Page 2 of Quarterback Crush
Mr. Blackwell chuckled. “Oh no, it definitely won’t go down well in Maple Heights.”
As always, in the presence of Oliver, I was mute, my heart fluttering wildly as he unrolled and held up the Snow Ridge Owls football flag that had hung from his window. His three brothers had played in the team and as a freshman, Oliver played in the Junior Varsity team, but it was apparent he was destined for bigger things. “I hope you’ll be a fan next year.”
I could only nod, my eyes big and wide for several reasons: 1) that Oliver knew I’d be a freshman at Snow Ridge High next year, and 2) that he wanted me to have his flag, and 3)he wanted me to have his flag!
“For sure we’ll be at the games,” Dad answered for me, “won’t we, sweetheart?” Dad loved his football and I’d always gone to the Snow Ridge Owls’ games with him, but more because Lizzie played in the band. But now, with Oliver’s flag in my possession, I’d be a surefire fan.
“Yep,” I said, finding my voice, albeit croaky.
Oliver hesitantly stepped a little closer, holding the flag out. Our hands touched as he passed it to me and I thought I might faint. I’d actually fainted a few times, once in church at my great-uncle’s funeral service when it had been hot and stuffy andthe speeches had droned on, and in gym class after we’d been running sprints and I’d gotten all dizzy.
I felt dizzy now as I said, “I’ll take good care of it.”
“Thanks,” Oliver said. He disappeared back down the path and Mr. Blackwell followed.
Oliver’s flag became a prized procession, hung on my wall above my desk so I could see if when I was lying in bed. Dad, Mom and Lizzie were the only ones who knew Oliver had given it to me.
Convincing Mom I was sincere in my quest to become a cheerleader had been met with a little skepticism, especially as my stints in anything sporty had been short-lived. Persuading Samantha, my best friend to trial with me had been in vain. She literally said she couldn’t think of anything worse. Sammy wasn’t interested in sport, and Evie wasn’t keen either, while Paige was too busy with skiing and swimming. But they did help me prepare my routines for the trials.
I’d been pleasantly surprised to know I had reasonable co-ordination and could learn cheers without too much effort, and yeah, perhaps Mom’s friendship with Mrs. Foster, the cheer coach, might have had some sway, but being named in the squad had been joyous beyond words, (even though they’d been desperate for numbers.) I was going to be a cheerleader and cheer for Oliver Blackwell and the football team!
But there was one minor detail I forgot to consider. You see, Oliver was taken. He’d started dating Savannah Adlam only weeks after football season started. At first, I was okay with it. Of course he would have a girlfriend, he was gorgeous. And Savannah was beautiful and popular and...a cheerleader too.
But I found out my humanness had its limits, and having to witness Oliver Blackwell and Savannah Adlam up close and personal through two football seasons had become a little soul-sucking. And if it hadn’t been for the fact that I absolutelyadoredcheer, loved learning new stunts and chants, loved the family atmosphere of the team, I probably never would have stuck it out.
You see, it was pretty much torture to see Oliver holding Savannah’s hand, or with his arm folded around her shoulder in a cuddle, or kissing her perfectly glossed lips or her forehead or her cheek. Oh yes, Oliver was very much the exemplary boyfriend, dreamy beyond words, affectionate and caring, and I watched with both fascination and envy, unable to look away.
He drew me in like a spinning neutron star—the most powerful magnet in the universe. Oliver’s soft brown hair with streaks of blond and honey and his intense dark brown eyes were a combination that left me pining and breathless and in a fantasy realm. And even when he was lip locked with Savannah, I watched in morbid wonder.
But today’s football game against the Lincoln High Lions had been the wake up call I didn’t know I needed, the day that my delusion finally manifested and I was resigned to letting my crush go. In hindsight, it probably should have happened back when Simon McAllister asked me to the Homecoming Dance or when Tarik Quaid invited me to the Halloween Bash. But no, I’d declined them both and had clung to my steadfast belief that Oliver Blackwell was the only boy for me.
The cheer team assembled alongside the bus to congratulate the boys on their victory as was our usual custom. Oliver led his team past us, high fives all around. And as he briefly pressed palms with me, he said, “Hey, Mia!” And my stomach had sunk with a heart wrenching thud and I could feel the air being sucked out of my lungs, my cheeks draining of color as it occurred to me that after all this time in the squad, Oliverdidn’t know my name.
All those years of crushing and pining, of going to football games and joining the cheer squad, all obviously pointless. Because it was now doubtful Oliver even remembered I’d oncebeen his neighbor and that he’d picked up my sled and given me his flag, and all I could do is watch in abject misery as he swept Savannah, cheer captain, into his arms, kissing her and showing the rest of us mere mortals how perfect they were together.
I sat next to Rose, my best cheerleading friend. She was a sophomore and new to the squad this season and we’d teamed up together when learning the drills.
Everyone was talking about the Owls’ victory and the amazing pass thrown by Oliver in the final minutes which allowed Darwin Rune to score the winning touchdown. Usually I would be joining in and gushing with praise about Oliver’s skilful play, but my energy had been sucked out of me with the mispronunciation of my name. Well, it wasn’t even a mispronunciation, it was a total wrong name! Maya and Mia were two completely different names! Like Eva and Ava, or Kellie and Kylie.
And that stark reality was enough to crush me. Such irony that my crush—somebody I’d held in such esteem for years (a foolish fantasy, Sammy liked to say)—would be the one to crush me.
Chapter 2
OLIVER
The win against our arch rivals, the Lincoln Lions should have had me fizzing with euphoria, but the minute Savannah rushed me, throwing her arms around me and hoisting her legs around me, I froze. Stiffened like a steel rod, rigid and unmoving.
But Savannah didn’t notice. Her lips peppered my cheek, my chin, my jaw—she thought I was teasing, but in reality I was shifting my head around so she wouldn’t kiss my lips.
You see, I’d seen her on the sideline, blonde ponytail swinging as she kicked and danced and cheered our team to victory—but during the stoppages, her gaze had wandered across to Lincoln’s wide receiver, Ben Monty. Let’s just say, I know what I saw.
“Baby, that was an amazing pass,” Savannah cooed into my ear. Usually it would send a delicious shiver up my spine, but I was a stone, cold and unfeeling.
I untangled her arms from around my neck, forcing her to stand on her own two feet.
“What was that with Monty?” I seethed between gritted teeth, still trying to keep a half smile on my face. I was always aware of phone cameras being aimed at me after a game and it would do my reputation no good to be caught on video having an argument.
“What?” The complete tone of surprise was so fake that I couldn’t stop my eye roll and muttered, “Later,” as I swiftly moved on by.
