Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
11
ME
Dear PepsiCo & Frito Lay,
I’m not sure which one of you is actually in charge of chip flavors, but if you’re insistent on keeping “Nacho Cheese” flavored Doritos on store shelves, can you please offer a complimentary pack of mint gum with every sale?
Wish I Would’ve Told You (Years Ago),
—Scarlett
Our Friday nights in the fall always unfold in the same predictable pattern. Cafes shut down from six o’clock until nine, as there’s no point in staying open while the entire town is at our high school’s football game. The police direct traffic and vow to lock up anyone who gets too rowdy.
The stadium seats are packed shoulder to shoulder with neighbors, classmates, recruiters, and anyone who has ever gotten a taste of what Grey Gulf Football has served over the past several seasons.
The team hasn’t lost a game in years, but they play like nothing is guaranteed. On the rare occasion that they’re behind in the first half, the crowd rallies hard in hopes to never have to feel a loss.
Easton’s father has a reserved set of seats in the stands, but he always places a “You Never Really Know Someone” sweatshirt on his wife’s place.
No one ever dares to ask him why.
“The fight song!” Our drum major screams at the top of his lungs, breaking me out of my thoughts. “The fight song!”
He waves his baton, counting us off, and I press my lips against the clarinet, blowing the notes with the band.
The cheerleaders move in synchrony with our songs and then the football team races onto the field.
The screams are deafening as Easton waves to the crowd. His eyes meet mine, and he blows me a kiss.
Then again, maybe it’s for Tully since she’s right below me and blowing a kiss at him, too.
Strapping on his helmet alongside his teammates, he calls for a huddle and leads them into their signature chant.
“The battlecry!” The drum major screams. “The battle cry!”
I wet my lips and prepare to play my part, hoping that this night ends in the same predictable fashion that the other ones have.
At halftime, our principal stands at the center of the field and smooths her red hair.
“Good evening wolves!” She shouts into the mic. “As you know, tonight is the night when we formally announce everyone who has met the minimum requirements to run for our prestigious homecoming court!”
The crowd roars.
“Since when is running for homecoming this big of a deal?” Kevin scoffs. “It’s a glorified beauty pageant.”
“I think you’re just jealous because you can’t run.”
He smiles. “You know me so well.”
“First up—” She opens an envelope and rolls her eyes. “Eff Deez Hos?”
The section above us howls in laughter.
“Very funny guys.” She crumples the paper and stuffs it into her pocket. She opens another and doesn’t bother reading it.
She opens a few more envelopes before finally arriving on a real name.
“Tully Magnolia Ann Crane!”
The cheers are the loudest of the night, but hearing her name over the speakers makes me want to ask my mom what the hell she was thinking.
Then again, Scarlett Cressida May Crane is far worse.
As Tully waves and takes her place on the field, Jeremiah slides into the seat on my left.
“You got a minute, Scarlett?”
“I…” I’m completely caught off guard.
“I haven’t heard from you this week.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I figured,” he says. “So have I, so I think we should collaborate on a date when we won’t be busy.” He leans closer. “Your sister is throwing a house party during our team’s bye-weekend, so will that work?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer.
“I’ll see you then.” he says, pressing a kiss against my cheek. “If something changes, you have my number.”
“Okay.” I smile and watch him return to his section.
When I face the field again, Easton is staring at me.
The scoreboard blares a bright red 32-12.
The Grey Gulf Wolves remain undefeated to no one’s surprise.
Playing the final notes to the fight song, I follow the flute section out of the stadium and into the parking lot.
Easton
Meet me under the bleachers. Visitors side.
I’m already on the band bus.
Easton
Then get off…Tell them you have a ride home.
Can you say “please”?
Easton
Now.
I lie to my director about my parents wanting to drive me home and make my way off the bus. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, I duck under the concession stand’s awning and wait for several minutes.
The moment the final yellow bus pulls out of the lot, I walk to the visitors’ side of the stadium.
Easton is nowhere to be found.
Before I can call him, he wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my neck.
“Ahhh…” I moan as he gently bites my skin and slides a hand into my pants.
“I told you that this belongs to me,” he whispers, “Don’t give any other guy the hope of ever getting it.”
"I won’t.” I suck in a breath as he rubs my clit.