Page 19 of Stealing for Keeps
I manage to dodge Vaughn until lunch. He’s texted a few times since Doyle’s party, but I’m not interested in whatever he has to say. It’s too late for apologies, and there’s no way I’m getting back together with him. I’m sure with the start of the school year, he’ll move on quickly. He’s not exactly hard up for attention.
He’s sitting at the same table as last year. Several of his teammates are with him, and the tables nearby are occupied by girls all trying to catch the eyes of the team. Vaughn looks directly at me the moment Lacey and I enter the cafeteria. There are two seats next to him, the only open spots at the crowded table, like he was saving them for us.
“New year, new table?” Lacey suggests.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Definitely.”
Breaking his gaze, I follow Lacey through the lunchroom to the other side.
The cafeteria is broken down in your typical high school cliques, which each have their own table. Frost Lake High has all the usual groups: the jocks; the trendy girls who spend their allowances on designer labels and come to school every day looking like they’re ready for a glamour photo shoot; the supersmart kids; the kids who despise high school and ditch more often than they show up (I have no idea what they do instead); and our little group.
Me, Lacey, Andie, and Brandon have been friends since middle school. Andie and Lacey are both on the cheerleading squad, and Andie also does theater. She routinely has the lead in the school plays. Brandon is on the hockey team, but he didn’t start playing until high school, so he isn’t as tight with those guys. Plus, he’s always had a huge crush on Andie. There were more of us who hung out before high school, but several have found new clubs and friend groups.
The four of us each fit into other cliques, but we’ve stuck together. Not always. Last year, I sat with the soccer team more than them. Lacey disappeared for a month when she dated a guy on the basketball team, and Brandon was gone for a few weeks when he was trying to fit in with his new varsity hockey buddies. But we seem to always make our way back to each other.
They’re the friend equivalent of a pair of really comfortable sweatpants. We’ve all known one another a long time, and it’s just easy being together.
Or it was easy being together before Andie and Brandon became a couple nine months ago. Sometimes, I forget, they’re a couple and then they do something sweet like share food or kiss. I still remember in seventh grade when Brandontold Andie she was flat-chested, and she cried for two days straight. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings—he thought he was just stating facts and probably wanted to acknowledge that he’d noticed her, not that she didn’t yet need a bra. Anyway, he seems to be just fine with her cup size now.
“Hey.” Lacey sets her tray down in front of them.
They pull their heads apart and look forward.
“Hi,” Andie chirps happily. “Love the new bling.” She motions toward the new C patch on Lacey’s cheerleading top, denoting her as captain. All the cheerleaders wore their uniforms for the first day.
Lacey pushes her dark hair back and smiles down at it proudly. “It looks great, right?”
“You were made for the job,” Andie assures her, then rests her elbows on the table. “I’m thinking of getting a nose ring. Thoughts?”
“Since when?” I ask.
“Since today when I realized I look exactly the same as I did last year.” She lifts a hand to the left side of her nose. “A tiny little gold hoop.”
“You were hot then, and you’re hot now,” Brandon states casually. He let his hair grow out over the summer, and it hangs down to his chin. Plus, he got glasses. He looks like a cross between Jungkook and Clark Kent.
Andie blushes at the compliment, and I’m certain they’re going to start making out right in front of us, but instead her stare slides over to me. “How are you, Claire?”
It’s clear from the vague question and sympathy in her tone that what she’s really asking is how I’m doing with my foot still in a boot and my skating dreams blown to smithereens. But even I realize it’s too early in the year and the day for that kind of pessimism.
“I’m great.” I open my chocolate milk carton and avoid looking directly at her or Brandon. My foot is hurting today. It doesn’t bother me much anymore, but I’ve done a lot more walking this morning without elevating it. However, the last thing I want to do is talk about my foot.
Luckily, nobody presses, and my three friends fall into easy conversation about the new school year and all the classes they’re taking. Talking about school then turns to talking about the parties to celebrate the start of the new year. Every year, someone throws a big party during the first week. It almost always gets busted by parents, but this year it’s at Bobby Boone’s house, and his parents are these big-time lawyers who are always traveling. People are excited.
“We’re going,” Andie says, motioning her head to Brandon.
“Really?” I ask. It’s not really either of their scenes. They usually go to the parties after dances or homecoming, but neither of them has ever attended a back-to-school party. Lacey drags me every year. It’s not that it isn’t my scene, but I rarely had time for them. I skated every night until seven or eight, and I was so exhausted after. Also, my mom was really strict about staying out late any time I had morning practices. I can hear her canned reply: “An athlete needs a good night’s sleep.”
“We’re juniors now!” Andie’s face lights up with excitement and pulls me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” I attempt a smile back at her. My face muscles are starting to hurt from all my forced smiles today.
“You’re going too?” Lacey asks, surprised. I guess she wasn’t planning on dragging me this year.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Aren’t you?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. Dad just finished a big work project, and he wants to take me to dinner, and then we’re going to watch a movie. I’m making him watchBring It On.” She grins, and I have a hard time imagining her buttoned-up dad watching a cheer comedy.
“Sounds S-U-P-E-R!” I mock, bumping my shoulder against hers.
