That Girl, Darcy Page 7

  “It was worth it, was it not?” Lucas said as he paused to high-five another random person.

  No one could argue that point.

  “How much trouble did you get in?” asked Kyle. After his stunt with the air horn, Lucas had been whisked off by one of the security officers. He’d only just been released.

  We had to wait for him to finish being congratulated by another group of people before he could respond. “A week’s worth of detention,” he said breezily, “And they confiscated the air horn. Oh, and they called my folks.” The last part sounded like more of an afterthought than anything.

  “What’d your parents think?” I asked.

  “They thought it was hilarious.”

  “Figures,” Kyle said.

  I sat with the guys today, partly because I figured it was best to leave Jake and Bridget to themselves for a while, and partly because I was sick of Calvin and Luis sneering at me. We passed the lunch period listening to Lucas brainstorm ideas for our senior prank.

  “What if we let a wild ostrich loose on campus?” he suggested.

  “I don’t know about that,” said Kyle.

  Lucas considered that for a moment. “You’re right. This campus is big; we’d need at least five ostriches.”

  “That’s a step in the right direction,” I mused sarcastically.

  “Aren’t ostriches feral?” asked Kyle.

  “I’m down,” said Liam.

  “We could do something that won’t potentially land us all in jail,” I suggested.

  “Hey, why don’t we show up to commencement with nothing but tube socks on under our gowns?” Liam blurted.

  “That will definitely land us in jail.” Lucas chuckled.

  Mark came stomping toward us, glaring at Lucas. “That so was stupid,” he said as he slammed his tin lunchbox onto the table and nudged his glasses back into place.

  Lucas waved him off. “Relax. Pranks are supposed to be stupid.”

  “It’s a bad example to the underclassmen.”

  Lucas rolled his eyes. “Guess we know one senior we can count on not supporting the class prank. Never mind senior skip day.”

  I looked out across the cafeteria, to where Jake was sitting with team stuck-up. We could probably count on a few more people not participating.

  After lunch the halls were packed as we all headed back to class. The area just outside the cafeteria was always the most congested, since it bottlenecked before opening up into the larger hall. I spotted Jake walking with Bridget. The way he carried himself reminded me of the president’s secret service detail. What was he so tense for? He looked like he was worried someone might whip a gun out on her.

  I nudged Lucas. “Look at him. He’s acting like the whole world revolves around Bridget.”

  “Maybe for him it does. What’s wrong with that?”

  I frowned. “Nothing, I guess.”

  I kept watching them. Darcy was trailing not far behind, walking with her arms crossed and an angry look on her face, and Calvin was beside her, doing his rooster impression again.

  I heard shouting and turned to see a cluster of varsity jackets coming toward me. Before I could squeeze out of the way, I found myself scraping shoulders with Andrew De Bourgh. “Didn’t see you there, Elliott!” he shouted, slapping me on the back with a hand that was as big as a tennis racket.

  “That’s because your shoulders are in the way,” I responded dryly.

  Andrew laughed as if I had said the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He was always exuberant before a game, and today was no exception. Which wouldn’t be an issue, except for the fact that exuberant for Andrew translated to obnoxious for the rest of us.

  It was clear that the Andrew everyone saw was not the Andrew that existed inside his own head. He acted like he was more witty, charming, and well-liked than he actually was. In reality he was the opposite of all those things. He was obnoxious, rude, and a bully, and it was only the fact that he was a De Bourgh that kept people from ostracizing him. But since he was Christian’s younger brother, most people tolerated him, even if that wasn’t easy. It was like he’d internalized the phrase “dumb jock” and made it his life’s mission to live up to it. So far, he was doing a beautiful job.

  “Hail Mary!” he shouted as he rushed down the hall, barreling through a group of underclassmen. One of his teammates lobbed the football at him, and he curved to mirror its trajectory. A trajectory that, unfortunately, ended against the wall, where Mark was walking with his head down. It was too late to warn him. Andrew smacked into him, knocking him against the wall and sending his tin lunchbox clattering to the ground.

  “Come on, Poindexter, watch where you’re going!” Andrew snapped, shoving him as he tried to readjust his glasses.

  I was at his side in a heartbeat. “Leave him alone.”

  Andrew smirked, drawing to his full height. “Or what? Who are you, his body guard? You running some type of charity here?” He looked around for his teammates, but none of them were laughing. His lack of backup knocked some of the wind from his sails, but one of the great things about Andrew was that he was too dumb to care. “Stay out of my way,” he growled, and then, as the coup de grace, he kicked Mark’s lunchbox, knocking it open and sending plasticware scattering down the hallway.

  That was the last straw.

  The next instant became a blur. I saw only flashes. Andrew, Liam and Kyle, Jake, Bridget, Darcy . . . None of these really registered with me, because before I knew what I was doing, I was lunging at Andrew. My fist connected with his jaw, and we toppled to the ground.

  * * *

  Dad showed up within the hour. I was glad it was him instead of Mom. She would have made such a scene that she would’ve been nominated for a Tony award. He went to the main office first, then came down to the nurse’s office and sat across from me. He stared at me for a long time, probably trying to figure out what to say.

  “It looks a lot worse than it is,” I told him. The nurse had insisted on giving me an ice pack, in case I had a concussion. But I felt fine, aside from a slightly bloody nose and a bruise on my cheek.

  “Do I even want to know what happened?” he asked.

  I leaned my head farther back, pinching the bridge of my nose and readjusting the tissue that dangled from my nostril. “Didn’t they tell you?”

  “Oh, they told me. I just figured you’d have a side to tell.”

  I dabbed my nose. “‘If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.’ Mark Twain said that.”

  Dad heaved a sigh of exasperation. “You know what your problem is?”

  “No, Dad, what is my problem?” I was only halfway being sarcastic. It wasn’t too often that Dad dispensed fatherly wisdom, and I was curious to hear some.

  “You have no purpose. Sure, you know how to fight, but you have nothing to fight for. And until you have that, you won’t have anything.”

  I would have rolled my eyes, but one of them was aching. “Thanks for that. Can we go now? It smells in here.”

  Dad groaned, then stood. “Yeah, you need to get cleaned up.”

  I followed him out to the car. We got in, but Dad didn’t move to start it. “Okay,” he sighed. “You never told me. What really happened?”

  “The same thing they told you.”

  He shook his head, and a smile cracked his weary features. “Is this the guy that gets on your last nerve?”

  I stared out the passenger window. “Which one?”

  “The, what’d you call him, the ‘insufferable stick in the mud?’”

  I smiled. “No, his brother.”

  “So there are two of them now?” Dad looked pained.

  “His younger brother is the second-string quarterback. Big guy, just as annoying as his brother.”

  “And you won?” he asked, more for confirmation than as a real question.

  “Possibly.” It had actually been more of a draw. A hall monitor had broken it u
p before it had become more than a scuffle.

  Dad chuckled to himself and started the car. “You know your mother’s going to have a conniption, right? The principal says she’s going to let this one slide,” he gave me a stern look, “but if it happens again you will get suspended.”

  I suppressed another eye roll. “Ooh, suspension. My worst nightmare.”

  “Fine. We’ll let your mother pick your punishment.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He turned the key in the ignition.

  “Okay.” I shrugged. Mom wasn’t all that imaginative.

  We pulled out of the parking lot. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Mrs. Haggerston had told me to explore my options. In a way, I was doing just that.

  Chapter 7

  “A fight!” These were my mother’s first frantic words at hearing news of what had happened. We were in the kitchen, Dad sitting at the table going over some papers, only halfway paying attention to anything else as Mom paced back and forth with her hands on her hips.

  “I don’t know if I’d call it that,” I said as I went to the fridge. I pulled an icepack from the freezer and dabbed at my cheek, then went below to find a snack.

  Behind me, Mom huffed. “Elliott, what are you doing?”

  I lifted my head over the fridge door quizzically. “Eating an apple?”

  “With your life,” she said, exasperated.

  “Oh. That.” I went back to digging through the fridge.

  “Do you want to give me a heart attack? A stroke, maybe? Is that your aim? Because I’m close, Elliott. I’m this close.” She made a pinching gesture with her fingers.

  Dad glanced up from his papers. “Honey, remember what your doctor said? There’s nothing wrong with your arteries or your heart.”

  She whirled on him. “You know what I mean! Not helping!”

  Dad went back to his papers, this time holding them up to shield his face. But Mom was on the warpath. She stomped to the counter and yanked a letter into the air. “As if that isn’t enough, look at this! The HOA fined us today.”

  That got Dad’s attention. “For what?”

  “For all the weeds in the front yard! We aren’t the only ones; apparently they fined the entire neighborhood!”

  I reached over and plucked the letter from Mom’s hand. There were hardly any weeds in the front at all, at least, that I had noticed. “Mom, this fine is for five bucks.”

  She gave a dramatic groan. “Oh, five dollars now, five hundred the next time! But guess what, Mr. MMA, you get to go out there and pluck those things. And I want them up by the roots, too.”

  I glanced over at Dad, who gave me an I-told-you-so look. “Sure thing, Mom,” I said. “I’ll get on that as soon as I get back.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

  “A football game.” I told her.

  “Let me get this straight,” said Dad, “you just get into a fight—”

  “Scuffle,” I amended.

  “Scuffle with the quarterback, yet you turn around and want to go watch one of his games?”

  “It’s not like I’m going to hop onto the field and go after him for round two. I’m just going with the guys. Besides, I already told them I’d go.”

  “Absolutely not,” Mom said.

  I started to argue when the front door burst open and Jake rushed inside, breathing hard, like he had run all the way here. “Elliott, what the heck?”

  “Hey, Jake,” Mom said. “I take it you heard about your cousin’s little skirmish today?”

  “I saw the whole thing,” he told her, looking at me. “Are you alright?”

  “Fine, fine.” I held my icepack away from my face so he could see that nothing was out of place.

  He frowned. “So, um, are we still going to the game?”

  I glanced at my parents. There were few concessions they wouldn’t make for Jake. As far as they were concerned, he could do no wrong.

  “Don’t stay out to late, you hear?” Mom warned me.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.” I tossed the ice pack in the sink and hurried for my room, where I put on a new shirt—this one emblazoned with the USS Enterprise—and raced back downstairs and out the door.

  * * *

  Both Kyle and Liam were buzzing when we picked them up, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the game or the girls they’d get to gawk at there. Either way, I didn’t see what all the fuss was for.

  “Between you and me, dude, I’m glad you finally hit Andrew,” Liam said. “Somebody needed to do it.”

  “The guy’s a tool,” added Kyle.

  When we got back to the school, the outdoor stadium was already packed. The floodlights glowed in the warm night sky, and the air was full of the sound of voices. We bought our tickets and made our way into the stands with Liam leading the way. “We should sit in the visitor section,” he told us as we weaved through the crowds. “Denise said she’d be about halfway up.”

  I wondered how long he was going to keep up the pretend-girl charade, but I didn’t argue, I just pushed my way through the unfamiliar faces and the people that were wearing the red and black I assumed were Meryton’s colors. “Do you think Bridget’s going to be here?” Jake asked in such a low voice that I wondered if he was just thinking out loud.

  “Did she know you were coming?” I asked.

  He blushed. “I mentioned it.”

  “Then I’m pretty sure she’ll be here.”

  “You think so?” Jake lit up. Well, his face did what I interpreted as lighting up. In reality, his eyebrows raised just slightly and his mouth twitched upwards a little. That was Jake’s version of lighting up.

  “Why don’t you call her?”

  His expression soured. “I don’t have her number.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “You don’t?”

  “Why would I?” He looked like he only half-meant the question.

  “Why wouldn’t you? You guys have been nearly inseparable all week long and it never occurred to either of you to exchange numbers?” I shoved him good-naturedly.

  He nudged me back. “You make it seem like we’re dating or something.”

  “No, the two of you make it seem like you’re dating. Tell you what. Do you want her number?” He nodded slowly. “Then ask her for it. It’s not that complicated.”

  “I beg to differ,” Jake mumbled.

  “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” I kept my eyes on his.

  Jake looked suddenly queasy. I wondered what he found so intimidating about Bridget. She was easily the least intimidating person I had ever met. Now Darcy, she was intimidating. I looked around, hoping to spot Bridget amongst the sea of faces that surrounded us.

  “I’m gonna go look for her,” Jake said suddenly.

  “Want me to come with?”

  “No,” he said cheerily. “You’re right. It’s really not complicated. If I find her, I’ll ask her for her number. If not . . .”

  “Text me, and I’ll save you a seat with us.”

  He smiled and moved off. I watched him go, noting the furtive, longing glances he drew as he went. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

  “There she is!” Liam yelled all of a sudden, and he nearly leaped over a dozen people to get to the middle row of bleachers. Kyle and I scooted after him, apologizing along the way, and met him in the center of the row where he was standing next to several girls. “Told you I’d make it,” I heard him say to one of them. He turned to us. “This is my brother, Kyle, and my friend, Elliott. I believe I’ve told you both about my friend, Denise.”

  I reached into my pocket, dug out my wallet, and pulled out a five, which Liam duly accepted. “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  The girls stood in a tight triangle, two near us and one partly obscured behind them. Denise was the only one not on her phone. She was a tall, curvy Asian girl with deep maroon hair and side swe
pt bangs. She was pretty, much prettier than I would have imagined someone who would talk to Liam.

  The second girl quickly introduced herself as Carla before going right back to her phone. The girl who, up until this point had been standing behind her, nudged her way over and smiled at us.

  “I’m Gabby Whitney,” she said, offering us all a cute little wave that made my heart flutter, “or the girl with two first names, as they call me when they think I’m not listening.”

  “Hi, Gabby,” I said, awestruck. There was something very intoxicating about her. I couldn’t figure out just what it was. She was tiny, around five feet tall, with dark, curly hair. She had great big green eyes, a pointed, pixie-like chin, and a set of lips that should only be found on one of Mick Jagger’s offspring. We introduced ourselves one at a time, and when it was my turn, our eyes met. The look we shared lasted half a second, but in that instant there seemed to have been a spark of some sort.

  “The campus here isn’t so bad,” said Denise. “Definitely not the dump I’d heard it was.”

  Gabby glanced out over the stands, and my eyes followed her every move. “It’s a lot bigger than I’d heard. I wonder how many students there are here.”

  “Three thousand,” I blurted, eager to have her attention once more. I was rewarded when she turned again to me.

  “Is that an exact number?” she asked with a teasing laugh.

  “More or less,” I shrugged.

  We settled in, and Kyle went to buy popcorn while Liam chatted with Denise. Gabby sat down next to me, and I was frozen in her presence. Eventually an air horn sounded—I half expected it to be Lucas again—and the two teams rushed to the field. The game had begun. Our team won the coin toss and opted for the kickoff. Meryton raced to the forty-yard line. Both teams seemed evenly matched, as far as I could tell. Our guys did a decent job of advancing the ball, despite a pretty strong defense from Meryton. By the end of the first quarter, we were up by seven. I wrote down as much as I could, unsure of what all I would need for my article.

  Without warning, Gabby leaned toward me. “Trekkie?” she asked, nodding toward my shirt.

  I couldn’t decide if, to her, this was a good thing or not, so it was with a wary air that I answered, “I dabble.”