Page 58 of Rock Bottom Girl

“I really am, aren’t I?” This time it wasn’t someone impersonating the baritone. It was the real deal. Jake strolled into our circle.

Vicky elbowed me so hard in the gut that I lost the air in my lungs.

“Mr. Weston, are you and Coach dating?”

“Can we be your bridesmaids?”

“Mrs. Hostetter didnotseem happy today. Do you think it’s because her son’s hair was pink for picture day or because Coach stole her crush out from under her?”

“Shhh! We’re not supposed to talk about the red thing!”

“She can’t have a crush! She’smarried!”

“My mom has a list of celebrities she’s allowed to sleep with if she ever runs into them.”

“For the love of God, everyone shut up, or you’re all going to run laps,” I said. I really needed to get a whistle. The giggles and peanut gallery comments quieted. “You,” I said, pointing at Jake. “What are you doing here?”

“My team has a long run on their own today. Ends back here. Thought I’d observe you in action.” He winked at me, and I wanted to punch him in his smug face.

“Oooooh,” the team squealed with delight.

“We have a lot to talk about later,” I warned him.

The “Ooooh” was now more “someone’s in trouble” tinged.

“I’m all yours, Miss Cicero.”

Vicky fanned herself while I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly popped out of my head.

“Okay, everybody line up. We’re going to practice throw-ins and corner kicks,” I snapped.

* * *

“Well,that was probably our best practice yet,” Vicky observed, slinging a bag of balls over her shoulder as we waved the girls off. The sun was getting a little lower in the sky, and it was almost cool enough for the warm-up jacket I had in my back seat. Jake was huddled with his cross-country team, doing whatever it was that a cross-country coach did.

“Yeah. Not horrible,” I agreed. It hadn’t been the usual disaster of in-fighting and bitching and moaning. I doubted that we’d made any real progress on moving the ball back into play, but at least there hadn’t been any fistfights. Lisabeth had sauntered in twenty minutes late with a bogus “I was at the gynecologist” excuse and a bunch of snide comments. I hadn’t realized until she’d arrived how nice those twenty Lisabeth-free minutes had been.

The scrimmage at the end of practice still highlighted our complete lack of offensive strategy. But at least we were starting to communicate on the field. Jake had been taking mental notes, and I was maybe a little interested in hearing what he had to say.

“Sooooo…” Vicky did a little shimmy with her shoulders. “Heard you and Jake had to sign the We Promise Not to Be Dirty Little Whores contract.”

“Jesus, V! How did you hear that?”

She shrugged. “Eh, there was an email that went out. Bet Amie Jo shit a brick.”

“An email?” Of course there was an email. When I was in school, neighbors would run door to door to spread the word because our dial-up internet was too slow. Now, thanks to fiber optics and high-speed internet you could blast an entire school district in a matter of seconds. “And yeah, she wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

“Knew it,” she sang. “Doesn’t it feel good? All of these years later, you’re finally getting back at her.”

“Yeah, over something she shouldn’t even have an opinion on. How can she care who Jake does or doesn’t date? Isn’t she, I don’t know,married?”

“Amie Jo stakes her claims on what she wants, and it’s up to the rest of us to respect those claims.”

“Um. That’s bullshit.”

Vicky peered over her blue lenses at me. She looked like Penny Lane fromAlmost Famoustoday. “You know what a nightmare she was in high school. It follows that, with a fat bank account and no authority figures brave enough to stand up to her, she’d become an even bigger monster.”

“She’smarried.”