Twelve Steps to Normal(68)

“You’re here.” She says this as if she expected me to bail on our routine. “Does my lip liner look off?”

“It’s perfect,” I say, because it is.

She still double-checks herself in her front-facing camera.

Raegan leads us into the gym, which has been decorated in a sea of red and white. Nearly everyone in the stands is wearing their RED OUT shirts, the ones students get at the beginning of the year to wear to games to show school pride. We take the center of the floor and perform our Rihanna routine. I try to scour the crowd for Alex, but I can’t find him. My heart sinks.

We have an hour and a half to kill before the game. The Wavettes’ moms made us sandwiches and brought us bags of chips as a quick dinner, so Whitney, Raegan, and I take one corner of the room and sit down to eat. But instead of making idle conversation, Raegan begins intently reading something on her phone.

Whitney sighs. “Please don’t tell me you’re on that SAT app again.”

“No, I’m reading pregnancy tips,” Raegan says, not looking our way.

“For the last time,” Whitney says. “You. Are. Not. The. One. Having. This. Baby.”

Raegan rolls her eyes. “I know, okay? But my mom isn’t exactly young anymore. There can be more complications when you’re older.” She points to her phone. “Swimming! I should have thought of that. It’s good for joint pain. I need to tell her.” She starts tapping out a text on her phone.

Whitney rolls her eyes, but I understand. Raegan can’t control her mom’s pregnancy like she can control one of her Leadership Council projects, and that scares her. Plus, I know she wants to be involved in her future sister’s life as much as possible, despite the fact that she hasn’t entered this world just yet.

While Whitney yammers on about some celebrity couple, I sneak Raegan a text.

ME: your mom will be fine. don’t worry xo

I follow up with a few of the dancer and party horn emojis to get her pumped for the game, and she gives me a half smile. I know she won’t stop stressing—it’s ingrained in her nature at this point—but I want her to know she has friends who care about her. It’s the least I can do for all the supportive texts she sent me in Portland. The ones I didn’t bother replying to.

We make our way outside at six thirty. Because the homecoming court is being announced at halftime, we perform our second routine before the opening kickoff. My switch leaps aren’t the best, but for the most part we nail it.

When the game begins, I casually lean over and scour the rows of students, hoping to spot Alex.

“There,” Whitney says, nodding toward the right side of the bleachers.

I freeze. Am I that obvious?

“She’s there. By Colton?” She’s pointing at Lin, who’s flipping through a book while Colton bobs his head to the music in his headphones next to her. Breck and Jay are the only two actually watching the game.

“Right,” I say, focusing my gaze on the field. I don’t want to continue to be obvious, but I’m dying to know if Alex stayed.

We’re winning twenty-one to seven when halftime rolls around. I cross the field with the rest of the Wavettes to cheer on the homecoming court. Breck escorts Genevieve Jackson, who’s also in our grade. It’s tradition for the court to arrive in formal attire, and they both look captivating in their elegant gown and suit. We stand patiently on the sidelines as the senior court enters, then wait to hear the final tally of votes. There’s a wild round of applause from the juniors when Breck is announced Homecoming King, and an even louder round of praise when senior Natasha Collins wins Homecoming Queen.

Raegan turns to me. “How long do you think he’ll demand us to call him King Breck?”

I laugh. “I’ll bet a solid month.”

When the third quarter starts, I jump up. Third quarter is the only time we’re allowed to leave the field for a bathroom and concession break.

“You guys want anything?” I ask Raegan and Whitney.

They decline, and I rush over to the massive concession line. I’m not hungry, but I’m using this as an excuse to run into Alex—if he’s even here.

My stomach churns with nervous energy. I hope he’s still here.

I’m at the end of the concessions line when I feel a presence behind me. I turn around, expecting to find Alex, but it’s not him. It’s Lin.

Her bright-red lips pull into a smile. “Good job out there.”

“Thanks,” I tell her, still glancing in the stands for Alex. “Are you doing anything after the game?”

“Jay’s trying to get everyone to go to this party.” She rolls her eyes. “But I’m just going to head home. Curfew and all that.”

“Right,” I say, just as my eyes catch a glimpse of Alex in the stands. He’s sitting with a few of his theater friends. Heat flushes through my entire body. He stayed.

Lin gives me a weird look. “What?”

“What?” I repeat, tearing my eyes away.

She just shakes her head. “Text me tomorrow?”

“I will,” I promise.

We end up winning twenty-eight to fourteen, which means the Wavettes take the field to do twenty-eight celebratory high kicks. Whitney disappears with Jay shortly after, so Raegan and I walk back to the junior/senior lot together.