Be the Girl(51)

15





I should have dressed warmer.

Heather warned me that the rink would be much colder tonight than last time, back when summer still lingered in the air. I misjudged and now I’m left shivering in my fleece sweater and my fall vest, my only source of warmth the watered-down hot chocolate I grabbed from the snack bar.

I’ll gladly freeze if it means watching Emmett play, though.

He flies down the ice with the puck, passing it to one of his teammates. Cassie and I were late arriving. He hasn’t looked up here yet, he’s so focused on the game. I doubt he knows I’ve come. We’re sitting apart from Heather and the group of moms again, at Cassie’s request. She says it’s because they yell and swear too much, but I think it’s because Cassie doesn’t get a lot of time away from Heather’s watchful eye, and she relishes every opportunity.

I can’t blame her.

Suddenly there’s a chorus of loud shouts and a whistle blows and the ref points at one of the players on the other team, then makes a hand-chopping gesture. “Hey, Cassie. Do you know what that means?” My words drift as I take in her face. I can’t help but laugh.

She giggles and licks her lips. “I have a chocolate mustache, don’t I?”

“Yup. An extra big one.”

“This is why I need a straw!”

“You should bring one from home next time.” I reach for the box of Junior Mints between us.

And scowl as the last one tumbles into my palm.

“Oh. Yeah.” Cassie pauses to peer down at my hand. “I ate them all.” She’s grinning broadly, her front teeth coated in the chocolate evidence.

I crumple the box as I watch Emmett race for the puck, deftly maneuvering his stick to swipe it from the opposing player.

“Are you mad?” There’s a hint of panic in her voice, as if the idea of me being angry with her is sinking in and causing her anxiety.

“No, I’m not mad. I’m annoyed. Do you know what that means?”

She searches her thoughts. “When someone does something that bothers you?”

“Exactly. It bothers me that you ate all the Junior Mints.” In five minutes. “They’re my favorite.”

She swallows. And then her face breaks into a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.”

A round of cheers explodes and I glance back in time to see Emmett clapping gloves with another player. “Did Emmett score?” Dammit, I missed it!

He turns toward the stands and points in our direction.

I freeze for a moment. “Me?” I mouth, covertly gesturing at myself, my cheeks heating.

He’s pulled his glove off and holds up one finger.

I feel the big, dumb grin stretch my lips. One goal down. Two to go. I did demand that earlier.

“What is Emmett saying?” Cassie frowns. “Why did he do that?”

“Nothing. It’s a joke between us.”

One of his teammates follows his gaze up to the stands and then gives him a playful shove against his shoulder.

He knows I’m here, all right.





“I was there on Saturday! The creepy Pennywise clown?” Jen’s blue eyes widen as she squeezes my biceps. “I hate normal clowns. But that clown? I almost cried!”

I laugh, spinning my combination lock. “Same here.” Had I not had Emmett’s strong chest to bury my face in, I might have.

Then again, if not for carnival Pennywise and the face-licker, I wouldn’t have found myself in Emmett’s arms that night. They deserve giant raises.

“Ready for the chem test, Jen?” Emmett sounds breathless as he sidles up beside me to lean against the lockers, his textbook casually tucked under his arm. He smells of soap and the perfect amount of cologne, like he just stepped out of the shower, even though his hair is barely damp anymore.

“Probably not. You?” She slams her locker shut and adjusts her shirt collar. She’s wearing a turkey print today and, as hideous as it is, I’ve found myself looking forward to discovering what Jen is wearing on any given day. I’ve noticed that not all the looks from students are negative. A girl walked by us minutes ago, her eyes narrowing on Jen’s back just long enough to decipher the tiny birds, before a genuine smile touched her lips.

Emmett smirks. “Probably not.” Those intoxicating brown eyes shift to me. “How was practice this morning?”

I catch myself practically fawning as my head falls back. Emmett truly towers over me. I’ve never had a thing for tall guys, but now that I think about it, none of the fourteen-and fifteen-year-old boys I hung around with reached six feet. I was taller than half of them. “Fine. I ran with Richard.”

“Why? You’re way faster than him.”

Everyone on the team is faster than Richard, including the ninth-grade girls. Short of every other racer injuring themselves midway through, he’ll never place.

I shrug. “My calf felt tight. Didn’t want to overdo it.” In truth, running alongside Richard guaranteed that I wouldn’t have to deal with Holly’s scathing glare. She was leering at me when I arrived at school this morning, in a way that set me on edge.

“Fair enough.” He seems to buy it.

The first bell goes.

“Crap. I’m going to be late.” I rush to dig my books out of my backpack.