Page 7 of Falling Into You

“My leg is broken in three places.” A single tear slid down the side of Stuart’s face and into the pillowcase. He gestured at the giant cast. “I’m gonna be in this thing for six to twelve weeks.”

“Oh my God.” Rory covered half her face with one hand. She couldn’t imagine her big, strong, super-active friend in a wheelchair or on crutches—or both, for weeks on end. He’d lose his mind.

“I know. Hopefully I should be okay before basketball season, but cheer...” He trailed off and looked away, more tears welling in his eyes. “I ruined everything. What’re we going to do about regionals?”

Rory swallowed hard. There seemed to be a large rockwedged inside her throat, but she refused to acknowledge it.

“Let me worry about regionals,” she said, reaching over and holding his hand, which was covered in tiny scratches. “You just focus on getting better.”

He took in a long, shaky breath and nodded. “Thanks, Rory.”

“You know I love you, right? I really only hate you this much.” This time when she raised her thumb and forefinger, they were only a millimeter apart.

Stuart laughed weakly, but the smile reached all the way to his eyes. “I love you, too, you jerk.”

Rory got up and blew him a kiss before walking out of the room. The second she was out of the eyeline of his doorway, she leaned back against the wall and groaned quietly. Whatwasshe going to do? Regionals were in two weeks, and the entire routine revolved around having two guys on the team who could perform stunts with flyers—namely, her and Gwen. She was going to have to rechoreograph all the stunts, which was half the routine. Would they even qualify for the twelve-person coed event if there were only eleven of them? Gah! She knew she should have selected an alternate last year at tryouts, but no one else had been good enough.

Layla and Gwen came around the corner then, sharing a bag of peanut M&M’s as they chatted in hushed voices. When they saw Rory, they rushed over and pulled her farther away from the door.

“Where’s Owen?” Rory asked.

“He’s teaching Carlos and the guys how to do some card trick.” Gwen tilted her head. “Does he bring a pack of cards with him everywhere?”

“And his Switch, and a magnetic chess kit, and a book.” Rory ticked the items off on her fingers. “He does not do bored.”

“Well?” Layla said, crunching her candy. “How screwed are we?”

Rory grabbed the bag out of Gwen’s hand, tipped her head back, and shook a few M&M’s into her mouth.

“Whoa,” Gwen said, and looked wide-eyed at Layla. “So,totallyscrewed?”

Rory nodded once. “Beyond totally screwed.”

Rory

Armed with tape, pushpins, and an ancient stapler she’d found in the garage, Rory strode into school with a sense of purpose like she’d never felt before. As of last night, there was a new item on her list of things to accomplish in high school—#10: Save the squad. It was a cool, breezy Monday morning, just twelve hours since she’d seen Stuart in that cast, and she was a girl with a mission. This morning, she’d eaten some of the vegetable frittata her father had made for the family, then worked her hair into a tight French braid and donned her favorite fall outfit—a red-and-black plaid skirt paired with a black turtleneck. With her red-and-gold varsity jacket on over it, she was fortified and ready tofix this. Would it be wrong for her to admit that she got a little thrill every time she caught a glimpse of theCAPTletters sewn onto the sleeve?

Captains do not giveup,she chanted to herself as she taped a flyer to the door of the boys’ bathroom in thelanguage arts wing.I refuse to give up.

“You refuse what?” Jacob Reilly appeared at her shoulder as if from nowhere. She whirled around, almost whacking him in the face with her stack of paper.

“Did I say that out loud?” she asked, mortified.

“Kind of.” He gave her a crooked smile. His hair was still wet from the shower, making it appear darker, which really made the green of his eyes pop. A tiny piece of toilet paper was stuck under his chin, from where he must have cut himself shaving. Under his red-and-gold varsity jacket, he wore a dark blue cable-knit sweater that looked soft and well-worn.

She had to hand it to Jacob—or anyway, silently acknowledge it to herself—he did know how to dress. Tucker’s entire wardrobe consisted of T-shirts and hoodies.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked.

Why are you talking to me?she definitely didnotsay out loud.

“Did you hear about Stuart?” she said instead.

Without waiting for a reply, she turned to the bulletin board on the opposite wall, where the winning poems of the freshman poetry contest were posted on a fall-themed backdrop of red-leaved birch trees. Giving the board a quick scan, she decided to tack up a flyer so that it hung off the bottom, avoiding covering “Ode to My Pillow” by Kelsey Sawyer.

“No. What happened to Stuart?” Jacob asked, a little crease appearing above his nose.

“He broke his leg in three places.” Rory said this matter-of-factly, even though it made her heart hurt to speak it aloud. “He’s out for the season.”