Playing With the Boys (26 page)

What?
Lucy couldn’t believe it. “Really?” Was there a chance she could actually finish out the season? The thought of going back to the team made her heart leap. Even though the guys hadn’t made her feel particularly welcome, she found herself missing them. She’d become used to the jokes and ribbing and even the smell of sweaty, disgusting boy. But then she was snapped back to reality.

“Even if my ankle gets better,” Lucy remembered glumly, “my dad won’t let me play.”

“Afraid of your getting hurt?” Dr. Cane asked. “Not surprised.
Overprotective
and
fathers
are two words that go hand in hand—especially when it comes to their girls.” Lucy laughed the kind of laugh that wasn’t because something was funny; it was because something was true. “Do you want me to talk to him?” Dr. Cane offered. “Tell him how important this game against Oakwood is?”

“That’s okay,” she said. She appreciated the offer, but knowing her dad, it wouldn’t do any good.

“How about this? Do your exercises,” he said encouragingly, “and make a follow-up appointment for next week. We’ll reassess then, okay?” Lucy nodded and started for the door. “Hey,” he called out. “See you at the game tonight?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” Beachwood was playing against Hillman Hall. There was no way she was missing it.

 
“Come on, Beachwood! You call that defense? What? You need a personal invitation to tackle?” Dr. Cane shouted angrily from the stands. He was sitting about ten rows above Lucy but he was so loud, it felt as though he were one centimeter from her ear, yelling directly into it. The only man louder than Dr. Cane was Mr. Mason, Benji’s father. Lucy noticed Pickle, Charlie, Max, and Carla sitting on the same bleacher as her, about twenty people down. She didn’t even bother to try to make eye contact with them, let alone talk to them. Lucy sighed and tried to be grateful she was here, even if no one was talking to her. Since lying hadn’t gotten her very far, she had decided to be honest with her dad, explaining how important it was that she support the team, even if she wasn’t on it. Luckily for her, he’d understood.

They were deep into the fourth quarter, and Hillman Hall had just intercepted a bomb from Ryan, running the ball fifty-five yards for a touchdown. The score was now 21-20. Hillman Hall led by one point.

Even from the stands, Lucy could see Beachwood’s coaches and players desperately strategizing how they were going to win this game in the next seven minutes.

With less than two minutes to go, the field goal unit jogged out.

“Come on, Benj,” she yelled. “You got this!”There was only one minute and forty-nine seconds left on the clock. Any chance of Beachwood winning would now fall onto Benji’s narrow shoulders.

Lucy said a quick prayer and crossed her fingers. On the bench, many of the guys—Ryan, Tank, and Cope—couldn’t even look. She couldn’t either. She held her breath and looked down at her Converse.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she muttered to herself. Seconds went by. It felt like an eternity.

What was happening?
Lucy didn’t want to look up . . . until the crowd erupted! Lucy jumped up to see Benji—possibly for the first time ever—being engulfed by his teammates on the field. He’d done it! He’d made it! From the twenty-five! And even though there was still a little time left on the clock, Benji had essentially won them the game! Mr. Mason started hugging people around him and slapping them on the back.

“That’s my son!” he said proudly. “My son!”

“Yeah, Benj!” Lucy screamed. “Nice kick!”

On the field, he wiggled out of the arms of his teammates, scanning the crowd.When he saw Lucy, he pumped his fist into the air and pointed to her. She smiled and waved. Coach Offredi wrangled their attention back to the game.

“Let’s finish this now,” he shouted. “We’re not giving anything up in this last minute. I want to see a deep kick downfield!” He sent the kickoff team, Benji included, back onto the field.

The referee blew his whistle. Benji kicked off deep to Hillman Hall. It bounced at their fifteen and was caught by their returner, who ran twenty yards before Tank pulled him to the ground. First down. On the next play,Tank and DeRosa put pressure on the Hillman quarterback as the clock ran down to zero. The quarterback unleashed a sixtyfive-yard desperation pass that flew harmlessly over the outstretched arms of Hillman’s deepest wide receiver. The game was over, and thanks to Benji, Beachwood had won! Lucy could hear Dr. Cane joyfully screaming behind her.

“Go Wildcats!” he cheered. “Yay, Beachwood!”

On the sidelines, Coach Offredi bellowed, “Way to get ’er done, way to get ’er done tonight!”

Excited, Lucy snaked her way down the bleachers, rushing to get to Benji, ready to celebrate and be happy for him. He ran over when he saw her.

“Lucy!” he said happily. He picked her up and spun her around. “Wait till next week,” he told her excitedly. “Wait until homecoming! I’m going to do it again!” Lucy wrapped her arms tight around his neck, making a conscious choice not to mention Dr. Cane’s hopeful prognosis, that she might be healthy enough to play in the homecoming game. It just wasn’t worth it, she decided. Not if it meant losing her friendship with Benji. Because that was what was most important to her.
Friendship.

Of course, seeing Benji out there, under the lights, kicking the field goal—she couldn’t help but wish she could have friendship
and
football.

She wished she could have it all.

 
The following Monday at school, gym was particularly brutal. As everyone else played soccer, Lucy sat on the ground, ripping blades of grass in half. She wanted to play; in fact, she had a feeling that maybe Dr. Cane was right. She
could
play. But if she was claiming to be too hurt for the homecoming game, she couldn’t very well be out on the soccer field. She watched Pickle take a header, colliding with one of the boys. She won the ball. Pickle was clearly the best player out there—boy or girl.

Lucy stood up to stretch her legs. Every part of her wanted to run and jump into the game. She wanted to give the ball a huge boot upfield, just to see whether she still had any power left inside of her. But she couldn’t. Not in front of anyone, especially Benji. But she just
had
to. Just to see what she could do.

She purposefully waited until the whistle blew and Mrs. Sullivan ushered them off of the field and into the locker rooms. Lucy lingered to get a stray ball.

“It’s okay, Lucy,” Miss Sullivan said. “You can leave it for the next class.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” chirped Lucy. “I got it!” She slowly walked to the ball and when Miss Sullivan went inside, Lucy set the ball down in the grass. She walked two steps back and stepped once to the left. She took a deep breath and then . . . WHACK! She drilled the ball a good fifty yards—it flew so fast and so hard it slammed into the bricks of the school. BAM!

“Nice kick,” a voice said. Lucy spun around, caught, not having known anyone else was out there. She came face to face with Pickle, who was holding a soccer ball under each arm.

Lucy gulped. “Thanks.” Both girls stood there awkwardly. They were only a few feet apart, but it felt like there was a Grand Canyon-size rift between them.

“I don’t want to be late for next period,” Pickle finally said.

“Right,” Lucy agreed. “Me neither.”

Pickle looked at Lucy for another second or two, then dropped one of the balls she was holding and dribbled it inside.

 
Between classes, Lucy opened her locker and was surprised. Inside sat a folded note that had obviously been stuffed between the slats. She suspiciously glanced over her shoulder, looking for Regan and Kendall ducked behind a column or trash can, spying on her and laughing. But she didn’t see them anywhere. She turned back and hesitantly picked up the note, as if it had teeth or could spontaneously combust.

She slowly unfolded it, and as soon as she did, she experienced major déjà vu. It was a note from Ryan. At least, it
said
it was a note from Ryan. Lucy wasn’t foolish enough, this time, to believe it actually was. She quickly scanned it.

Lucy
, it read.
Want to go to homecoming with me? I know it’s last minute—and before you think this is another prank from Kendall, I swear it’s not. I just thought you deserved a real note from me. Anyway, think about it.We’d have a good time. Ryan
.

Ryan?
Lucy stared at the words, stunned. Somehow, she just knew in her gut that this was for real. This note was actually from Ryan. She had to call Annie. Quickly, she rummaged around for her cell phone and ducked out of the nearest door. She wasn’t supposed to use her phone on school property, but she had to tell someone. She hit 2 on her speed dial. Annie’s voice mail instantly picked up, since, even with the time difference, she was in school, too.

“Annie,” Lucy said breathlessly, barely able to contain her excitement. “Guess who asked me to homecoming?
Ryan Conner
. He asked me! ME! Can you—” Suddenly, she stopped abruptly. Something caught her eye. It was Pickle, scurrying out of her mom’s car and rushing into the building. Lucy watched her head inside and in that moment, she knew what she had to do. If she had any hope of proving to Pickle and the other girls that she was worthy of being their friend, as much as it killed her, she was going to have to tell Ryan no.

eighteen

“Hey,” Ryan said as he slid into the seat next to Lucy in English class. He looked extra cute today in a vintage black Poison T-shirt and perfectly faded jeans. She’d mentioned he was hot, right? And of course now she knew he wasn’t
just
hot. He was sweet and kind and incredibly thoughtful.

“I got your note,” she said softly.

“Good.” He nodded, as he let his backpack fall to the ground. “What d’ya think? Is it a date?”

“Um, well . . .” she answered slowly. “I really want it to be. . . .”

“But?” he asked suspiciously. “Oh no. This isn’t the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, is it?”

“God, no. Not at all. It’s just . . . um . . . it’s just . . .” she stammered, then tried to focus and be semi-articulate. “I mean, I really appreciate your trying to make up for what Regan and Kendall did. You’ve been, like, so great to me, just in general—like, so supportive. . . .”

“Yeah, right,” Ryan said sarcastically, running his fingers through his hair.“I guess that taping you to a goalpost
could
qualify as a supportive gesture.”

“No, really,” she said, grabbing his arm. As soon as she touched him, it was as though an electrical current shot through her body. This was so hard, but she had to do it.

“You’ve been great to me,” she explained. “Especially because I just moved here and don’t really have a whole lot of friends—which is why I can’t go with you. To homecoming. Because one of my friends—at least, she used to be—she really likes you. You remember Pickle?”

Ryan smiled behind his bangs, which hung in his eyes today. “You mean the vegetable girl?”

“Yeah. Her name’s actually Nicole.You had a conversation with her last year. When she got cut from the soccer team.”

Suddenly, Ryan remembered. “Out by the portables. She was crying.”

Lucy beamed. He remembered. “Right, exactly,” she said. “Well, Pickle’s why I can’t go with you. And I know you were just trying to be nice by asking me, and I’m sure there are a hundred girls who’d love to go with you to homecoming.”

“Yeah, probably.” Ryan shrugged. “But I’m not asking them—I’m asking you.”

Lucy couldn’t help but ask, “But . . . why?”

Ryan smiled.“Joining the guys’ football team? That was a pretty gutsy move. I guess I’ve just never met a girl like you before.You’re pretty awesome, Malone.”

“Okay, okay,” Martie called out. “Let’s settle down.”

Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing the right thing—turning Ryan down for homecoming when Pickle wasn’t even talking to her. She reminded herself that she was. If Ryan really liked her, he’d wait. There’d be more time
after
she made things right with Pickle. She just wondered how long that was going to take.

Ryan tapped her with his pencil. She turned around. “Well, what do you think?”

Lucy considered. She just couldn’t say yes to him. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I just can’t. Not until I work things out with Pickle.” She paused.“ Do you think you could save me a dance?” she asked.

Ryan sat back, a little deflated. He smiled, trying to save face. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”

As Martie began the lecture, Lucy glanced over at Charlie, who, as soon as she caught Lucy’s eye, quickly looked out the window.