Chapter One

Part 4

I was lighter than air when I came out of the locker room after the game. My wet hair was slicked back from my head, and I wore a clean Hillside Cardinals T-shirt. Everyone was cheering and talking boisterously, making plans to hit the diner and hang, holding on to the post-win euphoria. All I could think about was finding my parents and Marcy. I definitely wanted to share this feeling with them.

My parents were waiting for me just outside the gym. Dad was wearing his favorite Cardinals Football sweatshirt and jeans, while mom had gone with the more formal fan look—a red turtleneck and chinos. She clutched a plastic mini-pompom in her hand. Her dark hair was curled and perfect, as always, while dad’s usually messy hair was hidden under a baseball cap. His theory was that if he had to look put-together all week to be a good role model for his students, he could get a little slovenly on the weekends.

“Mike! Great game!” my father said, giving me the handshake/one-shouldered hug.

“Thanks, Dad,” I replied with a grin.

“Are you all right?” my mother asked, checking me over. She has a propensity for coddling me after games, especially games in which I get crushed by malevolent linebackers.

“I’m fine, Mom. I promise,” I said, wanting to palliate her concern. “That hit wasn’t as heinous as it looked.”

“Well, they should have penalized him, if you ask me,” she said with a huff. My father and I laughed.

“Well, you’re kind of biased, Mom,” I said. “It was a clean hit. Trust me.”

“If you say so,” she said grudgingly.

“Lori, please. The boy is fine,” my father said. “Better than fine. You know, the scout from Buffalo wants to stop by the house later.”

“You’re kidding!” I said, elated.

“He seemed very interested,” my mother added with obvious pride.

“I don’t believe it,” I said. “It’s all happening.”

“We couldn’t be happier for you, kid,” my dad said, giving me a real hug this time.

“Thanks, Dad.” I pulled back, enjoying the moment. Then I remembered there was someone else I wanted to celebrate with. I checked my watch. “Sorry, guys. I gotta go meet Marcy,” I said. “But I’ll catch you at home in a little while.”

“Definitely,” my mother said. “Tell her we said hello.”

“Will do!”

I pushed my way out into the sunshine, expecting to see Marcy waiting in our usual spot, on the bench under one of the huge oaks on the school’s front lawn. The only people there were a few JV cheerleaders, flirting with some neophyte JV players. I heard a cheer around back of the gym and thought maybe the celebration had precluded her meeting me—that she’d gotten caught up in the insanity between the field and the school. I cut across the grass to the asphalt pathway and was just rounding the outside of the gym when a kid on a skateboard zoomed out of nowhere and cut me off.

“Watch it, jerk!” I shouted, my heart in my throat.

He merely whooped and skirted me, followed quickly by three other friends. The last one through was a girl with short blonde hair in a black hoodie who shot me a wink and a smile as she raced by. I narrowed my eyes at her familiar face and realized it was Winter Dumas, kid sister of my former teammate Gray Dumas. She and her brother were totally disparate. He was the super-jock and most-school-spirited student, with only meager academic skills. She was the erudite Goth-chick with a disgruntled weekly column in the school newspaper. I had seen her around school with her sun-eschewing, pallid friends, and she was pretty cute—in that psycho, disenfranchised way. Her column did always make me laugh, though.

“Sorry!” she shouted with a shrug.

“Yeah. Whatever,” I said under my breath.

My heart rate was just returning to normal as I made my way around the gym. I couldn’t wait to find Marcy and get a big congratulatory kiss. I wanted to tell her all about the scouts and the guy from Buffalo. But mostly I wanted to talk about tonight, about our anniversary excursion. When she heard the romantic evening I had planned, she was going to rhapsodize about what an amazing boyfriend she had.

I came around the back corner of the gym, and my heart stopped. Suddenly, all my meticulous plans came crashing down around me. This was wrong. It couldn’t be. It was an aberration. But even after I blinked a few times, the scene stayed the same: Pressed up against the brick wall, making out with an appallingly crude lack of modesty, were a guy in a leather jacket and a girl in a cheerleading uniform. A girl with auburn hair.

My gut twisted in pain and my duffel bag dropped off my shoulder. I’d found Marcy all right, with her tongue down Dominic Thomas’s throat.