Page 22 of Heart Check
I look back up, astonished at the persistence. “Yeah, I’m sure they will. Because this school will apparently do anything to save their beloved sports teams, even if they’ve been caught doing some pretty messed up shit.”
The guy shakes his head in disbelief. “You have no heart. Have you even seen the way Luke Dawson looks these days? He’s dead on his feet. He’s a shadow of his former self!” Could’ve fooled me. The guy still somehow manages to find plenty of time to mess with me. “He was headed for an amazing future before this, but now that’s all gone. And you don’t even care? Their first game is this week! If they lose, it’ll be all your fault!”
My mouth hangs open. It’s not like I want people’s dreams to be ruined—but really, he’s going to bat forDawson, a guy he doesn’t even know? The guy who was trying to get mefired? What did Dawson ever do to deserve that much loyalty?
He shakes his head. “Everyone was right. I was going to buy one of your bracelets for a Hanukkah gift, you know that? But not anymore!”
Marissa takes a step forward then, advancing on the guy until he cowers. The kid seems to think she’s going to beat him up, but she just brushes past him to file the petition in the appropriate folder. “Harper didn’t do anything, okay? Now, run along,” she says in low tones. “Don’t you have some sort of pep rally to bleat at?”
The guy takes a few backward steps to the door. “Your jewelry isn’t even that pretty!” he calls as he turns around,fleeing down the hall before the big bad journalist attacks.
I turn to Marissa, mouth agape.
“Your jewelry is the prettiest,” she reassures me with a soft pat on my arm.
I file my petition with considerably less panache than usual, and we head back out into the halls. Marissa links arms with me loyally, glaring at anyone who happens to look our way as we weave our way through the crush of traffic outside the office.
It’s always been like this with us. It was hard for me to find my people in middle school, when everyone was talking about sports that I didn’t even understand—and then Marissa and I were on the same team during the flag football unit in ninth-grade gym class. When I ran in the wrong direction, making everyone far more infuriated than you’d think possible at the result of a stupid game, she’d insulted their knobby knees and patchy stubble and stupid running gaits until they’d backed down.
She’s fierce, and we have each other’s backs, and most of the time, that’s all I need. But sometimes, when I watch how people like Dawson move through the school greeting people right and left, I ache to have a few more friends on my side. Maybe even a full team of people who would defend me without a thought.
Jewelry’s the thing that’s always brought people I’d never otherwise talk to into my orbit. What if this year I lose even that? Get stuck working double shifts at the Lakeside to save up tuition money, move through the hallways in my own silent bubble, Marissa the only one talking to me? Spend my free time dodging mean comments from Dawson and histeam and their groupies? The vision makes me shudder.
“You okay?” Marissa asks when we turn the corner of the main hallway and can finally talk to each other again without shouting. “Don’t let him get to you. The masses with ESPN for brains aren’t worth your time.”
I force a laugh, but it rings hollow. Maybe because I keep thinking about sitting next to Dawson in the library. He was working hard, and he’s under a lot of pressure. Insulting his intelligence isn’t quite fair. Even if he is too susceptible to Noah’s witch hunts.
And the electricity that jumped between us when I grabbed his problem set and accidentally brushed his hand—
“Let’s go to the game,” Marissa says.
Nothing could have more effectively startled me out of my thoughts. I flinch guiltily. Did she read my mind?“What?”
“Don’t you kind of want to see what the deal is? If Coach Red leaving is really going to ruin them, like everyone thinks? I mean, come on, Harper. This is the kind of season we’ve been waiting for all this time. A season where the Hawks will fall flat on their faces and show everyone what we’ve known all along—that they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.” Her eyes are sparkling with the usual determination, and I let out a slow, guilty breath. My weird, inconvenient flashes of attraction toward Dawson are still safely repressed and secret. Thank God.
But… “I don’t know,” I say, wincing. As overblown as this town’s school spirit is, I’m not as stoked as Marissa to revel in someone else’s disappointment.
“It could also be a good piece for me,” she presses. “I wouldn’t take the sports angle, obviously—gotta leave thatfor Logan—but maybe something more about the politics of the school, the scandal of it all, the poor allocation of funding…”
Newsprint floats behind her eyes. She’s a goner.
“Okay, okay, when you put it that way.” I grin. “Anything to dethrone Logan as editor-in-chief.”
Marissa grins back. “We can keep a count of the number of times Dawson almost gets concussed. Could make a great drinking game.”
I cough out another laugh. Even if everyone else makes destroying my life their mission this year, at least my enemy is always automatically Marissa’s too. At least we’re outsiders together. “For sure.”
But as I head to my shift at the diner, I can’t deny the little thrill of anticipation running through me at the idea of watching Dawson play.
It definitely has everything to do with seeing him get beat up, and nothing at all to do with seeing how good he really is on the ice.
9.DAWSON
Nothing beats the vibes ongame day.
The whole campus is decked out in blue. The cheerleaders paint their faces, transitioning seamlessly from football mode (great season, those guys are headed for state) to welcome in hockey season. Everyone’s wearing jerseys, the front entrance has a banner reading SOAR HIGH, HAWKS, and my locker’s decorated in streamers.
Sabrina and her Spirit Committee minions even made a poster of my face using last year’s yearbook photo, decorated with glitter and lots of heart doodles. I must have worried her with my lack of confidence at the rink the other day. I’m staring at it for a long minute, trying to figure out how to tell her she can take me off her watch list, when Harper walks by with her friend Marissa. They roll their eyes at each other as they pass.
