolling off our fans. Danielle sinks two jump shots in a row, her anxiety completely evaporated. Googy snatches a rebound straight out of Tally’s hands. I have two steals in a two-minute period and can literally hear my family screaming my name.

And in the third quarter, when we’re leading by sixteen points, I intercept a pass that Tally meant for her point guard. It’s a breakaway steal that has me racing down the court, the crowd’s applause thundering in my ears, the ball sure and steady under my hand. I make an easy layup and loop my way under the basket with a grin so big my cheeks hurt. Gunther, dressed in the Fighting Reindeer costume, bursts onto the court and scoops me up in a hug, and everyone screams with laughter, even after the ref threatens a technical foul.

In the end, we win with a solid eleven-point lead. To me, it feels like we’ve won Olympic Gold. The noise in the gym is so loud it makes my head ache, but I can’t do anything but smile and hold on to Danielle, who’s so happy she’s actually crying.

When we line up to shake hands with our opponents, I don’t even look twice at Tally. In that moment, I’m so far beyond her that I forget it’s her I’ve been trying to beat all along—and that I still have a ways to go. I break free of the lineup to find my family, Danielle’s family, Gunther, and Kevin pouring out of the stands to hug us.

And behind them, fresh off her victory routine, is Irene.

“Amazing what a little confidence can do, huh?” she asks me in the midst of the madness. Her eyes are alight; her whole face is shining. My button is pinned to her cheerleading uniform.

I can’t focus enough to answer her; I’m being grabbed on all sides by my teammates, my family, my friends. But I do know that the smiles we’re giving each other are as real as the points on the scoreboard.



* * *



The scene at the Emporium is wild. Outside, by the tracks, people are lighting sparklers. Inside the garage, the air is stuffy and warm. Honey-Belle has lit up the string lights, Gunther is pouring eggnog into holly-green cups, and someone has inflated the lawn-decor Santa Clauses. Everything is crowded and intimate and alive.

Danielle is euphoric. She’s switched her game shorts out for her favorite Adidas joggers, but she’s still wearing her jersey like a badge of honor. I notice she’s washed her face and put on makeup, too. Her eyelashes, which are naturally long, look even thicker and prettier in the dim light of the garage. And maybe it’s my imagination, but it seems like Kevin is noticing.

Honey-Belle is in hostess mode, her cheerleading uniform bedecked with a sparkly feather boa. She congratulates me for the fifth time and squeezes me so hard it hurts my neck. Gunther grins at her like a puppy dog.

For the first hour of the party, my teammates and I are treated to hugs and drinks and replays. Somebody sticks reindeer antlers on my head and tells me I was the MVP, and I blush without caring that my cheeks turn the color of my hair. I hardly speak to Irene, but I have this sense that she’s letting me have my moment. When I spot her on the other side of the garage, still sporting her cheerleading uniform, she grins and gives me another uncharacteristic wink.

“Hey!” Honey-Belle shouts at the room. “Hey! Cut the music! I want to make a toast!”

The thumping bass stops and people press closer to the center of the room. Gunther passes Honey-Belle an eggnog cup that sloshes over the rim.

“Where’s Irene?” Honey-Belle shouts. She looks at me. “Scottie, where’s your girl?”

Something about it makes my face warm; I can’t catch my breath to answer her.

“Irene!” Honey-Belle yells. “Get over here! We’re toasting!”

Irene makes her way over, rolling her eyes but laughing at Honey-Belle’s enthusiasm. She hands me a water like it’s second nature to her, and I realize I’m staring at her without meaning to. Her mascara is slightly smudged beneath her eyes; her skin is damp and glowing. Her cedar perfume swirls around us.

“Cheers to the Fighting Reindeer!” Honey-Belle yells. “We’re definitely gonna win the championship this year! And extra cheers to our MVP, Scottie Zajac!”

I’ve never felt so important in all my life. People bang on my back with such force that I almost double over. I even get a kiss on the head from Gunther. The cheering halts as people knock back their drinks. Then there’s clapping and shouting and more congratulatory hands on me.

“Irene, show her some love!” Honey-Belle yells.

I turn with a skip in my stomach to see Irene gaping at Honey-Belle, but it only lasts for a second. She centers herself and pulls me in for an obligatory hug, the smirk in her eyes telling me that we should have expected as much. Her arms go tight around me and I pray she can’t feel my pulse beating against her warm skin.