My Seventh-Grade Life in Tights (16 page)

“Back to first position,” she said calmly, starting the music over. “You’re not leaving here till you get this right.”

My face was concrete. I needed her to see she couldn’t boss me around. Even though I still sort of needed her to boss me around. But just until the contest was over.

“What happened between me and Kassie was—it was stupid. A mistake. I can’t go back and fix it. So can we just keep working on your routine? Please?”

My concrete face melted a little. Maybe it wasn’t my business anymore. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if Kassie was still my friend. I was still hers, though. So maybe it was only half my business.

We ran through it a couple of more times. I left with a pain in my neck and an ache deep in my chest.

The next day was Halloween. Half the school was decked out in too much hair gel and glitter. I headed to the gym for the homecoming game pep rally. The football team got to sit on one side while the cheerleaders entertained the entire middle school on the other for thirty minutes.

DeMarcus waved me over to the top of the bleachers. “Saved you a seat, man.” He leaned over to say something but Coach Bear yelled into the microphone about Carter Academy. Our side of the gym exploded into a roar, sounding like a bunch of cavemen celebrating taking down a woolly mammoth—
GRRR! ARRGH! MUST BREAK OTHER TEAM!

The arms in front of me settled back down. I squinted across the gym, trying to spot Kassie. But Troy’s gigantic melon head blocked my view.

DeMarcus tapped me on the arm. He opened his mouth and paused, like his mind had gone blank. “Sorry,” he said with a nervous laugh. “You ready for the game tonight?”

“Yeah. Ready to sit down for an hour and a half.”

“I don’t know, man. Coach put you in a couple of times during practice the other day. That’s got to mean something.”

I was pretty sure it didn’t mean anything at all.

He cleared his throat. “So, your dance stuff. How’s it going?”

“Well, it’s…not, really.”

“I thought you were training for some scholarship or something?”

“Oh. Yeah, I still am.” I stared at my feet and one halfway-untied shoelace. “I thought you were talking about Kassie and Carson.”

He shifted his weight, making it feel like the air tensed up beside me. “Nothing bad happened, did it? I mean between you guys?”

“It’s complicated.” I picked at a chipped spot on the bleacher seat right next to my leg.

DeMarcus buried his hands in his lap. “Okay, so…mind if I ask you a question?”

I shrugged.

“Did you happen to say anything to your friends? About me?”

“Um, maybe? Like you were nice probably. And dating Sarah—”

DeMarcus let out a loud sigh.

“What? Was I not supposed to?”

He kicked the seat in front of him. “Yeah. I mean no. Don’t worry about it.”

I wasn’t worrying about it. My mind was a million miles away from DeMarcus and this side of the gym. I scanned the bleachers on the other side. Kassie. My eyes honed in on her like hoodie-seeking missiles. She was in the top row, between Carson and Austin. Her T-shirt had a big bar code printed above the words
GENERIC HALLOWEEN COSTUME.

“You guys still talk and stuff, though, right?” DeMarcus asked.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“But you’re still friends, right? With all of them?”

“Look, if you want me to ask Kassie out for you, you can forget it.” I don’t know where the courage to backtalk the quarterback came from. I just hoped it’d send all my body’s adrenaline to my legs when I had to somersault off the bleachers and start running for my life.

DeMarcus’s face was one big nervous smile. I had no idea what he had to be uneasy about. One punch was all it would take from hands the size of his. He shook his head. “Never mind.”

The muscles in my legs relaxed a little. Maybe I was safe.

After the pep rally, the gym emptied out into the hallway. Imagining DeMarcus and Kassie sitting in Davie’s Diner sharing an order of chili cheese fries turned the worry in my stomach to a full-blown intestinal panic attack.

Which might’ve been the chicken-fried steak they’d served us at lunch.

But I still wanted to see her.

I shoved my way toward a corner and peeked around it. Nothing but the backs of unfamiliar heads. But when I turned, she was coming down the hallway, talking to Carson and Austin.

She nearly ran right into me. She skidded to a stop and we both stood there staring at each other like the other one was a wild animal that might attack at any second. Carson grabbed Austin’s arm and pulled. “Austin, didn’t you want to show me something over here?”

“No,” he said, but Carson had him lost in the crowd before he could argue any more.

There was a lot I wanted to say. Probably even more I
needed
to say. But all I could get out was a whispery “Sorry” as I lowered my head to walk around her.

“Hey, wait,” she said. I did. My heart began kicking my chest bone so hard I was sure I’d have a bruise later on. Kassie took a deep breath. “Good luck. At the game.”

The thudding behind my shirt slowed down. “Oh. Um, thanks.” After a couple of awkward and silent seconds, I decided I wasn’t ready to end the conversation yet. “So how have things been?” I asked.

She shrugged. “About the same.” Students slid past us like we weren’t even there. “How—how have you been?” Kassie asked.

I’d missed hearing her voice. The fact she still cared how I was made the hair on my arms stand up. “Okay, I guess.”

Kassie had her hand pulled into her sleeve and was covering half her mouth with it. I wished she’d move it. Maybe I’d see her smile. “Top three are getting interviewed Saturday, right?”

“Yeah. Probably just embarrass myself.”

She waved my comment off. “Nah. You’re a great dancer. I know you think you’re not, Dillon. But you are.”

A smile forced its way onto my face, but it didn’t last. “Look, Kass. I just want to say I hope we can—”

“I better go,” she said really fast, looking away. “Bell’s about to ring.”

As she left, my entire body locked up. The words never came out of her mouth, but they slammed into my chest just the same.

Our friendship is over.

One minute we were dancing around a conversation almost like old times, and the next—
BAM!
—tackled by one silent sentence.

My worst nightmare had come to life right at the corner of the sixth- and seventh-grade hallways. But there was nothing I could do about it. And deep down, I wasn’t that shocked.

I just wished I was more prepared for it.

Nobody ever said going for solo greatness would hurt so much.

C
ostco must’ve sold out of air horns.

Nearly every seat in the stands was filled with the butt of a die-hard football fan and every square inch of silence was drop-kicked out of the way by the ear-shattering honk of those stupid plastic cans of noise. If I hadn’t been in such a sour mood, it probably wouldn’t have bothered me that much.

We were beating Carter Academy pretty bad. Not that Coach Bear let us notice. When the clock was ticking down to the last few seconds, the Spartans called a time-out. I was holding down the bench with my rear end like I’d been doing all season. I had a spot picked out on the ground. A tiny little spider was trying to crawl up a blade of grass, but a couple of its legs were broken, so all it could do was flail around and fall back down. I knew exactly how it felt.

Just as I was about to lean down and help it up, a voice rang through the space between me and the sideline.

“Parker, now!” Coach Bear yelled.

“What?”

“I said you’re up. Running back.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“I don’t get paid to joke, Parker. Now get out there and show me those moves.”

I gave the spider one last look and wished it good luck. I walked over to Coach Bear, still thinking he was pranking me. But he grabbed the helmet out of my hands, slapped it over my head, and shoved me out onto the field. I walked over to where my team was huddled.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” Troy said, scratching the exposed part of his belly.

“Coach sent me in. Running back?” I wasn’t sure why it came out as a question.

“Great,” Bobby Fleagle huffed. “Last play of the game and I get replaced by Tighty Whitey.” He shoved by me hard just as the other team was coming back to the field.

We huddled up and DeMarcus strung together a series of numbers and words that made absolutely no sense. He must’ve seen the look on my face, because he smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Dillon. Just like in practice, okay?”

Everyone clapped and yelled,
“Break!”

Just before everyone left the huddle, Troy grabbed my helmet and pulled me close. “Don’t screw this up!”

We lined up. Before I remembered where I was supposed to stand, Troy snapped the ball. DeMarcus tossed it to Cody. My mind raced back to practice.
Protect your teammate!
I planted my feet, ready to block anyone who came my way. But just as Cody ran by, he shoved the ball into my hands. Why would he give me the ball? My mind raced for an answer. And then I remembered.

Fakeroo. Just like in practice.

I took off the opposite way. There were no cones to jump over. No tires to run through. But as long as I stayed away from the bright red uniforms, I’d be okay. One guy dove right toward me. I jumped over him, kicking one leg back and one leg forward, keeping my feet away from any grabby hands that tried to pull me back down.

Another guy came at me from the left. I pointed my toes, digging my feet into the dirt. He zipped right by me with a loud grunt.

Two more rushed in from the right. I spun. Core tight. Spot. Don’t fall out of the turn. I took off, feeling fast. The crowd was screaming and I imagined myself onstage, finishing up a routine with the Dizzee Freekz, eardrums about to explode from the cheers Kassie, Carson, and I were getting. I imagined them smiling at me, wondering how I’d gone from ninja freestyle to real dancer so fast. I imagined Austin with one of those massive cameras that records in slow motion. I ran toward that end zone like my crew was there, waiting to take me back. I ran until my legs felt like they were about to buckle under me.

And then something crashed into my side, knocking the wind out of me.

I crumpled to the ground with a pair of gigantic meatheads on top of me. They practically had
DESTROY DILLON
plastered across their helmets.

I lay there holding the ball against my chest, feeling the pins and needles of excitement fade away as reality came crashing back down on top of me. There was no Kassie. There was no Carson. There was no Austin with his mega-camera. It was just me holding a leather ball in a giant rectangle of grass.

With a pair of airless lungs.

The referee blew his whistle. I looked up at the scoreboard. A bright red
BOOO
stared back at me. But then I realized it actually said 00:00.

The
BOOO
would’ve been more fitting, though.

Dillon, the Dumper of Friends.

Dillon, the Easily Tackled.

A hand reached down. DeMarcus. I peeled the football out of my chest as he pulled me to my feet.

“Nice run, man.”

I had enough air in my lungs to squeeze out a soft laugh. “Whatever.”

“You held on to the ball, didn’t you? Ran the clock down. You should be proud.”

We walked back to the sidelines with the rest of the team. As my chest reinflated, I actually did feel some pride soak into it, too. I had actually run a play. In a
game.
There wasn’t a single blue shirt that had pulled that off this year.

After we lined up and congratulated the other team, Coach Bear gave us a quick postgame pep talk to say how proud he was of us. I got a few slaps on the back and everyone let loose a collective cheer, rivaling the air horns still blaring out their last bit of energy.

The sound wasn’t bothering me as much anymore.

The players headed back toward the gate, ready to meet up with girlfriends, boyfriends, best friends.

I spotted Carson and Austin standing by the fence, throwing out their own congratulations to everyone. I pushed my way through a wall of football players. As soon as Austin saw me, the smile on his face disappeared.

“Hey,” I said. “I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Carson shrugged. “We’re still friends, Dillon. Even though you totally Beyoncé’d our Destiny’s Child.”

“He made me come,” Austin said, getting a sharp elbow from Carson.

Carson rolled his eyes. “He came for you-know-who.”

I’d figured as much. “Hey, about the other day—” I didn’t even try to finish. The way Austin looked away, mumbling, made it clear talking to me was pretty low on his list. Probably ranked just below selling his camera and taking up yodeling as a hobby.

My eyes drifted up to the stands, hoping to find Kassie there somewhere.

“She’s not here,” Carson said. “We tried to get her to come, but…”

I nodded. Did I really expect her to be there?

Carson suddenly gasped at something over my shoulder. The scowl on Austin’s face went from mild to
watch out!