“Are you in for the party?” she asked now.
“No. I can’t.” Harley had already put her foot down and now she did it again. There was no way she was going to make things worse for herself. She’d just gotten her cell phone. She couldn’t screw things up without risking losing it. “If my mother ever learned I was at the Stillwells’ . . .” She drew an imaginary line across her own throat.
“She doesn’t like the Stillwells?” Marissa asked, but her attention was on the game. River Glen was wiping the field with the other team.
“You have to know the history.”
Harley wasn’t interested in going into everything, but she need not have worried because Marissa was only half-listening. “Did you see that pass?” she said in awe. “Tyler’s going to get a scholarship.”
Harley had heard very similar things at her last high school about their own outstanding quarterback. She’d believed them once, but now, not so much.
“Look! Look!” Marissa screamed as the crowd erupted in cheers. Harley had to peer around the heads of other people to get a good view. A River Glen player in green and gold was racing down the sideline toward the end zone. The crowd was going wild. The player was knocked out of bounds only a few yards from making a touchdown.
“That’s . . . that’s Troy!” Marissa cried.
Immediately, the team huddled, reformed, took position, and the ball was passed off to a player of the same number: Troy, according to Marissa. Harley had no reason to doubt her. Another few seconds and the shrieks and hollers filled the stadium air as the player scored. Harley looked toward the sky, above the bright and blasting football field lights, to a sliver of a moon, barely visible above the light pollution—something they’d been learning about in science—below.
A chant rose up. “Tyler! Tyler! Tyler!” Harley glanced over and saw it was a group of senior girls, led by Dara Volker.
And Troy, Harley thought, but she was glad the running back wasn’t part of the girls’ spontaneous cheer. He’d been kind of mean and uncaring about Emma. Harley still felt bad about not sticking up for her aunt, yet she knew she would be risking what little acceptance and popularity she possessed if she made a big stink.
She thought about Greer Douglas as the River Glen Pirates kicked off to the opposing team. He was on defense, she knew; she’d made a point of knowing. She had a mini-crush. “Mini” being the operative word. He was a senior and she was a sophomore, and the senior girls could make her life miserable if he even looked at her, which he wouldn’t, but she wasn’t following any of her own advice since they’d been singled out for the mixer prank. Greer had taken an interest in Harley, and Marissa had moved her affections toward Tyler and maybe Troy. Though she’d warned Harley they could be stepping on toes, she’d seemed to conveniently forget her own advice since that night.
“We gotta get to that party,” Marissa said as the clock wound down on the game. The outcome had pretty much been decided by the first quarter. River Glen had pulled ahead and the other team hadn’t had a chance.
“I just told you. I can’t.”
“Don’t you want to go?”
“’Course I do.” Harley wasn’t actually all that certain she did. She didn’t want to make any more mistakes and find herself friendless. “But we have tomorrow. Babysitting.”
Marissa gazed longingly at the team as the last play was run and the cheerleaders and people in the stands started screaming, a loud roar that drowned out everything else. Marissa yelled as well, and so did Harley. When the sound finally died down, Marissa said, “Okay, you’re right. We can maybe figure out something tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe the guys’ll stop by the Ryersons’.”
Harley’s heart lurched, but she didn’t say anything. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see the guys . . . but . . .
“Oh, Jesus,” said Marissa as they were walking with the throng heading toward the gate. “There’s my mom.”
“I thought your dad was picking us up.”
“He was. He is . . . Did something happen?”
She started pushing her way through the crowd, and Harley followed after her. When they reached Mrs. Haynes, they both stopped. “What’s wrong?” Marissa demanded. “What are you doing here?”
She looked taken aback. “Nothing’s wrong. I just came to pick you up.”
“Dad’s supposed to pick me up.”
“Well, I beat him to it,” she said tartly.
She had blond hair in a casual ponytail and wore gray yoga gear with a thin black jacket. She had a coffee or a latte in one hand as she glanced toward Harley. “You must be the new friend? We haven’t really been introduced.”
“Hi. I’m Harley Woodward,” Harley said.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Does Dad know you came to get me?” Marissa demanded.
“I just texted him. Don’t worry. It’s okay for you to leave with your mother. Are we giving you a ride?” she asked Harley.
“If it’s all right.”
“No problem.” Her smile seemed a little practiced, but Harley told herself it was going to be okay.
They climbed into her charcoal Land Rover. Marissa got in the front and Harley got in behind her friend.
The conversation was desultory, mostly consisting of Mrs. Haynes asking questions and Marissa supplying one-syllable answers while she looked at her phone. “I texted Dad, too,” Marissa revealed. “You coulda just let him pick me up.”
“Don’t make a federal case of it,” Laura said on an exasperated sigh. “I’m your mother.”
“Like I don’t know that.”
Silence for the rest of the trip. Harley was glad when they pulled into her drive and she could throw open the door and skedaddle.
Marissa rolled down her window and said, “See you tomorrow,” with a knowing wink that her mom couldn’t see.
“What’s happening tomorrow?” Laura asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
Harley was out of earshot
