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Chapter Text

Sidney

With “The Boys Are Back in Town” blaring from the speakers in Babington's 1970 topless Ford Bronco, I was feeling my oats as a light breeze cut through the Sanditon, Texas heat. School is out, and I’m officially a senior.

It's Memorial Day Weekend, and all I'm really concerned about is making sure the beer stays cold.

The girls are plentiful, bikinis everywhere, the smell of suntan lotion mixed with the salty air. It's going to be a good day at Sanditon Bayside Beach. I'm sitting on Babington's tailgate, sunglasses hiding my wandering eyes, drinking my Coors and taking in every pretty thing before me. It's a smorgasbord.

Life doesn’t get much better than this.

"Where's the party tonight?" Edward Denham says as he walks up, a beer in each hand, looking like the cocky SOB he is.

Not that I have any room to talk. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve like Babs. Nah, I'd rather keep my options open, not tie myself down to one chick, though one tried too hard to change that, calling for a quick conversation before she left that I’m not settling down until I’m at least 30.

"Your house?" Babington answers, because it's common knowledge Babs has it bad for Edward's sister, Esther.

"Can't tonight. Parents have company over…house is off limits," Edward says.

"There's a bonfire on the beach and fireworks at dark. Why do we need to go anywhere else?" Matt Crowe pipes in.

"Because the fuzz is always around for public stuff, man."

"You're 18. What's the big deal?" I ask, clearly remembering his 18th birthday party a few months ago.

"Well," Edward's voice drops, "I was thinking a little extra party favor. Got my hands on some good stuff,” he says as he pulls out a bag from his pocket, showing us a handful of rolled joints.

“Ah, okay. Well, I'm good with this right here," I say, holding up my beer. “As long as there are chicks there, count me in."

Before Edward can respond, I hear the roar of a hot rod engine getting closer. It's driving toward us on the beach that's lined with hundreds of vehicles lined up one after the other. I catch a glimpse of a faded yellow Camaro with the top down and the passenger sitting on the back of the car with her feet in the seat, looking around.

"Damn... who the hell is that?" I ask, lowering my sunglasses to get a better look.

Nope, I’m not imagining it. A girl is waving a larger-than-life American flag, a hot little brunette in a cherry red bikini.

“Oh, that’s James Stringer. That's the car he just bought,” Babington replies.

Damn, his pure heart, not noticing the obvious.

“I’m not talking about the car, man,” I chuckle and give him a little shove to move out of my line of view.

I glance over my shoulder and see that those behind me have noticed her now, like moths to a flame. And the closer she gets, the more jaw-dropping the view becomes.

Babington speaks finally, squinting. "Oh man. That's the new girl."

"What new girl?" I attempt to sound neutral.

"The one Esther's been talking about. Charlotte Heywood."

“Why hasn’t anyone mentioned her to me?” I ask.

“Didn’t figure you going for a 15-year-old sophomore.”

God help me. There is no way in hell that girl is only 15.

Wavy brunette hair that looks like silk.

Curves in all the right places.

Long, shapely legs.

Full pink lips.

A dimple in her chin.

Damn.

"Esther!" Babington hollers as Esther tries her best to look like she's ignoring him, with James Stringer behind the wheel.

Esther looks over and waves, but my eyes slide right back to the back seat to the brunette. Through our matching sunglasses, I catch her stare lingering on me, and I wonder if she's enjoying her view as much as I'm enjoying mine. I tip my head slightly, letting her know I see her and definitely approve.

She smiles back at me, and it's stunning. 

In a town like Sanditon, word travels fast…especially about what Sidney Parker wants. And right now, I want a much closer look at Charlotte Heywood.

Chapter Text

"Second Hand News" is blaring from James’s 8-track player he just installed into the Camaro convertible. My head is starting to feel a little fuzzy from the drinking, but I love it. The music makes me feel looser and more confident, especially when I see boys watching us drive by. James is going slow because the traffic moving along the beach is slow-paced.

James's brother got us beer and this Malt Duck stuff that Esther said I'd like. She was right. It tastes pretty good, and I've had two already. Esther and I are sitting up on the back of the seats, and I'm holding this huge American flag she brought. She said Sanditon is super patriotic, and the flag will make boys notice us.

She's definitely right about getting noticed. Esther looks amazing in her white bikini with her flaming red hair. She's absolutely gorgeous. And me? Well, I grew a whole bra size since Christmas, so now I'm a C-cup, and this bikini that Esther let me borrow is…well, she says it makes me look foxy. I've never worn a two-piece before. My only friend back home who had a pool had all these rules about no boys and definitely no bikinis.

This red one would probably give my mom a spaz attack. I'm sure dad would be worse.

There are cars and trucks parked everywhere as far as I can see, tons of them in two rows with just enough space to drive between. There's so much going on I can barely keep track of it all.

“Oh, no!” Esther shouts over the music. “Hide me!” Esther ducks down off the back of the Camaro and crawls to the front seat and turns her head towards James. That's when I see this boy standing behind a Bronco, waving at us.

"Esther!" he yells out.

"Esther, that guy's calling you!" I shout over the music.

But as soon as she sees him, she ducks down in her seat like she's hiding from him or something. She’s mentioned Mark Babington to me. He likes her more than she likes him, and now I see how apparent that is. I think she was modest when she said that. The guy is doing everything he can to stop the car and get her attention.

I notice eyes on me - at least I think - from the group of guys with him.

As James pulls over to let other cars go around him, I want to do just like Esther and slink down into the seat, but she’s giving me lessons on how to be not so prim and proper.

It wasn't exactly the best day of my life when my parents dropped the bomb: "We're moving to Sanditon." This was exactly one week before school ended in Wilingden, just as I was about to finish my freshman year. On the last day of school, the moving van was in the driveway when I got home, packed and ready to leave.

It was all about my brother Chase and his stupid baseball career. He's been throwing fastballs into the 80s since 8th grade, and apparently, Sanditon High is going to make him get noticed. Meanwhile, I was on track to be valedictorian. I was captain of the cheerleading squad, on the swim team, and I've been class president since 7th grade. Did any of that matter? No. Not when Chase’s precious baseball dreams were involved.

I’m trying to not even care anymore. My new plan is simple: if being perfect gets you nothing, then I’m going to have fun instead. Obviously, those two things don't mix in my family.

I'm done stressing about grades. You can't just show up at a new school over the summer and magically make cheerleader, so I guess I'll be sitting in the stands every Friday night come football season. Class president? Yeah right. And Sanditon doesn't even have a swim team, so there goes that too.

So here's what I'm going to do this summer: give my parents something to really talk about. I'm sick of being their good little girl, the smart girl, the one who never does anything wrong. I turn 16 in September, I'll get my license, and I'm going to be like every other teenager, just having fun. Being good did nothing to stop me from having to move to Nowhereville, Texas.

And if some boy gets the wrong idea because of how I dress or act? Oh, well. His problem, not mine. The new me doesn't care if people talk about me. Maybe my parents will finally notice they have a daughter, not just a son who can throw a ball a little better than most.

At least moving here isn't completely awful. I met Esther Denham the day we moved in. She’s going to be a junior and lives right next door. She's so cool, and she’s going to teach me how to stop being such a goody-two-shoes. We have stayed up talking forever, almost every night, either on the phone or on the driveway since we moved in a week ago. Sometimes James joins us out on the driveway giving us a guy's perspective.

Mom and Dad let me get my own phone in my room as my consolation prize for moving here. It’s kind of fun to talk to someone who actually knows about so much stuff. Real stuff. She's not even a virgin, and she said she'll tell me everything I need to know. Of course, we always have to wait until after 9:00 if we talk on the phone when my dad is in bed because he sells real estate and gets upset when his clients get a busy signal. Maybe I will mention getting me a party line.

When Esther and James Stringer asked me to come to the beach instead of staying home for our lame Memorial Day cookout, I jumped at the chance. 

It's getting uncomfortable when I see the other boys, along with Babington, start circling the car. I smile big at the cute one coming close. What am I supposed to do with this flag?

Chapter Text

I swing off from the Bronco's tailgate the moment that yellow Camaro is near us. I walk towards the car and call out to James. I need an excuse to get a closer look at the chick who's had my attention from the minute I laid eyes on her.

"James! What's happenin', man?"

James, who otherwise was just going to pass, pulls over enough to let the cars behind him go around him.

"Where you goin', man?" I hear Edward behind me calling out, because he's not keen on hanging out with his sister. I wave him off from behind me, and I watch Babington make his way around to the other side of the Camaro where Esther is clearly trying to hide.

"Well, well," I say, my hands resting on the door frame. "I don't think I've met your friend." I am speaking more in Esther's direction than in James's.

James gives me a look from the driver's seat, but I ignore him. My focus is entirely on the babe sitting on the back of the car like she's in some parade. She looks fine as wine propped up there like she's Miss May, smiling.

This fox fills out a bikini well enough to put any Playboy centerfold to shame. I can tell you that. She may be smarter than she looks, but right now all I can focus on is her dark hair catching the sunlight, curves that red bikini can barely contain, and eyes that are definitely pointed right back at me.

"I'm Sidney Parker," I say, flashing the smile that's never failed me.

She tilts her head, and I catch a slight sway in her movement.

Interesting.

Someone's been getting into the holiday spirit a little too early. It’s just late afternoon, and the real party doesn’t start for hours.

"Charlotte Heywood," she replies, and her voice has this sweet drawl that goes straight through me. "And you're Sidney - what's your name again?”

I laugh, genuinely surprised. There’s no way Esther hasn’t mentioned me to her..or at least warned her, but I don't mind at all.

"It's Parker, ma’am.”

"You stopped us. We were cruisin' the beach.”

I laugh. There's nothing that gets me going more than a little challenge, which come to think of it, hasn't happened in a long time.

"Well, Charlotte, sorry to break your stride, but you need to climb down from there and come on out here to where the real action is."

She giggles, a little breathless and glances at Esther like she needs backup before looking back at me.

"Park the wheels," Babington orders James.

Fortunately, James doesn't seem at all disappointed in bringing these two to our party, knowing those will be the only two girls with us as far as I can see. We move our ice chests out of his way, and he pulls in beside us where he can sit on the hood of his car.

"Sorry about that," I say, as I look over at her. She's not moving an inch. "That's quite a flag display you've got there."

"It's Memorial Day," she says, like I'm some kind of idiot. "I'm paying tribute to our heroes."

"Lucky heroes," I reply, letting my eyes travel deliberately down her body and back up. "I can think of a few ways to be your hero."

Instead of blushing like I'm pretty sure she did a few seconds ago, she actually smirks. "Bet you can, hotshot.”

I chuckle. Hotshot? This girl has some serious sass, and I can't say I don't dig it. It's doing things to me that shouldn't be happening in public. She shifts her grip on the flag, and the movement makes her sway again, more this time.

"You need help out of that ride, princess? Don't want you falling out of that swimsuit or anything getting misplaced."

"Oh, knock it off, Parker!" Esther cries out. "She's not falling for that jive."

"What jive? Are you saying you don't think she looks good in that bikini?"

"Oh, please stop!" Charlotte says, reaching for her cover-up with unsteady hands. "I'm standing right here. If you want to talk about my body, say it to my face at least. Don't be such a creep about it!" she says.

"That's what I did. You're wearing that bikini and you're calling me a creep for appreciating it?"

"Cool it, Parker," Babington chimes in. The last thing he wants is for Esther to split. The guy has lost his mind over Esther. Nothing new there. She leads him around like he has a ring through his nose and gives him nothing in return.

Charlotte is beside James, obviously more comfortable with him. She's taking swigs from a Malt Duck bottle way too fast. She looks up at me and puts the bottle down in the sand, and she and James take off walking. It's more than a tiny bit disappointing, especially when I see her drop the cover-up and slip out of her thongs just before she takes off.

My pulse is hammering harder than it should be from a two-minute conversation.

I turn back to the guys, who are all staring at me with varying degrees of amusement, and so is Esther.

"Strike one," Crowe says with a shit-eating grin.

"Hardly, man," I reply, settling back against the Bronco. But even as I say it, I'm replaying every word of what I said.

Esther takes a drink of her Malt Duck as soon as Babington twists the lid off and hands it to her.

"Not gonna score with this one, Sidney. Not if I have any say," Esther says, after a few more swallows out of the brown bottle.

"How's that?"

"She's not some girl who's going to melt simply because Sidney Parker turns on the charm. She's got more going on upstairs than your usual type," Esther says, pointing at her temple.

The guys chuckle. There may be a hint of disappointment in those words for all of us, but mostly me. Most girls would have been putty in my hands the moment I turned on the charm. And if she's speaking of Eliza, she's right. I can out-and-out ignore Eliza one day, and she'll be begging me for attention the next. I'm not sure if that says something about her intelligence or if her pride just won't let me go.

Charlotte Heywood looked me straight in the eye and didn't give me the time of day other than one flirtatious comment I'm sure Esther had something to do with. The crazy thing is, instead of being bummed out, I'm more interested than I've been in anyone in months…maybe ever.

"I've never met a chick who could resist what I have to offer."

"What do you mean? I could easily resist anything you have to offer."

"I didn't ask you, though, did I?"

"Parker, I've known you since you tried to show me your wee-wee in second grade. I hardly think I would have anything to look forward to."

I chuckle because deep down, Esther and I are solid. As friends. We've never been more and never wanted more. That's why she can give me grief, and I can do the same for her. Unfortunately, she also knows me too damn well.

"I haven't had any complaints," I say back to Esther.

"Well," she looks as if she's playfully sizing me up, "I guess it's what they say, sometimes it's not the size that counts. It's the motion of the ocean."

I bark out laughing, and so do my friends.

Assholes.

"And sometimes it's both, Miss Denham. But you'll never know."

"I sure hope not!" she says with a playful, disgusted look on her face.

"But about Charlotte…"

She looks straight up into my eyes without a blink. "If you think this one is going to be like all the rest of your little Sidney Parker Fan Club, you can think again. She's more than anything you've ever even attempted."

Game on, sweetheart. Game on.

Chapter Text

The bonfire is crackling and shooting sparks up into the sky. I feel so good I could dance all night. I have lost count of how many Malt Ducks I’ve had. More than I should.

The fireworks were cool, but honestly, everything feels cool right now. Esther and I ditched Mark and Sidney earlier. Well, Esther wanted to get away from Mark because he’s so serious, and I... I needed to stop thinking about Sidney Parker since Esther told me not to get any ideas about him..

That boy is trouble. Esther filled me in about everything. But even now, remembering how he looked at me gives me tingles. The way he looked at me like I was something special makes my stomach turn upside down. No one like him has ever paid any attention. He’s super tall, with dark wavy hair and his eyes are…ugh, so…just those kind that look at you and sends sparks right through you.

"Sidney's a really good guy, don't get me wrong," Esther had said earlier, handing me another Malt Duck. "He's fun and he's gorgeous and he'll show you a good time. You probably shouldn’t sleep with him, though.  He's a love machine. He gets what he wants and then never gives those girls another look.”

“How many girls has he done that with in Sanditon?” I asked her.

“Well, there’s a girl he dated in 9 ^th grade that lays claim on him, but he’s never forgiven her for cheating on him and he uses her. When she comes back from her summer vacation, you’ll know all about her. But other than that, he just dates girls from other towns…or sleeps with them. I’m surprised he knows you’ll be going to Sanditon, but he’s still hitting on you.”

“He’s hitting on me?” I asked, because I wasn’t quite 100 percent sure that he doesn’t look at every girl like he looks at me.

She laughed out loud. “Gah, Charlotte! What does a guy need to do for you to realize he has the hots for you? The guy was practically worshiping you. I did notice he’s particularly fond of your boobs.” And she laughed.

She’s told me a million times that I have nice boobs. I just can’t get used to them since I haven’t had them long.

But then she grinned at me. “But, hey, you said you wanted to stop being such a goody-two-shoes, right? Maybe Sidney Parker needs to have a run for his money."

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“Well, kind of like what I do to Babington. Except Babington does love me. He’s made that clear. I love him too. I’m just really scared to commit because I’m going to a different college, and what if I meet someone else? I’d die if I hurt Mark. He’s the nicest guy to ever walk the earth. I mean, he really is.”

“But it sounds like Sidney just doesn’t like anyone like that.”

“Exactly. Just play with him. Let him have part of you. Just not all of you. Does that make sense?”

I wasn’t sure if it made sense at the time or not, but there was no doubt Sidney Parker had something about him that no other boy had.

The person in charge of the music has been playing upbeat songs all night long, but he switches to a Chicago song that’s slow, but it doesn’t stop us from still dancing, even though other people are pairing up. My brain is fuzzy and feels like one big cobweb. I like how it gives me courage, though. We start cracking up at everything. It feels so different from the boring Charlotte I left back in Wilingden.

Mark comes and interrupts us and starts dancing with Esther, and suddenly I'm by myself, still swaying to the music. That's when I feel warm hands on my waist from behind me.

I know who it is without even having to turn around. He has some kind of magic power I can’t explain. His hands are strong, and they make me feel all tingly through my cover-up. I don't even think. I just lean back against him and let him move me to the beat.

"There you are," he says right into my ear. "I've been searching for you."

I giggle and get the reference since the song playing is “(I’ve Been) Searchin’ So Long.”

“Sure you have,” I say as I lean my head back on his shoulder and everything spins a little, but it feels amazing. He's so solid and warm, and he smells really good, a mixture of cologne and the ocean and smoke from the fire.

His hands get a little tighter around my waist and we keep swaying together. "You're not an easy one to pin down, Charlotte Heywood."

"Maybe that's the whole point," I say, and I can't believe how bold I actually sound.

I feel him laugh against my temple. "I don’t mind working for it."

The minute those words come out, my body reacts to him. His arms tighten around me, and I feel his lips on the side of my forehead. He kisses me lightly there, and I can feel his breathing…or is it me? The music keeps going and we keep dancing, and all I can think about is how good everything feels. It’s no wonder he feels so good when I realize his rough hands are on my bare skin underneath the cover-up situated right above my cutoffs. His thumb is circling my navel, and so much is happening in my body that I don’t know what is causing what. Nobody's ever touched me like this before. It's making me dizzy, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the Malt Duck.

I finally get why girls go crazy over guys like Sidney Parker.

And I'm trying hard not to be one of those girls.

Chapter Text

I wake up hard as a rock.

Not unusual for my age, especially after a night like last night, but this feels somehow… different. My head throbs from cheap beer and the smoke from the bonfire, but it’s not the hangover that stirs me as much as the flicker of a memory.

Charlotte being in my arms, that little see-through cover-up sliding off her shoulder while my hands grazed her body. Her laughing while her head was leaned back against my chest, her ass against my erection that I’m not sure ever went away. At one point, it became unbearable and I had to get away for a while.

I groan and sit up, scrubbing a hand down my face, with the thoughts of last night running through my mind.

Damn.

The beach house is still and quiet. Edward and Babington are probably dead to the world upstairs. Not sure if Esther was with Babington or not, but Edward could be anywhere. Might’ve passed out in the back of the Bronco for all I know. Not sure I saw him once Babington and I carried the girls in.

The new girl is permanently on my brain, especially how she looked in that bikini and how she felt in my arms later.

I wander barefoot into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee, and pour myself a punishing cup  to clear my head. Now that I can finally legally drink, this happens way too often.

I look out the kitchen window as I’m seated in the small dining area right off the kitchen and see the sun just breaking over the dunes, pouring the beginning of daylight through the windows, and the silence settles over me.

I should feel good. I can’t help but think about last night. I played it right and got the girl upstairs. She was all over me at the bonfire, a sure thing... until she couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let the reason I score with a girl be because she’s too drunk to know better.

She’d giggled, tugged at her clothes, told me to help her. “I can’t wear this sandy thing to bed. Do you have anything I can wear?” she had asked. And just like that, the whole moment shifted. Her eyes were glassy. Her mouth wobbly, but I knew she wasn’t all there.

I found my old white Aerosmith concert t-shirt in my bag, slipped it over her head and walked out. I knew if I stayed, it wouldn’t be good. The memory alone is enough to make me shift in the chair, adjusting against the tight press in my shorts.

Then I hear it. Footsteps.

Charlotte pads into the kitchen like a sleepy cat, her hair a wild mess, eyes half-lidded with lack of sleep. Not that I see many girls the morning after, but damn, she looks good in my t-shirt…baggy, soft, worn thin in all the right places. It hits her mid-thigh. Something low in my gut is tight, and I remind myself to have restraint.

She doesn’t see me. Doesn’t hear me.

She moves to the sink, fills a glass, and downs it like she’s been trekking through the desert. Then she opens a cabinet, stands on her toes to rummage around, and I take in the profile of her perfect body and what I’m pretty sure is her bare ass when she is stretched, reaching up to the highest shelf.

She sniffs the shirt and then lowers off her tippy toes. She sniffs the edge of the neck opening again and mutters, almost too quietly to catch, “Gosh, he smells good.”

I grin into my coffee cup, watching her.

“You like how I smell, huh?”

She jumps and whips around like she’s seen a ghost.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough.” I lean back in the chair, crossing my arms with a lazy, smug look.

Her face flames. But it’s not just the embarrassment of being overheard. It’s the slow realization that moves across her face like she’s just figured it out. Her hands bunch in the hem of my shirt. She glances down.

Yep. She’s figured it out.

No bathing suit top, and I’d bet my life, no bottoms either.

And in that old white tee, thin from too many washes and practically molded to her chest, I can see almost everything.

Or close enough.

Her wide eyes snap back to mine. “Wait. Did you - I mean, did you take my...?”

I don’t blink. I just raise one eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”

She swallows. Color floods her cheeks. “I remember… dancing. Then you carried me up the stairs. Then I asked if you had a shirt.”

“You got it right so far. Go on.”

“So… you took off—”

I stand slowly and walk over and pour her a coffee. “You asked me to help. I helped.”

“So you…helped me?”

I hand her the mug. Our fingers brush and I hear her breath catch.

“Let’s just say,” I murmur, “you were very... persuasive.”

She looks like she doesn’t know whether to slap me or run.

I take a slow sip of coffee, letting my eyes drift over her again. “I never knew my shirt could look so good.”

She makes a strangled noise and bolts from the kitchen right after she slams the cup to the countertop.

I grin watching her scramble up the stairs and wonder what she’s thinking. I take a deep breath and sit back down and pull my hands down my face, feeling the scruff I’ve grown overnight. It’s in my best interest, and hers, if she doesn’t hang around today. I’m not sure how much more of her I can take.

Tempting as hell…

Chapter Text

I can't get up those stairs fast enough.

My face feels like it's on fire, and my heart is pounding so hard I'm pretty sure Sidney can hear it from the kitchen. I slam the bedroom door behind me and lean against it, trying to catch my breath.

No! No! No! No! This isn’t happening!

Sidney Parker undressed me? Completely? All I know is I don’t have anything on underneath, and my swimsuit is laying in a pile next to my sandy cover-up and cutoffs. I’m not even sure where my shoes ended up.

I glance down at the oversized white t-shirt and cringe. No wonder he was smirking at me like that. No wonder he looked so smug sitting there with his stupid coffee, watching me. I probably looked like a total klutz. Braless in his shirt, and I have no clue what happened last night.

I rip it off and shove myself back into my swimsuit and cutoffs, but I’m taking the T-shirt. He doesn’t get to be the only one with a souvenir.

Everything's coming back in messy, blurry fragments…dancing by the fire, his hands on my waist, kissing my temple, the things he whispered to me that made my skin tingle, the way we laughed, him carrying me upstairs like I weighed nothing.

But after that? Nothing. Just a big black hole where my memory should be.

Did we...? No. No way. I mean, I would know if we had sex, right? I'd feel different somehow. There would be... signs or something. At least I think there would be. I don't know anything about this stuff.

But the fact that he probably saw me naked and touched me while taking off my clothes... How did I react? Did I just fall asleep on him? Oh, gosh! I just want to crawl under the bed and never come out.

"Charlotte?" Esther's voice comes from the other room. "We need to get going as soon as I can drag Edward out of bed!”

Right. My parents. The alibi about sleeping at each other's houses. I quickly finish dressing, trying not to think about Sidney taking my clothes off last night whatever else may have happened.

"Coming!" I call back, my voice all squeaky. I’m still dying because I’m so thirsty, but there is no way I’m going near that kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, we're in Edward’s truck heading back to town. Esther's chattering about something, something about Crowe skinny-dipping, but I can’t concentrate. All I can think about is Sidney’s raised eyebrow, and that stupid smirk!

"You're awfully quiet," Esther says, giving me a sideways glance. "Everything okay?"

The engine is loud, and her voice is low, like she’s opening a door in case I want to talk.

"Fine," I lie. "Just tired."

But I'm not fine. I'm mortified. Confused and... Furious? Am I furious? I don’t even know. Not at Sidney exactly. More at myself for getting that drunk, for acting so stupid. For being so helpless.

Sidney Parker thinks he's so cool, so in control. He probably tells all his friends about girls like me. I bet he's already planning to brag about seeing Charlotte Heywood naked, or worse.

“So Esther…” I say under my breath.

“Yeah?”

“Is - I mean, would I… know if I had sex last night?”

She giggles. “Oh, honey, if it was your first time, believe me, you’d know.

“Are you sure? What if I was really out of it?”

“Well, are you sore? Like… down there?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Oh, yeah….well, I think Sidney is a lot of things, but he’s not that guy. He might have helped you out of your clothes - I wouldn’t put that past him - but I seriously doubt he’d do anything else.”

I sink back into the seat, exhaling for what feels like the first time all morning.

“That’s a relief.”

So now all I have to obsess about is if he saw me naked. Well, I guess there’s no reason I have to see him now that the Memorial Day celebration is over. From now on, I’ll just stick with James. I don’t have anything to worry about with him. He’s cute and fun and I think we will be good friends once we get to know each other better. Maybe I’m not ready to be as bad as I thought I was.

When I get home, I take the world’s longest shower, inhaling the Herbal Essence shampoo, letting it calm me, and scrubbing off the smoke, sand and Sidney. My parents are probably at Chase’s baseball game, which gives me time to crawl into bed, nap and pretend none of this ever happened.

Except…

I don’t want to put the T-shirt in the laundry. Instead, I dig it out from where I stuffed it in my drawer, hidden way in the back like it’s contraband. I press it to my face and it still smells like him. Soap. Cologne. Something that’s just… Sidney.

I close my eyes and let myself remember…

His arms around me at the bonfire. The way he held me with his hands on my body. His voice low in my ear. His mouth brushing my skin.

Ugh, I just want him to be a total jerk. I need him to be a jerk so I can forget this ever happened.

But Esther was right. When I showered, I didn’t feel anything strange down there. No soreness. No signs.

We didn’t do anything. Except he did look at me like that, and now I can’t get him out of my head.

This summer just got way more complicated. If he’s going to be around, I’m going to have to get serious about distractions. Esther’s a junior, and she knows all the right people. Maybe I’ll start talking more with Clara, the girl from down the street. She’s my age and doesn’t seem to go out much. Maybe I need a little of that.

Maybe I just need anything that isn’t Sidney Parker, because by fall, this will all be ancient history.

And he’ll barely remember me.

Chapter Text

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Half of the Cotton Bowl is already packed. We got here early on purpose to snag lawn seats and spread out our blankets before the real crowds hit. We had to beg our folks to part with some of their good quilts…probably for life, but we managed to round up three.

Babington, Crowe and I drove up from home this morning, and Esther, Clara and Charlotte are coming separately. They stayed at Esther's aunt's place outside Dallas last night. Tonight they're heading back there while we get a room at the Best Western.

I was pretty shocked when I found out Charlotte was coming in Edward’s place. Originally, it was supposed to be five of my friends and me. Two backed out and now Edward is sick, apparently. Going from no girls to three, you won’t hear me complain, especially when I already know Babington and Crowe have dibs on Esther and Clara.

I’m not getting my hopes up about anything going down with Charlotte. She's given me the cold shoulder the last couple times I've seen her. She's working at the Dairy Queen now, and both times I ran into her there, I happened to be with another girl. Wasn't planned that way… hell, I didn't even know she worked there.

The first time I was with Julia Beaufort. She'd been after me to take her for a ride in my new Mustang King Cobra, so I figured why not. As soon as that drive-through window slid open and I saw Charlotte's face, I could feel her glare down to my bones. But she kept it professional.

"May I help you?"

Of course, I went into full Sidney mode. "You can certainly help me. But I need you to come out to the parking lot for that. I haven’t seen you around.”

Julia made this loud huffing sound and crossed her arms like she was pissed.

"I can't help you that way," Charlotte said, leaning forward to get a better look at Julia, "but would you like some food or a drink? Maybe ice cream for your friend there?"

All I could think was... shit.

“A Coke and a small dip cone."

"Coming right up!" she said with just enough sarcasm to let me know I'd stepped in it. Next thing I know, some older woman's at the window handing me my order. I didn’t even ask where Charlotte went, but she was nowhere in sight.

Julia wasn't impressed with my flirting… not that it mattered…  so I drove her straight home to the next town over. She was a fling that lasted a date and a half about a year ago. I haven’t seen her since.

But then I made the same mistake again. Went to Dairy Queen - the only place in town open after 7:00 pm on a Sunday night - and this time I had Diana with me. But Charlotte didn't stick around long enough for me to tell her Diana's my sister. Not that I owe her an explanation or anything.

So the jury's still out on whether she'll give me half a chance today. All I can do is turn on the charm and see if she can resist. A few Malt Ducks in the cooler might help, too—Babington made sure we stocked up on those.

It's past 2:00 now, and still no sign of them. The weather's warm, but there's a breeze.

"What time did they say they'd be here?" I ask, mostly just to fill the silence.

"Esther said 2:00. I called her this morning. They were leaving at noon, gonna grab lunch somewhere. Her aunt's place is only thirty minutes out."

"Hmmm." I can't help wondering how the hell they're going to find us in this crowd. Must be over ten thousand people just on the field already, and it's all general admission, and we’re just getting started. "You tell her we'd be on the field?"

"Yeah. Told her to look for my red shirt."

I'd already stripped mine off, and so had Crowe. Babington, pale as he is, is going to fry like bacon if he doesn't keep covered up. He's wearing a straw cowboy hat to protect his face and says he's got some new prescription stuff called sunscreen—some kind of cream that's supposed to keep you from burning. Hard to believe, but he slathered it all over himself this morning and claims the doctor says if he'll reapply it several times, he won’t burn. We'll see, I guess.

After my second Lone Star, I need to find the john, so I tell the guys and head for the nearest exit. I end up being gone a good thirty minutes after I stop at the concession stand for hot dogs. None of us were smart enough to eat before we came.

When I get back, the first thing I see is her.

She's already claimed my spot on the blanket, hands planted behind her, legs crossed out front. Bright yellow halter top and cutoff shorts. The top doesn't quite meet the waistband of those shorts. Fine by me.

When I reach our spot, Babington looks up like I'm his salvation.

"Food!"

"Yeah, y'all hungry? You can have ours if you want. I can go get more," I offer, knowing they’ve probably already eaten, according to Babs.

"No thanks, we ate on the way," Esther says, glancing over at Charlotte. Not sure what that look's about.

I settle down behind Charlotte, leaving maybe a foot between us since I don't have much choice unless I want to sit on the grass. She doesn't turn around or say a word.

I poke her bare shoulder - no bra straps in sight, which has me working overtime to keep my head straight.

She tilts her head back toward me. Her hair's pulled to one side with some kind of band, and it's longer than I remembered.

"Not gonna say hi?"

"Hi." That's it?

I chuckle under my breath, but she hears me.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask. She doesn't seem like the type to be outright rude.

That's when she turns her whole body around on the blanket, tucking her legs beside her. She leans forward, wraps her arms around me and plants a kiss on my cheek.

I'm too stunned to speak, but I try not to show it.

"There. Is that better?"

I manage a chuckle. "You're getting warmer, that's for sure."

She laughs softly. "How much warmer could I possibly get?"

“You could get a lot warmer than that. Just not in public. We’ll have to wait till later for that."

My go-to move when I'm nervous… be a smart-ass.

"Why?" she says, looking around at the crowd. "Plenty of other people out here aren’t worried about an audience."

Little Charlotte Heywood's grown some serious backbone since I last saw her upset with me at the Dairy Queen.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not worried about an audience. Just don't want to wear you out too early in the day..."

She rolls her eyes. "Sidney, are you kidding me? Where is your girlfriend today?"

She tilts her head, and thank God I'm wearing sunglasses because I can't stop my eyes from wandering from her face down to where that loose halter top is just barely brushing against her nipples. I fight hard to not let my eyes just linger in that one spot.

I chuckle. "Sidney Parker doesn't do girlfriends. Haven't you heard?"

"Well, here's some news for you. When you're hanging around with a girl who's practically climbing in your lap at the Dairy Queen, that's called a girlfriend."

I shrug. "You talking about my sister who was trying to check you out?" Because Julia wasn't anywhere near my lap when I ordered, but I'd told Diana about this new girl named Charlotte when I spotted her working the drive-through. When we got to the window, Diana was leaning over trying to see her just as Charlotte took off her apron and had someone else take over.

"Check me... out?"

I can tell I've caught her off guard.

"Yeah, my sister Diana. You'll meet her—she's a freshman this year."

"Oh. Well... then the other girl."

For some reason, I don't mind answering her. Anyone else asking, I'd tell them to go to hell.

"Just a fling. Definitely not a girlfriend."

"Sounds like you fling a lot."

I raise my eyebrows. "You been asking around about me?"

"No! That's just from my own observation."

"Well, you can relax, honey. I don't have a girlfriend and don't plan on it."

Something flickers across her face. Disappointment, maybe. Charlotte's going to have guys lined up once school starts, no question. If she wants to be someone's girlfriend, she won't have trouble finding takers.

"I didn't think so. I'm just here for a good time."

I almost smile, knowing exactly what she's doing.

"Good. We'll have a good time then. Same page and all."

She nods firmly. “For sure! Just here for a good time."

"Glad we got that straight."

The thing is, as much as we're both saying it, I can feel something different in the air between us. Maybe it's the music starting to drift across the field from the sound check, or the way she keeps glancing at me when she thinks I'm not looking. But this doesn't feel like just a good time anymore.

This feels like something that could get complicated real quick.

~

Sammy Hagar has just finished his set, and we’re all feeling the heat. It must be over a hundred degrees down here on the field, and with 40,000 people on the field alone packed in like a cattle lot, there's not much air moving around. Sweat's pouring off everyone, and even the ice in our cooler's long gone.

Charlotte's been getting restless, fanning herself with the concert program and pulling her hair up off her neck every few minutes. When the firemen start climbing onto both ends of the stage with their hoses, the crowd goes wild. Everyone knows what's coming.

"They're going to hose everyone down again!” Charlotte says, jumping to her feet. "I'm going up there so I can get wet."

She starts to move toward the mob of people pressing toward the stage, but I catch her wrist. She looks back at me, determination written all over her face. "I'm going. It's so hot."

I look at the sea of bodies between us and the stage, too many,  crammed together so tight you can barely see the ground. "Charlotte, you'll never find your way back to us in that. There's no way."

"I don't care. I’m going!” she says in no uncertain terms.

“Wait! I'm going with you,” I call out, just before she almost disappears.

"You don't have to -“

"Yeah, I do,” I interrupt.

I grab her hand and we start pushing through the crowd. It takes us a good ten minutes to work our way close enough, and by the time we get within range, we're both dripping with sweat. It’s even hotter up close where the mob of people is. The firemen are already on stage, and the crowd's going crazy, pushing forward, hands in the air.

The first blast of water hits the crowd about twenty feet in front of us, and everyone screams and cheers. But Charlotte's too short. The tall guys in front of us are blocking her from getting even a small splatter.

"I can't even feel it!" she shouts over the noise, jumping up and down trying to catch some drops as they oscillate the spray across the sea of people.

Without thinking too much, I put my hands on her waist and lift her up onto my shoulders. She grabs onto my head to steady herself, her legs locking around my neck.

"Better?" I call up to her.

One of the firemen sees her up there and actually nods right at her, pointing his finger at her, and next he lifts the hose to shoot out water in our direction. Smart bastard knows exactly what he's doing. Charlotte on someone's shoulders is going to get his attention every time. Can't say I blame him.

He holds that stream of water right on her for way longer than necessary. She’s laughing and screaming, arms spread wide to catch as much as she can. But he keeps on spraying, and I can tell he's showing off for her. The water's cascading down from her onto me, soaking us both completely.

When the fireman finally moves the hose to spray other people, Charlotte taps my head. "Okay, okay! You can put me down!"

I lower her to the ground. When she turns around to face me, I damn near lose my shit. Her dark hair is plastered to her head and shoulders, water still dripping from the ends. That yellow halter top is clinging to her like a second skin, and there's not a thing left to the imagination. The water's made the fabric practically transparent, and she’s stunning.

I try to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. She's looking up at me with this huge smile, water droplets on her eyelashes, and I've never wanted anyone more in my life.

"That was amazing!" she says, wiping water from her eyes. "I feel so much better!"

I'm still staring at her like an idiot when she notices where my eyes have wandered. Instead of being embarrassed or covering herself up, she just grins.

“Are you looking at my boobs, Sidney?"

All I can manage is a nod. “I can’t not look at your boobs.” I manage a shrug.

She gives me a little friendly slap on my bicep. “You’re silly,” she says.

I wish I could say I was just being silly. I’m serious as a damn heart attack.

Chapter Text

We've heard a few bands I didn't recognize, but Blue Oyster Cult, Heart, and Sammy Hagar all managed to steal the show, and I wonder how it could possibly get better.

Now Van Halen is on stage and the sun's finally sinking behind the stadium walls. I'm feeling electric, like I could dance all night.

The music washes over me, and when one of my absolute favorites starts up, I can't help myself. David Lee Roth is shirtless in impossibly tight red leather pants, leaping from speaker to speaker like some kind of rock god. The crowd's losing their minds watching him, and honestly, so am I.

Sidney's being his usual cocky self, making up his own lyrics as the song plays, putting my name where the original says Jamie’s Cryin’, he says “Charlotte's cryin'..." he yells loud enough so I hear it well and so does everyone around us.

Two can play that game. I throw his name right back at him, grinning over my shoulder. "Sidney's cryin'..." All day he's been teasing me about how I'm going to want him so bad by tonight that I'll beg to come to his motel room. So I tease back, telling him he's the one who's going to want me so desperately he can taste it, and that I'm going to break his heart.

I'm dancing with Esther on one side and Clara on the other, but I can feel Sidney behind me. I’m pretty sure they’re commenting about us moving with the music. I can't be sure, but the heat of his attention makes my skin tingle.

When the chorus hits, I spin around to face him, and we're both shouting each other's names at the top of our lungs instead of the real lyrics, pointing at each other and cracking up like idiots. The song's about a girl wanting more than just a fling, and there's something in Sidney's playful eyes that makes my stomach flip.

As the final notes fade, he pulls me against him, and I don't even think. I just wrap my arms around his neck. When his mouth crashes down on mine, the world goes dark. I can’t see anything but us.

It's like nothing I've ever felt before. My entire body lights up like the Fourth of July, heat exploding in places I didn't know could feel this way. He's kissing me like he's starving, like he can't get enough, and I'm matching him intensity for intensity as Van Halen moves into their next song.

I hear our friends behind us—voices that seem to come from miles away:

"Get a room!"

"Thought y'all were just friends!"

"Oh my gosh, Charlotte! Get it, girl!" That's Esther, giggling like crazy.

I want to climb him. I swear, I cannot get close enough. My heart's hammering so hard I can barely breathe. He lifts me clean off the ground, and my body catches fire. I can feel how much he wants me, and I think that's exactly why he picked me up, so I'd have no choice but to feel it. Something wild and desperate is building low in my belly, spreading between my legs until it's almost painful how much I need... something.

"Charlotte, honey..." Esther's voice cuts through the haze.

I pull away and Sidney sets me down, but his eyes lock onto mine like we're the only two people in this sea of 80,000. We're both breathing hard, and he still has his hands on my waist, but his grip loosens slightly.

Reality crashes back when I turn and see Esther and Clara staring at me with their mouths hanging open. Esther knows I don't make scenes. That's not who I am.

I step back and drape my arm around Esther's shoulders. "Oh Gosh, what am I doing?"

"Nothing we all haven't done," Clara says with a laugh. The guys can't hear us over the crowd going wild as Van Halen finishes and begins to exit the stage.

"It's fine, but I think you might be getting a little carried away. Sidney's about to lose his mind over there," Esther says, glancing behind me.

"What's he doing?" I ask, almost afraid to look.

"He's trying to play it cool, but he's just standing there waiting, hoping I'm not talking sense into you." She pauses. "Are you planning to go with him tonight?"

The question hits me like cold water. "I can't do that." As much as every cell in my body is screaming yes, my head's clearing enough to realize what this boy can do to me with just one kiss.

"Well, I'm going with them," Clara announces, eyebrows raised.

"You are?"

"I'm getting me some of that," she says, nodding toward Matt.

Sometimes I wish I could be that casual about everything. I’m really trying.

"Clara, you need to stay with us," Esther insists. "We stick together. I'm not going to some sketchy roach motel where they're planning to spend the night."

"You didn't mention that before we came," Clara protests.

"It's our rule. Girls stay together. My aunt is waiting up. So unless you want a wham bam, thank you, ma’am, we aren’t going.”

"Matt's not going to be happy."

"None of them are going to be happy. That's why we're staying maybe another thirty minutes into Boston’s set, then we're going to the bathroom and leaving."

"Without telling them?" Clara and I say almost in unison.

"Exactly. So do all the making out you want, but when I say I need the restroom, you both need to come with me."

We nod because Esther's older and smarter about these things. Plus it's her car and her aunt's house. We can't exactly go to some motel just to hang out when her aunt made it clear she'd be waiting up for us since we're still in high school.

Sidney's back on the blanket now. The crowd's thinned some since Van Halen finished, but it's still packed. I'm giddy and I've definitely had too much to drink on an empty stomach because all I could bring myself to eat at lunch was a few bites of a strawberry, banana, and pineapple fruit salad because I was so nervous. I wonder how much of this floating feeling has to do with that and how much has to do with the kiss.

Everyone settles back down, getting comfortable. I'm sitting about a foot in front of Sidney when I feel him take my hand.

"Scoot back here," he says, pulling me by the waist.

He's stretched out on the blanket, and I end up between his legs. I can't say I mind. I lean against him, pressing my head to his chest and bending my knees to snuggle into him while he props himself up on his other hand. He brushes my hair away from my eyes, his fingers gentle against my temple.

"You feel good, you know that?" His voice is rough, quieter than before.

"You do too," I admit, because even though I can feel exactly how much he wants me pressed against my hip, I love being in his arms like this. I can feel each breath he takes. I press my palm against his stomach, amazed at how solid he feels compared to me. I've never touched a guy like this, all muscle and heat and barely contained strength.

He kisses the top of my head, and I wonder if he's going to kiss me again.

"You know I'm just kidding about a one-night stand, right?" he says softly.

I snuggle deeper into him. "How would I know that?"

He takes the hand that's resting on his chest and laces our fingers together. "Because you're different. You're young, and I don't mind taking things slow."

"Maybe I don't want to take things slow." I don't even know where that comes from, but I know from what Esther's told me that nothing keeps Sidney Parker interested except sex.

"We can go whatever pace you want. But I'd like to spend the night with you and hold you.”

"I'd like that too," I lie - well, not exactly a lie. My body tingles at the thought of being in his arms all night long. But my heart is breaking a little because I know I only have maybe twenty more minutes to feel this perfect. And I can’t forget what Esther has told me. He told me himself. He doesn’t do girlfriends.

We stay like that in comfortable silence, his thumb tracing circles on my hand, until I hear the words I've been dreading.

"Hey, I need to hit the bathroom. Anyone want to come?" Esther says, after only about five songs from Boston. I was counting.

"Yeah, I should go too," I say, hating every word of that sentence.

Chapter Text

"Hey, man, did you hear Eliza's back in town?" Crowe asks just as we're about to hit the showers after our second workout of the day.

I let out a laugh that doesn't sound amused. "Yeah, how could I not?”

"Gonna end that dry spell?" he asks as we turn on the showers, taking stations next to each other.

"Not with her."

Definitely not ending my dry spell with Eliza. She's been calling the house multiple times a day for weeks. I'm never there when she calls… or at least, I make sure she doesn’t know I’m home. She finally caught me yesterday and gave me some sob story about how hurt she was that I hadn't returned any of her calls.

I just wasn't feeling it. Since Texxas Jam, Eliza rarely crosses my mind. And when she does, it's not in a good way. Ever since she cheated on me in 9th grade, there's been no relationship between us. Just sex when I was bored or drunk enough. But even that’s gone now, and I made sure she knew where I stood before she left for her summer villa. That we were done.

Charlotte, on the other hand, consumes my thoughts. I haven’t seen her since Texxas Jam. I’ve been by Dairy Queen more times than I can count, and she’s never there. I know she's too young and I should leave it alone. Hell, I'm graduating and leaving in May anyway. There's no point getting involved with anyone in high school at this stage, especially not Eliza. But damn, if Charlotte ever gave me one real chance... I can’t say I wouldn’t run with it and break all my rules.

When those girls ditched us that night like they did, I swore her off for good. We waited three damn hours, until they were about to turn off the stadium lights, because Babington refused to leave without Esther. We finally had to drag him to the car and convince him she was long gone. I think his heart actually broke that night, and as far as I know, he hasn’t spoken to Esther since. For me, it was just a hit to my pride more than anything.

We didn't even bother with a motel that night, just got in the car and drove four hours straight through, switching drivers. All of us were pissed off since we'd been led to believe the night would end a different way. It was long and quiet. I doubt three words were spoken once we got in the car. There’s still been no explanation.

I told Charlotte I wanted to take things slow, but that didn't mean I didn't want her to come back to the room. There was something about her that had me dying to explore every inch of her, but it looks like I'll never get that chance. I shouldn’t even be thinking about her anyway. She’s young and most definitely inexperienced. While the age may be a factor, it may not be as much if she was what she was advertising and trying to make me believe.

Girls don't just walk out on Sidney Parker. And Charlotte's done it twice now.

The last thing I want to discuss with Crowe is Eliza when all I can think of is Charlotte.

"So what do you think about the new golden boy?" I ask, changing the subject.

Alex Colbourne. The sophomore quarterback who's probably going to take my starting position.

“He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’s going to take your spot. He’s three inches shorter and you have 20 pounds on him easy. He’s not going to cut it.”

August 1^st marked the beginning of two-a-days - workouts before dawn and again in the evening until sunset. It's brutal, especially when it's over a hundred degrees under that helmet. Most of the time we're lifting and running, building endurance. But the last thirty minutes to an hour, we suit up and run plays.

And Alex Colbourne, the new kid whose family moved here thinking it'll give him a better shot at getting noticed, is looking more like my replacement every day. It’s hard not to be bitter when I'm the one who took the Sanditon Stingrays to the state finals last year. We didn't win, but we got there. That's gotta count for something. We lost on technicalities, not because I couldn't pass a football or call plays.

Something about that guy rubs me wrong, and I can't figure out what it is. It's not like I'm some underprivileged kid at this school. Hell, this whole town runs on oil money and privilege. I'm definitely not the only one with advantages.

But Alex? Word is he's buying his way onto first string. His old man dropped enough cash on the booster club to charter buses with AC for any playoff games we make. Plus he's covering steak dinners after every away game. I guess I have to say more power to him if the kid can get us back to State. I had to talk myself down from punching something when Coach told me there is a good chance he’ll start. I’ve accepted reality for the most part.

“From what I’m hearing, man, he’s going to start,” I say.

Matt’s mouth is agape. “You’re shitting me.”

“No. It’s looking that way.”

“You coming out to the Denhams’ tonight for their back-to-school bash?” Babington pipes in. Friday night means everyone's looking for a party.

"Maybe. Who's gonna be there?" He knows exactly what I'm asking.

"She'll be there. But so will someone else."

Someone else being Eliza. I can read it in his face. Babington doesn't need to spell it out. He can read me like a book.

"I don't know, man. Can’t guarantee anything. So I guess you’re talking to Esther now?”

“She showed up at my house last night and apologized, saying she’s just confused.”

“So what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Women. No one in the world could make it more clear that they’re in love than Mark Babington.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t figure her out, but I damn sure can’t quit thinking about her,” he says.

I just nod, having a feeling I know what he’s going through, which is why I have to pivot my thinking.

~

I gave the party two hours before I called it quits. Once I realized Esther's next-door neighbor wasn't going to show, I started looking for a way to leave.

But there’s Eliza. The thorn in my side I can't seem to shake.

Don't get me wrong, Eliza's hot. She's got everything any red-blooded male would want. Long legs, nice body, and she knows exactly how to use what she's got to get what she wants. But just hearing her voice makes me want to find the nearest exit. Hard to escape her when she's dead center of my friend group.

Eliza knows I'm planning on attending Lone Star University in the fall. Hell, I'm practically guaranteed admission with my SAT scores. Tonight she dropped the bomb that she's going to apply there too. It was all I could do to hide my horror. Having her around in high school is bad enough, but enduring four more years of her clingy bullshit? Unbearable.

But just as that thought hits me, another one comes to mind. Since Charlotte Heywood wants to keep playing her little cat and mouse game - and there's no damn way she didn't feel what I felt that night at Texxas Jam - maybe it's time I gave her a taste of her own medicine.

And Eliza makes the perfect weapon.

Chapter Text

They say spring is the season of love. For high school kids in Sanditon, apparently it's September. That much is obvious as I wander the halls trying to find my locker on the first day of my sophomore year. Couples are practically glued together, tongues down each other's throats, making me feel awkward. Then I spot them—a group of girls heading my way like they're walking the runway at some fancy fashion show instead of going to class. I might as well be invisible as they glide past without even a glance.

After the Dynamic Trio passes, I catch sight of one of those couples still locked in their intense stare as they walk away. I check my schedule again, trying to figure out if I'm even close to where my locker should be. Great. I've gone too far. I need to get to the other side of the hallway, so I turn and dart out without looking, figuring the crowd has thinned enough.

I slam face-first into what feels like a brick wall.

Strong hands reach out to steady me as I practically bounce off what I quickly realize is a very solid chest. My stomach drops because I already know who it is before I even look up.

"Whoa there, easy," that familiar voice says, warm and amused.

I look up into those dark eyes that have been haunting my dreams all summer long.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry, Sidney!"

"You okay?" He's still holding my arms like he's afraid I might keel over, which honestly isn't out of the question since I can barely breathe right now. Why am I the only person in this entire school who can't find a stupid locker without making a complete fool of myself?

"Yeah," I manage, trying to pull myself together.

This is the guy who's been stuck in my head all summer, no matter how hard I've tried to forget him. I can't go a single day without thinking about what happened at Texxas Jam, but when I talked to Esther about it, she said I shouldn't read too much into it. Sure, he said he wasn't just looking for a one-night stand, but that doesn't mean he wants a girlfriend either. That made perfect sense when I heard his ex came back from summer vacation and they were both at her party. I knew better than to go, and after hearing she was there, I'm so glad I didn't.

"Having trouble finding your locker?" he asks, and I desperately search for somewhere to look besides his eyes, his broad shoulders, or those arms that have gotten even more defined since I saw him at the beginning of summer.

"I think it's around here somewhere," I say, taking a step back and feeling like the most klutzy human being on the planet. I thought these feelings were supposed to get easier once you got to high school, not harder.

"You're in the senior hall, so unless they moved some things around..." His voice trails off with a question.

"They ran out of sophomore lockers. Some of us got moved up here."

"What number?"

"449."

"Perfect. I'm 448, right here." He turns and walks a few steps behind us. "I hardly use mine anyway. You take the top one, I'll take the bottom."

I think my heart just stopped. Sidney Parker is talking to me like nothing happened. Like we didn't make out at Texxas Jam, like I didn't ditch him afterwards. Never mind that his girlfriend came back from summer vacation and they picked up right where they left off. I was just a distraction, something to do while she was gone. That stung at first, if I'm being honest. He was playing around with me without a care in the world because he had someone waiting for him. Well, Esther says Eliza's not technically his girlfriend, just some girl he has "an understanding" with. Same difference.

"Oh no, I don't mind the bottom one. I'm shorter anyway."

Why did I just say that?

"I insist," he says, opening his locker. "Besides, you've got way more books than I do." He pulls my stack of textbooks from my arms before I can protest and shoves them into the upper locker.

"What's your combination?"

I dig the slip of paper out of my back pocket and hand it to him.

"Got a pen?"

"Um, yes." I reach into my purse and hold it out. He takes it from me, then wraps his fingers around my wrist with one hand and flips my palm up, writing his combination on my palm with the other.

"Easy numbers. You'll have it memorized by lunch," he says.

"Okay," I whisper, barely getting the word out. His hand is still holding my wrist as he goes over the numbers again, making sure they're clear. My palms are sweaty, which is mortifying. But all I can think about is the strength of his hands, the warmth of his touch, everything that made me lose my mind at that concert. I remember exactly why I can't get this boy out of my head.

A high-pitched scoff from behind him breaks the spell.

"What exactly are you doing, Sidney?" The voice is ice-cold and accusatory.

It's the blonde from the middle of that trio—clearly the queen bee of the entire school. Eliza.

Sidney barely reacts, like she'd just caught him picking up trash instead of holding another girl's hand.

He looks at me without even turning toward her and drops my wrist. "Writing my combination on Charlotte's hand." Then he winks—actually winks—and smiles at me before turning to face her.

I'm no expert on guys, but he doesn't seem to care what this girl thinks at all. His arrogance is on full display, as usual.

"Why does she need your locker combination?" She's looking at me like I'm something stuck to the bottom of her designer shoe, scanning me from head to toe like I'm yesterday's garbage. Not that she's wrong. I feel a stab of guilt, having done things with her sort-of boyfriend that would probably kill her if she knew. Not that any of it meant anything to him. Maybe she knows that about Sidney—that everything he does with girls is meaningless.

"I gave her my locker since it's the top one. Took hers instead." He starts to walk away with her, then stops and looks back at me. "If you need anything, just leave me a note."

That half-smile nearly does me in. I start to say thanks but decide against it, not wanting to make things worse.

All I can think about is that wink. He winked at me right in front of her! He's flirting with me while his girlfriend is standing right there.

But I know better. Coming from Sidney Parker, it obviously means nothing. I made out with him at Texxas Jam, let him put his hands all over me, and here we are acting like strangers because that's all it was to him—nothing.

I dread walking into the lunchroom after getting my tray. All I see is a sea of heads and hear this buzz of conversation that makes me feel even more alone. My legs just start moving as I search for a place that doesn't look full. I spot a girl sitting by herself a little away from everyone else and walk over.

"Hi, is this table taken?" I ask, watching her eyes lift to mine.

She shakes her head. "No. I doubt anyone will sit here," she says with this kind of bitter smile.

"Okay if I do?" I ask, already setting my tray down and sliding onto the bench.

"Not at all."

"Are you new too?"

She shrugs. "Not really. I'm not new to Sanditon, but this is my first year of high school."

"Oh, okay. Well...I'm Charlotte," I say, sticking my hand out. I almost pull it back when she hesitates to shake it.

Do they not shake hands in Sanditon?

"Um, I'm Diana. Nice to meet you," she says, taking my hand. Then something clicks for both of us, me a little slower than her when she says, "Hey, don't you work at Dairy Queen?"

I smile, realizing who she is. She's the girl who was practically sitting in Sidney's lap in the drive-through. "I used to. I'm at Pizza Hut now."

"You are?" She smacks the table lightly with her fist. "So that's why you haven't been there!" Her hand flies to her mouth.

I can't help but giggle. "You've been looking for me?"

"Well...I think—oh, never mind," she says, going red.

"What is it?"

"I think me and my brother have been there about a dozen times this summer."

I pretend I don't know who her brother is. "Your brother?"

"My brother, Sidney. He says you know Esther."

"I do." My heart does this little skip.

And? I want to ask...

"DQ is the only thing open late at night, and Sidney got into this habit of going for drives. So I guess you met him this summer?"

"Yes, I've...um...met him." Boy, have I met him. Now I feel ridiculous since he's obviously with the queen bee of the school. "I saw him at the beach when I first moved here."

"I bet you'll want to come over and spend the night with me now, right?" she teases.

I laugh, knowing she's joking. "I'm sure all your friends are crazy about your older brother, huh?"

Not that I can blame them.

She rolls her eyes. "If it wasn't for Sidney, no one would ever want to come over. And once he ignores them completely, well...just look around. This is what happens."

"I'm sorry. I sort of get it, but not really. My brother's only in eighth grade, but next year he'll be here, and I have a feeling the same thing might happen. He's pretty popular with girls his age."

"Really? Is he super cute like Sidney?" she asks. Diana is actually kind of adorable.

I giggle. "Not in my opinion, but all the girls think he looks like Robbie Benson."

"Does he?" she practically shouts, loud enough that some people actually turn to look.

"Sort of, I guess..."

"Robbie Benson? Did you see Ice Castles?"

"Yes! That's where this whole thing started. Now he walks around staring in mirrors all the time, fixing his hair and—" I make this dramatic swooshing motion with my head the way my brother tries to get his hair to fall over his eyes "—doing this constantly."

"Well, I can't say anyone's ever compared Sidney to a heartthrob like Robbie Benson."

No, because Sidney is in a league of his own.

"Well, you'll meet him someday. Hope his head fits through the door,” I say.

We both crack up.

"Well, if my brother's fits, I'm sure yours will too."

"Charlotte Heywood!" I hear from behind me. It's Esther.

I turn and see Esther and Clara heading over with their trays. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" Clara says.

"I've been here," I say.

"Hey, Diana," Esther says.

"Hi," Diana says quietly. Esther can be pretty intimidating.

"So how are your classes?" Clara asks, looking around at all of us. We've got first lunch, which means we've only had three classes so far.

"All good," I say, and the others nod.

There's no chance to get a word in with everything Esther and Clara are telling me—all the latest gossip, who's dating who, which teachers are cool and which ones are total drags. They're including Diana in everything, and I start to think maybe I'm going to be okay at Sanditon High after all.

Chapter Text

“Sanditon zero, Galveston 46,” the deep voice booms over the PA system. I wince hearing it, knowing there's nothing I can do about it now as I head to the locker room.

"Two games in a row, man," Babington says as we run along with the rest of the team, with our heads hanging low. I didn't even get on the field tonight except for punt returns. Colbourne hasn't scored a single point for us in two games, and our opponents are only going to get tougher.

"Parker!" Coach hollers the second I step into the locker room. "My office. Now!" Nobody could have missed that. Last time he called me in it was to tell me to put my jealousy aside and accept Alex Colbourne as the starting quarterback. I would remain captain, but none of it made sense. The starting quarterback is always the captain I had told the coach, but he said the captain cannot be a sophomore. I’m sure that was a made-up rule he pulled out of his hat, but I didn’t question it.

At least this time I know there's not a damn thing he can pin on me. I ran one punt return sixty yards, one of only three times he let me on the field tonight.

He drops into his chair and rolls up to his desk and sighs without looking at me. I'm pretty sure confusion is written all over my face because his Golden Boy isn't looking so golden anymore, and he’s not the one in here about to get an ass-chewing.

"Why did you let that happen?" Coach says, finally looking up.

Here we go. Ass-chewing coming my way.

"Sir?" I need clarification here. How the hell did I have anything to do with what just happened on the field?

"How did we let Galveston—Galveston—score 46 points on us while you stood on the sidelines like roadkill?”

"Excuse me?" There's a lot running through my mind right now, but I know better than to say any of it.

"You gonna let Colbourne take your spot and watch this team go down without a fight? You're the captain, Parker."

"I'm not sure what you're expecting me to say, Coach. I also thought I was the quarterback until a few weeks ago,” I say with a little sarcasm, knowing I might be running laps for it.

“Better get down off your high-horse, son. I’m wondering why you aren’t fighting for your team. You didn't see the other players looking at you after we were down 14, wondering what the hell you were going to do about it?"

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm not the one who dictates who plays. You told me Alex was taking my spot on first string."

"Yeah, I did. And you're just gonna let that happen without a fight while this entire program goes down the shitter?"

I shrug, not having a clue what he wants from me. "What am I supposed to do about it?"

"Go out there and tell that little punk who took your place that you're taking it back."

"Since when do I call the shots on this team?"

"Since right now. You're the captain and you're my quarterback. The team's out there counting on you to raise some hell. Go raise it.”

This feels like some kind of setup, or he’s a damn coward. Whichever way, it’s my senior year, I really don't give a damn anymore. If it's a trap and he’s trying to set me up, so be it.

"All right. I'll do it," I say, wondering how this is going to play out. I don't go looking for fights, but I sure as hell don't back down from them either.

The first thing I notice when I walk out is exactly what he said—every eye in the locker room is on me. Except Colbourne, who doesn’t even look half bothered by our crushing loss, which, come to think of it pisses me off. He’s stripped down almost to his pads when I get to him.

He slowly realizes the entire room has gone dead silent. The only sounds are a few locker doors opening and closing.

"Hey, man," Alex says. "What's up?"

"I'm just here to let you know I’m starting next week."

"Like hell you are," he scoffs.

“Yeah. Not much you can do since you haven’t managed a decent pass in two games.”

“It’s nerves, man. I’ll work it out.”

“You’ll work it out all right, but it’s not going to be this year as long as I’m capable.”

“I’m first string. That’s already been settled,” Colbourne says. I swear I hear a whine in his tone.

“Well, it’s been resettled. You’re second string from here on out.”

He makes a gesture to slam a towel to the ground. Not real effective.

Before he can say anything other than whatever he’s muttering to himself, I turn to address the room full of red jerseys and bare chests. Nobody's hit the showers yet, easy to know that from the stink in the stale air.

"Starting tomorrow when we watch film, we're going over some things that need fixing. I was watching from the sidelines tonight, saw plenty that needs work. Next week, I'll be starting as your quarterback."

The locker room explodes in cheers and applause. I glance toward Coach's office doorway, and when our eyes meet, he nods.

I head straight for the showers without looking back at Alex, but I'm surrounded by teammates asking questions. I answer what I can, ignore what I don’t want to answer. And for the first time since summer practices, I feel like this team is actually behind me. Maybe because they can't respect a guy whose daddy bought his way onto the team, and he still couldn't hold his own. If he could've delivered, we might not be having any kind of conversation.

After showers and the chaos dies down, we walk out into the sweltering heat of a Texas Indian summer. Second Friday in September and it's still in the high eighties after ten o'clock.

"Eliza's waiting for you," Crowe says. I'd already spotted her and her pack surrounding my Mustang.

"I see her." Changing the subject, I ask, "What's everyone doing tonight?"

"Same as always. Pizza Hut."

Not what I wanted to hear, but what I expected. I can't shake Eliza. She's a damn leech, worse than ever before, or so it seems. It was a mistake to give her any attention at all when school started. The little scheme I’d hoped to use to get attention backfired on me. Now I’m the one having to deal with her all the time, and Charlotte hasn’t shown a hint of jealousy. I’ve barely even stepped foot in my house because mom said she’s been parked out front waiting for me. Quickly picking up on that, I call every night from Babimgton’s house to make sure the coast is clear. I go in and shower and go to bed.

After every class, there’s Eliza. It’s like the chick doesn’t have a life outside of me. I even asked her today if she’s even enrolled in any classes because no matter how close my classroom is to my locker, it’s her that’s there waiting for me. If I hesitate and wait around until the last minute before the bell rings, she’s there.

Charlotte has been invisible. If I didn’t hear the guys in the locker room talking about the hot new girl, I wouldn’t even know she’s at our school.

Pizza Hut with Eliza glued to my side sounds about as appealing as another loss to Galveston.

"Sidney..." Eliza's voice goes through me like nails on a chalkboard.

"Yeah?" I ask with irritation.

"Are you going to ask me to ride with you?" she asks in a screechy whine.

"I guess y'all can come," I say, since I don’t have a better excuse.

She and her three friends pile in—Brooke, Cindy, and Laura. I know them all. They're caught up in Eliza's little web, hanging on her every word like she invented fire. Why everyone's dying to be her friend is beyond me.

I stay quiet the entire seven-minute drive while they chatter about tonight's game drama. Where there are cheerleaders, there's always drama.

"I heard Matt Crowe is asking Clara to the dance!" Cindy says. She’s the petite one of the bunch, height-wise anyway, topping out at less than five feet tall. Some guys think she’s cute, but I think she’s a suck-up and will do anything to stay in Eliza’s orbit. “Why would he ask her? She’s taller than him!”

"Ugh, and what about Esther?" Laura adds. "Mark needs better taste. I don’t understand what anyone sees in her red hair and freckles.”

I bite my tongue, even though I'd like to defend both Clara and Esther. They're worth ten of what's sitting in my car right now.

"Did you hear that cutie in tenth grade is asking that new girl to the dance?" Not sure who says it, but my heart kicks into gear because I can only think of one new girl. My ears perk up.

"Nobody's worried about her," Eliza says dismissively. "Have you seen her hair? It’s too wild to live in a coastal town. Someone needs to give her a can of Aqua Net and show her how to use it.”

At the mention of her hair, all I can think about is those waves cascading down her back when she pulled that rubber band out at Texxas Jam, the way she ran her fingers through it and held it up to let the breeze cool her neck. Wild hair? That’s for damn sure, but you ain’t hearing me complain.

"Well, James talks about her constantly," Brooke says. "And they're together at school all the time."

My stomach drops. James plays JV, so I rarely see him except during joint scrimmages. He's a decent guy, but damn lucky if Charlotte's been hanging around him.

"Who are you taking to homecoming, Sidney?" Eliza asks, making sure the other girls hear. She should know better than to back me into a corner.

"Probably nobody."

"What?"

"Yeah. Who says I need a date?"

"Your friends are all taking dates! Why wouldn't you?" Eliza's clearly pissed. I'm not even fazed.

"Y'all have been trashing their dates all night. Why would I subject anyone to that?" I say mockingly.

“You could take me!” As if that is my only choice. For a girl, she sure has balls. I have to muster courage to not say something shitty to her.

“I’ve already said I’m not taking anyone, and you’ve made it clear you don’t like my friends’ dates.”

“We'd be with my friends." As usual, Eliza can’t look outside her own little bubble she’s created.

I let out a humorless laugh. “No way in hell,” I say just loud enough for her to hear but not the others.

We walk into Pizza Hut, and I immediately spot where the team's sitting. They've saved me one seat—these dudes know me too well and take care of me. It's a round booth that seats maybe six, and we've got six senior football players crammed in when I join. Tables around us are packed with players, cheerleaders, band, drill team and whoever else is with them. James is sitting with Esther and Clara, but Charlotte's nowhere in sight. There’s not an empty seat in the house now that we’re here, so she could be anywhere.

I see Alex at a table with some sophomores several tables away. He doesn’t even seem the least bit affected by what I said. I don’t doubt if we get to film in the morning and he doesn’t even show. Maybe he’ll surprise me, but this guy is trouble. His dad is powerful somehow, but I have news for him. He’s not the only one. Money in this town is plentiful. My parents aren’t living on the poor side of town by any means, but they wouldn’t buy my place on the football team.

The place is buzzing, even with our huge loss. I see a couple of my coaches scattered in with their families. They aren’t mixed in with students, but probably just came to make sure we’re not causing a ruckus at the only restaurant open late on Friday nights. They do a buffet on home game nights until midnight just for our town.

Just as I'm about to get up and load my plate with pizza, I see her walk out from the kitchen doors.

Charlotte.

She's wearing black pants and a Pizza Hut shirt with an apron, her hair in two braids hanging over her shoulders. Even in that uniform, she's gorgeous as hell.

“Hi. I’ll come around and take your drink orders,” she says to the group of us no one has waited on, maybe 10 or 12 people, mostly football players since we are always the last to get here.  And then there’s the table Eliza’s sitting at, who are right next to our table. I can see the smugness radiating from her.

"We need two Tabs and two Cokes," Eliza announces.

"Okay. Are you all getting the buffet?" Charlotte asks.

"No," Eliza shakes her head, and the other girls follow suit, looking confused, but I can’t hear whatever else she says. And since when does she not eat after football games?

Charlotte makes her way over to our table, and I finally get her to look at me and smile. "Hey, Charlotte.”

“Hey, how are y’all?” she asks, looking around at all of us. These guys are completely eaten up with her, just like I am. All except Babington whose eyes and heart belong elsewhere.

“Hey, I thought you worked at Dairy Queen.”

I hear snickers from the cheerleaders' table, which pisses me off. I see the redness flare in Charlotte’s cheeks, and I’ve unintentionally embarrassed her. Man, I feel like shit because she looks back at me like I did it on purpose. No one at our table thinks anything of it. It’s the bitch next to us.

"No,” she said after a pause, “I had applied here first. They called me in, and I started here back in the summer.”

That explains why I didn’t see hide nor hair of her all summer long.

"Cool. I’m sure it’s better here,” I say, hoping to smooth things over. “I’ll take a pitcher of beer."

"How many are drinking with you?” she asks.

All five guys raise their hands.

"I need to see IDs, please," Charlotte says. More snickers from Eliza’s groupies.

I pull out my wallet and hand over my ID, knowing three of these guys aren't 18.

"I'll change mine to Dr. Pepper," Crowe says.

"Sprite," says another.

"Me too," the third chimes in.

"Okay. Buffets for everyone?"

"All of us," I confirm.

"Perfect." She writes it down on her little green pad. "Plates are at the end of the buffet. Help yourselves."

Eliza’s group are still making their comments. The guys ignore them as we head to the buffet line.

When I get back to the table, three girls from Eliza's group are missing. I look over and realize they're at the buffet. I stop by their table where only Brooke’s sitting. "Thought y'all weren't getting food."

"Shh!" she whispers, finger to her lips. "She'll never know with this crowd."

I shake my head and slide back into the booth just as Charlotte brings my pitcher of beer, glasses, and the other guys' drinks. She'd already served Eliza's table while we were at the buffet.

As she sets everything down, I notice her hands shaking. She's nervous as hell. I wish there was something I could do to help her. This crowd can be brutal, and I hear plenty of "thanks" from other tables, but not from the troublemakers.

She pauses for a second, holding her empty tray, and notices the girls who said they weren't eating now loading up plates at the buffet just as they return to the table. Eliza, Cindy, and Laura either aren't paying attention, or they’re ignoring her, one or the other. I stop mid-bite watching Charlotte take the few extra steps to get to their table.

“I’m sorry…” and I can’t hear the rest of what she says over the loud voices and the jukebox.

I see something clearly going down. Eliza is trying to get out of having to pay for her food. There’s some back and forth, and I can see Charlotte is tense and uncomfortable by whatever Eliza is saying.

Then I hear very clearly,  “No shit, Sherlock - or - oh, is it Charlotte?”

I don’t hear what Charlotte says, but she writes something on her pad and Eliza starts yelling at her, but over the music I can’t exactly hear.

I can see Charlotte trembling and I want to jump up and save her.

The jukebox is blaring out “Hair of the Dog.” I have no idea what the song is about, but the words currently blaring out state exactly what’s in my own head…now you’re messin’ with a son-of-a-bitch.

I see Charlotte lean down and place the ticket on their table. Eliza picks it up without even looking, crumples it into a ball, and throws it at Charlotte, hitting her in the back as she’s trying for a fast getaway.

Charlotte spins around, her cheeks flaming red, breathing hard. Every eye in the place is on her, and I want to do something, but I’m blank. I know Charlotte wouldn’t want me to make a scene, but I’m sure as hell having trouble holding myself back, as I tell Babington to scoot out. He sees what’s going down, and he’s not able to stop me.

But when I catch a flicker of her barely holding it together, I’m there in three strides.

"Charlotte," I say gently, "don't worry about it. I'll make sure it's covered. Go help your other customers."

Charlotte bends down and gets the ticket and pushes it down into her apron. “It’s okay,” she says in almost a whisper, about to break out into tears.

“Hand me the ticket,” I say, holding out my palm to her.

“No, really. It’s okay. I can - I’ll ask the manager what to do,” she says, still choking on the sobs that are about to come. I can see she’s humiliated and all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and tell her it’s okay.

“Hand it to me,” I say. “I’m not asking.”

I know she’s only wanting to get away as fast as she can, her entire body going rigid, trying not to fall apart.

“If you’re sure,” she says as she takes the wadded-up check out of her pocket and hands it to me.

“I’m sure.”

"Okay. Thank you, Sidney."

She can barely get my name out without her voice cracking. She practically runs toward the back, and I know she's probably crying. I am not sure which urge is stronger: To follow her or to hit a girl for the first time in my life.

Everyone's staring at our table now, waiting to see what I'll do.

"Eliza,” I say, turning to look at her smug face. “That was a shitty thing to do, even for you,” I say bent over her with my hands firmly planted on the table so I can get close enough so everyone around me can’t hear.

She huffs. “Why are you taking up for Miss Pigtails?” she chuckles wickedly.

“You threw the ticket and hit her in the back,” I say.

“I told her I’m not paying for an entire buffet because I only got salad and one little tiny piece of pizza. And my friends are sharing. We aren’t big eaters. You know that, Sidney,”

My forehead probably looks like I could murder her in cold blood because I hear it all the time how my face shows everything. “She is just doing her job. Get a grip, Eliza. My god, you aren’t exactly hurting for momey. That comes out of her paycheck."

“I only get an allowance, and all my money has to go towards homecoming.”

I cringe. I know Eliza has an unlimited supply of money.

“I’m sure between the four of you, you can dig up some money.”

“But since you brought us… and you said you’re paying for it,” she says, and I wonder how deep her manipulation can actually go. Just when I think it can’t get worse, it does.

I take a step back and turn away before I lose my shit on her. It wouldn’t be good for anyone.

Eliza knows money's never been a problem for me. My family's not hurting, and I've got plenty in my account. But paying for her and her friends after their shitty attitude makes me want to puke.

People are staring, so I walk over and sit back down to try and focus on talking about the game and tomorrow's film session. The guys are pumped about me getting my starting position back. I don’t want to let Eliza and her antics ruin my night any more than they already have.

When people start clearing out, I realize I've got a problem. Charlotte disappeared and someone else—looks like the manager—took over her section. I spot her waiting on one of the last tables by the entrance, far away from the students. The place is almost empty now except for Eliza and her friends, who moved to my booth after my teammates left.

"What are you waiting for?" Eliza asks, swinging her crossed leg impatiently. “I’m ready to leave.”

"Waiting for Charlotte to settle up."

Finally, Charlotte looks over and approaches when she realizes I'm waiting. That's when Eliza decides to drape her arm over my shoulder. I look at her like she's lost her damn mind and shrug away from her.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Charlotte asks. I can tell her eyes are still swollen from crying—I've looked into those eyes enough times to know. I hand her $80 rolled up. She doesn’t realize I mean for her to keep what’s left, so she didn’t say bye or anything before she walks away.

I get up from the table and we head to the door. I glance at her as I’m about to exit, and she’s trying to catch me.

“Here’s your change,” she says as she tries to hand me the cash back.

“It’s yours."

"Oh, no, this is way too much,” Charlotte protests.

At the same time, Eliza snaps, "What?"

“Just keep it,” I tell Charlotte, refusing to take the money she’s trying to hand me.

"Are you sure? I—" She stops herself, probably about to say she didn't make that much all night, but she's smart enough to know Eliza would cause another scene. She stuffs it in her pocket. "Thank you, Sidney."

I can feel Eliza's glare burning into me, but something about that moment feels damn satisfying. I'm not sure what itch I just scratched, but it feels satisfying.

"You gave her $30!" Eliza hisses the second we’re out the door.

I shake my head. “Nope. I gave her $50 and some change."

“Fifty bucks for a tip and you didn’t want to pay for us?"

"Yeah. That's exactly right. Got a problem with it?"

I wanted her to say something. Hell, I was hoping for a chance to bring up Chuck Thomas—how she screwed him in the back of his Impala after graduation when we were freshmen. She wasn't even invited to that party, but Eliza always finds a way to weasel into things. I heard through the grapevine that she led Chuck right out to his car, and everyone knew what that meant. Chuck was the most sought-after guy in the school, headed to college on a basketball scholarship, but he was also the biggest player with women.

She actually called me the next morning to break up with me, thinking he was going to date her. I was confused as hell until I heard through the grapevine what happened that night.

Two weeks later, he dumped her like she was dirt on his shoe. Took me a whole year to even give her the time of day again.

And this is where we are.

Chapter Text

Esther drops me off at my house after we spent an hour driving around town, talking about everything except what happened at Pizza Hut. I'm grateful she knew I needed the distraction, but now that I'm alone, it all comes rushing back.

I take a shower as soon as I walk into my house. For five minutes, I do nothing but cry. Yes, my friends were there for me, but they didn't actually see it. Someone must have told them because news got around quickly. How Eliza threw the check at me. I'm angry for so many reasons as I cry it out.

"What does he see in her?" I shout a little too loudly, hoping no one is awake to hear me.

The words come at me like it just happened.

"Are you all getting the buffet?"

"No, we're just here with the guys. We don't need food."

No, she doesn't need food because she's there with Sidney? That makes no sense!

Then Sidney asks why I'm working at Pizza Hut instead of Dairy Queen. It was so humiliating, putting me on the spot with all the cheerleaders laughing at me.

Then later on when I take the football guys' drinks to them, I noticed Eliza and her friends eating from the buffet. I was warned heavily from our manager that they will be counting how many students get buffets. If we aren't paid for every buffet, it will come out of our own check. So I was being extremely cautious and said something to Eliza.

"I'm sorry. I must have misheard. I thought you said you weren't getting the buffet."

"No. You heard right," Eliza replies to me without looking up.

"But…you have food on your plates," I said to her, and that was just stating the obvious.

Eliza raised her head, and I prepared myself for what was going to come next. I could not have been prepared for what she said. "No shit, Sherlock - or - oh, is it Charlotte?"

"Okay. I'll just write you down for four buffets," I said, and then my hands were shaking so bad I could barely write.

"Don't you dare! All I'm getting is salad and my friends are splitting a buffet!"

"Um…well… you can't split buffets, and you have a piece of pizza on your plate."

"Listen, sweetie, you can just step away from our table now and forget to write on your little tablet there that we're eating," she said to me and pointed at me with her perfectly manicured finger. She didn't mean "sweetie" as a term of endearment. I knew the difference.

I was so nervous and my hands were shaking.

"Here is your ticket. I put you down for four buffets and four Cokes," I said just as I placed the check on their table and walked away.

Almost immediately, I felt something hit my back and turned around. My entire body was shaky and I had no idea what to do. I was beyond humiliated. It seemed like everyone was staring at me, though I know everyone wasn't since Esther and Clara didn't see it.

After what seems like 10 minutes of time standing still, I hear Sidney's voice.

"Charlotte, don't worry about it. I'll make sure it's covered. Go help your other customers."

I tried to just handle it, but Sidney wouldn't take no for an answer. I guess he was wanting to cover for his extremely rude girlfriend and maybe there is a possibility it embarrassed him that she was acting that way since I guess he considers me a friend. So I handed him the ticket and got away before I broke into tears. When I got to the back, thank goodness my manager was sympathetic and said he would handle it. I told him I thought it would be covered by her boyfriend and not to worry, so he didn't ask about it again. But thankfully, he took over my station and I took his because he said he wouldn't tolerate bullies in his establishment.

When the restaurant was almost empty, I looked over and saw Sidney sitting with the four cheerleaders. Then as I approached, Eliza was all over Sidney. It's weird that she saw me coming and decided to throw her arms around him. So I just mustered the courage and walked up to the table, not sure what was going to come next.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" I asked.

He handed me some cash and the check that I had given him. I walked over to the register and rang it up and noticed he'd given me $80. He must have not realized he gave me two extra $20 bills because the bill was only a little over $25. I ran over to him as he was about to leave and told him he had change.

"It's yours," he told me.

"Oh, no, this is way too much," I said, but I tried to not make a big deal.

Then I heard Eliza say, "What?" She was clearly mad.

"Just keep it," Sidney told me.

He refused to take it back and I was speechless.

"Are you sure? I—" I just looked at it and stuffed it in my pocket. I could already see that Eliza wasn't happy, and even though I don't like her at all, I didn't want Sidney to get a tongue lashing on the way home.

"Thank you, Sidney."

After my shift ended, I was so grateful that James, Esther and Clara were waiting for me in the parking lot. They came up to me when they were leaving and told me to call my mom and tell her I had a ride home. So I did that, and we went driving around town just talking about different things that happened at the football game. I didn't get to go since I was working, but I heard Sidney got his quarterback position back and apparently the other guy can't even get the ball into anyone's hands.

Esther wanted to drive a very long time to avoid Babington. I cannot understand her hesitation with him. He is intense, is all she tells me. And I sort of get that, but he's just so sweet to her. I have a feeling deep down inside of me that she doesn't think she deserves him because when she took me home, of course, I was last since we're next-door neighbors. She told me that she feels bad because she’s had sex and Babington hasn’t, and he doesn’t know about her past.

I told her she should tell him and that he will understand because he loves her. I know he does. Both boys were boyfriends that she thought cared for her, but she misinterpreted what they meant. She is afraid she has misinterpreted Babington, and I told her she is very wrong. I think he worships the ground she walks on.

Things got very quiet after I said that.

"Well, you know what I think?" she said.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"I think Sidney Parker has a secret crush on you."

My heart does this little skip that I hate myself for. I want to believe her so badly, but I can't let myself go there. I laughed, and admittedly, I was a little embarrassed because she must know I have a super big crush on him that I hate myself for.

"He has a girlfriend."

"He doesn't! He cannot stand her. Don't you see how he despises her?"

"Well, you told me they came together, and I know for a fact they left together," I said.

"So what? She's manipulative and controlling. Babington swears they are not dating."

"Well, it doesn't look that way to me. He paid for her AND her friends' meals!"

"He had to, don't you see?"

I chuckled at her antics. "No, I do not see!"

"He had to so he would know for a fact that it wouldn't come out of your pocket! It's because he cares about you."

"No, he doesn't. My manager would have gone over and made them pay."

"Sidney was trying to save you from having to deal with that."

"I don't think so," I said, refusing to fool myself any longer. "Plus, you've told me to forget about him. So don't try to get me to think he is crushing on me."

"I'm just stating the obvious because I can see it's got you down."

Then I cringed that she can read me like a book.

"Esther, I can't tolerate his girlfriend, even if she isn't his actual girlfriend. I don't handle bullies very well. I've been bullied before, and I'd rather just stay away from her and let them be…whatever they're going to be."

"Okay. I'll leave it alone, but you know I've got your back. I think a lot of other people saw what happened tonight, too, and I think they do too."

I covered my face with my hands. "It's so humiliating!"

"We're all teenagers. We all know what it's like to be humiliated, Charlotte. I think you're a beautiful person, and I'm glad to know you."

She then reached over and gave me a hug, and I really needed that.

Chapter Text

My dad asked me to be home tonight so the family could be together, all of us. Tom and Mary are coming over for dinner. The long, hot shower after my second practice of the day feels good. We're running plays in the mornings and lifting weights and running in the afternoons. It's finally started to cool off outside, and it makes practice a little less brutal.

It's been two weeks since the Pizza Hut incident. When I dropped Eliza off that night, she begged me to follow her home and come up to her room, that her parents won't care. Stupid thing to say since her parents didn't even care when we were 14 what we were doing in her room.

I told her exactly what I thought.

"This is it, Eliza. I don't want you hanging around my locker. I don't want you sitting outside my house-"

"How do you know that?"

"Your neon yellow Beetle doesn't exactly blend in."

"Then where have you been?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. It's none of your damn business where I've been. You don't own me, and I don't care what you do. So stop trying to act like we're anything more than -" I started to say "friends" and caught myself. "We're nothing."

"We are good friends, Sidney!"

I chuckled unhumorously. "We're not friends." I stared straight out above my steering wheel.

"How could you?"

I looked over at her and noticed how pathetic she looked. So damn desperate and needy. The last thing I would ever want. Had she always been so pathetic? I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and realized she'd probably always been that way, but I hadn't noticed because there was no one else occupying my thoughts.

The difference between that girl who takes up a ton of brainpower in my head and Eliza is like comparing a sweet tea to black coffee. I've tried everything to get Charlotte out of my head, but nothing is working.

After dinner, we're out on the patio watching the sunset. It's been good family time, I guess.

"Sanditon is coming back strong with you at the helm, brother," Tom says.

I nod. Tom has always wanted me to be what he couldn't. It's not that I mind, but when I didn't play for two weeks, he gave me hell about it.

"So far," I say. We've had four games. "We've got some hard opponents ahead of us, though."

He slaps me on the back, robustly. "Ah, my brother! You will do it, and this year, you'll bring home that trophy for State!"

Sanditon has never won State, but somehow my brother thinks I'm the one who can do it singlehandedly, as if no one else is out there on the field. When we lost our State playoff game last year, I didn't take it nearly as bad as Tom did. I'm fairly sure the man had some high stakes on it since he's been known to gamble over shit like that. And as far as my parents are concerned, he's in no position to be gambling anything. He can barely keep food on the table for his wife and child, and another one on the way.

"Sidney is the hero at school," Diana popped in. Diana is usually pretty quiet when Tom is around, but Arthur being in the room always gives her courage even though he's two years younger.

"That's not true," I say. Football-wise? Maybe. Because Sanditon was feeling pretty beaten down after two losses. In Texas, football is king. If you go to a school that has a pretty decent record for winning, it's even more king than what is normal.

"Well, you should tell them what you did for Charlotte at Pizza Hut."

My ears perk up at the mention of her name. "You know Charlotte?"

She giggles. "What are you talking about, Sidney? Of course, I do! Everyone does!"

"She just moved here. How could everyone know her?"

Granted, she's a hot topic in the locker room. And after the Pizza Hut thing, people are wondering if I was paying for Eliza’s mistake or covering for Charlotte. I don’t even try to explain it.

"Charlotte Heywood? Gosh, Sidney, have you not noticed how gorgeous she is? And she sits at my table — my table — every day! If she sees someone sitting alone, she always invites them to eat with us. Haven't you noticed?"

It's not that I hadn't noticed a lot of people sitting at their table, but I didn't know it had anything to do with Charlotte.

"So how well do you know Charlotte?"

“Well, she invited me to her slumber party."

I nearly choke on the drink of lemonade I just took. "When was her party?" I apparently haven’t been paying close enough attention to my sister.

"She's having it the night after homecoming."

I hate to say it, because my sister is the nerdiest girl in school. I happen to love her for it, but I hadn't realized Charlotte really did anything more than be polite to her.

"And she invited you?"

She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me behind her Coke-bottle glasses. "And why wouldn't she invite me?"

"I - you're a freshman. I didn't think sophomores hung out with freshmen. That's all," I said, quickly recovering, although there is some truth to it. Charlotte marches to the beat of her own drum. She doesn't have rules. First, she's friends with Esther and Clara, who are both different grades, and now she's invited my sister to a slumber party.

"Not Charlotte. She has a lot of friends. I'm so excited because I finally feel like someone likes me."

Yeah, Charlotte has a way about her. That's for sure.

I clear my throat. "So have you ever invited her over?" I ask, hoping to drop the not-so-subtle hint.

"I told her I want her to come over sometime, and she said she would."

"That's good. Charlotte…would be a good friend to have."

Tom's voice cuts through my thoughts about Charlotte. "Where is Eliza these days, Sidney?"

"Tom, I broke up with Eliza at the end of 9th grade."

"For some ridiculous reason.”

I glare at Tom. "Ridiculous reason? Screwing another guy in the backseat of his car is a ridiculous reason?"

"Sidney Theodore Parker!"

"Sorry, Mom."

I already knew there were no young ears outside. Even Arthur was inside playing with Alicia.

"I thought they were just fooling around, just having fun, Tom said.

"No, Tom. Unless you think -" I don't finish the sentence before my mom is giving me the warning look. Thank goodness my dad isn't outside, or he might have knocked me into next week.

I can only tolerate so much of Tom. He always had a thing for Eliza because he and Eliza have a lot in common. I'm just grateful I'm not as blind as Mary and was able to see through Eliza.

After I excuse myself saying I had homework to do, I go to my room. It wasn't a complete lie. I do have a test in a few days I could get a head start studying for. My book is at the end of my bed, so I pull it towards me, opening it up when I hear a soft knock.

"It's open," I say, and Diana is there. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if I could watch Three's Company on your TV. Dad and Tom are watching the Astros game."

"Yeah, sure."

She goes over and flips the TV on my little black and white TV that's made the rounds. First, it was our only TV when I was little. Then we upgraded to a console color TV for the living room and it went to my parents' room. Then they bought a color TV for their room and gave me the black and white.

Diana sits on the end of my bed glued to the TV.

"Do you think Suzanne Somers is pretty?" Diana asks.

"Of course. Who wouldn't?" I say, glancing up and seeing her in a pair of short shorts, her bleached blonde hair piled up on top of her head.

"Do you prefer blondes?" she asks.

I chuckle. "I don't have a preference really."

She rolls over and looks at me since it's a commercial break. "Do you think Charlotte is pretty?"

Understatement of the damn year.

"Yeah."

"She said she doesn't really know how to do makeup. She said Esther can teach us."

I look up and see Diana's unpainted face. "I don't think you need to worry about that. You're pretty the way you are. Just be yourself."

"But what about Charlotte?"

"What about her?"

"She doesn't wear makeup like Eliza and her friends."

"Charlotte is a natural beauty. She doesn't need anything. Neither do you."

"Charlotte wears some makeup. It just doesn't look like it."

"Which should be the goal, don't you think?" I ask, and I see the wheels spinning.

"But I'll never be like Eliza."

I raise my eyebrows, hoping to nip this in the bud. "You don't want to be like Eliza. Take my word for it."

"Is it true you paid for Eliza and all her friends to eat pizza?"

"What did you hear?" I asked, finally dropping my pen. The rumors of that night were so outrageous.

"I heard Eliza threw her check and hit Charlotte in the back and that you told her you would pay for all the cheerleaders."

My eyes roll back into my head and I slam back on the bed, my head hitting the pillow. "I didn't pay for all the cheerleaders. I paid for Eliza and her three deadbeat friends so Charlotte wouldn't get in trouble.”

"You did?" she asked excitedly.

"Yes. But don't you tell anyone," I said, pointing at her. "I'm your brother. I told you that in confidence."

"Well, it's better than what Eliza is telling everyone, that you just love her sooo much that you'd pay for them all."

"I didn't pay for her last Friday."

I separated myself as far away as I could to escape those rumors. Of course, Charlotte didn't happen to be working that night. Once I realized she was at a table with James, Esther and Clara, I didn't worry about anything, even though my eyes kept a watch on the table.

Feeling the need to escape the conversation, I excuse myself and go downstairs, hoping to catch part of the game, even though Tom is still here.

“I’m proud of you for getting accepted at Lone Star. Don’t know if I told you that,” Tom says after a while of me being in the room.

I shrug. “Well, it’s a good college.”

“Have you heard about all these boys skipping out on college to go work the oil rigs? Idiots!”

“I heard they make good money. They’re doing that and then saving to go to college.

He scoffs. “You can’t schmooze when you’re out on an oil rig. You must join a fraternity. The same as I did, brother. I have all the right connections!”

I inwardly cringe at the thought. Tom and I are as different as night and day. And from what I know about frat boys on that campus, that’s the last thing I plan to do, especially since I’ve already heard Eliza and her cronies talk about joining a sorority. I’ll stay as far away from the Greek world as I possibly can. My goal is to make something of myself, and that’s it.

“I can’t say that I don’t agree with him,” my dad pipes in. “Fraternities are a good way to land yourself a cushy job.”

They don’t know me at all. I’m not exactly the kissing-ass type. At this time, I can’t tell you what I’m going to do, but my goal in life is not to be like my father and my brother, whose main goal in life is who they’re playing golf with at the country club. They do it to make connections. Hell, the reason Tom is married to Mary is because my dad and her dad set them up. It was a marriage to bring two well-to-do families together. That’s the only reason Eliza’s name is mentioned in this house, and the reason they can’t get over it, is because Eliza’s dad is the general manager of Sanditon Country Club.

“I’ll take it under consideration,” I say in my own mocking way, the exact words my father uses when I ask him about something.

“The main thing your brother is trying to say is don’t be persuaded to go out there and be a roughneck. There’s no place for those people on this side of town, if you know what I mean.”

What my dad and Tom don’t realize about me is how determined I am to make something of myself without them being able to make the claim to fame.

Chapter Text

"Good morning, students!" The principal's voice radiates through the intercom with his usual fake cheerfulness. The typical announcements follow, but then his tone shifts.

"Don't forget, boys may purchase homecoming mums for their dates from the student council. Place your orders today so you don't miss your window of opportunity..."

My hands start trembling. James is supposed to ask me to homecoming, I've heard. But what if he doesn't? What if I'm the only girl in my class without a date?

"...ballots will be counted officially tomorrow and winners announced Thursday morning. Most votes overall will be crowned our 1979 Sanditon Homecoming Queen."

The memory of last week crashes over me, sobbing in the Pizza Hut kitchen, then going over every detail with Esther about Eliza's cruel treatment.

When my teacher places the ballot on my desk, I pause. Do I vote for the popular choices or the people who actually deserve it? My pen hovers over the names before I write:

FRESHMAN: Diana Parker

SOPHOMORE: Clara Brereton

JUNIOR: Esther Denham

SENIOR: Georgiana Lambe

Diana has a genuine smile that lights up every room. Georgiana and I are outcasts together in drafting class. Clara has been a great friend. And Esther? She saved me from that nightmare and has been there for me in every way.

After Mrs. Griffiths collects our ballots, I see her sliding them into her desk drawer.

The hallway buzzes with homecoming energy, but I freeze when I see her… Eliza Sterling, standing at Sidney's locker like his personal guard. My heart hammers as I approach my own locker.

"You put my name down on the ballot?" Her voice cuts through the hallway noise.

After what she did to me? "No."

Her smile fades. "Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I win the nomination every year."

"You do? That's fabulous." I can barely keep the sarcasm from dripping off my tongue.

Behind us, her three friends stumble over each other, their arms full of handmade posters. "We put as many as we could up!" one announces breathlessly.

My eyes catch the bold letters: "Vote for Eliza Sterling, You’re 1979 Homecoming Queen!"

"Go hang the rest up on every hallway in the school!" Eliza commands.

I slam my locker shut. If I really wanted to ruin her day, I could let her know of the error on her poster. Would that make me a better person or a worse one? I go with the first and quickly escape. I doubt anyone will even look that closely.

Advanced English feels like walking into a fishbowl. All fifteen pairs of eyes turn to stare at me the moment I step through the door. My face burns—is it almost time for my period? Is that why they're staring?

"Hey, Miss Priss!" Clara's voice cuts through my panic.

"Why are you calling me that?"

"Because I heard that so far you’re going to be our homecoming nominee."

The room tilts a little. I’m dizzy. What did she just say? “I don’t understand.”

"We were all talking, and no one wants...a certain person to win. So everyone is putting your name down."

My heart pounds. "I voted for you. Others will too."

"Girl, I'm in the principal's office so much he probably has my mugshot on his desk! If I won, he'd throw the results right into his trash can!"

The image makes me laugh despite my nerves. "When I don't win, you will see how ridiculous that sounds. No one even knows me!”

"Charlotte, do you ever look in a mirror? You're gorgeous! You’re the new girl, and apparently all the boys are calling you hot stuff."

Mrs. Armstrong clears her throat pointedly, and I’m fairly sure I’m blushing as I try to refocus on whatever it is she’s saying.

When Mrs. Armstrong turns to face the blackboard with the chalk in her hand, Clara leans over and whispers. “You can have whoever you want as long as it’s not Matthew Crowe. I finally got him to ask me to go steady.”

“You didn’t tell me!” I whisper-yell. Mrs. Armstrong looks back, and I straighten, hoping she doesn’t realize it was me.

She takes a brief glance over at me and nods with excitement.

~

"Charlotte!" Esther practically bounces as she straddles the cafeteria bench. "Have you heard the scuttlebutt?"

"The what?" I laugh at her excitement.

"The gossip! Georgiana Lambe from student council just told me that you're going to be the sophomore homecoming nominee!"

The cafeteria noise fades to a dull roar. "That can't be right. The principal said they aren’t counting until tomrorow..."

“Not officially. She’s just going by what she’s seeing turned in during their class period.”

“But why?” I’m a nobody and I’m comfortable with that. Flirting was fun with Sidney, and alcohol made it easy. But when it really comes down to it, I can’t put my money where my mouth is. Maybe I need to work on that, but I am not the popular-girl type. Not at all.

“Look around this table, Charlotte." She gestures to our group. Girls from every grade, girls who used to eat alone, all talking and laughing together. "You make people feel like they belong."

My chest tightens with an emotion I can't name. When I see someone eating alone, something inside me just breaks. "I just didn't want anyone to feel left out."

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about! You really are the sweetest person I've ever met. I’m going to stop trying to corrupt you.”

"You're not corrupting me," I laugh, pointing my fork at her. "You're just afraid to admit you're sweet.”

“No! I am anything but sweet. If it were up to me, I'd be over there flirting with all those boys." She nods toward the senior football players.

"I'm sure Babington wouldn't like that."

"No, he wouldn't," and I catch her winking at him flirtatiously.

Esther always acts bolder than she really is. I think we both do in some ways.

My eyes involuntarily drift to where Sidney Parker sits. The moment I look, I see Eliza appear behind him like a vulture, her hands sliding over his shoulders as she whispers in his ear. Sidney's whole body goes rigid, and he shrugs, trying to shake her off.

Heat floods my face. "So they must be dating, I guess."

Esther's expression darkens. "No. Babington says she's desperate to get Sidney to take her to homecoming since she's convinced she'll be homecoming queen. But Sidney…well, he’s not going to ask…” she trails off.

“Well, he should ask her. They’re always together.”

“No, they aren’t. She’s just trying to make it look that way. Besides,” she look over at me with a knowing look, “you’re going to be out there on that field and everyone is going to be staring at you!”

My heart swells, even though I hope she's wrong.

"Um...so if what you’re saying is right, do the nominees have to dress up?"

"Yes! We will have a shopping spree to find you the perfect dress!"

I cringe. I have $45 saved from tips, but that's not enough for anything fancy. Maybe I shouldn’t have returned Sidney’s tip money, but I would have felt guilty if I hadn’t.

“I don't think I can afford that."

“Clara and I will look through our closets and see what we can find," she says, kissing my cheek. "I have to go do something I can't talk about. But maybe I'll stop by Pizza Hut tonight?"

"Mondays are dead. Please do!"

The moment she leaves, I watch Babington's eyes follow her across the cafeteria. Then he gets up and trails after her like a lovesick puppy.

I lay my head down on the table and sigh. Esther and Clara have beautiful clothes, but a homecoming dress? How many fancy dresses could they possibly have? My hope is that Georgiana is wrong about me getting the nomination.

I glance back at the football table and find Sidney Parker staring directly at me. His dark eyes lock onto mine and I can't look away. I can't breathe, or think.

Then he nods and smiles.

My stomach explodes with butterflies.

Chapter Text

Our Government teacher said we’ll need our book today. We’ve been working on charts and studying from a workbook he keeps in his class. When I pull the book out from the very bottom of my locker, a note falls out. It’s thick and has my name printed perfectly on the front of a nicely folded piece of paper. I unfold the practical piece of art in my hand and open it up, and it’s surrounding a bunch of cash. $54, to be exact, along with a note.

Thank you for covering for me, but you gave me too much.  - Charlotte

It’s been almost two weeks since that night. I wanted her to have the money, and she’s taking it back. I flip the paper over and write my own note.

Keep it, Charlotte. Unless you want to owe me a favor instead? - Sidney

I grin at the thought of her reading it and wrap it back up as close to how she had it as possible, and slide it through one of the grates in the metal locker.

~

When I head for the student council room, I'm hoping it'll be empty. No such luck. The place is buzzing with voices, and I can tell something's going down. They're already counting the ballots, which doesn't surprise me. But what does surprise me is that there's no teacher around. Has Mrs. Schuster ever heard of cheating?

Whatever. I'm just killing time until graduation. May 23rd can't come fast enough. Then I'm out of this town for good.

The buzz gets even crazier when Mrs. Schuster finally walks in, and man, she is not happy. Her gray hair is pulled back so tight it's probably giving her a headache.

"What's going on here?" she snaps, eyeing the crowd of girls hovering around the ballot table. "What do you think you're doing?"

Eliza's face looks like she just bit into a lemon. I'm guessing she's not seeing her name on as many ballots as she expected.

"They other classes have been counting the ballots early, Mrs. Schuster," Eliza tattles like the little snitch she's always been.

"There is a process for counting ballots!" Mrs. Schuster's voice echoes off the walls. "Everyone sit down and leave everything alone!"

We all scramble to our seats as she marches over and gathers up the ballots like she's collecting evidence. She leans against her desk, crosses her arms, and gives us all a look.

Eliza raises her hand. I roll my eyes.

“Yes, Eliza…”

“Maybe the votes that have been counted should be disqualified.”

“I’ll handle it, Eliza.” Mrs. Schuster looks around the room. “Anyone else?”

When no one says anything, she continues.

"Okay. We've got the decorating and planning committees set up for the dance. Are we good there?"

I tune out most of the chatter after that because my mind keeps drifting to the note in my locker and… lunch today. To a certain girl whose eyes I caught across the cafeteria. I haven't seen Charlotte around much lately, and every time I try to get to my locker, Eliza's camped out there like she owns the place even though I’ve told her to stay away. When Charlotte does see her, she goes ice cold and disappears. I'm sure after all that Eliza has done, she wants nothing to do with me.

Mrs. Schuster claps her hands loud enough to wake the dead. "Listen up!"

The room finally shuts up, though I still have no clue what everyone's so worked up about.

"We need to vote on this. It's an old tradition that could honestly be dropped from the ceremony at any time."

Great. I wasn't listening, so I have no idea what the hell she's talking about.

"You're the representatives of your classes. I’m tallying the votes from each class. Time to vote with a show of hands."

Come on, lady, spill it.

"If you want to remove the longstanding tradition of the football captain kissing the homecoming queen after she's crowned, raise your hand."

My hand shoots up immediately. I've watched this stupid ritual from the sidelines every year, and unless it was someone I actually wanted to kiss in front of 400 people, I'd rather eat dirt.

"Sidney!" Eliza whines like a little kid. "But you know the senior always wins."

I keep my hand up, completely ignoring her. I count several others who agree with me.

"Now, if you want to keep the tradition of the captain kissing the homecoming queen, raise your hands."

I feel like someone just popped my balloon. I know how this works. Somehow, Eliza always gets the class nomination, but she’s right, the senior always wins. Which means I'll have to kiss her in front of the whole school.

"The vote is 8 against, 12 for. We had about the same results in the other classes. We’ll be keeping the tradition." Mrs. Schuster grins at me. "Good luck, Sidney."

"Yeah, thanks," I mutter, trying not to show how much this sucks. But Eliza looks like she just won the lottery.

"Remember, we're just talking about a kiss on the cheek. You're okay with that?"

"Yeah, fine." What am I supposed to say? Actually, that makes me feel better when I remember the full-on kisses were only when the captain was dating the winner, to the best of my memory. A quick peck on the cheek and I’ll be done. At least I can leave Eliza disappointed in the most public way possible.

Her whole attitude since she got back from Italy has been unbearable. She’s never been more possessive… or stuck-up. She must have had guys falling all over her in Europe. I wish she’d just stayed there.

"Mrs. Schuster," Eliza pipes up, sweet as pie.

"Yes, Eliza?"

"I think seniors should count the votes to determine the winner. I nominate Brooke and Cindy."

"I have that covered. Thank you for offering, Eliza."

“But people are cheating,” she whines.

“Class…” Mrs. Schuster has to hush all the chatter around the room. “…I know there is talk going around about who the nominees are. That is only about what has come in so far. We have not received all the ballots.”

“So what if someone cheats and puts their own name on ballots?” Eliza says, pouting with her arms folded across her chest. Yeah, it’s pretty rock solid that she’s gotten wind of someone else getting nominated. The thought of it happening makes me chuckle inwardly.

“It’s not possible. Each ballot is numbered. Each teacher was handed certain numbers. So it will be impossible to cheat.”

Eliza gives a little huff and falls back to her seat. Last year and the prior two years, she had it in the bag because she’s a well-known name around town. The Sterling family is everywhere. They own the country club and half the town. Maybe people are finally catching on that she’s not all she’s cracked up to be. Not only that, what she did to Charlotte has made the rounds. Pretty sure her little performance that night has backfired on her.

~

When I open my locker after my last class, there’s the note and the money wrapped up inside it. She makes a line through where I wrote Charlotte and writes my name again. Something feels like it’s punching my gut but in a weird kind of way.

It’s just a lot of money. Are you rich or something? - Charlotte

I grin stupidly as I write my response.

Chapter Text

You could knock me over with a feather when my name crackles through the intercom as homecoming nominee for the sophomore class. My heart pounds as people I've never even laid eyes on walk up to me in the halls, telling me they voted for me. One girl with the cutest Dorothy Hamill haircut says, "I put your name on all four lines," then giggles and walks away.

I walk to my locker to push my books in, and see the note, and then the money is in a separate folded-up wad. I open the note that makes my heart do a little skip.

It's just a lot of money. Are you rich or something? - Charlotte

Not rich. Yet. But I'm not taking it back, so put it somewhere safe. I have an idea of a few good places. I'm here to offer a hand if you need help finding them. - Sidney

A giggle escapes me at the same time I feel a zip go up my spine, sharp and warm. My cheeks turn pink because I can feel something tingle, creeping through my body like a warning… like his comment to me at Texxas Jam after I was sprayed by the water hose…"I can't not look at your boobs." And the bonfire when I was wrapped in his arms dancing with him, and his hands… I have to shake the thought. I'm trembling, and I wonder if I can even scribble the words back to him that are in my head.

I'm sure you are, Sidney Parker. I'll use it wisely. Thank you again. - Charlotte

Slipping the note into his locker and the money into my purse, I feel like something has awakened in me. I just don't understand what to do about it. I hope my words will shut the exchange down because something about Sidney Parker feels like danger…but at the same time safe.

How is that even possible?

~

Esther is having a heyday with the news, practically bouncing in her seat while picking at her Salisbury steak. She's got a shopping trip planned, saying neither she nor Clara have anything special enough for me to wear to homecoming. All I can think about is now I guess I'm glad Sidney refused to take his money back because otherwise I'd be buying my dress at the Army and Navy store. With his money, I now have over $100 saved from tips, more money than I've ever had at one time. That should easily cover my dress, shoes, L'eggs pantyhose, and nail polish. Esther says she'll do my makeup with some new mascara that everyone's raving about.

Next to me I feel something brush against my arm.

"Hey, Charlotte," the familiar voice is like music to my ears. And hopefully…

"Hi, James," I say as he sits backwards on the bench seat and leans towards me.

"So, homecoming nominee, huh? Pretty exciting."

"I still can't believe it," I laugh.

As if he’s searching for words, he’s looking up at the ceiling and then turns to me. "Well, I was wondering if - I mean since you - I was wondering if you'll go to the dance with me."

Finally!

"I'd love to,” I say without hesitation.

He looks relieved. “Great. I'll call you up later in the week and we'll talk about specifics."

"Sounds good."

He walks away and relief floods me. I have a date.

~

That weekend, Esther and Clara are taking me to Lerner's, which is incredibly overpriced compared to Montgomery Wards, where we usually shop. I look at them in dismay as we walk past mannequins wearing dresses that cost more than my mom spends on groceries in a month.

"Y'all, I just can't shop in places like this," I say. I know we all live in the same neighborhood, but my parents just don't shower me with money like these girls' parents probably do. Or that's just my impression since they always have the cutest dresses and jeans without working.

"I have a connection," Clara says, lowering her voice.

"What kind of connection?" I ask.

"My friend Marsha who works here gets an employee discount, plus we can shop in the back where all the summer clearance is. You'll need a summer dress since it's still hotter than blazes outside, but they're all marked way down because their fall line is already on the floor."

I'm learning how much my friends know about fashion as they throw one dress after another at me while I'm squeezed into a dressing room barely bigger than a phone booth. The polyester and crepe fabrics feel foreign after years of wearing whatever mom made me or what she got on sale somewhere. I walk out and model the ones I think look relatively okay, but so far they're shaking their heads at every single one.

"Okay. This is the one. I know it!" Esther practically shrieks as she hands a dress to me through the crack I leave in the door, bouncing on her toes.

It has a dusty rose bodice with a sparkling white chiffon overlay, delicate spaghetti straps, and a low back that would make my mother blush. It's positively stunning, and I can only hope my boobs won't be spilling out of it like they did in some of the other dresses I tried on, especially that horrifying halter dress that clung to my every curve.

I slip the dress on, and Esther is the first to see me when I emerge from the dressing room.

"Oh my stars!" she gasps, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

"Girl! You look like you stepped right out of Seventeen magazine!" Clara exclaims.

"What? You really like it?" I ask, smoothing the silky fabric.

"Turn around," Esther commands. I can see myself in the three-way mirror when I do, and... okay. I'll admit it. This dress was made for me. It fits like it was custom-tailored, hugging my waist and flowing over my hips like water. I can already picture how gorgeous it will look under the Friday night lights on that emerald field.

Esther has her fist pressed to her mouth like she's trying not to scream. I crack up.

"What in the world are you doing?" I ask.

"You're just so beautiful that I'm about to bawl like a baby," Esther says, her voice getting thick. I walk over and hug her, feeling her sniffle against my shoulder.

"Don't you dare cry," I say. "It's just a dress."

"I know, but just look at you," she says, reaching up to gather my long hair above my neckline. "My Char-Char, I'm going to absolutely lose it when I see your hair in a French twist and that whole stadium getting an eyeful of your gorgeous back and butt. Every boy at Sanditon High is going to be eating his heart out."

I giggle, feeling heat creep up my neck. "You have quite a way with words, Esther."

"No, she's right. You're going to knock that crowd absolutely dead in this dress. But Charlotte," Clara interrupts, suddenly serious, "you need another one for the parade. You can save this one for the game and dance, but you absolutely cannot let anyone at the parade see this dress first."

"What?" I'm confused. No one has said anything about a parade.

"The homecoming parade, silly! Friday after school? All the nominees ride in convertibles down Main Street?"

I look at the price tag dangling from the armpit, and I'm flabbergasted. The dress is marked down seventy-five percent from its original $120 price tag, making it only $30. It's a steal considering we're getting first-class treatment from Clara's family friend Marsha, who's been hovering nearby with approval written all over her face.

Just then Marsha approaches, nodding enthusiastically. "Honey, that dress was made for you. You're going to be the belle of the ball."

"Can you tell me if this price is really accurate?" I have to ask. This is clearly a high-end store—I can tell from the thick carpet and the way everything smells like expensive perfume instead of the generic department store scent I'm used to.

"Oh yes, it's accurate. We had to alter it for someone and then she brought it back, claiming there was a snag on the overlay," Marsha explains, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"There's a snag?" My heart sinks.

"Honey, you could examine that dress with a magnifying glass and never find it. We looked high and low after that woman left, and we still gave her a full refund. There is absolutely no snag anywhere on this dress."

Even if there was, it wouldn't matter to me. I'm head over heels for this dress.

"Now, since you'll be in the parade, how about this little number for that?"

Marsha holds up a simple red dress in a classic A-line cut, nothing fancy but elegant because it's simple.

"Oh yes, that would be perfect, Charlotte. Red and white are our school colors, and it's understated enough for riding in James' convertible in broad daylight."

"I'm not sure if James will let me ride in his car," I say.

Esther laughs. "James would drink your bath water, girl. No chance he won't let you ride in his convertible."

I don't know what to say to that, so I go back into the cramped dressing room and slip the dress on. It's very simple, but that's more my style anyway. The fabric feels cool against my skin, and I know I won't be dying of heat exhaustion while waving from James' car…or wherever they plan to put me if James doesn't agree.

"I'll take it," I announce.

Chapter Text

Sidney-

The rehearsal for the homecoming halftime is brutal. The October sun beats down on us as we shuffle around the field, taking our places, and my polyester jersey is already sticking to my back. Watching Eliza and her continued smugness towards the other girls, especially Charlotte, makes me seriously wonder how she's even out here other than her ridiculous campaign for herself. If she only knew how everyone is talking about her.

She's got this fake smile plastered on her face while she glares at the others.

Charlotte and the other two girls winning their nomination is not surprising. The three of them are huddled together waiting for direction, but Eliza hasn't even tried to join them. Standing where they've told me to stand, I see her walking towards me, putting even more distance between her and the other girls.

"You're not supposed to stand over here," I say, knowing she should already know this.

"I'm just waiting with you until the band director finishes whatever he's doing."

Mr. Van is giving direction to the small but powerful Sanditon High Band. I can see he's not happy, but it’s probably because of the song they're having to play. I'm sure they all hate it as much as we all do.

He raises his arms, and the drum major does the same.

"This is in three-quarter time, people!" just before he makes them stop again.

The cheerleaders and drill team are standing in two lines for the nominees to walk through. The band starts playing “You Light Up My Life,” and I think they've got it this time.

"Eliza! Where are you?" Mrs. Schuster hollers.

She scoffs, as if everyone should know where she is. She scrambles to the end of the line since the nominees are presented in order from freshman to senior. They walk out as the band continues, and the cheerleaders and drill team shake their pompoms as each girl walks through, strolling down the 50-yard line.

The nominees are shown their individual platforms they will step onto when they make their way to the center of the field.

"Okay. Sidney, at this point, the announcer will announce the winner, and when you see me crowning her, you come over and hand her the flowers."

Mrs. Schuster reaches up to Eliza's head and pretends to place a crown on her, and I just stand there.

"This is the point you will hand her the flowers and then kiss her."

"Got it."

"You can practice if you want," Eliza says. Her boldness doesn’t surprise me, but her dad is right next to her. She's enjoying this way too much. I shudder, imagining having to put my lips anywhere near Eliza again. I decide at that very moment she will get a forehead kiss like I would kiss my sister. Not lips, not cheek.

"I'm good," I say, looking over at Mrs. Schuster.

"Okay. As soon as your part is over, you're welcome to proceed to the locker room."

"All right. Is it okay if I go now?" I try not to sound like a pent-up tiger, but that's exactly how I feel.

"Of course."

Before leaving, I look over at Charlotte, who is being escorted by her father. She's fumbling with her white sash that says "Sophomore" in bold red letters, and she looks nervous. Her dad's trying to help her, but it's easy to see that she feels out of place. The sight of her father standing there protectively makes the words of what I wrote in my last note come crashing back. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so bold.

I nod my head towards her, trying not to make a scene. She glances at me almost as if she didn't expect me to acknowledge her, then quickly looks away.

I get back to the Stuco room and Mrs. Griffiths is watching over the students like a hawk while Mrs. Schuster is out with the homecoming court. The room smells like glue, and leftover mum components are scattered everywhere. I hear someone saying they were up well into the night making last-minute orders.

Everyone is busy delivering mums to the classrooms, carrying armloads of them like they're handling precious cargo.

"What's going on?" I ask Fred, my teammate.

“I’m just hanging out until class is over. I already delivered the mums they handed me. This is their last one, I think,” he says, looking at the group that’s just leaving the classroom.

I get up and look at the mums lying across various desks in the room. Most of them are pretty standard – the usual white chrysanthemums with red and white streamers and a few trinkets. But one is much larger than the others, streamers and gadgets hanging from it, three times as many as any others that I saw. As I move closer to that particular one, I pull the streamer up to get a closer look and notice the name written in fancy gold letters.

Eliza.

No surprise there.

My heart starts hammering because my gut tells me something's not right. I don’t even have to see it before I feel it as I pick up the rest of the streamers, dreading what I'm going to find. Sure enough, there it is. My jersey number.

"8" on the upper part and "Sidney" down the streamer in the same fancy gold lettering. My blood starts to boil. What a move by Eliza. The whole thing is loaded with extra bells and whistles, little footballs, pom-poms, even some kind of sparkly ribbon I've never seen on a school mum before.

“For twenty bucks, I can make it go away.”

“If you can make it go away, I’ve got twenty-five.”

I turn back around and in walks Mrs. Schuster, and she and Mrs. Griffiths immediately go to the hallway, their heads bent together in one of those hushed conversations. Right behind them comes Eliza, practically floating into the room with a few other people following that were either cheerleaders or in band since the rehearsal is over.

Eliza walks over to her mum like she's drawn to it by some kind of magnet, apparently knowing exactly which one it is. She makes this show of holding it to her chest, all smiles for her friends as they ooohhh and aaaahhh over it like she won it or something. She bought it herself. The whole performance makes me sick.

"How come your mum is so much bigger than everyone else's?" Georgiana Lambe practically hisses.

"I guess it's what was ordered for me!" Eliza says with this excited, fake voice that could probably be heard in the next county. I make no effort to hide my disdain for her. There's not a person in the class that doesn't turn in my direction, and I can feel their eyes boring holes into me.

"Don't look at me," I say, shrugging.

"Sidney, you don't have to be so modest!" Eliza says, batting her eyelashes like some kind of Southern belle from a bad movie.

I know no matter what I say, she's going to have a comeback. She paid a small fortune for her own mum just to make it look like some guy, meaning me, actually cares about her. The thought of everyone thinking I had anything to do with this makes my stomach turn big time.

"Yeah…yeah." I say as I get up from my seat and walk out, my chair scraping against the linoleum floor loud enough to make everyone look over at me.

"Mr. Parker!" Mrs. Griffiths calls out just as I exit the room, but I have not an ounce of patience left. The hallway stretches out in front of me, and all I want is to get as far away from that room and Eliza's stupid performance as possible.

I'm halfway down the hall, my sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, when I hear the distant screech in her voice. "Who cut my mum?"

It was all I could do not to hold myself back from doing somersaults down the hallway. Fred pokes his head around the door frame and walks over to me, pushing his hand towards me for his payout.

"Does she have any idea?" I ask.

"Nope," he says, holding out the wadded-up ribbon he happened to snip off in the blink of an eye.

“You’re brilliant, man.”

It's the best $25 I've ever spent.

Chapter Text

The parade starts at 2:00, so we've been released early. Esther and Clara are with me, thankfully, in the girls' locker room in the gym so I can dress for the parade.

Eliza looks gorgeous, as do the other two nominees. Her parents have apparently rented a red 1950-something Chevy convertible for her to ride in during the parade. James will be driving me in his Camaro, and I am elated. He bought me a beautiful mum, and I love how sweet and kind he is. I'm never nervous or uncomfortable with him. There are still no butterflies with James, but sometimes I wish there were so I could stop thinking about Sidney, who is confusing. Esther said Sidney is going stag to homecoming, but Eliza has a different story. When one of the girls asked if Sidney bought her the incredible mum she’s been wearing around school like a proud peacock, she answered, “Um… of course! Who else?”

But his notes were flirty. I know I was taking part in it, and now I kind of regret it.

When we practiced yesterday, our final practice, he stole glances at me the whole time …well, I only know that because my eyes were glancing over at him too.

“Does anyone smell pepperoni?” Eliza asks, looking around, her eyes landing on me. Her friends cackle like hens. When my face flushes, Esther and Clara immediately come to my rescue, realizing why she said it.

“Do I smell?” I whisper. While I know deep down I haven’t worked in four days, the words must hold some truth since this is the fourth time she’s said it. I use the best smelling shampoo, and I sprayed a little bit of Love’s Baby Soft on me just moments ago.

“No! You have never smelled like pizza, even after work! If you want me to ruin her entire night, all I need is permission and one little stumble…” before she completes the sentence, she’s holding a tube of bright red lipstick and has one eyebrow raised. It’s hard to be serious.

“We aren’t playing her game,” I say, looking around and seeing that no one even paid attention to her.

“Oh, Charlotte! Please let me play her game, honey!” Esther begs just under her breath.

“Maybe someday, not not today,” I say.

I laugh through the tears wanting to form. My nervousness combined with Eliza’s meanness don’t go well together. Usually I can just ignore her and realize she’s just mean, but it’s beginning to really get to me.

“I can’t stand to see you take shit from her,” Esther says.

Retraining my thoughts, I get back to focusing on getting ready. Esther begins to freshen my makeup, and Clara is rolling my hair in hot rollers.

“You’re going to give Farrah Fawcett a run for her money when I finish with you,” she says.

“I thought I was getting a French twist,” I say in protest.

“Not with hair like this, you aren’t,” Clara says.

There is laughter where Eliza's group is. Her three best friends, plus her mother’s hairstylist just showed up. They are all working on her. I try not to envy anything about her, and I really don't other than the fact that she's beautiful without even trying. She's the last person who needs a professional. I look over at the other two nominees who are doing as I am. One is painting her fingernails a bright red while her friend is working on her hair. The other has already put on her dress and is just waiting. She's on the basketball team, and naturally thin and tall. We introduced ourselves at practice for homecoming, but we didn’t talk really.

"Hey, how are you, Vicki?"

“I’m okay, I guess," she rolls her eyes. “But this is madness."

I giggle. "Why do you say that?"

She looks down at her dress and back up at me. She wears an adorable pixie cut hairdo. "Look at me. Do you know I haven't put on a dress since I was 10 and had to go to my oldest sister's wedding? I swear I was only nominated because my basketball team swore they would see me in a dress one way or another!" she says with a humph and crosses her arms. She's not amused.

"Well, if I say so myself, I think you look gorgeous.” Her dress is simple navy with a tiny red bow at the waistline. It fits her tall, shapely frame like a glove.

She shakes her head. "I don't! Do you see these heels? They make me 6'3"! That's my dad's height!" She stands up just as she says it, and she takes my breath away.

I wince as I say it because I don't know if she'll like it, but it's the truth. "You look like a model."

"No way could I pull that off. I can barely stand in these heels.”

“I’m sure this is nothing for you,” knowing if she can play basketball, she can surely walk in heels.

"Well, you're just as sweet as everyone says you are. That's why I voted for you," she says.

“Oh…I’m not always sweet. Ask my brother,” I say, wishing I’d not said anything now.

"I don't mean to be weird, but I heard about what happened at Pizza Hut. Everyone knows about it," she says under her breath, cutting her eyes towards Eliza, who isn't giving us a fraction of attention.

"That's embarrassing."

"Embarrassing for you? Nooo. It should be embarrassing for her," she says as she nods towards Eliza.

I wave my hand in front of my face. "Well, it was just a misunderstanding and it worked out," I say, hoping to clear the air.

"I heard Sidney Parker paid you.”

"Where did you hear this?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "Everyone knows. Word gets around. It's a small school."

"Okay!" Clara breaks in, "Look at the final product!"

I turn in the chair to look at myself in the small mirror. "Oh, wow!" I say, swishing my hair back and forth. "You're incredible!"

"You have incredible hair, Charlotte. I only left the rollers in for five minutes."

"Will it hold?"

"We will see, but if this hairspray can't hold it, then I don't know what will. It's practically glue for your hair,” she says, holding up the Aqua Net and leaving me in a cloud of mist. I’m pretty sure my eyelashes will be stiff as well after that.

“Do you have to use so much?"

"Well, in this humidity, you're going to need it. It has to hold though the parade. We can refresh for the game, and then you have the dance. Don’t give it a chance to fall or your hair is history.”

Even though it's October, during the parade, it will be in the mid-80s, and it's always humid since we are near the ocean.

Just ten minutes before we are to leave, I stand and walk back to the dressing area and slip into my dress. It's not possible to wear a bra, but the dress isn't made to wear one with, so it's okay. Esther zips me up and Clara let me borrow her black strappy heels she wore to the disco a few times. I'm still not sure why shoes are important since I'll be sitting in a car. I could be in comfortable tennis shoes and no one would know. But Esther and Clara are all about the whole picture.

"Five minutes, girls! And your cars are all here waiting! Hustle up!" Mrs. Schuster shouts through the door to the locker room.

Clara slips my sash over my head, and Esther carefully pins the mum to my shoulder that James gave me.

When I walk out, I am stopped in my tracks when I see Eliza standing there staring at me. She looks like Cinderella going to the ball in a baby blue ballgown that will most assuredly take up the entire back seat of the car she's riding in.

The locker room has gone quiet. Even Vicki stops adjusting her heels to watch.

"Well, look at that dainty little mum," Eliza says, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She examines her own elaborate get-up, touching the ribbons that cascade nearly to her waist. "How... quaint."

Heat rushes to my cheeks. "Thank you. I really like it."

She lets out a laugh that sounds like breaking glass. "You would." Her eyes sweep over me from head to toe, lingering on my simple red dress. "I suppose when you're used to grease and pizza girl uniforms, anything seems special."

The other girls have stopped what they're doing. Even her own friends look uncomfortable.

"Eliza." Esther's voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “What is your problem?”

Eliza turns to face Esther fully, her sequined dress catching the fluorescent lights. "Oh, Esther. You know, I always thought you had such good taste. Such discerning judgment about people." She pauses, letting the words hang in the air. “But look at her in that frumpy dress. She doesn’t deserve to be here,” she bellows.

The insult hits like a slap. I feel my face burn, and I'm sure everyone can see it.

But this time, something inside me snaps.

“Don’t you dare ever -” Esther starts, but I cut her off.

"You know what, Eliza?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. The entire locker room is dead silent now. "You can say whatever you want about me if that makes you feel good about yourself. I'm not ashamed of who I am or where I work or the clothes I wear.” I take a breath, trying to stay calm. "I'm proud that I work hard, and I appreciate the nomination.”

Eliza's perfect composure falters for just a moment. “Awww…Well, enjoy it while it lasts, freak.”

“Freak?” Esther’s face is redder than my dress. “Look in the mirror to see who the freak is!”

"Girls!" Mrs. Schuster's voice booms through the locker room. “Stop your bickering! Cars are waiting! Let's move!"

“This isn’t over,” Eliza turns just before she opens the door.

“I didn’t figure it was,” I whispered to myself. Eliza is not going to miss an opportunity to harass me.

“Yeah, it is!” Esther shouts. “Keep your comments to yourself…” she fades because I stop her before she says something she’ll regret.

Chapter Text

It’s finally halftime. There’s a feeling in my gut I’m not used to. Some of the best passes I’ve ever made have been tonight. It’s the nervous energy. Something feels different, but I’ll be glad to get this event over with.

Half the town, maybe more, have shown up for homecoming. It’s Friday night. If you’re any part of this town, and there is a home game, you are at the stadium if you’re physically able.

I take a minute to wash my face with a wet towel my offensive coach hands me. It feels like I have an entourage as almost the entire team ushers me out until the head coach blows his whistle, motioning for them to get their asses back to the field house. I look back and see them leaning against the cinder block wall to get the best possible view. If what Otis Molineax told me just before the game started is true, this is just all so damn ironic how things play out. But I’ll believe it when I see it.

Sometimes wrongs just get righted in the most interesting ways…. I know it doesn’t happen often, but I’ll take it when it does. Especially this time.

Mrs. Schuster brings me the flowers just as I jog up to my spot. I stand over to the side so the newspaper cameras will have a full view of the homecoming court standing on the sidelines in perfect formation on the 50 yard line. When the band starts the song, something in my gut tells me this is going to be a good night for me and a lot of other people. One person in particular.

The marching band apparently changed the song. It’s a big improvement from the one they played at practice. You are so Beautiful to Me is easily recognized. As I see Charlotte and her dress standing there, I realize it’s not fair to anyone else. She’s dazzling. Her dress isn’t half as overpowering as Eliza’s but twice as classy and fitting for this. When it comes to fashion, I’m in the negative in how much I know about it, but I can tell you when someone is amazing just because of who she is.

This song is for Charlotte. A lump in my throat forms when I realize how much she takes my breath away as she walks across the field where she will stand on a short podium about three feet from the next person.

“Charlotte Heywood, sophomore, the daughter of Don and Grace Heywood. Charlotte enjoys reading, swimming and hiking nature trails. Miss Heywood is escorted by her father, Don Heywood.”

When they get to Eliza, I notice how she has a list that seems to take 30 minutes to read off by the announcer. I could even hear it in his voice. She must have listed every accomplishment she’s had since third grade. I hear a few scoffs and chuckles from the stands when the announcer says, “homecoming nominee for four years straight…” somewhere towards the end of that ridiculous spiel.

The girls are all situated on their podiums, their fathers standing behind them to the side. I’m a little nervous, wondering how exactly this is going to play out.

I feel a little short of breath as the announcer says, “And your 1979 Sanditon Homecoming Queen is…” he pauses way too damn long, “…Miss Charlotte Heywood.”

The crowd in the stands is roaring. So many things are going on at once that it feels like the world is spinning on its axis.

That just happened.

Grateful for this moment, I walk towards Charlotte with the flowers. Before I quite reach her, out of the corner of my eye, I see Eliza storming for her, Charlotte. Just as I’m about to put myself, pads and all, between Charlotte and what looks like a maniac coming towards us, Eliza’s father stops her. I breathe a sigh of relief as I watch the whole thing go down like it’s in slow motion, Eliza slamming her flowers to the ground, petals flying everywhere, storming off the field, yelling something that’s not even audible with the band playing and the people in the stands still cheering and watching this whole entire debacle right in front of them.

When I am two feet away from Charlotte, the crowd gets a little quieter. Mrs.Schuster places the crown on her perfect head. I move to stand before her and place the flowers in her arms. There’s a glisten in her eyes.

“Congratulations, Charlotte.”

She shakes her head slightly. “I think there’s been a mistake,” she says brokenly as a tear escapes her eyes. I step a little closer and lift my hand and wipe away the stray tear.

“It’s not a mistake.”

“The senior always wins,” she says as she lifts her hand to wipe more tears.

“Not this time. Don’t doubt yourself. You got the most votes. Otis Molineaux told me.”

“But-”

“Charlotte…”

I don’t let her get the sentence out, and I wrap my hand around her upper arm to anchor her. Before I can think better of it, my other hand reaches for her cheek. At the last split second, rather than kissing her on the cheek that she was clearly expecting, I kiss her fully on her lips. Not too long to make it obvious, but long enough to make a scene, apparently, since her father clears his throat very loudly.

I hear what I think is a little "oh..." escape her as she brings her finger to her lips as if to say she can't believe this just happened.

I take a quick step back and look over apologetically and nod towards her father. He didn’t even cross my mind for that split second.

“You deserve this, Charlotte,” I say.

“Excuse me, sir,” I say to Charlotte’s father before I run off the field while I hear the roar of the crowd behind me and Charlotte’s taste lingers on my lips. Something sweet and a little bit tangy. I lick my lips again, and a pang hits me how amazing I feel, even after kissing her in front of 400-500 people. That’s just our side.

When I get 10 feet from the field house, the team is clobbering me with their back slaps and obnoxious comments. As we get inside, they’re striking my ass with their towels. I didn’t catch them all, but Eliza’s name was mentioned several times, and not in a good way. I think her not winning has been the best entertainment of the entire night…it might go down in history as the best night of the entire year.

Sanditon High has never seen a homecoming shake-up like this. Guys are never into this kind of shit, but man, these guys won’t stop talking about it until the coach finally has to ring the cowbell right outside his office.

“What are you, middle schoolers? We have work to do, girls! Didn’t know you were all part of the drama club. Get ahold of yourselves. It’s just one night…” He goes on to give us the lecture he always does at halftime, and I wonder if I heard a word he said.

We’re only seven weeks into the semester, and Charlotte Heywood has managed to win the school over.

Me too.

Chapter Text

Charlotte

The drive to the gym from the football stadium is only a few minutes since the football stadium is just across Stingray Drive, the small street running between the football field and the high school. James insists we take his car instead of walking over. Honestly, I am relieved not having to go that far in these heels. How will I make it through an entire dance in them?

"So I'm guessing you saw Eliza when they announced that you won?" James said with a little snicker.

"No, I really didn't. I was looking at her when they announced it because I thought she'd win. Why didn't she win?"

I know I sound repetitive at this point, but I still cannot get it. James hung out with me for most of the night after halftime. People, mostly little children, were lined up where some moms with Instamatic cameras were taking photos of them with me at a photo booth. It was a fundraiser for the band. After I did that, the principal wanted me to walk around and say hi to people, which felt so strange since I practically don't know anyone. I was thankful for Esther, Clara and James who knew almost everyone, making it less awkward.

James shakes his head, smiling. "She didn't deserve it. That's why."

"Do you think maybe it's just a joke that someone is playing on me like in that movie Carrie? Maybe I'll show up at the dance and they'll have some kind of prank for me?"

James laughs a little bit high-pitched, but it's funny, and I laugh too. "No. It's not a joke. There is no pig's blood waiting to be dumped on your head. If anyone, that would be Eliza."

"Where did Eliza go? Did you ever find out?"

He shrugs. "Who knows? She's lived her life for this night. She called Mrs. Schuster a name when she said that you won fair and square. I'm not sure what happened after that because that was about the time you walked off the field."

"It's so sad that she's lived for this moment and then someone took it away. Do you think someone may have cheated?"

He stops the car because we're at the gym now. He turns off the headlights and looks over at me with a meaningful look. "Charlotte, maybe you just don't see it, but you need to open your eyes."

The trouble is, my eyes are open. I see everything about Eliza because of how cruel she is towards me. That doesn't change the fact that I've been at the school for less than two months and was crowned homecoming queen. Aside from Esther, Clara, James, Sidney, Babington, Crowe and Diana, along with a few other girls that eat lunch at our table, no one knows me really…

"My eyes are open. But there were two others besides me and Eliza, remember?"

"I do. I can't explain it. But I'm sure it's for real. So before we get out of this car, you'd better accept it because I don't know what we're going to find when we walk in there. But if you go in acting like you shouldn't have won, then no one else is going to think so either. So you need to accept it."

"Accept it? What is that supposed to mean? I'm wearing the crown!"

"Okay. I used the wrong word. Believe it."

I take a deep breath as I open the door to the car. James runs around the car to get it for me and help me out. In heels, it's a little more difficult than usual.

~

The dance is nothing what I expected. People are coming up to me and putting their arms around me, congratulating me. Some of these people I have never seen before.

"What's wrong?" James asks. Sometimes it's eerie how he can read me so well. He's as perceptive as Esther, and that is saying something.

"It's just weird, that's all," I say as we stand in a secluded area where two sets of folded-up bleachers don't quite meet.

"What's weird?"

"People seem nervous around me." It’s just something I now notice.

"You're intimidating, Charlotte," he chuckles.

"If there is one thing I know, it's that I'm not intimidating!"

He laughs full on this time. "You're intimidating as hell to guys. Maybe not the girls."

"I'm not intimidating to you," I say. We've been fast friends since the day we met.

He shrugs. "Girls just don't intimidate me like they do most guys."

"Well, I'm glad for that."

"How about a dance?"

~

My feet are killing me as I dance every dance with someone new. The mum was laid aside a long time ago and the attention is more than I can handle. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but I cannot help it. It's weird and strange and wonderful all at once that this has happened to me. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined this night to turn out this way.

As the song Good Times ends, YMCA begins. Everyone is on the floor, whether having a partner or not. I'm in the middle of the floor and my aching feet are the least of my worries and don't hurt near as much since I took the heels off and can move around the floor much easier.

Following that, someone has the bright idea to play the bunny hop. I get behind Esther and Diana is behind me. I feel her hands move away and strong, large hands take her place at my waist.

Shivers run down my spine, and I don't have to look behind me to know who causes them because I hear the rumble of his deep voice speaking to Diana, though I have no idea what they are saying.

I've seen Sidney, but he's been with his football team mostly. When I have caught a glimpse of him, sometimes he's watching me. But now his hands are on me, and I have to remember to make sure I hop in the right direction as the music plays since I'm flustered by feeling his warm hands on me.

The bunny hop ends and he takes my arm and pulls me back to him. I turn around and look up.

"Dance with me on this one," he says.

Stairway to Heaven is playing. Butterflies explode in my stomach, knowing this is a long song.

"How does it feel?" he asks, smiling. Gosh, he's incredible. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely breathe.

"Um…you mean this?" I ask, pointing to the crown.

"Yeah."

"I feel bad for Eliza. She really wanted to win."

He chuckles. "Eliza usually gets what she wants."

"She does."

And I know that.

"But you deserved it. You're all the things someone who wins should be."

I shake my head. "I'm not popular."

"It shouldn't be about that."

"Maybe," I agree.

"But she's really upset, I think."

"Her pride is hurt."

He doesn't say much else as he pulls me closer to him. I can feel his heartbeat against my hand that's resting on his chest, my head on his shoulder facing him, smelling his cologne. I want to drink in the moment, knowing this may be the last time I have an excuse to get this close to Sidney Parker.

I don't sense he wants to talk at all. There's something between us I can't explain, this pull that makes us both want to be closer. It's always been there between us, constantly stealing a glance at one another as we pass in the halls, a brush of his hand to get my attention if I pretend not to see him. Every single day I know exactly what he's wearing from the shirt, the jeans or corduroys, even down to his shoes, or sometimes boots.

I feel him breathe and his hand reaches up to steady the crown that gets a little dislodged from me being so close to him. His fingers are gentle as he adjusts it back in place, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. I look up and see a photographer taking our photo, the same one that was at the game. He walks around and snaps photos of others too, which makes me feel a little better.

As the song is about to end, I hear scuffling and voices behind me. The music suddenly seems quieter, like people have stopped talking. Something is wrong.

Just as I turn and see her, Eliza is heading straight towards me, her face twisted with rage. Sidney pulls me against him completely and spins us around so I'm behind him, his arm still holding me there.

"Get her out of here," he turns and says to Babington and Esther who are right there dancing next to us. His voice is steady but urgent.

"What are you doing, Sidney! That bitch cheated!" Eliza's voice cuts through the gym, loud enough that the music seems to fade into the background.

Chapter Text

The wrath Eliza probably feels toward Charlotte has to be off the charts. She’d claw her eyes out if she got the chance, but she’s not gonna get that chance.

“What are you doing, Sidney! That bitch cheated!” Eliza’s eyes are about to pop clean out of her head. I’ve seen her mad, but never like this.

“She didn’t cheat, Eliza.”

She shoves past me, yelling at anyone in her way. I’ll give her this. The girl has gumption. The gym’s chaos now with people whispering, pointing, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“Move!” I boom, pushing through the wall of bodies. Half of them are just standing there, watching the free show.

Through the mess, I spot Babington holding the gym double door open. Charlotte and Esther slip out quick because they’re already gone. Eliza’s still in the middle of the floor, looking like a wreck with her mascara smeared, her hair wild, while holding the crown on her head.

“Someone help me!” she cries, trying to hold it in place.

She must have yanked that crown off Charlotte. I moved it half an inch earlier and it was locked in tight. It couldn’t have come off easy.

“Give me the crown, Eliza,” Mrs. Schuster says as she marches up, a couple of other teachers trailing behind her. Took them long enough to notice.

“This is mine,” Eliza says with fake pageant sweetness.

“No, it’s not. Please hand it to me. The crown’s very expensive.”

Eliza arches her brows, scanning the crowd. You could hear a pin drop in that gym.

“You’re not taking it. When you count those votes again, I’ll be the winner.”

Mrs. Schuster folds her arms. “Young lady, you will not speak to me that way. You might not like what you learn on Monday.”

Eliza scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She plants her hands on her hips, the crown still wobbling. Her little sidekicks are nowhere in sight.

“Eliza, you cheated. We found fake tick marks next to your name. Your friends are in the office right now being questioned along with the other student council members who counted votes.”

Eliza’s face goes red, but she doesn’t back down. “You’re not getting this crown. And she’s sure as hell not getting it.” She puts so much venom into she that even I feel myself flinch.

Mrs. Schuster steps forward with some guy I’m guessing is her husband. Eliza rips the crown off and flings it across the gym. It hits the floor and shatters into a hundred pieces.

The whole place goes silent. The music has stopped. You can hear the hum of the air conditioner.

Teachers and chaperones scramble to collect the pieces. The janitor shows up with a broom and a brown paper bag, sweeping the shards like he’s done this before.

Crowe comes up beside me. “Damn, man. This night calls for a stiff drink or three.”

“What the hell happened? How’d she even get that crown?”

Crowe shrugs. “Beats me. Eliza had it, that’s all I saw.”

James steps up behind him. “Charlotte gave it to her. Took it off her head and handed it over.”

I stare at him. “Why the hell would she do that?”

James shakes his head. “Did you not see Eliza? The girl was foaming at the mouth.”

I try to picture it. Charlotte, calm and vibrant, handing that crown over while Eliza’s losing her damn mind.

“Is she gone?” I ask.

“Yeah. Babington got her and Esther out. I figured that was your call.”

“I didn’t want her trampled. I just told him to get her out.”

James leans back against the cinder block wall, arms crossed, giving me that look like he’s sizing me up. “I don’t know what your deal is, Parker. I can’t kick your ass, but if you screw with Charlotte, I’ll sure as hell try.”

That one catches me off guard.

“Why would I hurt her?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. But she’s too good for you.”

“I won’t argue that. But there’s nothing between us.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“You got a cork up your ass or somethin’? What’s your deal, man?”

He steps closer, not quite in my face but close enough. “I saw you dancing with her. If you don’t give two shits about her, stop jerking her around.”

“And if I do give two shits?”

“Then say it. Quit playing games.”

“Coming from the guy who’s with her every damn day and hasn’t made a move?”

That hits him. He runs a hand through his hair and looks away. “It’s not like that between us.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re telling me you’ve got a chance with Charlotte Heywood and you’re not taking it?”

“I don’t know if I’ve got a chance.”

“But you haven’t asked.”

He sighs. “Don’t have time for a girlfriend right now.”

I laugh. “You’re with her all the time, and brought her here as your date. What else do you think she expects?”

He shakes his head. “She doesn’t expect anything.”

“So you two aren’t…?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Come on, man. You and I both know there ain’t a guy here who wants to be just friends with Charlotte Heywood… unless he’s gay or something.”

His face hardens. I pretend not to notice the look on his face he does a shitty job of hiding.

“Truce?” I ask before he can answer.

He takes a few seconds, then nods. “Yeah, dude. Truce.”

Chapter Text

Charlotte -

James was the perfect gentleman all night long, but there is just something completely missing between us. I can't explain it, but when James holds my hand, it's nice. When Sidney barely brushes against me, it's like lightning. He stopped by the house to make sure I made it home okay and we stood on my front porch so he could tell me what happened after I left.

After I handed her the crown, she was trying to put it on her head. She made a huge scene when Mrs. Schuster tried to get it from her and ended up throwing it across the gym floor and was taken to the office.

Mrs. Schuster mentioned there was cheating involved, but James didn’t hear it all. There were rumors flying that her friends made it look like she won the nomination, but she didn’t.

Before James left, he said something that kind of shocked me.

"I think Sidney has the hots for you.”

It made me nervous for him to say it, but I had to ask, “Why do you say that?”

“The way he watched you, the way he danced with you. And he wasn’t even really supposed to kiss you, but he did. Did you say anything to him about that?”

I shook my head. “No. I just thought he was supposed to kiss the winner.”

I kind of lied, I guess, since I knew he really only had to kiss me on the cheek.

“Everyone’s talking about it.”

“Does it - does it bother you?”

James looked down and then back up at me again, seeming to give that question a thought. “I don’t think so. We’re just friends, right?”

“I think you’re one of my best friends. That’s why I asked.”

“It only bothers me if he’s just jerking you around, and I don’t think Sidney Parker has a serious bone in his body when it comes to girls.”

He was right. I knew it. “I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Sidney knows how to play the game. Just be aware of that. If Eliza’s out of the picture, girls will be all over him.”

My heart fell a little hearing those words. “I know. Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

Our dance was intimate, I admit. It was as if no one else existed in that entire gymnasium, even if the whole school could see. It’s hard to believe Sidney didn’t feel it like I did. But like James said, it’s all probably a game for him and he does this kind of thing a lot. Every girl may feel exactly like I do when they’re around him.

When I finally crawl into bed after washing my face and taking a long shower, the Sea Breeze astringent kind of jars me wide awake. I'm not used to wearing that much makeup, and I hope I don't wake up to a pimple farm on my face in the morning.

But even as I try to focus on normal things, my heart is still racing. Hours later, and I still can’t make sense of the entire night. I keep replaying the scene in my mind of Eliza coming towards me like a rabid dog and handing her the crown. It was apparently more important to her to have the crown if she was just planning to rip it off my head. 

What I still feel as I try to lie here and settle down enough to sleep is Sidney's hands on me, the warmth of his breath against my cheek when he held me, the way his dark eyes seemed to look into my soul. My skin feels electric everywhere he touched me, like some part of him is still there. I keep pressing my fingers to the spot behind my ear where his hand brushed my face and kissed me so tenderly right in front of everyone,  even my dad!

I pull my pillow over my face and do my best to wipe out thoughts of Sidney Parker, but it's impossible. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. Every time I breathe, I swear I can still smell his cologne.

~

The Monday morning blues is an understatement of how I feel walking in to school. I’m nervous about what I will find. As I walk by, people are whispering and talking, but no one says anything directly to me. I wanted to talk to Esther so bad yesterday, but she was at a family reunion all day long, and I worked the night shift at Pizza Hut. I was hoping she would have stopped by and told me anything she knew, but no such luck.

When I open my locker, a note almost falls out. I recognize the writing immediately. Charlotte Heywood, Sanditon’s Sweetheart on the front. I giggle as I open it.

What kind of lip gloss was that? I liked it.

A little spark rushes through me and warmth spreads. He’s talking about when he kissed me. At that moment, as I’m folding the note back up, it’s as if I feel a breeze behind me. When I turn around, he almost takes my breath away. He’s smiling at me, leaning against the row of lockers where I’m standing.

“Oh!” I say and put my hand across my chest.

I try to remind myself to breathe. He looks incredible. His hair is a little curlier than usual, still wet from his apparent shower. I can smell his masculine soap, and all I want to do is get closer to him. But I stay glued to one spot.

“Got an answer for me?” he says, still smiling, his eyes twinkling.

I giggle. “It’s strawberry Lip Smackers.”

He never moves his eyes off me, making me visibly nervous, I’m sure. My hands are shaky as I rifle through my locker to get my Algebra II textbook.

“Lip Smackers, huh?” He says it so casually.

“Yes.” I can’t hide the smile. Everything just buzzes between us. I can’t figure it out. No one has ever affected me this way and I’m so mad at myself that I can’t help feeling giddy.

“I like it. You got it on right now?” he says as his eyes linger on my lips like he’s suggesting something.

I realize right then that he is messing with me, just as James said. He really does know what he’s doing. He knows how to affect girls this way. Eliza at the dance? I can see how a girl could be driven crazy over this guy. I look up at his gorgeous brown eyes and know I’m next to be admitted to Sidney’s own section at the insane asylum, Girls Driven Crazy by Sidney Parker.

“Maybe,” I say, taking everything I have in me. I turn and wave back at him. “Have a good day, Sidney.”

“Have a good day?” I hear him murmur behind me.

I keep walking, hoping I have the strength to not be like every other girl and fall at his feet.

“Hey! Hold up!” he says as he takes some long strides to catch up with me.

“I’m in a hurry. Sorry.”

He glances at his watch. “We still have three minutes.”

“I need to talk to my teacher. I have to go,” I say, as I head down the math and science hall, knowing he doesn’t come anywhere near this hall this time of day.

“See you later,” he says, but I’m already a good distance away and don’t respond.