by Judy Corry
What kind of changes? I didn't have a good feeling about this.
Ashlyn: I'll come by around seven tonight. Be ready to learn fast.
The rest of the day rambled on. Football practice was actually okay today. Noah didn't seem as determined to flatten me as much as usual. He did have a black eye and a pretty big cut on his face like he'd already gotten his aggression out on someone earlier. But maybe he was just being nicer because he'd already won the battle we'd never officially announced we were having. The battle for Ashlyn.
Ashlyn came to my house around seven, just as I was finishing up my homework. I ran down the stairs and let her in.
"Hey, Luke," she said, her voice holding just the right amount of iciness to bring my guard right up.
"Hey," I said, not liking her mood. She was not going to be patient with me today.
As if reading my thoughts, she walked in and said, "Let's just get this practice over with, okay?"
She went to the stereo and connected her phone to the speakers before turning back to me. "I've been thinking about our dance all afternoon and I've come up with the perfect way to make this partnership still work. We're going to go in a completely different direction."
"But we have less than a week. We can't start a new dance now."
She raised an eyebrow, challenging me. "I guess you should have thought about that before you decided to pull your stupid stunt." Then her expression changed, suddenly turning sweet. Too sweet. "But don't worry, I found the perfect song. And the choreography is going to be awesome. I think the crowd will love it."
She pressed a button, and the fast, upbeat music of Beyoncé's Single Ladies started playing.
My stomach filled with dread. She wouldn't have picked the most humiliating song for a guy to dance to for nothing. She wanted revenge.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked, carefully.
"Yep." She crossed her arms, daring me to challenge her. "I'm in charge, so don't question my judgement. Okay?" she snapped.
"Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
She glared at me and forced any other retort I had back in my throat.
I wanted her to tell me something about last night, preferably that she had slept alone in her bed. But she just turned her back to me and tightened the elastic around her hair.
I stepped closer. "You did sleep last night…?" I let the question hang in the air.
"I don't think that's any of your business now, is it." She turned back toward me, her eyes looking slightly moist. "Now if you're done wasting my time, I'd appreciate it if you'd join me."
I pushed the coffee table out of the way and stood beside her. She paused the music. "You've seen the music video for this right?"
I swallowed. "Hasn't everyone?"
"Just wanted to make sure." She faced the entertainment center. "Stand behind me and do exactly what I do."
I did as she said, not daring to risk the wrath of Ashlyn even for a second.
"We're going to first close our legs to open for the prep," she said while doing what I assumed must have been the move she'd just described. "Prep, prep, open up to the right. One, two, stop and point at your ring finger. Then you’re going to go down toward your left, move your booty around, and bring it back up. Hit your head to your hand, and then bring it back up."
Whaaaaat?
"Now it's your turn." She looked at me expectantly.
I stood frozen in my spot, having no idea what she'd just done.
"Come on, Luke. Show me." She cocked her eyebrow and started the song over again. "And five, six, seven, eight." She clapped.
I crossed my arms and shook my head. "I'm not doing that. And even if I was, I don't know the first thing you told me to do."
"Then fake it. You're pretty good at that." She spat the words at me.
The front door opened, and my dad stepped in.
"Hey, Luke," he said. Dad smiled, shutting the door behind him and setting his golf clubs in the closet. "And who's this?" He looked at Ashlyn.
"This is Ashlyn, Dad. Ashlyn, this is my dad."
She wiped at her eye and forced a smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Davenport."
"Did I interrupt something?" My dad looked between us.
"No. We were just practicing that dance I told you about. But I seem to be frustrating Ashlyn with my clunky feet."
He grinned. "We Davenport men aren't known for our dancing skills. Nora always begged me to take her dancing when we were younger." He glanced briefly to me, his eyes holding a hint of sorrow at the mention of Mom. "I hated every minute of it back then. Never felt so out of place in my life. But I'd give anything to do it again."
I watched Ashlyn to see if she was going to tell my dad what kind of a son I'd turned into since my mom died. But instead of looking like she wanted to smack me with her fancy purse, she seemed sorry for me. Like she wondered what kind of loser pretended to be someone else just so he had someone to tell his sob story to.
After an awkward silence, my dad clapped his hands together. "Anyway, don't mind me. I'll let you get back to your practice now." He went into the kitchen.
Ashlyn unhooked her phone from the stereo. "I don't think I'm going to be able to practice today, after all. Just work on the waltz on your own this week. We'll run through it a few times on Saturday morning before the competition and call it good."
I nodded, surprised she was still willing to give it a try even then. "I'll do that."
"Oh, I almost forgot." She dug into her oversized purse and pulled out something red. "Here's your hoodie back. I just love how you went so far as to make it smell like an old man. Nice touch." She threw my dad's Cortland State hoodie at me before walking out the door.
31
Ashlyn
The next few days were long and hard. I tried my best to keep Luke off my mind. Tried to avoid seeing him at all costs, going as far as taking different routes to my classes so I wouldn't risk walking past him. But I couldn't avoid him everywhere. He was there in the lunchroom, sitting at his usual table with his friends, making them all laugh with his latest joke. He was at the pep assembly, participating in the skit because he was one of the stars of the football team. He was in the parking lot, grabbing his duffel bag for football practice, watching me with his brooding eyes as I drove past him. And he was there every night in my dreams, haunting me with thoughts of what might have been if everything hadn't been a lie.
"Do you have to practice with Luke tomorrow?" Eliana asked as I did my makeup for my drill team performance at the game that night.
I set my eyeshadow brush in its cup on my vanity. "Yeah. It's going to be torture."
"You miss him though, don't you?" It wasn't a question, really, because it was obvious to anyone who paid attention to me.
I let my eyes meet hers through the mirror. "I shouldn't, but I do."
"Because he was British Boy?"
I sighed, my heart throbbing in my chest to remind me it was in there, still broken. "Because he was everything. I fell in love with both sides of him. He was… He was all the things I never knew I wanted. All the things I never thought I'd have."
Eliana gave me a sad smile. "Then why don't you talk to him? Forgive him."
"I want to. But every time I think I know what to say to him, I remember the look in his eyes when he saw Noah at my house. And the fact that he could even think that I'd thrown myself right back into Noah's arms makes me think he didn't even know me at all."
"So tell him the truth."
I twisted in my chair to face where she sat on my bed. "But what if I tell him and he doesn't want me? What if it really was all a big joke to him?"
"Then you'll be no worse off than you already are, right?"
I turned back to the mirror, hating how practical she was. "It's so easy for you to say that."
She smiled. "I know. I'm like the biggest hypocrite since I've never even gotten close to dating anyone. But I hate seeing you so depressed."
Finished with
my makeup application, I stood and grabbed my drill bag from the floor. "I'll see what I can do. Let me just get through tonight first."
I drove to the school an hour before the game so I could warm up with the drill team and go through the dance a few more times before tonight's half-time show. We'd be performing our hip-hop number for the first time tonight, and I was excited for my tumbling pass at the end. My back handsprings had been off all week, so I hoped I could pull it together before I splatted on my face in front of the whole school.
We were going through our mandatory stretching routine when Noah walked into the gym and motioned for me to come talk to him. Coach wasn't in the room, so I went to him, trying not to feel a sense of déjà vu from all the times we'd talked before games last year.
He took me back to our usual corner by the stairs that let up from the gym.
"Did your mom find you a place yet?" I asked him in a low voice. We had talked a few times this week. Last he'd told me was that his mom was still staying at the shelter and trying to find an apartment for him and his sister to move into. He wasn't telling me where he was staying, which had me wondering if he was sleeping in their car. I really hoped not.
He shook his head. "No, she decided not to press charges."
"She what?" My voice raised an octave, coming out louder than I'd planned. I glanced around to see if Coach had come back. After assuring that I wasn't in trouble, I spoke in a lower voice. "Again?"
He nodded. "I don't understand it. She says I can move in with my dad if I don't like it."
"Which isn't much better."
"I know." He rolled his eyes and bounced his football bag up higher on his shoulder. "Anyway, I've been meaning to thank you for Sunday night."
I looked up just in time to see Luke a few feet away, dressed in his football gear, holding his helmet in his hand.
He walked past us, his shoulder not so gently bumping against Noah as he did so.
"Hey, watch it." Noah growled after him.
"Sorry, didn't see you there," Luke called back before jogging up the stairs.
"Does he not know that I invited myself over Sunday night and that you slept in a chair?"
I shrugged, watching Luke's retreating back. "Probably. I don’t need to justify anything to him."
"Hey," he said, making me meet his eyes. "I can tell him the truth if you want. I've already caused enough problems in your life. I don't want to ruin things between you two."
I shook my head. "It's fine. We were having problems before you came over."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Don't be. We were pretty much doomed from the start. I just didn't know it."
"Are you sure you don't want me to talk some sense into him?" he offered.
"No, if he really wants to fix things, he'll talk to me."
"If you say so." He checked the time on his watch. "I better get changed. Good luck dancing tonight."
I nodded. "Thanks. Good luck on your game."
Our old rivals, the Westview Tigers, were proving to be worthy opponents tonight. Their players were huge and fast. Each time we got inside the twenty-yard line, they'd stop us from scoring or we'd turn the ball over. I'd never been a huge fan of football in the past, but this game was intense. When half-time rolled around, the score was tied, seven to seven.
The crowd cheered for the drill team as we walked out, ready to do our Hip Hop Mashup. I tightened my black-and-red plaid shirt around my waist as we waited for the announcer to call us to the field.
"Please welcome the Ridgewater High Drill Team," the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. "Let's make some noise!"
We hit our first formation and the crowd cheered. The music came over the speakers a moment later—a loud, upbeat song with a grungy feel. The noise level went up even louder as we popped and locked to the beat. Hip hop was one of my favorite dances—so strong and empowering—and it was a huge crowd pleaser.
My heart pounded; it was almost time for my tumbling pass. The grass was damp with rain from earlier this afternoon, so I hoped I wouldn't slip and ruin the moment. The music cut and changed, which was my cue to get ready. Just eight more counts until my teammates would part the center for me. I stood on my mark, drew in a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back, and ran forward. My hands hit the grass hard as I did a round off, back handspring, back tuck, the world blurring and spinning as I did it. I stuck my landing and the crowd cheered—a loud roar that coursed over me. A huge grin stretched across my face. This was why I loved dance. The thrill, the anticipation, and then the payoff.
Energized, I found my way back to my spot and finished the routine with my teammates. We were so in sync tonight, the energy between us like something I'd never found anywhere else. Our hive intelligence bonded us together like sisters as we danced on the field.
The music came to an end and we struck our final pose. Kelsie counted out for us to get in line, and then we marched off the center of the field to watch the cheerleaders lead everyone in the school song. I found a spot to sit in the front, surrounded by my teammates, breathing hard and exhilarated from the three-minute performance.
The cheerleaders started the school chant, "W-W-W-O-L-L-L-V-E-R-I-I-N-N-E-S-WOLVERINES." And a moment later, the pep band began playing the familiar fight song.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the football players lining up just outside the gate. Leading the team was number thirty-seven: Luke. He had his helmet on, so I couldn't really tell, but it almost appeared like he was looking in my direction. My heart pounded as I glanced around. When I checked behind me, I saw his dad down the sidewalk, wearing the hoodie I'd given Luke back on Monday, holding the hand of a red-headed woman in a blue-and-white Ridgewater High sweatshirt.
For a moment I imagined it must be his mom, but a split second later, I realized that it had to be the girlfriend British Boy had messaged me about. I swallowed and turned my gaze back to where Luke was. He shook his head briefly, as if trying to get that image out of his mind. He bounced in place, and as soon as the cheerleaders had cleared off the field, he was running, leading the team out to warm up again.
32
Luke
How could my dad show up with her—that woman—after not coming to any of my other games this year? Why had he chosen tonight? One of our biggest games? And with her?
Our game against Westview had always been my mom's favorite game of the year. She was a Ridgewater High Alumni and loved to see us beat her old rival just as much as I enjoyed beating them.
Why did my dad think tonight was the night to finally act like a parent? I wanted to hit something. I wanted to punch him. But since he was safely sitting in the stands, one of Westview High's players would have to do. The guy in front of me better watch out because I was about to take out my frustrations on him.
33
Ashlyn
Something was going on with Luke tonight. His game was off, and he looked like he was begging to get pulled out. I wondered if his dad showing up with that woman was the reason behind it. But he needed to get his head back in the game, because if he continued to play like he had been, Coach Hobbs was sure to bench him.
Westview's fullback, number twelve, was huge and quick. He took another handoff and was busting through the offensive line right toward Luke. Luke ran up to meet him in the hole, but number twelve bulldozed him right into the ground and kept on running down the field, knocking down two other players before he was finally brought down five yards from the goal line. How had he done that? Luke wasn't a small guy, yet he'd been flattened like a pancake!
The crowd went silent. Everyone rose to their feet, going still as the play ended.
It was then that I looked back to where Luke had been tackled. He still hadn't gotten up. He lay flat on his back, not moving.
I grabbed onto Eliana's arm. "Is he okay?" I asked, my voice coming out in a gasp.
"I don't know." She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see over the guy in front of us.
Heart pounding faster than ever before, I squeezed past the people on our row and stumbled down the bleachers, gripping the rail so I didn't topple over.
What was wrong with him? He still hadn't gotten up. He was just lying there on the field, not moving. That wasn't normal. He'd always gotten right back up before.
The coach and the EMTs ran onto the field with a stretcher. Soon they surrounded him, bending down on their knees, checking to see if he was okay. Was he alive? What was happening? He had just gotten hit. Nothing serious could've happened, right?
Luke just lay there for the longest minute of my life. But then finally, finally, he tried to sit up only to be pushed back down by the coach. I pinched my eyes shut, blinking back tears as his dad ran onto the field. A moment later, the EMTs wheeled Luke into the back of the ambulance, his dad climbing in after him.
34
Ashlyn
The crowd buzzed with everyone speculating what was wrong with Luke. My ears flooded with conversations I didn't want to hear, because if everyone around me was talking about Luke being hurt, it meant I hadn't imagined it.
"He broke his back. That's why he wasn't moving," a girl in a black hoodie on the front row said.
"I bet he's paralyzed from the waist down. He's lucky to be alive," the guy beside her added.
"He's probably just faking it," another voice said from behind me.
I couldn't listen to it anymore, so I left the field and drove to the hospital. I needed to know that he was okay.
"Can I please get the status on Luke Davenport?" I asked the receptionist at the ER department of the Ridgewater hospital. "He was brought here in an ambulance about an hour ago."
"Are you family?" she asked.
I should have known she'd ask that question. Would it be so bad if I lied?
