Double Threats Forever (Double Threat Series)

by Prestsater, Julie

  “Megan, you have a call slip.” Mrs. Fuller’s sub waves a little white piece of paper in the air. It takes me a minute to realize she’s talking to me. With my favorite teacher on maternity leave, I’ve holed myself up in the corner of her room and zoned out. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of work in a week, when this sub gets in over her head and breaks down and asks for help.

  I gather my things, grab the slip from her hands, and walk out of my fifth period class. When I glance down at the paper, I’m not surprised to see who summoned me.

  “Hey, Meg. Come on in.” Mrs. Flores is shoving a folder in a file cabinet when I get to her office. She closes the drawer with a shriek of metal grinding against metal and takes a seat at her desk.

  “Hi.” I drop my backpack on the floor and sit in one of the chairs across from her.

  “Come in, Amy.” I look over my shoulder and see her standing in the doorway. She flashes me a worried smile and sits down beside me.

  “Don’t get all pale in the face on me, girls. I just want to see how things are going? You haven’t visited since you made nice. I was getting worried.”

  Amy and I look at each other and shrug. Amy starts, “Things are good. We’re not fighting anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It’s a start.” Mrs. Flores sits back in her chair, steepling her hands under her chin.

  She doesn’t add anything else, so I say, “Yeah, we’re fine. Amy even helped me study for my calculus final. I ended up getting a B in the class because of her help.”

  Her eyes search for more, but I really don’t know what she’s looking for. “How about the rest of your friends, Meg? Have they accepted Amy like you have?”

  Nope. That’s not what I was expecting. “I haven’t talked to them about it.” I didn’t know I needed to. Besides, what would I say? “Mrs. Flores, it’s not like I can give them any details about how we started talking again.”

  “Do they even know you’re talking again?”

  “Uh.” I pause. “I guess not. It’s never come up.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t need Meg to say anything,” Amy says.

  “I’m not sure it is. Getting you girls to talk out your issues was one thing, and now that you have, there’s no reason why Amy can’t have all her friends back.”

  “Wait a minute, Mrs. Flores. Meg and I are not besties or anything. We don’t hang out, we’re not like regular friends. And I’m okay with that. So let’s not push it,” Amy insists. I’m glad she said it because I was thinking it.

  “If I’m right, the other two girls, and the guys too, I guess, are still hung up on what happened when you were ninth graders because they think Meg still hasn’t gotten over it. Why shouldn’t she tell them she’s forgiven you so they can let go of the hate too?”

  “Well, when you put it that way,” I drag out my words, sounding like a sarcastic ass. “Sorry, just kidding.” I look at Amy. “I’ll tell them I’m over it. I think it’ll be good for all of us.”

  And I mean it. I’ll tell them.

  Eventually.

  It’s our last game of the season and the stadium is packed. I scan the crowd, meeting eyes with my mom and dad. They both wave and I put up a hand. Keesh’s parents are with them. After four years of blood, sweat, and tears for this team, we’re finally on the highly coveted football field. For some reason, this field is locked down like it’s Fort Knox. Only the varsity football team is ever allowed to play here. I’m not sure why they’re so special. They may have won more games than usual the last two years, but both the girls’ and boys’ soccer teams have had better winning seasons since I can remember.

  Maybe if we’d been given the honor of playing on this very expensive artificial-turf field before, we would have had more people cheering for us at each game. Who wants to stand on the sidelines and tote a lawn chair out to the ugly scrimmage field to watch a game?

  Okay. I’m over it. We’re here now. And we’re about to kick ass in front of a crowd of people.

  After finishing my stretches, I reach into my bag for one of my many bottles of water. I think of Alex every time I take a drink, remembering the first time he urged me to stay hydrated. Never in a million years did I think filling myself with water would keep my muscles from pounding with hurt. But it worked then, and still does.

  Travis and Josh slide onto the bench next to my parents.

  Josh stands long enough to shout, “Let’s go, girls. Kick some Creekside booty!” Then he finishes with a bunch of fist pumps, “Woomp! Woomp! Woomp!”

  Shaking my head, I give him the thumbs up.

  “Are we that bad at his games?” Keesh asks.

  “Dude, you guys are worse,” Andi says.

  Dom and Steph are the last to arrive before we take the field.

  Perfect timing.

  Everyone is here to see us beat the crap out of our rivals.

  “Let’s go, Carver,” Andi shouts, her high ponytail laced with orange ribbons bounces as she jumps up and down.

  It’s like her energy pumps up the whole team. At the blow of the first whistle, another forward taps the ball to Keesh and she takes off downfield. I follow her every move, juking player after player. She sees an open man and passes it with ease and complete power. Then, she works at getting open, and the ball is passed back. One, two, three dribbles, and … BAM! The ball whooshes into the net then falls to the ground. The goalie didn’t even see it coming, the girls were so quick.

  Fortunately, the rest of the half and most of the second is a replay of that first thirty seconds. We pound the ball into their goal, time after time. They even switch goalies two minutes into the second half, but it doesn’t help.

  Most of my time is spent in the middle third. The few times the ball has come back to me it’s because of a drop kick from the goalie, but their forwards never even get close before I send it back up the field. To their defense, their backs are playing hard, they’re just no match for Keesha. I almost feel bad for them. She’s on fire with seven goals already. I know I sure as hell couldn’t defend her, not tonight … or ever.

  Their team takes a time-out with five minutes left. That’s still a lot of time. Anything can happen but I just don’t see them making a comeback.

  “Dude, you’re in,” Coach calls out to Andi.

  She looks at him in shock. She hasn’t played much at all this season, perfectly content with being the ultimate cheerleader. But our games haven’t been this easy either.

  He gives her a look. “Andi. Did you hear me?”

  “Dude. Yeah, Coach. I’m ready.”

  He chuckles. “Then take off your warm-ups.” He sits Jenna, who plays opposite of Keesh, not taking any chances putting her on defense.

  Keesh and I steal a glance at each other. A smile stretches across her face and I’m sure I mirror her image of happiness. This is gonna be fun.

  “All right, you got this, Andi! Score one for big papa!” I shift my eyes to the bleachers, as I take my position on the field, and catch Travis whacking Josh in the chest.

  “Let’s go, Andi!” Travis yells.

  The whistle blows. One of their players throws the ball in. Our middle fielder jumps in front of theirs and traps the ball. It slides down her body and when it hits the turf, she passes it to … Andi. Here, we go.

  Andi looks stunned for a split second, but turns the ball toward the goal and starts to dribble, looking up for options.

  I look over at Keesh, who has her eyes on Andi. “Take a shot, girl,” she yells.

  She digs her left foot into the ground and is about to let it rip when one of their players comes out of nowhere like a bulldozer. She knocks Andi on her ass. The whistle blows again and the girl gets a yellow card. Bitch should get more than that.

  Andi is still down and the ref calls our coach over.

  I run toward her on the other side of the field.

  When I get there, I hear her say, “Dude, she stepped on my hand.” Tears fill her eyes. “On purpose. Dude, that’s so mea
n. She just dug her cleats into my hand.” I look down and she’s cradling it in her other one. Blood drips into her lap and she looks a total mess.

  “Oh my god.” Her future flashes through my mind. “Your hand. Which hand?”

  I can’t hear anything she says over the shouting behind me.

  Over my shoulder, I see Keesh being held back by our team.

  “You fucking bitch. I’m gonna kick your ass, you sore loser. She’s an artist, you bitch. If she never paints again, your ass is getting sued if I don’t kill you first.”

  The ref holds up a red card to Keesh. “Are you kidding me? That chick just purposely injured one of our plays and only got a yellow, and she just yells and gets a red. What a joke?”

  Then he holds up the red to me.

  Keesh is being pulled to our bench by the assistant coach, and I can already see her dad heading down the bleachers. Travis is already on the track when I turn back. Our campus security won’t let him on the field, but he’s close enough that I can see the worry in his eyes.

  Andi gets to her feet. She swipes the last tears from her eyes and flashes a tough smile. “I’m okay everyone. Dude, I’m fine. It’s just a little cut.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “It’s your hand.”

  “It’s okay. It’s my left hand. I’m good.” She waves it toward Keesh. “See.”

  A sigh of relief escapes in a loud whoosh.

  Keesh smiles, but with a snarl, says, “Dude, I’m still kicking that bitch’s ass.”

  Both coaches agree to end the game early without forfeit.

  Travis is glued to Andi’s side as we shuffle out to the parking lot.

  “Some game,” Dad says. Mom is already checking out Andi like she’s some kind of triage nurse.

  “Yeah, it was. Can we celebrate at our house?” I ask him.

  “Sure, we’ll get going. I’ll start a fire for you and heat the spa. Meet you guys there.” He drags my mom away from my injured friend and they disappear into the crowds.

  “I guess we’re partying,” Josh says. “Who wants a ride?”

  “Me.” Keesh hangs her bag on his shoulder. “Take me home for a quick shower first.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it, Andi?” Travis curves his hand around her neck.

  “Yeah, definitely. I just wanna go home and shower too. And call my mom.”

  “We can take you home, Meggie,” Dom says.

  “Perfect.”

  We’re almost to the car when I catch a glimpse of Amy. She’s with Brody. Cool! Maybe there’s a little more to the study buddy routine I thought they were doing.

  “Hey!” They both look my way. “We’re all hanging out at my house tonight. Come over.”

  Brody’s eyes widen and Amy bites the side of her lip.

  “It’ll be okay, I promise. Right, Steph?” I look over at my friend who shrugs.

  “Sure. I’m good if you are.”

  Amy glances at Keesh.

  “Right?” I nod, trying to urge an okay out of her.

  She shakes her head. “Sure, whatever, Meggie. See y’all there.”

  And that is that. We’re all on our way to my house. Amy and all.

  Chapter 23

  In ASB, Mr. Mitchell passes out assignments for our next big event. We’ve entered Backwards season. Girls play football. Boys shave their legs and wear cheerleading skirts, and tops stuffed with balled up socks to give themselves D-cups. And then there’s the rally where, opposite of homecoming, five boys are voted to the royal court and dance on stage while a couple thousand girls scream for them. The whole thing ends with a dance in the cafeteria, and to this one, the girls are supposed to ask the boys.

  “Hey, Meg. Do you have Amy’s number? I wanna see if I can borrow her uniform. I’m gonna be a cheerleader this year.” Josh throws his hands in the air, wiggling his spirit fingers.

  “I don’t think it’s changed. Don’t you have it?”

  His face crunches up. “I deleted it back then.”

  “Oh.” I search through my phone and text him her contact info.

  “So, she’s not gonna be hanging around for everything, right?” Keesh asks. She’s making posters, trying to sound casual but I can tell she’s been dying to ask the question.

  I’m actually thankful to her from bringing it up. “No. Probably just a one-time thing. She apologized for messing with Eric. And we’ve been good. No hassles in class or anything. She even helped me in math. I thought maybe we could hang out and see how it went. But it was awkward. Don’t you think?”

  Steph sighs. “Thank god someone said it. I’m all for forgiveness but that was just weird. And then what happens when Alex comes home for good? Won’t it be weird for him too?”

  “I think he’d be okay.” I chew on my thumbnail, considering it. It might be weird for me, with her being around him. It’s not that I think she’d try to get back together with him again, but maybe if it hadn’t been for her, Alex and I would’ve been together sooner. “Anyway, I don’t think she wants to hang out with us on a regular basis. I think she was just as uncomfortable. I think it’s enough that we all know we’re all okay with each other. No more bitchiness.”

  Steph and Keesh seem to be mulling it over. After a few beats, they both nod in agreement.

  Andi and Travis squeeze through the doors of the cafeteria with a load of supplies in their hands. When I catch a glimpse of the small bandage on the back of her left hand, I cringe thinking how different things would be if she’d injured the right. She has full mobility of the left, but I know she’s still in pain. I can see it in her eyes.

  “I’ve got giant-poster-making duty again. Who wants to help?” she asks.

  “Wait. Hold up. I want you to make mine. Not some loser who can only draw stick figures.” Josh stands beside her with his arm resting on her shoulder.

  “Dude, I’ve got you covered.”

  To this, Josh starts rubbing his hands together like a little kid about to open a new toy. This dork is one of the five princes to make the royal court. If predictions are correct, he’ll be crowned king by a landslide. He’s the most loved guy on campus.

  “When are we gonna start working on your skit, bro? We’re running out of time,” Travis asks.

  Josh leaves Andi’s side now and hovers close to me. “Meggie, my dear friend. I need your help.”

  I wince. “I’m scared to ask.”

  “Actually, I need your mom’s help.”

  Who knew getting Josh ready for his Backwards’ King Rally and dance would be such work? This boy may be easy going and the life of the party, but I think me and the girls have taken it a little too seriously.

  Josh, you should wear this suit.

  Josh, you should shake your ass to the crowd on the fourth count.

  Josh, are you sure you don’t want to make up with Shayna? The freshman vote will seal the win for you.

  To all these demands, our sweet friend smiled with a polite, “Nah, I’m cool.”

  It’s rally time, the first of three big events this weekend.

  “You girls look beautiful,” my mom tells us. “Josh is one lucky pimp.”

  Josh holds out his fist to her. My mom pounds it like she’s one of the guys. “You try to fight it, but check it out. Here we are, all dressed up and ready to rock the runway like a bunch of rock stars.”

  “Let me get another picture,” Mom says, holding up her digital camera.

  Keesh and I snuggle up to Josh’s right side, while Steph and Andi take the left. While Josh is decked out in a vintage blue tuxedo with a white ruffled shirt, us girls are all wearing short minis, each in a different color.

  “Perfect,” Mom says. “Total rockstars!”

  The other princes have asked their girlfriends to escort them down the runway when they’re announced at the rally. Josh doesn’t have a girlfriend, but he has four girl-friends. And how could he choose just one? So instead, he asked all of us to join him.

  And when he puts on his fedora, and we
walk down the aisle on his side, he does look pretty pimp.

  “Finally, we’d like to welcome, Prince Josh, escorted today by his harem,” I choke on my own saliva and have to hide a cough, “Stephanie, Andi, Keesha, and Megan, also known as his little sisters and best friends. He enjoys going to the beach, a good party, swing dancing,” I choke again, “and is best known for his killer fastball and his cute butt on the pitching mound.” Oh my god. “Prince Josh would like to thank Mama Miller for showing him the right stuff, and his friends and family for all their support. Let’s give a big Carver shout out for Prince Josh.” The applause and cheers from the audience rival that of girls at a Big Time Rush concert.

  There’s a mad rush as we make it back to the wings, out of view from everyone. Josh runs to the guy’s dressing room where his fellow boy band members are waiting to get him ready. The girls head in the other direction to get changed into our manic fan clothes.

  Josh is the last of the princes to perform so once we’re dressed, it’s a waiting game yet again.

  “And for our last skit of the rally, let’s hear it for the new king on the block!” The auditorium is pitch black as his music starts. Then one by one a spot light hits each of the guys. First one of Josh’s teammates, then another. Travis is next, and Dom. Finally, in the center, the spotlight finds Josh. His head rises slowly and his big smile flashes the crowd. Girls get to their feet screaming like they’re at a real concert.

  With a theme like Ultimate Boy Bands, Josh couldn’t resist asking my mom for her expertise in the field. She got them all studded up with ripped jeans, leather jackets, and grungy t-shirts. Josh, needing to stand out, wears denim overalls—can you believe that—with no shirt underneath, and one strap hanging down like he’s Donnie Wahlberg incarnate. My mother is too much.

  Just as the song starts, and Josh and the guys begin lip-syncing and dancing like their playing a combo of SingStar and Just Dance 3 on their PS3, the girls and I rush the stage like lunatic fans. We put our hands out to them, squealing like little pigs, and fanning ourselves like we’ve got front row seats at a real live performance by the hottest new band in town. Josh plays the part of a sexy boy-bander and reaches down to touch my hand. I go wild, just like any self-respecting fan would, and pretend to cry.