Now she and Pickle were making their way back from the concession stand—with hot dogs and sodas for the group. She had been in line so long, she had no idea who was even winning.
Charlie was focusing on not spilling her orange soda when she was stopped by a couple of guys. A couple of cute guys.
“Hey,” the blond one said. “Nice game against Lincoln last week. You’re Charlie, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” Charlie answered shyly.
The brown-haired one smiled. “Hey. I thought Krista was the soccer star of the family. But you? You’re awesome out there.”
They recognized both guys as juniors, and members of the boys soccer team. Charlie could feel herself blushing. Were they actually talking to her?
“Thanks,” she practically whispered.
“What’d you score? Like three times?” the blond asked.
“Four,” Pickle corrected him. “And one assist.”
“I’m Kevin,” the blond said, then pointed to his friend, who gave a wave. “That’s Bryan.”
“This is Pickle,” Charlie said, and Pickle smiled.
“Pickle? That’s cute.” Kevin laughed. “So are you guys going to the dance tomorrow night or what?”
Pickle nodded. “I’m going, but Charlie—”
“Charlie! Charlie Brown,” a voice chirped.
Charlie turned to find Regan Holder, wearing her cheerleading uniform and holding her pompoms in one hand. The other hand held a foam B-dub sports bottle.
No, Charlie thought, staring down at her shoes. Please. Not now.
Regan took a long sip from the water bottle. Charlie wondered if there really was just water in there. She placed a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “What do you need to know about Charlie Brown?” she smiled. “Ask me. I can tell you everything.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Charlie asked.
Kevin’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Uh, we were just asking if Charlie was going to the dance.”
Regan snorted a response. “Yeah, right. Maybe. If she’s going with her.” She pointed to Pickle and laughed.
Pickle frowned at Charlie. “What is she talking about?” she whispered.
Charlie’s hands balled into fists. All this time, Pickle, Carla, and the other new girls hadn’t heard the rumors. Regan was ruining everything. What would her friends think of her now?
“You guys trying to recruit her for the boys’ team?” Regan continued with Kevin and Bryan. “I bet she’d fit right in.” With that, Regan spun on her heel and flounced back toward the cheerleaders on the sidelines.
Charlie gnawed on her lower lip. What now? There was no way Bryan and Kevin were going to stick around. And Pickle! What would she think now that she knew about the rumor?
There was an awkward silence. Then Pickle let out a long laugh. “That girl has more issues than People magazine.”
Kevin and Bryan cracked up. Even Charlie laughed, relieved.
As everyone had a chuckle at Regan’s expense. Charlie’s mouth hung open in amazement. None of what Regan said had mattered. At all.
Bryan turned his bright blue gaze back on Charlie. “So, you never answered our question. Are you going to the dance?”
Charlie smiled shyly. “I, uh—I hadn’t really decided.”
“You should go,” Bryan said. “It’ll be fun. I’ll be there…”
Charlie blushed. “Sure, yeah. Okay.”
The guys walked off.
Pickle squealed, grabbed Charlie’s arm, and pulled her toward the stands. Charlie tried not to drop the drinks she was holding as they ran to their seats.
“What happened?” Carla asked, seeing Pickle’s frantic approach. “Is everything okay?”
“Better than okay. Two junior boys just talked to her,” Pickle said slowly, as if it were the news of the century, “and asked if she was going to homecoming!”
All the girls squealed.
“Wait. Are you kidding?” Darcy yelled. “You just were asked to homecoming?”
Charlie deflated a little.
“Not exactly,” Pickle jumped in, “but they knew who she was from the soccer team—they totally were at the game last week, cheering her on. They remembered her name and everything!”
Ruthie jumped up and down. “Two junior boys know your name!”
“All right, all right.” Charlie put a hand on her shoulder. “Ruthie, less caffeine.”
Ruthie smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“Wait a minute,” Carla said. “Does this mean you’re going to homecoming?”
“I don’t have a date.” Charlie sighed.
“Maybe not.” Carla grinned. “But if you play your cards right, by the time the dance is over, you will!”
Wearing a dress felt about as foreign as a kilt or clogs. Still, here Charlie was, staring at her own reflection in a turquoise, knee-length BCBG dress that had shown up on her bed yesterday afternoon.
Her mom, excited that Charlie was exhibiting signs of normal teenage girl–dom, had gone shopping on her behalf. There was a dress, beaded sandals with a tiny delicate heel, a matching handbag, earrings, and a necklace.
Charlie swept her hair back into a low ponytail with the part on the right side.
She made the part a little farther from the center than usual—she’d seen that hairstyle in a magazine once for wearing ponytails on special occasions.
She thought of asking Krista to borrow some of her makeup, then figured that if she tried to put it on herself, she’d look like a clown. Better to stick to the free samples from her mom’s Clinique purchases that lined the top drawer in their shared bathroom.
Charlie put on a little mascara and lip gloss and hoped she’d done it right. She placed her hand on the bathroom knob and realized she didn’t want to leave. Brooks, Buffi, and Julie were busy getting ready in Krista’s room. Charlie didn’t want to have to deal with them until Carla and Pickle and their dates showed up.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. They were here—Carla with Nate and Pickle with Benji. Charlie took a deep breath and hoped Krista and her clones were locked in her room, discussing whose butt looked biggest in her dress.
Charlie grabbed her matching purse from her bed and hurried downstairs, where she saw her parents usher Nate and Carla into the foyer. Charlie stood at the top of the stairs, nervous. Her mom looked up.
“Charlie, your friends are here,” she said, stating the obvious.
“I see them,” Charlie snapped, then wanted to kick herself. Couldn’t she have not been a brat for two seconds?
“Hi, Charlie.” Carla waved nervously. Nate was already holding her hand. “You look great.”
So did Carla. She was wearing a calf-length white dress with an empire waist and tiny buttons down the back. Against her dark skin, the creamy white dress looked even more incredible.
“You too,” Charlie answered.
Pickle and Benji walked in a second later. Benji’s jaw dropped. “Wow. That’s a step up from shin guards and soccer cleats… Pretty hot for a cartoon character, Charlie Brown.”
Charlie smiled and walked gingerly down the stairs.
“You know Nate, right?” Carla asked. “From the boys’ team? He’s the starting goalie….”
Charlie gave an awkward wave. “Hey.” She nodded to Nate.
He smiled back. “Hi, Charlie.”
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Carla grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. “You really do look awesome,” she whispered in her ear. “You are going to knock those junior boys off their feet!”
“You think?” Charlie asked, disbelieving.
“I know!” Carla winked.
Charlie stared at her feet but couldn’t suppress a tiny smile. Whether she wowed the juniors or not, it felt good to have a friend like Carla, who made her feel like she could.
Charlie’s mom grabbed the digital camera. “I just want to get a few pictures before you go!”
Charlie’s eyes widened in horror. No one had
mentioned pictures. “Mom…” she mumbled under her breath.
“Just one,” Emily Brown promised. “Get together. Look like you like each other,” she joked. Charlie shuffled next to her friends and forced a smile. The picture snapped.
“Okay, bye,” Charlie said hurriedly, not wanting to create another opportunity for a Kodak moment.
She was almost to the door when she noticed her mother dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Have fun at the dance.”
Krista looked around nervously as she and Cam walked into the gym, holding hands. They’d arrived in a group with the other guys on the team and their dates. Julie was with her new boyfriend, Todd (a cornerback), and Buffi was with her boyfriend, Shawn, who played defensive tackle. Brooks had bragged she was going to bring Frankie Muniz, but, no surprise, he hadn’t been able to make it. So Brooks was arriving confident and solo. Cam had politely offered to be both their dates in the limo.
Brooks had laughed. “You wish, loser.” But now she grabbed his hand. “Can I steal him for a dance?” she asked Krista.
Krista was more than happy to let Brooks take him. She’d heard the guys talking when they thought no one else was listening. They were all teasing Cam, congratulating him for finally “doing the deed.”
The words made Krista’s skin crawl. Did the entire team really need to know about tonight?
She had lied to her parents, packed a bag for the hotel, and now was panic-stricken. She didn’t know if she wanted her first time to be at the Vista… in a triangle-shaped hot tub. But how was she supposed to break it to Cam?
She headed for the punch, wondering whether someone had spiked it. Alcohol would make this night go a lot smoother. Too bad she didn’t drink.
As she ladled the punch into her red plastic cup, Noah approached.
“Hey,” he said, holding out his own glass. “Free refills?”
Krista smiled and poured him some punch. It was amazing how different Noah looked off the field.
Brooks would never admit it—especially not tonight—but Noah was roughly three times hotter out of uniform. He was wearing a rock-star-worthy black velvet blazer with a crisp white shirt, dark distressed jeans, and black loafers—all of it clearly designer.
Not that it mattered to Krista, of course.
“You’re not spiking this stuff, are you?” he asked.
Krista shook her head.
He took a sip. “Too bad.”
Krista took a sip too. There was an awkward silence. She wondered, what could they possibly have to talk about? Noah so obviously favored Charlie—and Krista was, well, the anti-Charlie. Somehow, she’d have to break the ice.
“So. You came all the way back from Europe to be a high school soccer coach,” she began. “Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”
Noah corrected her. “Volunteer soccer coach. I do this for fun, remember? Not profit.”
Krista smiled. “Even better.”
Noah looked around. “Yeah, I might take Barcelona or Belgium over Beachwood, but hey. These are the cards I was dealt. You don’t plan on getting injured.”
“No, you don’t,” Krista agreed.
“You also don’t let it scare you,” Noah added.
“Excuse me?” Krista asked. She narrowed her eyes.
“I know about your injury last year,” Noah told her. “I’m just saying, if you’re lucky enough to still be able to play, you have to stay aggressive. Going after a header’s not going to rip open your knee.”
“Hey,” Krista snapped, defensive. “I go after plenty of things, okay?”
Noah shrugged. “Okay.”
There was more silence between them. Krista bit her lip. She had something on her mind. She just had to get up the guts to say it. She took a deep breath.
“So should I be honored?” she asked. “That you’re finally giving me the time of day?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Noah asked.
Krista shrugged, trying to be playful. “You and Martie… I don’t know…. I know I’m not Charlie, so…” She trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to actually say it—to admit that her coaches clearly liked Charlie better than her. She quickly backed out of the conversation she started.
“Never mind. I don’t know what I’m saying,” she said, holding up her cup. “It must be all the punch.”
Noah smiled. “Yeah, it must be.”
They stared at all the kids dancing. Krista noticed Cam still on the dance floor with Brooks, who was gyrating like a Vegas belly dancer.
“There is a reason I give more attention to Charlie than you,” Noah said finally. “Two reasons, actually.” He looked around, as if he was letting her in on a secret he didn’t want anyone else to hear.
“One,” he explained. “Charlie is a great player and a great kid—and it seems like she could use a little… support.”
Krista recoiled at the accusation. Was Noah implying that she hadn’t supported Charlie? Well, she’d tried, but she refused to deal with Charlie’s petty insults and childish putdowns.
“And two,” he continued, “sometimes the person you want to talk to the most is the one you end up talking to the least.”
Krista felt confused. “That makes absolutely no sense.”
“I’m your coach,” Noah said slowly. “Volunteer or not, I’m your coach. There are certain rules.”
Krista frowned. “Rules that keep you from acknowledging my existence? Or even talking to me?”
“Yes. If I’d like there to be more than that,” he said.
Krista shook her head, still not understanding. “More than what?”
Then it slowly dawned on her. Was Noah trying to say what she thought he was saying? Was Noah interested in her?
Her eyes darted around as she wondered if anyone had noticed their conversation. When her gaze landed on Brooks and Cam, she saw that they were staring right at her.
“I—I have to go,” she told Noah. She quickly plastered on a smile and ran out to the dance floor.
Charlie had been dreading it from the minute they walked into the dance. As the first chords of an old Aerosmith tune blared over the speakers, she felt her heart sink.
There it was—the inevitable slow song.
Up until now, Charlie had been having a good time—maybe even a great one. She’d danced most of the night in a big circle with Carla, Nate, Benji, and Pickle. She had even paired off with the guys whenever their dates got tired.
But now what? Charlie wondered, standing alone on the gym’s hardwood floor.
Most everyone had coupled up.
Carla and Nate were already close together, swaying to the music. Benji was in the process of teaching Pickle some insane dance moves. Pickle couldn’t stop laughing long enough to try them.
Charlie glanced around. No question, her best move was a quick escape to the ladies’ room. She turned around to make a hasty retreat and nearly ran into a boy standing behind her.
“Hey. Where’s the fire?” he asked.
Charlie blinked. It was Bryan. She hardly recognized him in his black suit and tie. He looked amazing.
“Uh—hi,” she stammered. “You were—I was just—” She pointed toward the nearest exit.
“I was hoping I’d see you here.” Bryan smiled, his eyes warm. “You look great.”
“Thanks,” she managed, fidgeting with the clasp on her evening bag.
Bryan nodded. There was a moment of awkward silence.
“So—slow song,” he observed. He held out his hand. “Want to dance?”
Charlie stared. She’d never done this before. Did she have a choice? Maybe she could just say no. Maybe she could—
“Come on. Don’t look so scared,” Bryan said, a little laugh in his voice. “Though maybe you should be. There’s a good chance I’ll step on your feet.”
Charlie chuckled. Her palms felt cold and sweaty at the same time. “I—um—”
She wanted to say she d
idn’t dance. She wanted to say that the only physical contact she’d ever had with a boy was when she collided with one during dodgeball. But before she could muster a suitable response, Bryan grabbed her hand and pulled her out to the dance floor.
Charlie forced a smile. She glanced over at Carla and caught her eye. When Carla saw what was happening, she broke into a huge grin and gave Charlie a quick, covert thumbs-up.
Charlie grimaced her response, and Carla laughed. Then Bryan turned to face her. Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, Charlie rested her hands on Bryan’s shoulders and allowed him to place his hands on her waist.
“So,” he began. “I heard you surf—”
As they swayed to the music, Bryan asked Charlie questions—about surfing and soccer, about her family and hobbies. Charlie was impressed. It was as if he actually cared.
The Aerosmith song ended, and Charlie stepped away from Bryan. “So, thanks. That was nice.”
“Wait,” he said, hanging on to her hand. “They usually play the slow ones back-to-back. Want to try again?”
Charlie sighed. “Listen, this is nice and all, but you don’t have to.”
“I don’t have to what?” Bryan asked.
“This,” Charlie clarified. “Dance with me.”
Bryan shook his head. “Why wouldn’t I want to dance with you?”
Charlie’s eyes darted toward Regan, holding court with three sophomore guys across the gym.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” she said. “I’m not one of the popular girls, I’m here alone, and I’m cool with it, really.”
Bryan turned and noticed Regan himself. He smiled. “Charlie, do you really think I care what other people say about you?”
Charlie gulped. “But you must have heard about… the rumors?”
Bryan shrugged. “So? They’re just stupid rumors. All I know is, I saw you yesterday, we talked, and I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again ever since.”
“Really?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah,” Bryan answered. “I’ve seen you play. You’re tough, you’re smart, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re the most interesting person here.”
Charlie felt a lump form in her throat. “I am?”
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