Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Anora and the Game

On Friday, there’s an electricity in the air, spreading excitement like a current. Even I find it contagious—and I’m only going to the game to give myself an excuse to look for my coin. The halls are decorated with blue and white streamers, and large butcher paper signs read like declarations of battle. It’s also, apparently, the only day we don’t have to wear our uniforms—a memo I missed. As I walk the hall, black knee-high tights covering my legs, people stare. Two girls continue past me, then turn to whisper to one another.

Did I miss something on Roundtable?

Or is this the result of my friendship with Lily?

Maybe both.

“Hey!” I twist to face Lennon, who is dressed in a blue-and-silver Nacoma Knight shirt, a black skirt, and another oversized cardigan that hangs to her knees. A large blue bow sits atop her ponytail at an angle.

“Do I have something on my face?” I ask.

She studies me for a moment. “No. Why?”

“Because I feel like everyone’s staring at me.”

“Oh,” she says. “You’re probably not imagining that.”

Lennon doesn’t offer an explanation. Instead, she holds up a handful of ribbons—blue, white, silver—and offers to add them to my hair. I let her, since all I did this morning was throw my hair into a ball on top of my head.

“Did someone say something about me on Roundtable?” I ask as she works on my hair, gritting my teeth when she pulls too hard.

“Not that I saw this morning.”

I can’t tell if Lennon is being intentionally vague or if she’s oblivious to how uncomfortable this is, because she’s never been the source of whispering before.

“How long does this usually last?”

“What?”

“This,” I say, waving my hand. “People talking about you?”

“Oh, well…in your case, it’ll probably last until Shy stops paying attention to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lennon stops fussing with the ribbons and tilts her face to see me. “Anora. Come on.”

I blush. My body is a traitor. Truth be told, I don’t want Shy to stop paying attention to me. I like him, and I like the attention. And I can’t help but wonder what he might have said if those dumb dogs hadn’t scared him off the other night.

But I just won’t act on anything.

That way, I can’t make the same mistakes I made in New York.

“Has Shy…ever shown interest in anyone?”

“If you mean has he ever dated anyone, there have only been rumors.”

“About him and Natalie?”

“And Lily Martin and Leah Thompson and Regan Carmichael…”

“You can stop any time.”

“Sorry.”

Lennon finally finishes tying ribbons in my hair, and I turn to face her.

“Speaking of Lily…I invited her to hang out with us after school.”

“Oh.” Lennon sounds surprised, suddenly occupied by her fingernails. “And she said yes?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“Lily and I don’t really get along,” she admits.

“Why?”

She contemplates her answer before meeting my gaze. “You could say…we’re on different sides.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t think you’d understand.”

I admire her for her honesty and cringe at what she says next.

“Just like you don’t think I’d understand whatever is going on with you.”

I manage a shaky laugh, and it’s my turn to look away. “There’s not much to understand.” But when I look at Lennon again, something makes me think she can see right through me. I decide to change the subject. “I can meet you at the field tonight if you think that’ll make things less awkward.”

“No, bring Lily! It’ll be fun, even if she’s not my biggest fan.”

“That makes it sound like she’s the one with the problem.”

Lennon shrugs. “It’s not her fault, really. It’s ingrained in her. It’s ingrained in all of them.”

“All of them?”

The bell rings, interrupting us. “Better get to class!”

Lennon bounds down the hallway. I’ve never seen her so excited for school.

The day progresses, and I get the impression no one actually wants to work on Fridays, with the exception of Mr. Val. Students languidly move through lessons, and even Coach David is distracted during PE—not that our class is ever his first priority.

After seventh hour, I walk with Lennon toward the dorms. As we near the front of Emerson, Lennon sticks out her hand to stop me. When I go to open my mouth, she puts her finger to her lips and peers around the side of the building. I follow her example and see Lily and Natalie standing together on the sidewalk.

“Really, Lils, you haven’t damaged your reputation that much. You don’t need to hang out with those death-speakers.”

Based on the fact that Lily is supposed to hang out with me and Lennon tonight, I have to guess Natalie’s referring to us when she says “death-speaker.”

I lean to whisper to Lennon. “What’s a death-speaker?”

She meets my gaze. “It’s…a nickname.”

What kind of nickname is death-speaker? Not only does it sound archaic, it’s very specific. Chills run down my spine, and I have to wonder if Natalie knows more about me than I realize.

Lily continues. “Those death-speakers actually asked me if I was okay. That’s more than I can say for you.”

I can’t see Natalie’s face, but I can tell by the change in her voice that what Lily said upset her.

“Lily…I…”

“I know what you think,” Lily says, and her voice is a whisper, tinged with pain like frost cracking across glass. The silence that follows grows colder too.

I step out from our hiding place and round the corner. Natalie spares me a single, angry glance and leaves. Lily smiles, almost relieved, and I have this feeling she thought I wouldn’t come.

“Hey!” I say, smiling. “Sorry we’re a little late. Coach David made us run extra laps.”

Lily smiles too. “He can be a jerk sometimes.” Her gaze slips hesitantly from me to Lennon, who fills the space beside me.

“Tell me about it,” Lennon says, rolling her eyes. “I think he has it out for us.”

I step forward, looping my arm through Lily’s—much like Lennon does with me—and set off toward Emerson.

“Let’s get ready for the game.”

We make it to Lennon’s dorm and meet her roommate, a short, blond girl named Sara who’s working on smearing black on her cheeks with a kohl pencil. When she looks at us, her eyelids sparkle with blue glitter. She’s also wearing a jersey with the number seven on the front and back.

“Who’s seven?” I ask after introductions are made, curious.

“Jacobi Quinn,” Lily answers.

“Oh…is he your boyfriend?” I ask Sara.

“I wish,” she says with a sigh. “Jacobi’s never had a girlfriend…that we know of.”

Lily averts her gaze from Sara and surveys the room. The walls are off-white. There’s a single rectangular window obscured with a white blind, and the only color in the room comes from the beds, covered in bright blankets and pillows.

“Are you going to the game like that?” Lennon asks me.

I look down at myself—tights, Nacoma Knight uniform, balled-up hair with ribbons… “Yeah.”

Everyone in the room is quiet. I don’t really need to dress up. I hope to sneak off and find my coin. Its absence has been itching at my skin more every day, coating me with a strange guilt I don’t understand but feel to my core.

The girls continue to stare until finally I say, “What?”

“At least let me do your hair a little better. We could curl it and then put the ribbons back in.”

I laugh. “You don’t have enough time.”

“At least change,” Sara suggests with a smile. “No one wants to wear a uniform to the game. I have a shirt you can wear.” She goes to her drawer and pulls out a jersey with Shy’s number on it.

“No,” I say quicker than I intend. “I mean…that’s okay. I’ll just wear my uniform.”

Sara’s eyes widen. “Why don’t you want to wear it?”

“Because…” I’m having a hard enough time blending in with the crowd, and wearing Shy’s jersey will just keep those whispers circulating.

It’s Lily who speaks up. “I’m sure you won’t be the only one wearing the jersey. They’re from state last year.”

“Yeah, we all have one,” Sara says.

Encouraged, I take the jersey from Sara and a skirt from Lennon. Sara also convinces me that wearing glitter and smudging a couple of lines on my cheeks isn’t such a bad idea. By the time we head to the field, I blend in pretty well with the girls.

Lennon takes me by my hand and pulls me onto the field where a group of students, cheerleaders, and the band have gathered in front of a large, inflatable blue tunnel. A flap over the front is sealed and has the school’s initials, NKA, across a shield with a rose on the front. We aren’t there long when the drumline starts to play and the cheerleaders chant. Our team runs onto the field from the locker room, disappearing into the tunnel. I stand on the tips of my toes, looking for Shy. When I can’t find his number, I think I might have missed him. I turn to Lennon, who matches my stance, straining her long neck. “Did you see Shy?”

“No.” She frowns, shaking her head.