Page 65 of Wallflower

"Aren't his parents here?" I asked as we walked from the field out to the parking lot.

"No, they don't come," Estelle said. "Never have from what I understand."

Her answer surprised me.

"But that's crazy," I said.

"I haven't seen them at a match," Gigi confirmed. "Which is a crying shame. Not only because they're adults who should support their child. But the boy is just so dang gifted."

Estelle and I hummed in response.

"That is a shame," I mumbled, wondering how in the world his parents could stay home when Dare was so incredible.

On and off the field, my mind supplied, a thought I tried my best to ignore.

But it was getting harder.

Thoughts like that kept popping up out of the blue over the next few days. Between driving and talking with Dare in the mornings to him doing nice things like opening my door and carrying my cello to inviting me to his games, I could feel the shift in my feelings toward him. Especially when he sent me random texts like this.

Secret Boyfriend:Hey, flower. Just wanted to check-in and see how you're doing.

Or this.

Secret Boyfriend:Heard a song last night, made me think of you. Cello's not so bad—especially when you play it ;).

Or this.

Secret Boyfriend:How you doing? Need me to come save the day?

I'd received that one as I was waiting in line to get lunch on Friday. Penn Cavendish, his buddies, Whitney and Ingrid had cued up behind me. It worried me at first. I didn't like them being at my back, so I'd turned around, prepared for anything. But all Whitney did was roll her eyes, say "ugh, must you take up so much room?" and reach past me to grab a bottle of water. They left shortly after. I was surprised she hadn't said more—or quite frankly that Penn and his crew hadn't barked or something. The reason behind that was cleared up later when I was discussing the strange encounter with Estelle.

"I just don't understand why Whitney held back," I said. "She hasn't before."

"I heard Dare threatened to break Penn's nose," Estelle said.

My eyes widened. "No…he confronted him, told him to cut it out or he'd tell my dad. But that was a while ago."

"This was more recent."

"How recent?"

Estelle had shrugged. "I don't know. Like yesterday? Jovonte told me Penn was showing that video around again, badmouthing you in the halls, and Dare wasn't having it. He got all up in that jerk's face. Whitney witnessed everything, of course."

I was dumfounded. "I didn't hear about that."

"He was just being a good guy, standing up for his girl," she said.

And if that wasn't enough—him sending nice messages, defending me even when I wasn't present—there was this text from earlier today.

Secret Boyfriend:Watched a few episodes ofThe Officelast night and LMAO. You are so Pam. And I'm Jim. Obviously.

I'd smiled at that and his next message.

Secret Boyfriend:Hey, I'm not still Dwight in your phone, right?

When I didn't answer, Dare sent another.

Secret Boyfriend:Come on, flower. I'm dying of boredom listening to Mr. Wexler drone on about parabolas. Tell me you don't see me as a Schrute?

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