Intrepid (8 page)

Six.
 

Seven.
 

I focused on the words the crowd was chanting and felt the spreading wings of spirits lifted beyond the mass, and the many bled into one solid entity that went beyond the self. It was the screaming mob of cheer.
 

Eight.

The headache swam behind my vision and surged with a new energy, and, in watching Iago, I knew to close my eyes and lift my face to the sky too. The crowd was emphatic, and I swayed with all the momentum every voice contained within the space of the stadium.
 

Nine.

Ten

I leaned into the chain-linked fence, and the headache disappeared as if it’d never been there. If anything, my head even felt cleaner and clearer, and when I opened my eyes I saw that Iago was back on the field.
 

I stretched out my fingers and felt a release of energy, and I let out a soothing sigh. I’d never felt so light before. Minutes passed, and I watched the game in a halfhearted daze. My mind kept wandering back and forth from Papa this morning, to the headaches that kept reappearing, to the essay I needed to write over the weekend. There was a buzzing in the pocket of my jacket, and I pulled out the phone to read the message.

RNGo: Grabbing a brew with Garza. Skipping game. Sorry to miss you. Have fun at dance! :)
 

I rubbed my earlobes and shivered. The message didn’t seem right. Garza was just at the game. I scanned the stands and saw his wife, Reyna, bouncing Ricardo on her knee, but Garza wasn’t with them. “There you go again with that overeager imagination of yours,” I whispered to myself, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something shady was going on. I tried to ignore the gradations of distrust growing in my gut and concentrate on the game. I had no real reason to feel this way, but it was like an unexplainable disturbance filled my lungs, and, although I knew I was being stupid, I couldn’t help feeling something was about to happen. It was the same feeling I got watching the leaves in the trees just before a huge storm hit.
 

I stared up into the bright stadium lights and let the overwhelming emptiness within the florescence settle me. I wove my fingers back into the fence, and I sighed. The cold on my skin felt different. It was refreshing rather than uncomfortable, and the goose bumps on my legs had disappeared despite the fact the temperature kept dropping. I blinked away spots, and looked back out into the game. The crowd held collective breaths, and every time something went our way, the same collective “Whew” escaped before they were set to cheering again. Pads clashed. Boys grunted. Iago navigated mountains of snarling faces as over-fed Texan boys plummeted towards him. Each boy he avoided was like dodging a speeding meteor, and the touchdown tasted sweet to everyone, even me.
 

I pulled my fingers from where they clenched the fence and flexed my knuckles so they stretched and relaxed. Tension was everywhere, and this tension became diluted as the crowd thinned when the game ended. Like all Friday nights, people streamed away from the field, lines of headlights veered off down country roads, and the stadium lights clicked off section by section.
 

But unlike all Friday nights, I made my way to the Homecoming Dance.
 

Chapter Ten

 
While the team was trapped in a post-game, pre-shower chat with the coaches, the rest of the school flooded into the miasma of crepe paper, balloons, and stale punch. There was a god-awful cover band pulling out songs from every genre possible, and the singer ground his voice like disappointment as he thrust his pelvis in a way that he thought was Elvis-esque. In reality, he looked like he was having a hip-seizure. Despite how horrible the band was, writhing bodies filled the dance floor. They were shadows in the strobe lights and disco-ball color-confetti.
 

I paid and made my way towards the photo-booth. It was our rendezvous point, and I planned on holding down the fort since Sully got tasked with taking pictures of the post-game coach chat and Lindsay needed to change out of her cheerleading garb. I maneuvered past armpits and elbows until I found the perfect spot on the wall. Being a wallflower was my ultimate goal for the evening, and I readied myself for a night of people-mocking. There was this clarity in my mind and in my heart, as if my entire soul had taken a bath in Listerine and life was minty-fresh.
 

While I waited for them to show up, I couldn’t help but laugh at how Crystal Castle and Sarah Schneider attempted a manicured dance routine they’d seen on a music video. I was in the middle of imagining a world where Crystal tripped on her stiletto and face planted when Lindsay finally showed up. Her uniform was replaced by a neon-orange dress. No one could pull off neon like Lindsay because it was the only color that matched her personality.
 

She pulled me into a hug then held me at arms length to examine my outfit. Then she squealed: “You wore it!”

“Only because it wasn’t sequined or covered in glitter.” I rolled my eyes and shrugged her hands off, because there was actually an annoying element of tulle involved in the skirt that itched my knees where it rustled slightly below the hem of the slip. It was just as bad as sequins or glitter.
 

She ignored the accusation and asked, “Where’s Sul? He should be here by now.”
 

“He’s stuck taking post-game photos.”

“All that ended already. Look. Football players
everywhere
.”
 

She was right. Their broad-shouldered presence was hard to miss. “Then I’m not sure where he is.”
   

Lindsay grinned the grin that meant she wanted to gossip. “When are you two gonna… you know?”

“Know what?”

“Don’t play coy, missy. I’ve been seeing the way he’s been looking at you, and if you don’t… I will.” She leaned on the wall next to me. “Dibs can only last so long.”
 

“I have no dibs on Sullivan.” I tried to make myself believe it. I didn’t want to admit how much Lindsay’s new interest stung. If there was a contest between me and her, only a moron would choose me. I played around with her threat in my mind and realized she was just trying to get a reaction out of me—one I refused to give.
 

“You don’t have to lie to me,” she said.

Before I could reply, the song that was playing lulled to a transition and let us hear a faint clicking noise, like cicadas opening up a song at sunset. Sully was there, but his face was behind the camera, and Lindsay hammed it up for him as he coached: “Like a tiger now. Now you’re a baby koala bear. Now you’re a manatee. Swim, graceful manatee. Swim, I tell you! You call that
swimming
?” I couldn’t breathe from laughing at all of Lindsay’s awkward poses as we entered the dancing disease of people.
 

My movements were awkward, and I kept trying to remind myself not to think about how much I hated dancing. But the more I tried not to think about it, the more I did, and the more awkward my movements became. I settled for the swaying-side-to-side routine, and sometimes I moved my hands so my thumbs jabbed at the air just to mix it up.
 

Rather than dance, Sully stepped up to Crystal and Jose. “Make room for Jesus! Sir, there is not three feet of space between you and your partner. Do I need to get my yard stick?” The way he mimicked Mrs. Thorne’s infamous chaperone line was spot-on, and the two dancers stiffened their arms to play along. They were the two Frankensteins to Sully’s comedy bit until the song ended. Then we entered the realm of his signature dances: the water-sprinkler, the climbing squirrel, and the drowning squid. I loved how Sully always brought the silly out of us. This was how we always were, and normal felt refreshing after having such an awkward afternoon with him. He was in the middle of his puppy-chasing-tail dance when the band started playing one of his favorite songs. “It’s
Garth
! Tex!
Gaaaaarrrth
! Wanna dance?”
 

I laughed. “Naw. I’m thirsty. Y’all go ahead.”
 

I ignored the disappointment that fluttered across his face as he said, “Suit yourself.” He took Lindsay’s arm and twirled her into a two-step, and I heard their voices veer off into the fray: “I’ve got friends in looooooow places…” The words were cumbersome to their hysterical laughter, and soon they were lost in the crowd.
 

Things were changing. I had to admit it, no matter how much I didn’t want to. But in that moment, right then and there, I could tether myself to a memory like this one. These cheese-balls were my friends, and for a minute, it didn’t matter that things were shifting.
 

I made my way off the dance floor to track down water at the concession stand. All the bodies crammed into the gym made me forget what cold felt like, and when I placed the bottle on my forehead, the cool beads of condensation clashed with the warm beads of sweat. I leaned against the wall, took a few deep gulps of water, then a few gulps of air.
 

There was a slight throbbing growing between my temples, and I closed my eyes to center myself in the midst of all the people.
 

Energy.
 

It was everywhere.
 

It was contagious.
 

It was suffocating.
 

The clarity that had been rushing through my body was becoming mucked up, and my skin began to feel clammy.
 

“Did hell freeze over?
¿Qué haces aquí?”

The question almost pried my eyes open, but I stopped the lids from moving. Instead, I groaned. “What’d you want?” Without moving my head from the wall, I took another cool sip of water. I wasn’t in the mood, but even with my eyes closed, his presence was everywhere. Whatever soap he’d used in his shower smelled of pinecones, and his cheap cologne made my head swim. The assault on my nose felt more stabbing due to the wobbly feeling in my head.
 

“Sheesh. Just saying hi, is all.”
 

I pulled my lids open to emphasize the glare that was behind them. Iago’s square frame blocked out the rest of the dance, and the strobe lights bounced off his skin in a myriad of colors. “You’re such a hemorrhoid.”
 

I braced myself for the snarky retort, but, instead, he asked, “Wanna dance?”

“Are you outta your ever-lovin’ mind?” I pulled my hand away when he reached for it.
 

Iago nodded towards the cluster of chaperones near the concession stand. “You really gonna be rude like that in front of Mami? Not very nice, is it?”
 

I looked at Mrs. Ortiz smiling at us. I thought about what she said before she left the kitchen last night, but she just didn’t understand. I realized too late the trap of it all. I bet she’d had the same conversation with Iago, and this was his way of proving he was trying. “Is blackmail the only way you can get a girl to dance with you these days? Sarah must have really done a number on you.” He didn’t bother to grace me with a retort. “I will step on all your toes.” I promised more than warned.

“Fine. No dancing then.” He leaned on the wall next to me and passed a minute in silence. It was a calm silence, and I nearly forgot he was there until he spoke again. “I’ve spent a lot of time lately trying to figure out why you hate me so much. Can you help me out here, ‘cause I’m drowning.”
 

“Like you care.” I grit my teeth together and immediately wished I hadn’t said anything.
 

He shook his head. “We’re basically family, Tex. Brothers and sisters fight all the time, and with the way life works, you should probably forgive me sooner than later. I miss being your friend.”
 

I sucked in a breath and tried not to look at him. I felt my eyes itch, like they wanted to start leaking in that embarrassing crying sort of way.
 

“I may not know the exact moment, but I know the time frame when we stopped being close. I was in junior high, and I was going through some things. I blamed you for stuff that was not your fault, and it wasn’t right. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

The apology.
 

It was the one that was years and years late, and now that I had it, I didn’t know what to do with it. My heart began to pound to a new cadence. I couldn’t tell if the thumping in my head was from the music, the crowd, or my brain imploding. Something was off, and I painfully realized it had nothing to do with Iago and everything to do with the headache blooming behind my eyes. My cheeks drooped and paled, but Iago didn’t seem to catch the change until I finally looked at him.
 

His expression flooded with concern, and he reached out to grab my elbow as if to steady me. “Texi?” he asked just as Coach Mathenson roared into the microphone, “It’s time to announce the Homecoming Court!”
 

The dance floor consolidated around the stage, and the wall-flowers began to bloom, moving to join the crowd for the one and only time that evening.
 

I shook off Iago’s hand from my elbow.
 

I had to get away.
 

“Where are you going?” Iago called after me, but I didn’t answer. I just pushed against the consolidating teenagers and rushed towards the restroom.
 

Chapter Eleven

I nearly collided into the girls streaming out of the bathroom. They were of the pack variety and wore similar colors on similar dresses on similar bodies. “Watch it,” one of them wasted the breath to comment, and by the time I made it to the sink, there was not one girl left in the hideously tiled restroom.
 

I rubbed my temples, felt the onslaught of pain, and splashed water on my face. A small smear of mascara blotted my cheek, and I tried to salvage my face from the black streak by rubbing it out with the edge of my hand. The movement only seemed to make it worse. I leaned in over the sink to get a better look, but what I saw didn’t make sense. My eyes widened, and I leaned in even closer so that my nose nearly touched the cold glass, and the cool ceramic of the sink settled against my fingertips and pressed into my belly.