Troy High (8 page)

“Break it up right now or I’m calling the cops!” shouted Bennie, the big, burly cook. The room got quiet and I came out of my hiding place to see Hunter and the rest of the Trojan football team standing on one side of the room with Greg and Lucas and the rest of the Spartans on the other. Bennie stood between them, his arms raised as he looked back and forth between the two groups. “I want all of you out of here right now. If you’re not off this property in five seconds, I’m calling the police.”

Lucas wiped at his bloody nose with the back of his hand. Greg looked at his brother, then back at Hunter. Greg’s eyes were dark and his face stony.

“You’ll pay, Prince,” Ackley said, pointing at my brother. He helped Patrick, who had a huge red welt forming on the side of his face, to get up, and they turned toward the door.

Greg didn’t even look at me as he led his brother out of the restaurant.

Bennie pointed toward us. “I mean all of you. Out!”

Hunter stomped toward the door and we all followed him. I thought the Spartans would be waiting outside to jump us, but I saw them speed away in their cars as we walked out into the parking lot.

Perry and Elena were sitting on the curb, Perry’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“That was crazy,” Perry said, grinning up at us.

Hunter snapped. “Crazy? What was crazy was how as soon as someone started swinging, you ran out here like a baby.”

Perry jumped to his feet. “I was trying to get Elena out of the middle of the fight. I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

Hunter waved a hand toward where I stood shivering slightly from the cool night air and the aftershock of what had just happened. “Way to have concern for our sister’s safety too, hero.”

Perry looked me up and down. “She looks fine.”

“You are such a brat,” Hunter grunted, shoving Perry’s chest and causing him to stumble backward a few steps. “This entire fight is because of you! And you won’t even stand up and help out. You expect the rest of us to get hurt because of something
you
started while you sit back and make out with the girl you stole.”

“Perry didn’t steal me,” Elena objected.

I would have told her that Hunter wasn’t listening to a word she said, but I was too afraid to speak or move. No one else moved either, as we watched my brothers in the light of the streetlamps.

“This is your fault, Perry,” Hunter growled, pointing a thick finger in Perry’s face. “And you
are
going to help end
it. I don’t care if your pretty little face gets messed up. You will fight your own battle. Got it?”

For a moment, I thought Perry might stand up to Hunter. No one ever had. But he backed down.

“Got it,” he said. He turned and reached a hand out to Elena. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

THE NEXT MORNING, I STILL FELT A LITTLE shaken by what had happened at the Ice Cream Factory. I hadn’t slept well, remembering the look in Hunter’s and Greg’s eyes. I knew Hunter could have a gruff attitude when needed—he used it to rally the football team before big games—but I had never seen that side of Greg before. The look on his face when he saw that Lucas had been injured frightened me.

This war wouldn’t end soon; I could feel that deep in my gut.

During the short time that I did manage to sleep, I dreamed about Hunter. I saw him on the football field, dodging around other players who were coming after him. I couldn’t tell what school the players were from because
they were dressed all in black. In my dream, one of the enemy players suddenly grew huge and ran full speed at Hunter. The player rammed my brother hard, sending him spinning into the air, where he stayed suspended for what felt like hours. Suddenly, Hunter fell, crashing hard into the ground on his neck and shoulder.

Then my brother lay there, not moving at all.

I awoke sweating and panting heavily, as if I’d been the one running from the football players. My stomach churned and I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that my dream had been a sort of warning.

I got ready for school as the memories of the night’s events played through my mind again. When I went downstairs to breakfast, Hunter sat alone in the kitchen, reading the sports section while he ate his cereal.

“Hey,” he greeted me, not looking up from the newspaper.

“Hey,” I said. I got a bowl and spoon and then sat down at the table. But I didn’t reach for the cereal. I just sat there, staring down into my empty bowl.

“Hunter?” I said after a moment.

He grunted in response, still not looking at me.

“Is this thing between the two schools really so important?” I asked. I didn’t want to rile Hunter up first thing in the morning, but someone had to talk some sense into him. “I mean, it’s just football.”

Hunter looked at me, his gray eyes sad. “It’s not just football, Cass. It’s reputation and pride. Now it’s personal. If we back down, we’re saying that we’re too afraid to stand up to them. The Spartans will never let us forget it. And we won’t be the only ones who have to deal with it, everyone who attends Troy High in the future will. You think the rivalry is bad now, think about what would happen if we gave up without a fight.”

I sighed. “But this is so stupid. Why can’t our two schools just be friends?”

“That’s just not the way it works around here,” Hunter told me.

We were quiet for a moment and I poured Frosted Flakes into my bowl. Then I said, “Why are you leading this thing if it’s between Perry and Lucas?”

Hunter gave me a look. “Do you honestly think Perry could lead anything?”

I remembered how he’d run out of the fight as fast as he could the night before. “No,” I admitted. “He’d make an even bigger mess.”

“Exactly. So I have no choice but to be the leader.”

Hunter finished the rest of his cereal, slurping down the last of the milk in his bowl, and then stood to put his dishes in the sink. He turned back to me, smiling sadly.

“I hope you understand that I have to do this, Cassie,”
he said. “It’s not that I hate your friend Greg or anything, it’s just something that has been building between our two schools for years. Perry put this in motion, and I can’t be the one to back down without losing the respect of all Trojans and Spartans. I don’t want to do that to everyone at our school. Okay?” He reached over and touched my cheek gently, rubbing his thumb over my skin.

I nodded. “Okay. Just be careful. I had this dream. You got hurt on the field. Like, seriously hurt.” Tears stung my eyes as I remembered the sight of my brother lying still and pale on the grass.

“It was just a dream,” Hunter said. “But I promise I’ll be careful. And you do the same. I know you care about Greg, but this is not the time to be seen running around town with him.”

Judging from the way Greg had looked at me at the Ice Cream Factory, that didn’t seem to be a likely option. A lump formed in my throat at this thought, but I nodded to my brother and tried to look as if my heart wasn’t breaking into a million pieces.

That night, Troy was winning 21–7 against Sunset High School. I tugged at the collar of my band uniform as I waited for time to tick down on the scoreboard. We had less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter. There was
no way Sunset could catch up. People in the bleachers had already started to celebrate while the cheerleaders threw one another into the air to keep the enthusiasm up.

Hunter had played a great game. I wasn’t sure if it was just his natural talent or if it had something to do with the aggression that coursed through him thanks to the Spartans, but he threw perfect passes and avoided the Sunset players whenever they came at him. Perry didn’t do so bad either, but he seemed more interested in watching Elena bounce around in her cheerleading uniform than in actually focusing on the game.

Still, the crowd loved my brothers and the rest of the Troy team. They had cheered until they were hoarse, and the bleachers vibrated from their celebratory stomping.

When the last seconds ticked away and the horn sounded, ending the game, the Troy spectators flooded the field to hoist the football players onto their shoulders. Hunter pulled his helmet off and his light brown hair shone from the lights surrounding the field. People looked at him as if he were a soldier returning home victorious from a great war.

I made my way through the crowd toward the girls’ locker room. Elena, Perry, Hunter, and some others were all going out to celebrate after the game and Elena had insisted I come, too. I didn’t understand why she needed
me to come along with her anymore, now that she and Perry were obviously together. She couldn’t still be nervous around him and need my support.

Yet it felt strange to think that she might really, honestly want to be my friend. Since Elena’s arrival, I almost felt like I was a part of something.

I pushed open the door to the girls’ room and then froze, staring at the sight before me.

The lockers along the walls were open and everything had been pulled out and thrown all over the place. Red streaks covered all the clothes and bags, and the sinks and toilets had been stopped up with big bunches of toilet paper so that the water overflowed onto the floor.

I heard the cheerleaders approaching the locker room behind me.

“Hey, Cassie,” said Elena. “Are you ready—”

She stopped halfway through the door and saw the mess around the room. The other girls crowded inside, staring openmouthed at the damage.

“What happened?” Mallory asked, turning to me.

I shook my head. “It was like this when I got here.” She looked at me suspiciously, until Kelsey pointed to the mirror over the sinks. “Look.”

Written in red lipstick was the word

“Spartans,” one of the cheerleaders muttered, wrinkling her nose.

“Spartan cheerleaders,” Elena corrected her. “Coming after me.”

“How did they get in here?” Kelsey asked.

“The door wasn’t locked,” I said. “Remember, Ms. Fisher unlocked it before the game so we could go in and out? I don’t think she locked it back up when the game started.” Ms. Fisher was the cheerleading coach and the keeper of the girls’ locker-room keys.

Mallory clenched her fists. “Oh, I wish I’d seen them when they snuck in. I would love to rip out some Spartan cheerleader hair.”

Kelsey had moved toward her duffel bag and bent down to examine the red streaks all over it. “Ketchup,” she said. “At least it’ll wash out. But all our things are covered in it.”

Elena turned toward the door, pushing through the other cheerleaders.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To find Perry,” she said. “We’re not just standing by and letting them get away with this.”

I DIDN’T TALK TO GREG AT ALL THAT WEEKEND. I was angry at him for getting involved in the rivalry, but even more so about the fact that he obviously didn’t want to be more than friends. Lately, I didn’t feel that we were even friends at all. My wounded pride wouldn’t ever allow me to make the first move again.

And if he really was a friend to me, he should have warned me about the laxatives in the spaghetti. He didn’t even care enough to do that.

Since I hadn’t talked to Greg in several days, I was surprised to see an e-mail from him appear in my inbox Monday afternoon.

TO:
[email protected]

FROM
:
[email protected]

SUBJECT
:
Hope the Trojans are pleased with themselves…

ATTACHMENT
:
lacede.jpg

I opened the picture attached to the e-mail.

The photo showed the Lacede High football field. The grass had brown words burned into the green that spelled out
YOU’LL REGRET THIS, SPARTANS
.

“Don’t forget to read chapters four and five in
Of Mice and Men
,” Mr. Sale said as the bell rang and students jumped from their seats. “I can’t make any promises, but there just may be a quiz on the reading. So take my advice and be prepared. See you all tomorrow.”

I shoved my English book into my backpack, along with my copy of
Of Mice and Men
, and slung my backpack over my shoulder.

“Ugh,” Elena said. “Like we don’t have anything else to do other than read books for English class. I have cheerleading practice every day this week.”

“Yeah,” I said, only half listening.

I couldn’t get my mind off Greg. I had been thinking about him ever since I’d gotten his e-mail. It had been two weeks since we’d talked. We’d never gone this long without speaking.

I missed him, I thought, as I stepped into the hall. I missed our all-day video game sessions and jokes. And at night I dreamed about kissing him again.

I woke from the dreams sweating and out of breath.

A shriek from around the corner startled me out of my thoughts. The shriek turned into several screams and then squawks.

Squawks? Like birds?

The people in front of me jumped out of the way and a flash of brown feathers flew at me, wings flapping. Elena and I screamed and ducked, covering our heads. When I managed to lift my head up to see what was happening, I spotted a chicken running through the hall behind me.

More squawks made me turn around, and I saw several chickens, some white and others brown, dashing around legs and backpacks and running through the halls of Troy High.

“Catch them!” someone yelled.

A few of the guys were brave enough to dive at the chickens, but the birds flapped their wings and leaped out of their grasp. Now the shrieks and squawks were joined by shouts as the chickens tried to get away.

“How did chickens get into the school?” Elena cried, her eyes wide.

I had a sudden thought and pushed through the crowd
toward the front doors. I managed to get outside and hurried down the steps, scanning the parking lot.

There, on the road, Lucas’s car turned the corner, following an old, rusty pickup truck full of metal cages.

It took teachers and students two hours to catch all the chickens. When they were done and someone had been called to come pick them up, the hall was littered with textbooks, paper, feathers, and chicken droppings. It took another hour for maintenance to clean up and scrub the floors.

An emergency assembly had been arranged that afternoon in the school auditorium. The entire student population was forced to attend.

Ms. Fillmore, the Troy High principal, stood onstage behind a large wooden podium. She looked over the crowd, eyeing all of us for a long time before she began speaking.

“As I’m sure most of you are aware, there has been a rash of pranks played between our school and Lacede High,” she said, her voice echoing throughout the room.

“Lacede sucks!” someone yelled. A bunch of people laughed and cheered.

Ms. Fillmore stared at us again, waiting until everyone had grown silent before she continued. “These pranks are
against school policy,” she said. “The destruction of school property is punishable by law. Let me warn all of you that pranks are not condoned and will not be tolerated. The guilty parties will be punished when they are caught. And believe me, they
will
be caught.

“I also must warn you,” Ms. Fillmore said, “that fights at school games will not be tolerated. Visitors to our premises, even visitors from another school, are to be considered our guests while they are here and we will all treat them with respect and courtesy. Any student caught fighting on school grounds will face suspension.

“If anyone knows anything about the incidents of the last few weeks, please do not hesitate to come see me,” she went on. “My office is always open and you will remain anonymous. Any information you can provide to help us stop these pranks and punish the offenders will be appreciated.”

She stared around the room again, as if waiting for someone to speak up and confess to the pranks right then. I shifted in my seat as her eyes passed over me.

“Thank you all,” Ms. Fillmore said at last. “You may return to your classes.”

The room erupted into talk and laughter as everyone stood and started toward the doors.

I hung back, walking slowly in the crowd. The administration
office was right outside the auditorium. Through the open door I could see the school secretary inside, sitting in front of her computer. Behind her was Ms. Fillmore’s office.

I stared at the door, chewing my lower lip.

I could tell Ms. Fillmore everything. I could make it stop.

I would get Greg into trouble.

I would get my brothers into trouble.

Even I would get in trouble.

I hitched my backpack farther up my shoulder and looked at Ms. Fillmore’s office again.

Then I turned around and headed back to class.