Chapter 4 Chapter 04

Skylar's POV

By Wednesday, I had one friend at Crestfield. Her name was Maddie.

She was a sports medicine student who worked in the team training room. She had curly red hair, a loud laugh, and she was not afraid of anybody. On my second day, she wrapped my sore wrist and told me Penelope Harrington had been the meanest girl on campus since freshman year. I liked her right away.

We were walking out of the locker room together after practice when Penelope stepped in front of us with her two friends.

"Maddie," Penelope said. "I don't understand why you're friends with this worthless nobody."

Maddie did not even blink. "And you're just upset because she's better than you at something. The whole school is talking about her now, not you. Is that why you can't sleep at night?"

Penelope's face turned pink. "I don't care who your father is."

Maddie's father was the team doctor. Everyone knew it.

"Good," Maddie said. "Because I don't care who yours is either."

"You're a bigger reject than she is," Penelope said. She laughed, and her friends laughed with her.

I looked past them, and my heart stopped.

One of Penelope's friends was holding a bag. My bag.

"Hey!" I said. "That's my bag!"

"What?" the girl said with a fake smile. "This old thing?"

She dropped it at my feet. I tore it open and dug through my clothes and my books.

"Where's my football?" I said. "Where is it?"

"Aww," Penelope said. "You mean Hope?"

Her friend pulled something from behind her back and tossed it on the ground.

It was Hope. Or what was left of her.

Someone had stabbed her with something sharp. She was flat. The laces had been cut, and the word TRASH was written across her in thick black marker.

"We fixed it for you," Penelope said.

"No," I whispered. I fell to my knees and picked her up. "No, no, no."

"Ooh," Penelope's friend said. "That looks bad."

My eyes filled with tears. That ball was the first thing Ryan ever gave me. He bought it with money he made washing cars when he was twelve.

"Get lost, Penelope."

A boy walked over from the parking lot. He had light brown hair, blue eyes, and a warm smile. I had seen him at practice. Jordan Carter. The backup quarterback.

Penelope rolled her eyes, but she walked away. Her friends followed her.

Jordan knelt down next to me. "Hey. Let me see it."

I held Hope out to him with shaking hands.

He turned the ball over and looked at the cuts. "I think I might be able to help."

"How?" I said.

"I know a guy in town. He fixes old leather balls for collectors. He's really good. I'll take it to him."

"You would do that?"

"Sure." He reached into his own bag and pulled out a football. It was clean and soft, with a little pink star on the side. "In the meantime, you can use this one. It was my sister's. She played flag football in high school. She doesn't play anymore, though."

I took it. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because he wants to sleep with you," Maddie said.

"Maddie!" I said.

Jordan laughed and held up both hands. "My intentions are pure. I swear. I'm a nice guy." He looked into my eyes. "You can trust me."

I gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Jordan."

"Hey."

We all turned. Owen stood at the top of the steps with his car keys in his hand. He did not look happy.

"Excuse me," Jordan said. "We were talking here."

"Yeah, well, I'm not decorating that ballroom all by myself," Owen said. He looked at me. "You're coming with me. Now."

-----------------------------

Owen's POV

Skylar did not say a word to me the whole drive to the ballroom.

She sat in my car holding Jordan's sister's football like it was a baby bird. I wanted to tell her something about Jordan. But every time I opened my mouth, I shut it again.

It was none of my business. She was none of my business.

Two hours later, the ballroom looked different. The gold lights were up. The red ribbons hung from the ceiling. Skylar was on the tall ladder again, hanging the last string of lights over the stage.

I was untangling a long cord on the floor when I heard a crack.

I looked up. The ladder was leaning. One of its legs had slipped on the shiny floor.

"Skylar!" I shouted.

I ran. I did not think. I just ran.

The ladder fell, and Skylar fell with it. I reached her just in time. She landed in my arms, and the two of us crashed to the floor. The ladder hit the ground next to us with a loud bang.

For a moment, neither of us moved. She was lying on top of me. Her face was an inch from mine. Her heart was beating against my chest.

Then she pushed herself off me.

"What were you thinking?" she yelled. "You could have killed me!"

I sat up. "Kill you? I tried to save you!"

"Save me?" She stood up and brushed off her jeans. "Believe it or not, Owen, I have managed to survive this long all on my own. I don't need you to save me."

"You're welcome," I said, and I stood up too.

She turned away from me. Then she grabbed her shoulder and winced.

"You're hurt," I said.

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. Sit down."

"Rule number two," she said. "Don't ever touch me."

"Rule number three," I said. "I can change the rules any time I want. Sit."

She stared at me. Then she sat on the edge of the stage.

I stood behind her and pressed my thumbs into her shoulder, the same way she had done to my leg. She sucked in a breath.

"Is this okay?" I asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "That feels amazing."

I should have stopped. I knew I should have stopped. But I could not help myself.

"I didn't do it," I said in a low voice.

"Do what?"

"Your clothes. On the first day. I didn't do it."

She turned her head to look at me. Her eyes searched my face, like she was trying to figure me out. She was breaking rule number one, and I did not care.

"Then who did?" she asked.

Before I could answer, the doors opened, and Coach Smith walked in.

I stepped back from Skylar so fast I almost tripped over the cord.

Coach looked around the room at the lights, the ribbons, and the gold balloons.

"Well, well," he said. "I must say, you two did a nice job. I hope this means you two will play nice from now on."

Skylar looked at me. I looked at her.

"We'll see," she said.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Skylar's POV

On Friday night, the ballroom was full of rich people in fancy clothes.

There were men in black suits and women in long shining gowns. There were reporters with cameras and scouts from the pro teams. And there was me, standing by the door in a long red dress.

I had made it myself. I bought the cloth at a thrift store for eight dollars and sewed it every night for a week. It had thin straps and a slit up one side, and it fit me like a glove.

When I walked in, people turned to look.

I heard two of Penelope's friends talking near the drinks table.

"Where did she get that dress?" one said.

"I don't know," the other said. "But it's giving designer. Like, she looks expensive."

"Maddie must have lent it to her."

Maddie walked by with a glass of punch and stopped right in front of them.

"Actually," Maddie said, "she made it herself."

"No way," the first girl said. "There's no way."

"Way," Maddie said. Then she grabbed my hand. "Come on, Sky. Let's go get some air."

We stepped out onto the balcony. The night was cool, and the stars were bright. Maddie was laughing so hard she had to hold the railing.

"You should have seen their faces," she said. "They broke. Like, their brains stopped working when I told them you made that dress."

I laughed too. It felt good to laugh.

Then Maddie grabbed my arm and pointed through the glass doors.

"Oh, see that hottie by the window? Tall guy, blue suit? He plays for Westfield, our biggest rival. But I am definitely taking him home tonight."

"Maddie!"

"What? A girl has needs." She turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "What about you? Anyone you want to hook up with tonight?"

"No," I said. "Definitely not."

Maddie went quiet. She studied my face. Then her mouth fell open.

"Wait," she said. "Do you like someone? Oh my God, you do! Spill the beans, Skylar Scott."

I looked through the glass doors. Owen stood at the far end of the ballroom in a black suit, with Penelope holding his arm. He was not looking at Penelope. He was looking at me.

I turned away.

"I don't want to sleep with anyone," I said.