The Color Of Grace (3 page)

Next to me, Bridget titled her head as she studied Ryder
Yates hard. “He does look a little like my Zac, doesn’t he?”

I surged to my feet with the need to widen some space
between my best friend and me. “I’m going to take some pictures.”

“Grace,” Bridget called after me. Her voice was apologetic,
making me think maybe she comprehended my panic after all. But my adrenal
glands remained cranked all the way to flight so I was forced to flee on.

I waved over my shoulder and kept a steady pace past
Hillsburg’s cheerleaders and screaming fans to the opposite side of the gym of
where I’d stationed myself earlier. Feeling like this would be a fresh start at
taking a few photos, I hauled in a deep breath. After hooking my neck strap
over my head, I lifted the camera, only to focus on number forty-two just as a
referee waved him into the game.

I gasped and jerked the camera down. He was going to play. I
was going to get to see him play.

And boy did he play.

He might not have been the best athlete on the floor, but
what he lacked in talent, he made up for in enthusiasm. When Southeast scored
another two points, Hillsburg took possession of the ball. We no sooner passed
it in bounds before Ryder Yates appeared, whacking it out of our control. He
wasn’t able to recover the ball, but another Southeast player did. Ryder hauled
his hiney up court and was the first to reach the other end. A teammate heaved
the ball his way. He caught it and dribbled in for a basket, only for a
Hillsburg senior to foul him.

As the shot went astray, Ryder Yates and the Hillsburg
player became tangled in a wad of arms and legs. They tumbled to the floor,
rolling and skidding out of bounds on their backs, nearly torpedoing into my
legs and taking me out with them. I leapt back, narrowly saving myself, and my
camera.

Number forty-two looked up just as the momentum of his slide
gave out. Our gazes met.

When he recognized me, he gave a grin that lit up his entire
face. Pointing, he called from the floor, “Change your name yet?”

Before I could answer or even react, two of his teammates
appeared and held down their hands. Ryder accepted one from each boy and let
them tug him to his feet. As he became vertical, his eyes sought mine. He
winked before turning away and trotting to the free throw line for his foul
shots. There, he made his first basket but missed the next. His teammates
passed by, congratulating him and slapping him on the back as they hurried toward
the other end of the court.

From that point on, I decided it’d be safer to take my pictures
from the stands. I returned to Bridget, who’d obviously witnessed my second
round with Ryder Yates.

“What’d he say this time?” she had to know as soon as I
plopped down next to her. I told her, and she gasped. “So, how’d you answer?”

I sighed, hoping she’d presume I had grown bored with the
subject and leave me alone.

No such luck.

“Did you tell him your name?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t have time. His teammates came and
swept him away before I could say anything.” Not that I would’ve been able to
respond. If given enough time, I probably would’ve tucked my tail between my
legs and booked it out of there. Again.

Bridget must’ve realized this too. She moaned as if supremely
let down. “Grace.” Even the two-syllable way she said my name sounded
disappointed. “You’re going to have to have to talk to someone from that school
soon. They’re going to be your fellow classmates, you know. I can’t stand the
thought of you going over there all by yourself and having no friends.”

My shoulders slumped. Great, she had to bring out the big
guns to make me feel guilty, didn’t she?

“I will, I will,” I promised her. “But not tonight. Tonight,
I’m still a Hillsburg student and a Hillsburg fan. And I refuse to consort with
the enemy.”

There. That sounded good. Or so I thought. From the look on
Bridget’s face, I could tell she saw straight through my excuse. She pursed her
lips and squinted her eyes, eyeing me with a critical once over that saw more
than I felt comfortable revealing.

But instead of pressing the issue, she said, “Fine. But I’m
onto you. If they make you miserable, I’m going to…I’m going to…” She sighed. I
think we both realized it was an empty threat. She could do nothing to protect
me once I left.

Though she had nothing to back her warning, I grinned and
threw an arm over her shoulder, touched by her concern. “Thanks,” I said.
“You’re the best friend ever.”

* * * *

Southeast won the ball game. Big shocker, huh? Yeah, I
wasn’t too amazed either. But the visitors’ section went wild with applause. I
guess this had been their biggest victory spread yet. Of course, even I had to
admit beating us seventy-six to twenty-three was impressive.

Sighing out a depressed puff of air, I
packed my camera away and followed Bridget down the stands to the floor. We
waited behind a thick horde of people, shifting a foot forward every few seconds
as the glacier-slow crowd inched toward the exit.

Beside me, Bridge chattered about school, classes, and assignments.
I didn’t pay much attention, lost in thought over how it was all about to end.
This had been my last time to cheer as a Hillsburg Viking, my last week of
school with students I’d known since kindergarten.

Soon, it’d all be different.

“Get any good pictures?”

The question came from behind me, spoken in a voice I’d only
heard twice but knew I wouldn’t soon forget.

I tensed and stumbled a step, shooting a panicked, help-me
flinch toward Bridget. Then I pulled in a breath and glanced over my shoulder.

Still dressed in his purple and white jersey with the number
forty-two branded across his chest, Ryder Yates grinned. Sweat made his face
glow and his eyes sparkle with vitality.

I arched a brow, thinking that might make me look as
confident as I wanted to feel. “Loads,” I answered, lifting my nose and turning
back to move another two feet forward.

“Good,” he said, following along behind me. “I hope you got
a couple of me.”

Shoot! Why hadn’t I thought to take a picture of him? I
couldn’t beg Bridge to give me a copy of the one she’d taken either, or she’d
know how much I liked his attention to me.

When I refused to answer, he must’ve
turned to her. I’m not too sure because obviously I wasn’t looking. But when I
glanced askance at her, she’d craned her head around. Her eyes grew huge and mortified
as if she’d been caught checking him out.

“Hey, does she have a name?” he asked.

I’ll love Bridge forever for her answer.

Tilting up her chin a notch, she flung a piece of hair over
her shoulder and announced, “Why, yes, she does. Thanks for asking.” With that,
she hooked her arm through mine and swept us into a gap growing in the crowd.

Number forty-two didn’t follow. I’m not sure if that relieved
me or depressed me. In any case, I didn’t see him anymore that night. And I
knew I wouldn’t see him again until I transferred to Southeast.

But the countdown had definitely begun. I only had three
weeks left until I started a new life.

Chapter 3

“You know what I’m sick of?”

“What’s that?” I asked, the only one to answer Bridget since
both Adam and Schy were busy coloring.

The nerd herd decided to throw me a going-away party the
Saturday before my first day at Southeast. So there we were, seated at a table
for four in Garfield’s
Restaurant, waiting for our meals to arrive when Bridget decided to start a
conversation about—

“Sex.”

Adam and Schy paused and looked up in unison like the twins
they were, matching expressions of confusion and surprise flickering across
their faces. Bridget’s answer threw me off guard too, but after knowing her
since Kindergarten, I’d grown used to her out-of-the-blue and totally bizarre
topics.

Casually, I leaned forward and sucked Dr. Pepper through my
straw. After a healthy-sized swallow, I dryly answered, “I wasn’t aware you’d
had any experience with sex to grow sick of it yet.”

Bridget rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I’m talking
about.”

“Then what the heck are you talking about?” Schy demanded.

“I’m doing research on teen movies for an English paper.”

Adam, Schy, and I groaned.

Pausing, Bridget glanced at us. “What?”

“I hate it when you do research for a class project,” Schy
muttered.

Schy was into art. Drawing, painting, water coloring,
doodling. Before beginning school, she’d gone by her full given name, Shi Ann.
But by first grade, she’d shortened it to Shi. By fifth, however, she’d
unofficially changed the spelling to Schy, thinking that would give her more
pizzazz, when honestly it only made everyone call her Sky instead of Shi. I had
a feeling she’d revert to Shi Ann before finishing high school just to keep up the
change. But that was just an educated guess. For all I knew, she’d want to go
by Ann next.

“Remember when you wrote that paper on George Washington?”
Adam said. “We had to hear about the Revolutionary War for three weeks
straight.” Groaning, he went back to coloring a drum set on the white paper
tablecloth.

He was the musician of the group, always writing songs and
singing to us. I can still remember when he’d saved up enough money to buy his
first guitar. Thank goodness, he’d actually learned how to play. We girls
probably would’ve strangled him long ago as much as he fiddled with the thing.
But since he could carry a decent tune, it was kind of cool to get to listen to
him so often.

“Just think about it,” Bridget went on, oblivious to our
cringing. “Almost every teen movie geared toward the male gender throughout
movie-making history is about one thing: trying to find a girl to sleep with
him. There’s
Porky’s
,
Dazed and Confused
,
American Pie
,
American
Graffiti
—”

“
Superbad
,” I
suggested helpfully.

Someone—I couldn’t tell if it was Adam or Schy—kicked me
under the table. “Don’t egg her on,” Schy muttered out the side of her mouth.

But Bridget was already pointing at me and nodding. “
Superbad
,” she agreed. “Though that
movie focuses more on Seth and Evan’s friendship…and trying to get beer.”
Pausing, she looked thoughtful for a moment, tilting her head ever so slightly
to the left. “You know, underage drinking is also prevalent in most of the
movies I named.” She gasped. “Maybe there’s something to that.”

Schy slapped her hand to her forehead. “Dear Lord, save us.”

“Except that would be a good topic for another research
paper. So, I won’t go there just yet.”

“Thank you,” Schy whispered, lifting her appreciative gaze
toward Heaven.

I grinned and sat back in the booth, watching my three
friends. Adam kept his head lowered, coloring furiously with the crayons the
waitress had provided, acting as if he couldn’t hear a word of the discussion.
And Schy groaned as Bridget raged on about premarital, teenage relationships.

Struck with just how much I was going to miss this, I
sniffed, refusing to cry, but moisture gathered in my tear ducts anyway,
threatening to spill over. I quickly sat forward and took another slug of Dr.
Pepper. That way, if my eyes watered, I could blame it on the strong
carbonation in my drink and not weepy, pitiful tears.

“It’s not fair society puts this kind of pressure and stigma
on us youth.” Bridget was still on a roll. “We always have to have our slumber
parties at Schy and Adam’s place because there’s no way our parents would let
Adam stay over, not even in a separate room.”

Adam shifted in his seat and made a pained face. “You know,
I’m not sure I’m very comfortable with this conversation.”

“And it’s all because of sex,” Bridget said, not even hearing
him. “If movie makers didn’t sensationalize the topic so much, it probably
wouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“It’s not just movie makers,” I said. “TV shows and commercials
do it too. Books, magazines—”

“Grace! What are you doing?” Schy asked from between gritted
teeth. “Stop encouraging her.”

“Oh, hey, look.” Adam brightened and sat up as a server
approached with four steaming plates. “Our food’s here.” He grinned at us
girls, looking all too pleased something had arrived to divert our attention from
the subject at hand.

I threw back my head and laughed. It was either that or
bawl. But honestly, how could I move away and miss this? This was my group. My
people. I didn’t want to leave them.

Adam, Bridget and Schy stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. I
think I had too. The nerd herd was my sanity, my life support. What was I going
to be without them? How was I going to survive?

“I’m going to miss you guys so much,” I said, wishing the
words back as soon as they passed my voice box.