Secrets (5 page)

Rae backed toward the door, unable to take her eyes off Anthony. When she knocked into one of the long door
handles, she turned around and stumbled into the hall, feeling dazed.
Definitely not the time to spill my guts to

Anthony,
she thought. He wouldn’t thank her for dragging him away from the group that pretty much everyone in
school wanted to be in.

Or from Jackie’s hands,
she thought, wincing. She blinked, trying to clear her mind. Had she really just seen that?

Anthony and Jackie? From the sick feeling in her stomach, she was pretty sure she had. Not that she cared, really.

Except for the fact that she’d wanted so badly to tell someone what was going on with her. To tell Anthony.

So another lunch in the art room,
she thought as she started down the hall. She shoved away the image of
Anthony and Jackie, unwilling to focus on how much it hurt-or why.

The moment she reached the art room, she was glad she’d come. The smell of the oil paint had her fingers itching.

She couldn’t wait to get a brush in her hand.

Shirt first,
Rae reminded herself. She’d ruined way too many clothes by getting so excited by her work that she
dove right in without bothering to cover up. She snatched her long white shirt, actually an old one of her dad’s, off
its hook and hurriedly putit on, then set a fresh canvas on the easel she always used. Ms. O’Banyon wouldn’t care.

She’d given Rae permission to use any of the supplies she wanted.

Rae knew she should do some sketches first, think about composition. But she couldn’t. She never could when
she felt like this. She was entering the zone, the place where her hand had control of her body, not her brain.

Green, I need green,
she thought. She selected a yellow-green oil and squeezed a blob on her palette, then added
a glob of a green so dark, it was almost black. She caught up a brush small enough to give a clean line and thrust it
into the dark green oil. She slashed a curve onto the canvas. Another curve. Another.

And out of those three curves came the suggestion of a face. Her mother’s face.

Anthony locked eyes on the Lee High running back.
You aren’t getting by me. Not in my first game as a

Sabertooth. Try it and accept the pain.

Marcus hiked the ball to Ellison. Anthony heard the ball smack into Ellison’s hands. He knew in one second Ellison
was going to spin and hand the ball off to McHugh. But that wasn’t any of his business. His job was to be a human
wall between the Lee running back and any of the key Sabertooth guys involved in the play.

The Lee running back feinted right with his hip. Anthony didn’t buy it. He hurled himself to the guy’s left. Their face
guards hit with a teeth-jarring impact. And the guy went down-hard. It didn’t look like he’d be getting up anytime
soon, so Anthony took off for the goalpost. “I’m open,” he yelled to McHugh, who’d collected a pack behind him.

McHugh twisted toward Anthony, and the ball came spiraling toward him.
You’re mine, baby,
Anthony thought as
the ball slammed into his hands. He tucked it under one arm, lowered his head, and pounded toward the goal. If he
made it, the Sabertooths won the game. It was going to take a freakin’ nuke to stop him.

He felt an arm loop around one calf. Not nearly enough, he thought. He pumped his legs like pistons, but the arm
didn’t release him.
You want to come? Fine,
Anthony thought. He plunged forward, pulling the guy along with him.

He could hear people pounding up behind him, but the other guys on his team must have had the situation under
control, because no one else touched Anthony.

A grunt jerked out of him with each stride. His legs were burning. The guy attached to him was getting heavier by
the second. Didn’t matter. All he could see now was the goal, like the white posts were standing at the end of a black
tunnel. The soundsaround him faded, his grunts going silent, the other players on the field, too.

His world narrowed down to the two white lines in the darkness. Almost through. Almost through.

Through. Color and sound exploded back into his world. “Fascinelli!” the crowd was shouting. He could hear the
cheerleaders shrieking with joy.

Anthony spiked the brown ball into the brilliant green grass. Game over. Game won.

Suddenly his teammates were around him and he was in the air. When they put him down, it was in the locker-room shower-with his uniform still on. “Time for Anthony to bag the tiger,” Marcus called out.

There was a cheer of approval from the other guys. Anthony scrambled out of the shower and shook the water out
of his hair. He looked around for a towel. Before he could find one, the guys started yanking his clothes off. Anthony
tried to fight them off, but in less than three seconds he was down to his jock.

What the hell was going on? Anthony stared around at the guys. They were all laughing and grinning. “Very
funny,” he muttered. He stalked over to his locker and opened it. Empty. Except for a ballerina costume.

“You’ll get your clothes back when you’ve bagged the tiger,” Marcus told him between snorts of laughter.

“What freakin’ tiger?” Anthony demanded.

“The sabertooth in the assembly room,” someone answered from behind him.

“Crap,” Anthony said under his breath, picturing the big plaster Sanderson sabertooth on the assembly-room
stage.

“Hey, we’ve all done it,” McHugh said, slapping Anthony on the shoulder.

“In this?” Anthony used two fingers to pull the pink satin leotard out of the locker. The leotard had a friggin’
tutu

attached to it. All Anthony could do was look at it in horror.

“Yeah, in that,” McHugh answered.

“It took us almost a month to get the tutu back from McHugh,” Sanders related. “He thought he looked sooo pretty
in it.”

“It’s either wear that or go home in your jock,” Marcus said.

Anthony let out a low curse, then started to yank on the shiny leotard. It kept sticking to his skin, and it was too
small, but he finally got it over his body.

“You just need one more thing,” Ellison said. He pushed his way up to Anthony and carefully placed a rhinestone-studded tiara on his head.

“Make that two more things,” Marcus said. Anthony backed away when he saw what Marcus held in his hand.

“No way,” Anthony protested. But Marcus was already using the bright pink lipstick to paint Anthony’s mouth.

“Okay. You’re done. Now go get it and bring it back here,” Marcus ordered.

Anthony squared his shoulders and headed out of the locker room-what else could he do?-trying to ignore the
snickers from the guys and the knowledge that almost half his butt was hanging out of the leotard. To his relief the
gym was empty. He trotted across the hardwood floor of the basketball court, his bare feet squeaking, then cracked
opened the door leading to the hallway and took a peek. Empty. Anthony let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d
been holding.
Okay, this is going to be no big deal,
he thought as he started down the hall, running this time instead
of trotting, not pausing even when the leotard crept high enough to give him a massive wedgie. He wanted to be
done with this little assignment and safely back in the locker room before anyone saw him.

He pushed his way through the caf ’s double doors and skidded to a stop, almost blinded by a dozen flashes of
light. Camera flashes. Crap. Anthony blinked, and a cluster of smirking cheerleaders and pom-pom girls came into
focus. A rush of heat flooded his face. He was freakin’ blushing. Crap, crap, crap.

The longer you stand here, the more of a look they ’re all going to get,
he told himself. He locked his eyes on the
auditorium stage. It looked about ten miles away.
It’s not going to get any closer if you don’t start moving,
he
thought. The only thing was, when he started moving, all the freakin’ girls were going to get a good look at his butt
cheeks. Not like the leotard exactly hid much up front. That realization got Anthony moving-to a chorus of catcalls
from the girls. He wouldn’t swear to it, but he was pretty sure that one of them pinched him, and he definitely felt a
pom-pom shake its way down his back.

What felt like half an hour later-but was actually probably more like half a minute-he was up on the stage with the
plaster Sabertooth balanced in his arms. At least the thing was big enough to keep all the critical front parts of
himself covered. Now all he had to do was get himself back to the locker room. The only thing was, he’d have to go
by the girls again.
Yeah, a bunch of scary, scary girls,
he thought.

“I. Have. Bagged. The. Tiger!” he yelled, then leaped from the stage and strutted toward the door. He was going to
at least have a little dignity this time, no scurrying and blushing. The girls whooped their approval, and a grin broke
across Anthony’s face. He planted a big lipstick kiss on the cheerleader closest to the doors, earning himself a
round of applause.

Anthony held the tiger over his head as he strode out of the cafeteria. As soon as the doors swung closed behind
him, he bolted and didn’t stop until he was safely back in the locker room. “You’re a true Sabertooth now,” Marcus
called.

“So what do the girls do with those pictures they took?” Anthony asked, trying to sound casual.

“They’ll be showing them to everyone at McHugh’s party,” Sanders told him.

Anthony nodded as if he knew all about the party. But he hadn’t heard anything. Clearly he was good enough to
be considered part of the team. Good enough to sit with the guys at lunch. But outside of school it seemed like it
was a different story. Anthony was supposed to go back to his crappy little house and-

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” McHugh asked. “My parents are out of town for the week. It’s going to be the most
massive party of the year.”

“Sure. Yeah,” Anthony answered, feeling a ridiculously big smile trying to take over his face. “But I’m warning you
guys, once the rest of the girls see those pictures, you’re all going to be very lonely.”

“Anthony’s here,” Rae’s dad called up the stairs. Rae froze, remembering the scene in the cafeteria at lunch today.

Then she shook her head, tellingherself she was being silly. She needed to talk to Anthony, and now she had the
chance.

She got up and started walking toward her bedroom door, then stopped abruptly. She flipped her head down to
her knees, then came back up fast so her hair went all full and curly around her face.
What are you doing?
she
asked herself as she headed out of the room and down the hall.
It’s just Anthony. He probably couldn’t even say

what color your hair is if he wasn’t looking right at you.

“Hey, did you see the game?” Anthony blurted out the second Rae stepped into the living room.

Rae blinked. “Obviously you didn’t rush over here to see how I was feeling,” she answered. She sat down in the
chair across from him.

“What?” Anthony rubbed the bruise that was forming on his forehead.

“I was out sick,” Rae said. “I thought you might have, you know, noticed.” Actually she’d only been out sick
yesterday. But she hadn’t eaten in the caf today, so for all he knew, she could have been out two days running.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Are you okay?”

“I have strep,” Rae told him. “But there’s this-”

“It sucks that you missed the game,” Anthony interrupted. “It was really close. I mean, it could have gone either
way right up to the end, and I saw anopening and went for it. Pretty much won us the game.”

“That’s great,” Rae answered, trying to force herself to sound enthusiastic. She wasn’t the only one with a life
here. This was a huge deal for Anthony. She could tell him all her garbage in a minute-about the numbness and the
meter man who wasn’t a meter man. But Anthony deserved to brag a little first. “I knew you’d be amazing,” she told
him.

“The guys actually carried me off the field,” Anthony said. “Then they made me put on this ballet costume-”

“You bagged the tiger? After your first game?” Rae exclaimed. “Some guys aren’t allowed to get near the tiger for a
whole season. You must have blown the guys away.”

“Nobody even cares that I used to go to Fillmore,” Anthony rushed on.

“I knew they wouldn’t,” Rae answered. “So when I called you yesterday, you must have been at practice, huh? I
should have figured.”

“Everyone acts like I’ve always been around. They just assume I’ll be hanging out with them,” Anthony went on.

Thanks for asking why I called you,
Rae thought, picking at a loose thread on the arm of her chair.

“This guy Marcus-Marcus Salkow, you know him?” Anthony didn’t wait for an answer. “First day he calls me over
to his table, introduces me, and man, this blond girl, Jackie, was-anyway. It’s just like I’ve been going there since day
one.”

“I’m happy for you,” Rae muttered, the image of Jackie’s fingers running through Anthony’s hair popping up in her
mind. Not that it had been too far away ever since she’d seen the real thing…