Page 47 of On the Bright Side
“Careful.” She takes a seat beside me on the mattress. “The couch just beat you in a fight.”
“I’ll just sleep on the cushions,” I say with a sigh. “That’d probably be more comfortable anyway.”
“No, I’m the one crashing. I don’t want to take your bed.” Ellie lies back, her feet dangling over the edge of the mattress. “Except for a few minutes right now. How much longer until the game?”
“Um.” I search my memory. “It’s at 7:15.” But she doesn’t hear me, so I lean back beside her and repeat where she can see me. She rolls to her side, staring at my lips closely.
It’s tantalizing, watching her watch me like this. Her dark eyes wide and attentive. Her wide-necked sweatshirt has slid down on one side, revealing her shoulder and bra strap. Her mouth is slightly open, about to say something.
“This is weird,” she says slowly, biting her lip.
I glance away toward the wall. She’s the one who lay down on the bed first. I’m just following her lead. “What do you mean?”
“This school tradition,” she says after a moment. Was that a pivot? She rambles on. “Like, it’s not even a rivalry match-up or anything?”
I pinch a nail into my thumb to reorientate myself. “Nah, student government just picks one of the out-of-district tournament games and plans the trip.”
She shakes her head at the absurdity of it and shifts how she’s sitting. It just happens to position her another inch closer to me. “Do you even know what school they’re playing?”
“They?” I ask, teasing her. “It’s your school, too.”
Ellie rolls her eyes and shoves my shoulder. “Don’t remind me.”
Do wehaveto go to the game?
Because I’m quite comfortable right here at the moment. Sure, it’d be better to kick off our shoes and chill here, but I don’t want to do anything that would ruin the moment.
“I don’t really know,” I say, running a hand back through my hair and answering her question. “Heights something. Powell Heights? Yeah, I think that’s it.”
“Huh.” Ellie recoils with a distant look on her face. She jumps out of bed and paces the room.
I sit up reluctantly. And slowly because there’s the looming threat of a dizzy sensation. Not strong enough to make me sick. At least, not yet. I try to ignore it. “What’s wrong?”
“Nah, nothing.” She’s cagey, not looking directly at me while she skirts around the topic. “I just think I might know some people on the team.”
“Like from your old school?”
“Yeah.” She heads over to the restroom. “Give me a second, and we can head over.” When she’s back out, she loops on a small crossbody bag. “Ready when you are.”
“Okay.” I use the toilet as well and wash my face in the sink. I’m not sure it helps me feel any better. If anything, bending my head forward makes things worse.
Will the world ever feel still again?I might be cursed to live slightly off-kilter for the rest of my life. That would really suck.
Ellie and I walk side by side over to the stadium on the narrow sidewalk along the mostly quiet road. The streetlamps are already shining bright above us. Our hands accidentally knock once, and she immediately pulls hers back. Did she think I was trying to hold it? I wasn’t, but this is a very confusing reaction after how close we just were in that hotel room.
I really don’t understand her.
There’s already a huge crowd at the game swelling the small concourse. Ellie and I follow many folks to the concessions line first, then up the steps into the stadium seating area, where we take our place in the student section. Everyone’s screaming over the marching band to make themselves heard.
Beyond the sidelines, there are cheerleaders doing their thing before kickoff. The golden Amber High players warm up on the field opposite the dark blue Powell Heights team.
I’m dreading having to stand the entire game.
“How about we sit while we eat,” I suggest, although parents are the only ones who are seated at these events. Our seats are toward the back anyway, with the most die-hard fans up closer to the rail.
She nods in agreement, not as riled up as everyone around us.
On any other night, I’d scarf down all four of these chicken tenders with no problem. But I’m feeling queasy. “Do you want some?” I ask Ellie, but she isn’t looking, so I hold out a piece toward her, which she gratefully accepts, having only gotten nachos for herself. But she munches it slowly, staring down at the field.
