“Daisy!”
I turned with a dazzling smile, but it was only Raina.
“Have a pin,” she said.
“Thanks,” I muttered, grabbing a rainbow-striped pin from her outstretched palm. As she started away, I clung to her, my camera-smile shellacked onto my face. “Don’t leave me.”
She glared down at my tent-shirt. “I still have to give Kyle and Sophie their rainbows.”
“Daisy, look here!”
“Daisy, can we get a quick interview before the game!”
Sensing my panic, Raina thawed enough to say “See you in there” before dashing off to find the others.
The line moved fast. The second I passed the ticket booth, I exhaled, releasing the shaking grin from my face, and made my way up the stands to where the Alliance was waiting.
“This is sort of bizarre, isn’t it?” Sophie whispered, linking arms with me as I slid down next to her. “All these reporters? And have you ever seen this many people at a Palmetto game?”
I tried to answer, but a roar rose from the oversized crowd, drowning me out. The Pirates and their archrivals, the Northville Spartans, were running onto the field. QB scanned the crowd like usual, but this time, when I stood to wave, he jumped in celebration. A bunch of people turned around in the stands to take camera phone pictures of me, sending me cringing back into the fold.
“Yes,” I finally replied. “This could not be more bizarre.”
Hey, guess what, I was wrong.
I’m not sure the Northville Spartans even knew they were our rivals. The Pirates were like a gnat they needed to swat away from their faces twice a year. It was no wonder the opposing team swaggered onto the field—our field—waving to the local sports photographers as if they were on home turf.
The Spartans continued to look cocky for the first four minutes of the game. And then QB scored a touchdown.
The Pirates fans in the stands didn’t know what to do. We’d stood as one as he approached the end zone, but we were so used to sitting while the ball got picked off that that’s what we started to do. It took us a few seconds to even realize what had happened. Poor QB stood stunned beside the goal post, cradling the ball, listening to the sound of a few hundred people holding their breath. And then, in a rush, we let loose.
Awwww, that was nice, I thought, clapping. Good for them for getting points on the board for once. They can go home happy.
Two minutes later, the Pirates intercepted a Spartans pass, scoring again.
I don’t know if it was the extra people in the crowd who’d bused themselves in to support a cause only peripherally related to football, or the thrumming excitement of having reporters surrounding the field, but QB and his compatriots were doing the opposite of choking. They were swallowing the other team whole.
At halftime, the fans in green had faces to match their jerseys and I was starting to understand why people liked coming to football games. In theory, anyway.
A reporter from the Post and Courier climbed the emptying stands to ask for a photo of the Alliance, and when we said yes, a few other photographers joined him. We threw our arms around each other, laughing first at the awkwardness of our pose, then laughing because we were laughing, then laughing even louder thinking about how stupid this photo must look. It was contagious. The photographers started laughing too.
“Thanks guys,” the local guy said. “And good luck—we’re rooting for you.”
Kyle jumped up. “I need a hot dog. Anybody want anything?”
Jack poked his head around Raina. “I’ll have a Coke.”
“Do they have chicken fingers?” I asked hopefully. “Or cheese fries?”
Kyle furrowed his brow. “Um.”
“That’s too much for him to carry!” Sophie laughed, whapping me.
He started away. “No, it’s cool! I’ll see.”
Whatever halftime pep talk the Spartans’ coach had given them in the locker room did not appear to have worked. We scored again. And again. They got a field goal, woo-hoo. Before we knew it, the game was over—and inexplicably, we had just defeated the five-time state champions for our first win in years. I was cheering, practically teary eyed along with everybody else, when a realization hit me.
I’d promised QB I’d celebrate a win with him. And his entire team.
I have to get out of here.
“Where’s Kyle?” Sean asked behind me as I said some hasty good-byes and scrambled down the stands.
“Did he not come back?” I heard Sophie reply.
“Yeah,” Jack muttered. “I never got my Coke.”
Huh, I thought, hurrying past the stands, through the crowd of dizzy Pirates fans, and into the athletic wing. Maybe Kyle met up with his parents and forgot about our orders.
But when I walked into the quiet hallway, something started gnawing at my gut and only grew stronger the farther I got from the noise of the celebrating crowds. It’s the reporters, I told myself. They’ve got me nervous. To avoid them, I exited the school through a random side door and started making my way to the Moonlight Coffee Shop, where I knew Mom was waiting to pick me up, hopefully with takeout.
As I approached the border of dead hedges, a sound stopped me cold—a low, burbling sigh, and then, so quietly I almost missed it, my name.
“D-Daisy?”
Kyle. He was crouched behind one of the hedges, poking his head around a dead branch to call me over. I almost laughed when I spotted him, he looked so ridiculous—like an inept spy who’d chosen the world’s worst hiding spot to gather intel. But then he stood. Or tried to. His knees shook and gave, and the parking lot lights hit his face. I let out a shout as I ran over to him.
He lifted a shaking finger to his split lips, quieting me. I brushed his bangs back from his forehead, revealing an eye swollen shut, a gash below it on his cheek.
“Who did this to you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. I’m going to go find them and kick their asses.”
Kyle almost managed a chuckle at that idea.
I propped him with my arm so he could sit more comfortably. “We need to call 911.”
“No,” he said, trying to stand.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying at the sight of him. Tears weren’t helpful right now. “You need medical help.”
He slumped again, holding his side. “Yeah, okay, just don’t tell my parents, Daisy. I don’t want them to worry about me.”
“Kyle.” I motioned to him, shaking my head. “They’re gonna notice.”
Before he could change his mind, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed 911. “Hi, I’m on the northwest corner of Palmetto High School—my friend needs an ambulance? Yes, he got . . . beat up, I guess?”
“Don’t tell them what they said,” Kyle was muttering. “Why they did it.”
“Stay on the line until the police arrive,” said the dispatch lady.
“What they said?” I whispered, covering the phone.
Kyle held his head. “That they called me a fag.”
I took a breath. It nearly choked me.
We heard the beep-beep of a police radio before we spotted two officers making their way across the street. They must have been here already, handling the protesters. A middle-aged man in a Pirates jacket was with them. It wasn’t until they got within a few yards of us that I spotted the graying red hair under his faded Atlanta Braves ball cap and realized it was Natalie’s dad.
This is happening too fast, I thought, suddenly longing to keep everyone the hell away from Kyle. If only I’d had that instinct an hour ago.
“You kids run into some trouble?” Chief Beck crouched beside Kyle, then glanced up at his officers. “Watch out for that ambulance.”
“Some guys from the other school,” Kyle said, forcing his voice steady. “Th
ey pulled me from the hot dog line and took me outside. I tried to get away, but there were too many of them. I didn’t know what to do.” He started to shake. I clasped his hand, the one part of him that wasn’t injured. “So I just did what you’re supposed to do with bears when you go camping? I balled myself up and pretended to be dead and they went away?” He looked up at me, as if asking forgiveness and my eyes burned, tears coming fast now. “I’ve never been in a fight before.”
“Me neither,” I said, the hedges around us blurring, running.
How did they know he was gay? It could just as easily have been me that they attacked. It should have been me. I was the one who put our faces on the Internet, who’d stood on a chair and made us targets. I should have been the one they’d kicked until I stopped moving.
My hand trembled in Kyle’s.
“Do you know what made them go after you?” Chief Beck asked gently.
“Not really,” Kyle said. “I think they were mad that their team was losing, and they figured they could take me because I’m not that tall, or whatever.”
Oh, Kyle. He was a terrible liar. He’d blinked his one good eye rapidly through that whole speech. Classic tell.
Chief Beck was equally dubious. “You sure that’s all there is to that story?”
“Yeah, I mean . . .” Kyle sighed shakily. “Yeah.”
Chief Beck glanced at me for confirmation.
I swiped my cheek dry with my shoulder. “I wasn’t here. I found him a couple minutes ago.”
He turned back to Kyle, lowering his voice. “Just so you know, hate crimes carry a stiffer sentence.”
“It wasn’t—”
Chief Beck waved one of the officers over, interrupting Kyle’s lie. “He’s gonna ask you some questions about what these guys looked like, and then we’ll make sure you get these injuries taken care of, okay, son?”
“Okay.” Kyle relaxed. “Thank you.”
I stood with Chief Beck, surprised by how warm, how understanding he seemed to be. Whatever genes he’d passed on to Natalie had obviously been recessive.
He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Look after him until his folks show up. He’s putting up a good front, but he’ll need a friend tonight.”
I nodded.
“Good girl,” he said. “Nice to see you again, Daisy.”
The EMTs decided to take Kyle to the hospital to make sure his ribs weren’t fractured. I rode along, perched beside his gurney. He looked so young lying there, like he’d been tucked into bed for the night. His brow was furrowed with pain or worry or both.
“This is weirdly fun, right?” I said to lighten the mood, rocking onto my heels as we rounded a corner. “I’ve never been in an ambulance before.”
“Me neither,” Kyle said, with a flicker of a smile that fell with the next turn. “Did the cops call my parents?”
“I think so.”
“I want them to be happy. They were so happy when I came out. This is going to ruin it.”
“No, it won’t,” I said, but I must have had a tell of my own, because he rolled his eyes. His good eye, anyway.
“Thanks for coming with me,” he said.
In the next blink, his brow contorted and his skin went mottled. I half rose, thinking something new was hurting him—his ribs? Internal bleeding? But then he let it out. A sob.
“I can’t believe this ha-happened. Everything was supposed to work out o-okay. I didn’t think—”
He was crying too hard to talk, really shaking now. I glanced at the young EMT, anxious about his breathing, but she just smiled sadly and murmured, “Almost there, kiddo.”
“I’m sorry, Kyle,” I said, my own voice staccato with tears. “I didn’t think . . . I’m just so sorry.”
We didn’t talk again until we got to the hospital, where his parents turned from statues to sprinters at the first sight of his gurney.
My mom picked me up a few minutes later, her face a terrified mirror of the Hornsbys’. “Are you all right, sweetie?”
“I’m fine,” I said bitterly, fastening my seat belt. “Not a scratch on me.”
“You’re shaking.”
I didn’t answer. I’d caught Kyle’s shock, I knew, and added some of my own. The kind that made my stomach roil, made my chest constrict and burn.
Made me want to hide from my reflection in the dark car window.
Just yesterday, Cal had called me brave. The memory felt like a taunt right now. An accusation.
That night, thank goodness, the late local news didn’t report on Kyle’s attack. They did report on me.
“Teen gay advocate Daisy Beaumont-Smith bravely cheered on her home team at tonight’s match-up against—”
I turned it off and stared at the dead screen. Suddenly, it was another face I saw, her bottom lip split, her beautiful green eyes smashed shut, or worse or worse or worse—
My phone rang, jolting me awake.
It was Hannah. I’d forgotten to call her. What could I possibly say now?
I silenced my phone, buried it under a pillow, and went upstairs to where my dad was fighting bad guys with red circles drawn on their chests so you knew exactly who they were.
21
“Ease off the clutch. Gently!”
The gears ground and the engine sputtered out. Again.
I let out a primal roar.
“It’s fine,” Adam said. “You’re getting it.” His voice was soothing. But when I glanced over, he had one hand on the dashboard and the other on the ceiling.
I yanked the brake, tossed the keys at his chest, and got the hell out of the driver’s seat. Thankfully, the Sears lot was empty, so there was no one to witness my disgrace. Just Adam.
“What are you doing?” He craned his head over the Jaguar’s roof. “Let’s try again.”
“I’m done. Drive me home.”
He raised his eyebrows and I realized how princessy that sounded, especially given that I’d insisted we hold our lesson in my ridiculous vintage Jaguar.
“Sorry.” I removed my hands from my hips and tried to calm my breathing. “What I meant to say was, please, please, please don’t make me try again? Dear Lord, please?”
Adam shrugged wildly, lifting his hands, then rounded the car to the driver’s seat, watching me the whole time with a slow, disappointed head shake. I buckled my passenger seat belt, feeling like a slimy speck on the bottom of the universe’s shoe, but also deeply relieved about actually making it home alive.
Except Adam didn’t start the car. “You’re not yourself today.”
“You don’t know me that well yet, so let me fill you in.” I pivoted in my seat to glare at him. “I’m Daisy. I suck at everything. Nice to meet you.” I smiled sugar-sweet and turned away, but Adam leaned over to catch my eye again.
“Something’s up. Tell me.”
“Kyle got attacked,” I said, my voice blunt, ugly. “It’s my fault.”
And my eyes were spilling over. Awesome.
“He . . . what?” Adam leaned in, and my guard went up. “Is Kyle from your group?”
“You can’t report on this. He doesn’t want anyone to know, so when I say off the record—”
“Of course,” he said, squeezing my hand, letting go. “Just tell me.”
“This online troll collective dug up the Facebook pages for all of the Alliance members to try to shame us. Some guys at the football game recognized Kyle and went after him. Total strangers.” I swiped my face, angry at it for being wet. “He’s a freshman. He’s the nicest kid in the universe. He thought we’d be a support group. I’m the one who made this into a headline and now he’s got two broken ribs, bruises just—” I waved my hands from my head to my knees. “I checked on him this morning, and he said he’s okay and I didn’t need to keep guarding his house—”
“Guarding his—?”
/>
“But I can’t stop thinking, what if those guys who found him were even worse people? This is real now, Adam. I should never have made it this real.”
I closed my eyes, the closest I could get to taking it all back.
“But Daisy . . .” Adam put his arm on my headrest. I could feel his wrist’s warmth, centimeters behind me. “This is how change works. It’s not smooth, it’s not easy, but that just shows you how important it is. This event—”
“It’s not going to happen. Or it’s going to be terrible. Like hugely humiliating.”
He leaned away, apparently amused. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s me! Because I screw things up. Hannah’s right, it’s the Stede Bonnet opera.”
“Stede . . . ?” He blinked. “Okay, I’m confused.”
“I promise things and I can never deliver them. I can’t even drive. I can’t do anything. And this interview is going to be a disaster.”
“Interview?”
I let out a leaden sigh. “I’m going to be interviewed on The Evening News with Shawna Wells. On Monday. So like, you know, just a couple days to prep. No big deal.”
Adam shook the headrest. “This is amazing! A national platform!”
“I’m already freaking out enough, thank you!” I covered my face with my hair, a wall of yellow and blue protecting me from reality. “The producers are coming to my house at the butt-crack of dawn tomorrow to figure out where to put the cameras. I’m gonna be the little box on the screen she talks to.” I drew it in the air, as if he couldn’t picture it for himself.
“So is this an exclusive?” Adam nudged his glasses up.
“On-air exclusive, I think,” I answered, trying to remember details from the flood of information Cal had thrown at me over the phone this morning. “We’re not doing any print exclusives. I’ll talk to anybody. Talk talk talk.”
“Oh good!” Adam laughed a nervous “ha” when I turned to stare at him. “I’d love to keep interviewing you, is all.”
“Yeah, well, make sure you put in your next article that the only thing I’m capable of doing is shooting my mouth off.”
The Inside of Out Page 18
