Later that day, I excuse myself from US History to take the attendance slip to the office, mainly as an excuse to eavesdrop on any possible gossip related to the incident at the gym. I can barely sit still or even process my surroundings. Words melt together until all I hear is a low, dull buzz. Mouths open, and all I hear is static.
On my way back to class, I stop in the bathroom, and as I’m walking out of the stall, the door swings open, and there’s Melissa, still in the same black clothes she wore last night. Her eyes are wide and crazed, like she’s just been roaming aimlessly for the last twelve hours.
“We need to talk,” she says, still framed by the doorway of the stall. She yanks me by the elbow and pulls me into the narrow space, locking the door. I wedge myself into one of the corners.
“You disappeared last night,” I say, my voice low.
She squats down to check for feet in the other stalls before whispering, “Well, when it went from a silly prank to an actual break-in, I figured the dance team wasn’t really worth having a criminal record.”
The minute that window broke, Melissa was gone. All anyone saw were her taillights leaving the parking lot. I notice the dark circles beneath her eyes. But I can’t find it in me to feel even a little bit sorry for her. “So what’s there to talk about then?” I ask. “Besides you totally ditching us. Sam had to squeeze Natalie and Gretchen into her backseat with three other girls, by the way, because you weren’t around to give them rides after driving them there in the first place.”
“So there weren’t enough seat belts!” she says. “What’s another broken law after breaking and entering?”
I roll my eyes, trying to maintain the cool and collected exterior I’m known for. “No one’s gonna find out it was us.” Though saying it out loud makes me realize how unsure of that I actually am. “That place didn’t even have a working camera.”
“You know I can’t get in trouble again,” she says through gritted teeth.
Ah, yes. In eighth grade, before Melissa had transformed into a pretty little rule follower with dance-team ambitions, she was caught shoplifting thousands of dollars’ worth of designer cosmetics, sunglasses, and clothing from Levine’s department store. She had to do endless hours of community service and even had a parole officer.
“How do you know for sure the camera wasn’t working?” she asks.
“There wasn’t a little blinky light,” I say. The moment the words are out of my mouth I feel silly.
She throws her hands up. “That means literally nothing.”
“You’re overreacting,” I tell her. But all I want to do is flail right back at her, because I smell a rat. “And you smell guilty . . . and like BO.”
“I saw the sheriff in the front office during my lunch period.”
My heart stops. I swallow and take a deep breath. “He could be at school for any reason.”
She looks at me pointedly. “You should’ve stopped them.”
“I’m not anyone’s mother. And I didn’t see you trying to be the voice of reason.”
“They listen to you,” she tells me.
“We’re both co–assistant captains,” I remind her. “They listen to both of us.”
“Cut the crap,” she says. “You know they don’t listen to me the way they do with you.”
My little world is on the verge of being hit by an asteroid, and still some part of me feels satisfied to hear her admit this. I hate myself for it.
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Our faces were covered. There’s no proof. As long as everyone can keep a secret, we’re all in the clear. And you can keep a secret, can’t you, Mel?”
Later that afternoon, we have an emergency practice to make up for poor attendance this morning. Not all of them were there last night—it was mostly juniors and seniors—but word spreads fast enough that everyone might as well have been there.
We all meet on the bleachers outside the track. With so many voices talking at once, it’s nearly impossible to get anyone’s attention.
“Hey!” I shout. No one even blinks.
“Y’all!” Sam barks.
And they all freeze, turning to her. It’s a reminder, even for me, that she is still very much the team captain.
Sam motions for everyone to move it in.
All our bodies press together to create a tight, sweaty circle.
“You wanna know what makes us great?”
“Jess’s pirouettes?” says someone.
Sam smiles, and just that small act of normalcy sends a wave of ease through our huddle—myself included. “Well, that, and the fact that before we’re a team, we’re a sisterhood. And sisters have each other’s backs. No matter what.”
And that’s all she needs to say. Mentally, I file this moment away. This is how a captain does her job.
After a grueling practice, including a three-mile run, we all collapse on the grass at the center of the track ring.
“Okay, ladies,” says Sam. “I’ve lined up a car wash at one of the Clay Dooley service-repair departments for next Saturday.”
“Oh,” I blurt.
Sam and Melissa both eye me.
“Sorry,” I say. “News to me.”
Sam smiles. “Callie’s boyfriend, Bryce, was sweet enough to set that up with his dad.” She glances to me. “He told me just before lunch. I’m sure he meant to tell you first.”
I nod, feeling unease about the whole team witnessing this interaction. The admiration I’d just felt for Sam melts into suspicion. “Totally,” I say, trying to shake it off.
It’s weird that Bryce forgot to tell me, but it probably slipped his mind. I guess he just wanted to help out after seeing how stressed I was last night, so I can’t fault him.
Sam clasps her hands together. “And not to be too mushy or anything, but the end of the year is almost here, and it’s my last year as a Shamrock. I’m going to miss y’all so much. Once a Shamrock, always a Shamrock, right?”
The whole team whoops and cheers.
I lean over to Melissa. “And Shamrocks don’t snitch.”
After practice, Bryce drives me home. I haven’t told him about last night. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but I’m playing it safe for right now.
He takes the long way home through downtown Clover City. A few of the shops are boarded up, and while much of downtown maintains its mom-and-pop charm, a few places have been replaced with chain stores and restaurants.
I hold my hand out the window, letting my fingers drag through the warm breeze, and this is the first moment of real calm I have all day. But it’s gone faster than I can count. “Hey,” I say, “so you set up a car wash for the dance team and forgot to tell me?”
He grins. “Just trying to do my part to get my girl to Nationals.”
“Well, you couldn’t tell your girl about it instead of letting her find out in front of the whole team?”
He shakes his head. “You’re making this into a thing. I just texted Sam because I knew she would be the one you’d have to run everything by anyway.”
I start to argue, but instead I take a deep breath. I’m on edge today. That’s all.
In the alley behind my house where he always drops me off, we share a long kiss that is quickly turning into more when my stepdad knocks on the passenger window.
The two of us knock heads as we disentangle.
Keith opens the door, ducking down to speak to Bryce as I gather my backpack and purse.
“I’d invite you in,” says Keith, “but tonight is family dinner.”
Bryce nods. “Understood, sir.”
I squint my eyes at Bryce for a minute, and I find myself almost making a comment about how he never makes any effort to call my real dad sir. Both Keith and my dad work blue-collar jobs—the kind of things Bryce will never find himself doing. The only difference between them is that one of them is white and the other isn’t. But I shake it off and decide it’s just more paranoia. Bryce isn’t racist.
Keith shuts the door behind me, and I follow him in through the back gate.