The Kissing Deadline (12 page)

* * *

When Amber strolled into the auditorium, most
of the cast members swung their gazes her way, but her attention
was narrowed on Ryan, in particular, on Ryan’s STOP flag. She
scrutinized the girls, paused on Cassie, and climbed the stage.
“Why are you
still
wearing Ryan’s jacket?”

Cassie’s eyes widened and she couldn’t think
of an answer.

Amber swung from Cassie to Ryan, and her eyes
took on a calculating glint. That amber-colored glow must be the
last thing an insect saw as it hardened around him. “We should have
a party at your house this weekend.” Amber slid her arm around
Ryan’s waist, sealing him to her side. “You know, a small one, with
a few friends.”

Ryan moved away, causing her arm to fall,
effectively breaking her hold.

Amber’s voice turned silky. “Fine.” She
turned her back, hopped off stage, and headed down the side aisle
of the auditorium. If she wasn’t front and center, Amber usually
chose to sit in those darkly-lit side seats. Kristnaldo liked to
sit back there too and watch rehearsals. He reclined across the
back row today and Amber moved toward him.

The director strode center stage and stared
out at the couple. “No more sitting along the sides. If you’re part
of the production, you need to be in front where you can see the
performances.”

Amber stopped reluctantly and went to the
front row. “I can see fine from back there. I have great vision. In
cheer, you have to have great eyesight to tailor the routines to
the plays on field.”

“The sides are forbidden.” The director waved
her script toward the front row.

Cassie said, “Like parking lot C.”

Everyone grew silent at her words, dead
silent, even the painters. The cast looked between Amber and
Kristnaldo and the laughter began.

Amber crumpled a pad of STOP signs in her
hand and the force of her dirty look caused Cassie to step
back.

“What?”

“Parking lot C.” The painter laughed
again.

Cassie’s stomach churned, and her face felt
hot. She didn’t like Amber, but she hadn’t meant to make her the
butt of some joke. She’d made the forbidden joke to lighten the
mood. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I don’t know what that means. Ryan
said he’d show me, but…”

An inch-thick STOP pad flew at her head,
winged along by the cast’s laughter. The edge stung when it smacked
high into her cheek before falling to the floor with a thump.
Through a tearing eye, she watched Amber stomp out. Ryan didn’t
look at Cassie as he hopped off the stage and followed his
girlfriend. Cassie searched out her friends. “What?”

Tears streamed down Sierra’s face into her
red curls, as she laughed. “Lot C, is where everyone goes to make
out.”

* * *

Trallwyn High School Dragon Scoop: Friday,
March 9th

Fire drill results: 11 minutes to complete
evacuation.

Congratulations to Coach Ameen’s biology lab
for having the quickest time.

Varsity Soccer, Saturday: Dragons vs.
Tigers

No parking in lot C.

“Come see.” Brooke hunched over her white
laptop and passed Cassie a banana nut muffin.

Cassie took it. “Thanks.” She shoved her
backpack under the table and slid in close. Great, she’d been
right. Their mass exodus yesterday had made it onto YouTube.
Frankly, she was glad there was something to talk about other than
her parking lot C debacle. She bit into the fruity nut muffin, and
the crumbs melted in her mouth. “Is--”

“Shh, there’s narration.”

The voice-over came through the computer’s
speakers. “Most schools have hall monitors. We have morality
monitors. Not because we at Trallwyn High are more moral than other
schools, but so as to demonstrate that we recognize morality.
Because appearances matter. As we scrambled across the lawn with
our shame flags flying, we appeared to be the most moral campus in
the district.”

The video ended in a montage of immorality:
Kristnaldo on top of some girl; Amber taping together her tiara,
ignoring the struggles of the guy in the wheelchair; and lastly a
jock tying his letter jacket around the waist of a girl who didn’t
appear to be wearing clothes from the waist down. The muffin fell
from her hand, and Cassie swallowed against her dry mouth.

Brooke said, “That is so taken out of
context.”

* * *

Cassie placed Ryan’s letter jacket in his
spot and pretended to read her biology book. His chair squeaked
when he slid in beside her and his jacket rustled when he moved it
to the counter. “Hey,” he said.

She hoped that meant they weren’t going to
talk about her insulting his girlfriend during play rehearsal
yesterday. She fidgeted with her notebook. “Hey.”

Coach Ameen moved in front of his desk.
“There have been some bitter grapes amongst the other classes, i.
e., the losers. Winners are always envied.” Coach held up the
ten-page memo. “The office requested that we spend today going over
standard
drill procedures.” His tone was derogatory. He sat
on top of his desk and picked up a stopwatch. “We’ll do it. Then,
we’ll add a few of my own plays to the plan.” Coach blew a long
strident whistle. “Fire, Lockdown or Shelter-in-place? Brooke.”

“Fire alarm.”

He blew two sharp whistles. “Fire, Lockdown
or Shelter-in-place? Mike.”

“Uh, in English class, they said two sirens
match with two words, so--lock down?”

“Too slow,” Coach said. “Each morning we’ll
begin the class with Mike blowing the whistle to indicate types of
drills. As a class, you will answer in unison.” Coach blew three
sharp whistles. “Fire, Lockdown or Shelter-in-place? Sierra.”

“Shelter-in-place.” Sierra snapped out the
answer and winked at Mike.

Tap, tap, tap.
Coach frowned and rose
to answer the door.

Sierra spun toward Mike. “You see, three
whistles match three words, Shelter-in-place.”

Mike grinned and blew her a kiss.

Ms. Herrington, their play director, stood
just outside the door. “Sorry to interrupt, but our class next door
is meditating on poetry. We don’t want to stifle you, but the
sounds from this class, you must admit, are a bit strident.”

“You want ‘em alive, don’t you?” Coach shut
the door in her face and turned the lock. He resumed his mid-desk
seat. This wasn’t his first disagreement with Ms. Herrington. He
didn’t have much patience for the metaphysical.

“I have Ms. Herrington for English class,”
Ryan whispered to Cassie. “We meditate a lot.”

Coach said, “They know we’re turning up the
heat and are trying to sabotage us. It’s the same with their
complaints about our using the windows. Cheryl, how loudly do
people with lungs full of smoke complain?”

“Not loudly, Coach,” Cheryl said.

“Right,” Coach agreed. “Losers go out
quietly. When I blow the whistle, I want to see you lined up,
single file at the door.”

Cassie grabbed her backpack and stood.

“Cassie, do you carry the soccer ball when
you’re running down the field to make a goal?” Coach asked.

Ryan tugged her backpack out of her arms.

“Uh, no?” Cassie heard the doubt in her own
voice.

“Correct,” Coach said. “Leave all your
possessions for the looters.” The sound of the whistle continued
until they were all in line. Cassie knew she’d hear the whistle in
her sleep tonight. “Your lab partner is your fire buddy. If your
buddy goes down, it’s your duty to pull them through the smoke. If
I see you without your buddy, I’m sending you back in, through the
fire. Understood?”

“Yes, Coach.”

Cassie couldn’t take the suspense any longer.
Her insides had twisted with the guilt. She turned to Ryan and
whispered, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I promise I didn’t
know.”

“I made it up to her.”

Ryan didn’t seem mad and she relaxed. And
because she didn’t care to hear how he’d made it up to Amber, she
turned her attention back to class.

Coach Ameen took turns timing each duo as
they raced to the door. “Proceed single file.” He shook the
multi-page memo at them. “I couldn’t find a no-passing rule, so
we’ll overtake others at every opportunity. Remember, we’re only as
strong as our weakest player.”

Coach tossed a bottle of hand sanitizer to
Cheryl. “Palms up.”

As Cheryl went down the line squirting a blob
of sanitizer in everyone’s hands, Coach continued, “Megan, you’re
very fast, but with your asthma, we’ll have to get you out before
the smoke slows you down. I want you first in line. Anyone who
delays getting in line, delays our exit. Delays allow the smoke to
thicken. Anyone who delays is attempting to kill Megan.”

Megan cringed.

Coach said, “I checked all your medical
records, and there’s only one other health concern, but that won’t
be a problem as long as Larry carries his EpiPen.” Larry pulled a
clear tube from his pocket and waved it.

Cassie waited for someone to acknowledge this
gross invasion of their privacy, but no one bucked the system.

“Ryan, Ms. Herrington spoke to me about your
inability to lift Cassie during rehearsal, but I ignored her
complaints. Now it matters, because Cassie is your fire buddy. If
Cassie goes down, we need you to be able to carry her out without
it affecting our time. So I’m upping your bench press weight.”

Ryan held out his big hand. “Yes, Coach, but
I can carry her. Come here, Cassie.”

“No,” Cassie said with a firm tone.

Ryan’s eyes glinted, but he didn’t force the
issue.

Megan, beside her in line, whispered, “You
should go.”

Before Cassie could respond, Cheryl appeared
between them with the container of hand sanitizer. Cassie held out
her hands. Cheryl slammed the pump, releasing a large blob of
alcohol-smelling gel into Cassie’s palms. Some of the cold liquid
oozed off the side, so Cassie wiped the excess onto the side of her
jeans before rubbing her hands together.

Sierra got too much too. She clapped out the
song,
Deep in the Heart of Texas.
Clap-clap, clap-clap,
clap-clap-clap
. Most of the kids in line joined her, an
automatic response by every Texas schoolchild.

Coach nodded in approval at their
patriotism.

After she finished, Sierra wiped her
remaining hand gel onto the side of Mike’s jeans. Mike smeared his
on her too, and in response to the PDA, Amber bent with a flat
back, tossed Sierra a flag then announced to everyone in line,
“Party at Ryan’s house tomorrow night.”

* * *

Megan stopped by their table. Cassie wasn’t
sure how Megan made the cheerleading outfit look cute whereas
Amber, in the exact same uniform, made it look slutty. “Hey, guys,”
Megan said, and turned to Cassie. “That was so funny when you
called Amber out at rehearsal.”

Cassie made a noncommittal noise and shifted
in her seat. “Mmm.” In teen movies, they always sent out a decoy
cheerleader before the pig’s blood poured on your head. Could Megan
be the knowing or unknowing accomplice to a revenge plot? Cassie
glanced up at the ceiling tiles to make sure no bucket hung
overhead.

Sierra laughed. “Yeah, it was.”

“See ya.” Megan moved on.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Cassie poked
her fork at the flan. The dessert smelled more vanilla than custard
and pieces slithered through the tines before wiggling their way
back to the tray. Most of the food on her lunch tray jiggled. Even
the meat pie slid around on its grease trail, not stopping until it
butted up against the roll.

Ryan dropped by next. He bounced a black and
white ball against the end of their table.
Thump.
“The game
starts at one on Saturday.”
Thump
. Cassie took a strategic
bite of her flan.

“It’s a home game.”

Cassie gave a noncommittal nod with a
somewhat blank look. Did that mean they were going to kick or
receive? She couldn’t remember.

Ryan slid in next to her. “That means it’s
going to be located at home field. Here.” After taking a drink of
her orange juice, Cassie lifted her tray to take it to the return
area. Ryan tugged her back down. “You’re not going to eat your
roll? That’s the best part.”

“It touched the meat pie.”

Sierra nodded in understanding, but Ryan
looked blank. Cassie held the tray out to him. He snagged the roll
and took a bite. “You park here in the student parking.” He took
another bite. “I’m a starter Saturday.” His final bite finished the
roll. “We’re playing Magnolia.” He bounced the soccer ball back and
forth between his palms and raised his eyebrows.

“No ride,” Cassie said.

Ryan looked at Sierra expectantly.

“No way,” Sierra said. “I already have to go
to Mike’s JV games. I mean, get to go. Plus my brother, Parker, is
on the water polo team, so I have to go to those too.”

Brooke said, “Your mom will take you.”

Cassie would thank her for that later. She
shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll ask.” Ryan grabbed a red t-shirt from his
backpack and tossed. She raised two hands to catch it. Why would he
throw something to her? He knew she wasn’t sporty.

She looked at the red
Go Dragons
t-shirt and knew she’d be attending the game.

Wearing her new red
Go Dragons
t-shirt, Cassie waved goodbye to Mom.

“Pick you up at three.” Mom drove away.

Cassie wished she’d made Spencer come with
her. After standing in the short line at the box office, she
purchased a three-dollar student ticket, and entered the stadium.
The concession stand stood open for business. Cool. She hadn’t
realized there would be refreshments. She looked at her change and
counted out enough for a grape Blow Pop.

Kids ran around under the bleachers, and more
families stood in line to go up to the seats. Her tension eased at
the sight of all the families. If she had to sit alone, at least
she wasn’t beside a clique. She headed up the ramp. A breeze fought
against the humidity and Cassie tucked a loose strand of hair back
into her ponytail.