by Ally B
“Yep. Those are my cousins.”
“That’s so weird.” Blue shirt shakes his head. “You’re like thirty!”
“I’m sixteen,” I tell him, trying to refrain from laughing.
“My cousins are all near my age.” Leah shrugs.
“That’s cool. I wish I had more cousins close to my age,” I say. “Okay, let me know if you have any other questions. I’m Phoebe.” I point to my metal name tag before retreating to the back corner.
The kids ask a few questions, but it’s mostly Leah. She wants to know everything about whatever she’s looking at.
“What’s that one?” She asks.
“That’s Cygnus. My favorite.”
“That’s kind of a silly name.” She puts her hands on her hips.
“It means swan,” I tell her.
“Swans are mean.”
“Not that one,” I tell her, which is kind of a lie, but I let it slide, knowing it means I won’t have to explain Zeus and Leta to an eight-year-old.
“Weird,” she says before sitting down again. I decide to take a seat near the front instead of retreating to the booth. I’ll wait for the kids to ask questions rather than run up and down the aisle.
My phone vibrates with a Snapchat from Violet, and I open it quickly. It’s a blurry zoomed-in picture of the scoreboard, 3-0 Emerson. Good.
I send her a picture of the dome’s ceiling in response, quickly earning a selfie with Ava. There’s no sign of Gabby, but she’s probably at the football game.
And Graham’s story proves that true.
There’s a blurry selfie with Gabby in the familiar Blue Valley stands, the crowd of the blue-clad McArthur student section behind them.
I open another Snapchat from Violet. It’s an overly zoomed-in video of the field. I can tell through the grainy video that it’s Max, a slight limp hindering him as he walks toward the benches at what I assume is half-time.
I send a picture of the domed ceiling. ‘Did he fall???’
She sends a cross-eyed duck-lipped selfie. ‘Nope. Same leg as last time.’
Another picture of the stars. ‘Ughhhh’
I make a mental note to ask him about it tonight, knowing he won’t stay off of it if someone doesn’t make him.
“How’s the game?” Reed asks me.
“Three to zero,” I tell him. “We’re winning.”
“Riley said this team sucks anyway.” He shrugs, returning his attention to the ceiling.
“Well, that’s not very nice of Riley, is it?” I ask him.
“No, but apparently it’s true.”
The kids get bored after about an hour, and Leah’s mom takes them home, thanking me as she herds the group out of the door.
“No one else?” I ask Jerry as I follow them out of the theater.
“We don’t allow nasty sweaty boys into the theater,” Kat says, pointing to the bench where Max, Jackson, and Vi are sitting.
“Big win?” I ask them as they stand from the bench.
“Felt kinda bad, honestly,” Max says as he pulls me in for a hug.
“You’re disgusting,” I say as I attempt to wriggle out of his arms.
“I know,” he says simply. “Wanted to stop by before we head to McArthur.”
“You’re wearing your uniforms to McArthur?” I look at Jackson.
“Sweats in the car.”
“You’re going to wear full Emerson to a McArthur game?” I raise an eyebrow.
“What are they going to do? Kick us out?” Max laughs.
“Kill you?” I joke.
“That’s why Vi’s coming. Our bodyguard.” He explains.
“Also in full Emerson gear.”
“My black security shirt was in the wash.” She jokes. “Ken and Tommy are going to the movies, and I don’t want to sit at home with my parents on a Friday night.”
“Did you hurt yourself again?” I ask Max.
“Knee is bothering me. Twisted it the wrong way.” He explains shortly. “All good though.”
“You need to take it easy if you want to be at full force for McArthur. Homecoming game is kind of a big deal.” Jackson warns him before I can.
“I will.” He sighs, but I know he won’t.
“So, we’re here because Jerry said I’m allowed to kidnap you,” Max explains.
I look to Jerry and Kat, who’ve been listening intently the entire time.
“No one is coming in, and I actually like to do my job sometimes.” Jerry chuckles. “Happy Birthday, kiddo.”
“You’re good with Saturday night?” Max asks as he essentially pushes me out of the door.
“She has a key.” Jerry nods.
“Thank you so much, Jerry,” I say as Max forces me out.
“Of course, kid. Be safe!” He shouts to Max.
“Always!” He answers as the door closes behind us.
“You really came to my work and asked my boss if I could leave early?” I ask him as I climb into the passenger seat of Max’s car, buckle my seat belt, allowing Jackson and Vi to sit in the back, knowing they’ll find something to fight about back there.
“We called first.” He shrugs as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“You have Jerry’s number?”
“The planetarium, actually.” Vi corrects. “Kat answered. Chatty girl, isn’t she?”
“Twenty-four-seven,” I answer.
“This is a spy mission?” Vi asks the boys.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to watch a soccer game,” Max says, turning left out of the parking lot.
“You just played a soccer game.” Vi huffs.
“We really like soccer.” Jackson grins.
“No shit.” She rolls her eyes.
“Who scored tonight?” I ask them as we pass the ‘Leaving Emerson, Visit Again Soon’ sign.
“I had two, Jackson had one, Riley had one.” Max lists.
“Riley’s little brother came in tonight,” I tell them.
“I love that kid.” Jackson chuckles. “Such a legend.”
“He’s definitely interesting.” Max shakes his head.
“He seems sweet.” I defend.
“He’s a little piece of work. He likes to wake Riley up by shooting him in the head with a Nerf gun.” Jackson explains.
“For some reason, I’m not shocked,” I say, turning up the volume on Max’s radio.
“Find something.” He gestures to his phone in the cupholder, and I quickly take it, typing in his password and opening his Spotify app.
I scroll through a million playlists before opening the one we’d made for a pool party at Jackson’s this past summer. I hit play and set the phone back in the cupholder, not recognizing the first song that comes on.
We make it to McArthur in fifteen minutes, but the boys quickly realize we’re too early to sneak into the stands without being seen by parents and super fans.
We find ourselves sitting in a Taco Bell parking lot with brown paper bags littering Max’s car, blaring music that only Jackson and Violet know.
“We’ve got to go,” Max says. The clock reads 6:45, so we’ll get in right before the game starts.
The drive to the school is quick. Parking isn’t. The small lot is nearly full, but Max squeezes his car into a spot between two huge SUVs.
We nearly run to the ticket booth, getting dirty looks as we hand over our money while the national anthem is performed through a gritty sound system.
“This girl got like a million views on a TikTok.” Violet huffs as we push through the crowd, the boys’ green sweatpants sticking out in the sea of red. We find seats near the back row of the bleachers, cramped against the chain-link wall on the side of the stands next to a very nice-looking old couple decked out in McArthur gear. Both sets of bleachers are full of McArthur fans, so there’s no way to tell if we’re on the home or away side.
“I can’t stand that kid,” Jackson huffs, as a blond boy scores McArthur’s first goal within two minutes.
�
�He tripped me my freshman year during states.” Max glares, rapidly typing something into his notes app. “See his left ankle?”
The boy’s ankle falters when he puts his full weight on it, but it’s barely noticeable.
“You going to trip him or something?” Violet asks.
He shakes his head, “I’m going to make him use it.”
“Evil mastermind.” Violet jokes.
“Trying to win.” He shrugs.
The boys are relatively quiet for the rest of the game, resulting in Violet and I trying to make our own entertainment.
“What’s his story?” I ask her, pointing to a scrawny kid sitting closest to the water cooler on McArthur’s bench.
“His name is Franklin.”
“Like the turtle?”
“Exactly. Named after the turtle. He’s a sophomore, barely made the varsity team.” She continues, putting on her best narrator's voice. “He doesn’t ever play, but that’s fine with him. He’s just here to make his dad and older brother proud.”
“His name’s actually Greg,” Max speaks up. “Freshman. Super fast.”
“You’re borderline stalker-ish. You know that, right?” Violet asks him.
“Gotta win states, Vi.” He reminds her, typing something before quickly looking back up.
Jackson sticks his tongue out at her, earning a smile from the girl before he returns his attention to the game.
“Where are you kids from?” The old woman sitting next to me asks.
“Emerson.” Violet answers.
“Big soccer fans?” She raises an eyebrow.
“These two are, we’re just here for fun.” She nods toward the boys. “Do you know a player? Or are you just here to watch?”
“Our grandson is down there.” She points. “The little water boy. Red ball cap.”
“It’s sweet of you two to come and support him,” Vi says, continuing the conversation.
“He’s going to be a big soccer star someday.” The man sitting next to her says.
“I look forward to watching him play,” I speak up.
“We do, too.” The man says, a proud smile on his face.
We pay attention to the game, silently rooting for the other team. The boys played Hamilton earlier in the season, but they don’t have any games scheduled against them for the rest of the season. They’re good, but not better than McArthur.
At halftime, Hamilton is losing by three.
“High scoring game already.” Jackson shakes his head.
“Sloppy defense. Both of them,” Max says blankly without looking up from his phone.
“Hamilton doesn’t have enough subs to get them through the next half.” Jackson sighs.
“Not a chance.” Max shakes his head, typing something into his notes.
“You want me to get you two some microphones so you can commentate to everyone instead of just yourselves?” Vi asks.
“Yeah, actually.” Jackson rolls his eyes.
“They have three games next week,” Max says, ignoring Vi’s comment. “They’re going to be tired by Friday.”
“You guys don’t have three?” I ask him.
“No. Just two. Wednesday and Friday.”
“Where are you guys on Wednesday?” Violet asks.
“Uh…” Jackson searches through his camera roll. “Liberty.”
Violet groans. “I don’t think I can justify driving to Liberty for some boring soccer game.”
Jackson’s face falls, but he quickly recovers.
“I have Wednesday off.” I chime in. “We can get food or something before. Do Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Milky Ways sound good?”
“You disgust me,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “Fine. Only if you drive.”
“Vi honey, I love you, but I was never going to let you drive.”
Jackson laughs, and Max tries to hide the smile playing at his lips. She’s not a great driver, but nowhere near as bad as we make her out to be.
“You’re an asshole. Always remember that.” She blows me a kiss, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
Max pulls off his thin black gloves and hands them to her. “I know they’re not Patagonia, but they’ll have to work,” he says, trying not to laugh as he makes direct eye contact with me.
I shake my head disapprovingly, not being able to hold back my laughter.
“You two are weird.” Jackson shakes his head.
“Are you guys from Emerson?” A blonde girl sitting in front of us turns around, the brunette next to her following suit.
Max and Jackson make eye contact, knowing their coats aren’t hiding their green sweats.
“Yeah.” Violet answers for them.
“Why are you here?” The brunette asks.
“Big soccer fans,” Jackson speaks up, coming off a little ruder than he intended.
“You play for them, right?” The blonde asks.
“Yeah,” Max says simply.
“Names?” She asks.
“Is this an interrogation?” Violet cuts in.
“Not for you.” The girl snaps back.
“We’re going to watch the game. Nice to meet you.” I cut in before Violet can say something too bitchy to come back from.
The boys stay silent for the rest of the game, knowing anything they say could provoke the student section in front of us.
“Max Sanchez?” One of the girls turns back around when there are only two minutes left, essentially shoving her phone in Max’s face, showing him his own Instagram account.
“You got me?”
“And Jackson Cruz?” She asks, her screen showing Jackson’s private Instagram.
“Tommy Hart, actually,” He responds. “Close though. Good job, Nancy Drew.”
Violet bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Tommy’s account is private too, so there’s no way she’ll be able to tell the difference.
“Is that K with a heart emoji?” The brunette finally speaks up. Tommy’s Instagram bio is very middle school, but that’s probably because he hasn’t changed it since he was in eighth grade.
“Yep.” He wraps his arm around Vi, pulling her close to him. “We’ve been together since sixth grade. She’s my best friend.” He looks down, his face close to Violet’s. She’s holding her breath to keep from laughing, their noses nearly touching as he looks lovingly in her eyes.
And then he kisses her.
Max and I make eye contact behind them. It’s not a long kiss, but it gives us time to be surprised.
Violet’s eyes are wide, and her cheeks are red as Jackson pulls away, leaning against the chain-link behind him and trying to keep the victorious grin off of his face.
“So, that’s not Violet Nakamura?” The blonde speaks up.
She shakes her head, visibly recovering from Jackson’s sly move, “What? Because I’m Asian? There can’t be more than one in Emerson?”
“That’s not what I meant.” She gets defensive. “I saw your phone case earlier and thought it looked like one in the mirror selfie on Violet’s page.” The girl is sincere and looks like she actually feels bad. Making Violet’s response so much worse.
Violet’s hand-jeweled bright pink phone case is pretty unmistakable, and I can tell she’s thinking the same thing as she attempts to come up with a response.
“It’s fine. I’m just messing with you,” she says. Not her best recovery, but it works as the girls turn back around.
Jackson folds in his lips to keep from laughing, and Max bites his cheek, eyes bright with amusement. Vi holds her head in her hands, shaking her head as the three of us try not to laugh.
“I know I’m a bad person!” She shouts as soon as Max closes his door.
“You two are assholes,” Max says as he pulls out of the tight parking spot, attempting to beat the crowd.
“It’s not like they were being mean.” I listen for the click of their seatbelts.
“They just gave me late ‘90s mean girl vibes.” Vi huffs, setting Max’s gloves
on his center console. “It’s Jackson’s fault, anyway. I just played along.”
“Your twenty-minute kiss was just playing along?” Max asks as we turn out of the parking lot.
“I—That was not twenty—No—” Violet finally gives up, slumping back in her seat.
“Any comment?” I ask Jackson.
“She didn’t believe I was Tommy. It’s called commitment to character, Phoebe.”
“You were Donkey in Shrek the musical in middle school. Calm down, Ryan.” Max makes a joke about Riley’s sister. She’s a big theater kid and the complete opposite of her brother.
Violet steals Max’s phone out of the cupholder. “Password?”
“Seven-four-nine-two.” Max and I say in sync, earning an eye roll from Jackson.
Music blares through the car’s speakers, and I quickly turn it down.
“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” I ask her.
“I’ll be at your house at ten-thirty sharp.”
“Isn’t that a little early?”
“In Kendall’s words, ‘I don’t want to deal with other teenagers.’” She uses air quotes before returning her attention to Max’s phone.
“She acts like she’s ninety,” Jackson says, staring at Violet like a kid in a candy shop.
“I would say seventy,” Vi corrects him, not even noticing as she creates a new playlist. “Great job at your game tonight, see you tomorrow? White-heart emoji?” She shrieks.
Jackson laughs, and I see Max’s face drop.
“Since when are you and Ava Truman white heart emoji-ing?” Jackson asks, staring at Max’s phone.
“Since when does Violet open my Snapchat’s? You my receptionist now?” He reaches into the backseat with one hand. I grab his hand and put it on the wheel, leaning back and stealing the phone out of Violet’s freshly-manicured hands and zip it in Max’s pocket.
“Oh my God! I thought you were just being cute and flirty, but you actually like her!”
“Hey, Pheebs, remember when Vi and Jackson made out in the McArthur bleachers tonight?” He tries and fails to change the subject.
“I’m not getting you out of this one.” I shake my head. “What are your plans tomorrow?”
“I’m working on my project with Ava and then going to the planetarium with you.”
“Working on your project.” Violet gives an over-exaggerated wink.
