You Should See Me in a Crown(34)
Everyone is cheering, and even though it’s not nighttime, they have the stadium lights on at full blast. It’s like a cross between Friday Night Lights and Gossip Girl: mothers in pearls and crisp blouses next to dads in Campbell County Cougars sweatshirts, holding signs to cheer on their precious daughters in a fake football game.
The guys are all in cheerleading uniforms, and they’re doing a really bad (but well-intentioned) version of the “Boom! Dynamite” cheer that involves a lot of Jaxon shaking his butt and Harry doing the worm.
We’re getting ready to line up on the field by the time I finally see Mack. She’s in uniform, nodding quickly at something Madame Simoné is saying on the sidelines. Madame S shoves a white bandana into her hand and shoos her out onto the field.
Our team is huddled up again to go over our game plan. We have the ball first, thanks to Quinn’s excellent coin-toss skills. Mack slips in right next to me and throws her arm over my shoulders like everyone else is doing. I want to ask her what’s up, but she just smiles at me and says, “What’d I miss?” like everything’s normal.
“Well, apparently Quinn is Peyton Manning incarnate and currently shaping this ragtag bunch into a real team.” I shake my head. Quinn is talking, and I don’t want to interrupt, so I add in a low voice. “I was sort of hoping I could just ride the bench and, you know, be a water girl. But she wasn’t buying it.”
“You would have been a very attentive water girl.” Mack nods with fake solemnity. “This is a true loss for our team.”
“And Liz will take it from there! Our secret weapon.” Quinn is putting one hand into the center of the circle, and everyone else does the same.
“Wait, what?”
“Cougars on three, ladies!” Quinn shouts. “One, two, three, Cougars!”
Now I’m stressed. I was too busy flirting to listen to the plan, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. As everyone else manages to find their spots on the line of scrimmage, I sort of just find an open space near the middle and crouch down, because it looks like the right thing to do. After all, you don’t get the GPA I have by knowing all the answers. Half the battle is correctly interpreting context clues.
“Well, look what we have here, ladies. Little Miss National Merit Scholar has decided to grace us with her presence.” Rachel puts her hands on her hips and grins angrily. I know how weird that sounds, but it’s true. Rachel Collins has mastered the art of the angry grin.
Claire and Lucy are on either side of her, and Claire giggles while Lucy rolls her eyes. “Rach, can’t we just play already? Some of us have nail appointments after this, and you know how hard it is to get Lila to make house calls.”
Rachel gets into position directly across from me and sneers. “I hope you’re ready to get destroyed, sweetheart.”
Rachel’s team has red bandanas around their heads, and there’s something fitting about the imagery of the ends of the knot sticking out like horns on her forehead.
The booming voice of the announcer they use for football season gets things started. “Hello, hello, hello, Cougars fans. Who’s ready for a little football?”
The crowd reacts instantly, erupting into cheers. I want to correct him and remind him that we’re not even wearing the Indiana High School Athletic Association–sanctioned protective gear, so legally we shouldn’t be calling this football, but as soon as the thought enters my mind, the people around me explode into a flurry of activity.
And when Becka—our quarterback, apparently—tucks the ball into my stomach suddenly, I look around frantically, trying to figure out what the hell I’m even supposed to do with it. I can hear Mack shouting from somewhere behind me, “Go, Liz, go!”
And suddenly I’m pumping my legs, channeling one of Robbie’s barbs from earlier: “Lizzie, your legs are longer than anybody else’s out there. All you gotta do is take one stride, and you’ve made it from midfield to the goal line.”
Out of the corner of my eye I can see girls chasing me, hands reaching out to grab at my flags, but I just make longer strides until my calves burn, until there is nothing in my periphery but the green turf and the crowd. The sound of their cheers urges me on, and before I know it, I’m crossing into the end zone.
“That’s a touchdown for white, and the first score of the game comes from Lightning Lighty!” The announcer’s voice booms over the intercom, and the stands are shaking with the sound of feet stomping against the metal stands. I’m breathing hard, still clutching the football to my chest, when Quinn runs up to me, clapping.
“I knew it, Liz, I just knew it!” She looks so happy, and the way my cheeks are burning tells me my expression probably matches hers. I can’t believe it! I scored! Me, Liz Lighty. Tall, gangly, awkward Liz Lighty has scored a touchdown in the powder-puff football game. Quinn grabs the ball from me to take back to the line but smiles as she adds, “Jordan told me you’d be our secret weapon.”
Jordan?
I look to the sideline, where Jordan is pumping one fist in the air while shaking his pom-pom everywhere.
“You love to see it, folks!” He shouts.
I wave at him as I jog back to the line. I’m tired from the sprinting, but feeling strong—finally, biking everywhere has paid off! I never considered myself a team-sports kind of girl, but the way everyone pats me on the back and offers me their fists to bump as I pass them feels pretty freaking good.