Page 12

“Screw you,” Mason whispers.

“Okay fellas, let’s welcome Grace—” Coach snorts when Grey smacks his shoulder. “I mean,Grey, to camp.”

“More like welcome to my hell,” Mason says to Sebastian.

“You know the rules,” Coach says.

They all do. It’s soccer suicide to give Grey any shit, which a few of their best players learned the hard way. But Grey is a good kid, so there’s no real reason to mess with her.

Grey, still pink and shy, sucks in a deep breath before shouting, “Let’s kill it this year, Lions!”

The team echoes their approval, but something else follows. A few players hum under their breath. The sound builds and builds like a bee in Sebastian’s ear, until they’re all staring directly at Mason.

Their first year at camp, when Grey made her crush too apparent by wearing Mason’s jersey number to every scrimmage, the seniors taunted Mason. In the showers, a chorus of “Build Me Up, Buttercup” and kissy faces broke out daily. It’s an historic tradition now.

“Knock it off,” grumbles Mason, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Bro, she’s been in love with you since she was twelve,” Zach says, cackling as he shoves Mason’s shoulder.

Mason flips him the middle finger and pushes his plate of food away. He slouches in his chair. “She’s a pain in my ass.”

Sebastian lets Zach and Charlie give Mason a hard time, partly because Mason will prank them all before the summer is over. Sebastian gets distracted observing his surroundings. He’s not activelysearchingfor anyone…

Which is a total douchebag lie, so he can’t blame his eyes when they zone in on a table in the corner.

Head lowered, Emir sits alone, forking his food around his plate. He’s without his beanie; his mussed dark hair matches the color of his thick eyelashes. His jaw protrudes as he grinds his teeth. One of his legs shakes under the table. Quickly, he scans the room. He’s painfully out of place, a square piece for a round hole. Everyone else has a spot, including the freshmen piled together at one table.

“Someone’s gonna have to help that guy fit in,” Charlie says, shaking Sebastian out of his guilty stare. He’s lost track of how long he’s been watching, but most of the guys have finished their food and filed out of the hall.

“Not me,” Mason says, holding up both hands as if he’s surrendering. “We’re not friends.”

Willie rolls his eyes. “He’s not friends with anyone, Mace. That’s not the point.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“Maybe he’s not interested in friends?” Zach suggests, scratching at his five o’clock shadow. Zach’s built more like a college freshman than a high school senior. He’s always been mature, physically.

“Or he doesn’t like any of us,” says Charlie.

“I doubt that,” Hunter says with an easy tone. “Whether he likes us or not, someone has to help him improve on the pitch, or we’re all screwed if we need him to play.”

Sebastian, in a vain attempt to become invisible, leans on the table and covers his face with his hands. This will only go one way. Someone—Willie—will suggest Sebastian convince Emir to let them help, and then Sebastian—the perpetually whipped guy he is—will be the hero by bringing the team together for Emir.

Aren’t there already enough Disney teen movies like that?

But while Sebastian waits for the inevitable, Mason says, “Let’s just leave him alone. His bad attitude won’t do us any good.”

No one argues with him. It’s as if they’ve all already given up on Emir. Sebastian wants to tell them how messed up that is. It’s a team, not a clique. They don’t leave anyone to figure it out on their own.

By the time he gets the balls up to confront anyone, the guys have cleared out, including Emir. It’s just Sebastian, half-eaten pasta going cold on his plate, thoughts stewing in his head. He pushes the plate away and thumps his head on the table.

Yep, he’s going to make one awful captain.

* * *

When Sebastian finally steps outside,the sky is streaked the colors of a circus tent: red, canary yellow, and swirls of blue. Behind the trees, the sun’s setting. The summer air is quiet, not far from muggy.

Sweat shines on Sebastian’s skin as he lugs equipment across the lawn toward the shed. Traditionally, it’s the team’s job to maintain the grounds. Sebastian doesn’t mind, because he gets a sweet view of the pinprick stars over the lake.