The Good Enough Friend (YA)

Chapter Nineteen - October 11, 2019 [✔️]

Homecoming was a special day. The pep rally, the soccer game, and the dance. Freshman and Sophomores couldn't attend the dance. That being the case this was my first year going. The homecoming committee was known for going all out. Wyatt and the soccer team had extra practice on the soccer field.

I designed a poster in school colors to hold during the game. It read Go Cedar Valley Parrots! I met with Karolina and Nolan before school and they drew cartoonish and hyper realistic parrots respectively on it.

Karolina added #26—Wyatt's jersey number—in the corner, her long hair cascading down her back, "The finishing touch," she capped her dual tip marker, her dark eyes sparkling with pride. Nolan, who towered over us, grabbed the marker and tucked it into the pouch on the top shelf of Karolina's locker.

The western hemisphere of his face was burnt orange like his hair, and the eastern hemisphere was lime green. One would assume he was at a professional soccer game with his enthusiasm.

They talked me into face paint, I assumed it wouldn't match the richness of my skin, but I was wrong. Karolina drew dots over my left eyebrow and under my right eye with a curve along the bridge of my nose connecting them.

I tucked the poster under my arm, reminding myself to put it in my locker before heading to AP Physics.

A herd of seniors stormed the hallway chanting, "Two! Oh! Seniors! Two! Oh! Seniors!" They screamed the chant at the top of their lungs; freezing the moment in time. It was the last school year they would walk these halls. Bittersweet.

Who made it a rule to have class the same day as Pep Rally? Did the administration believe we could focus?

A few hours later, in our advisory classrooms, Principal Lyle made THE ANNOUNCEMENT on the intercom. "Divisions 1 to 30, report to the soccer field, use the central stairwell. Divisions 30 to 59, use the northern set of the stairs,"

My advisory was division 36. My advisory teacher, Mr. Hoyne, held the open. The northern staircase was to our right. A key ring jingled at his waist as he fiddled with them, searching for the right one. He locked the door behind him.

Athletes, cheerleaders, and marching bands were already on the field. A separate ceremony was held prior to the current one involving the whole school. The cool wind served as a companion to the warm excitement bubbling inside of me. I made sure to get a good seat for pictures. Pictures froze the day in time, preserving it forever.

I took an aisle seat. Quick entry, quick escape. It wasn't like someone from my division saved me a seat. I knew as much about the kids in my division as I did Harry Potter. It made sense for them to be indifferent with me. It still ached, being alone in the stands. Alone, yet surrounded by hundreds of students.

Assistant Principal Ortiz stood in the center of the field with a microphone in his right palm. He greeted us in the stands and introduced the Choir who would be performing the national anthem. I lifted my hand to my heart. Not out of patriotism but out of respect. It was expected.

The cheerleaders stepped into view. Kenna tucked herself away into the back left corner. Her flat ironed hair—out of its usual natural state—was braided into a bun. Her position was holding the feet of the girl who was thrown into the air and then caught. She did her own flips. The sequined outfits, the sunlight, the magnetic charm; I was mesmerized. This was the magic of pep rallies.

They bowed and stepped onto the sidelines.
A black and white checkered ball flew through the air. A familiar head of dark brown hair wearing a #26 jersey caught my attention.

Wyatt!

He stopped it with his chest and it rolled to the grass. While running sideways, he passed it to another player. This exchange continued for a few minutes.

In front of them stood their coach, "I'm Coach Anderson and I'll be introducing the starting lineup for today's homecoming game," her voice boomed out of her tiny body.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled out of excitement. "Woooo!"

Wyatt's eyes flickered toward me and he gave me a humongous smile. I snapped a photo.

A small drumroll started. I tapped my feet along. Then it spread like wildfire. The entire field was participating.

"I see our right back is popular," Coach Anderson began, "Number 26. Wyatt Maganlith!" She continued to name other players I didn't know, mainly senior students. "Number 7. Striker. Maddoc Donahue!"

The girls behind me rated the players out of ten, the entire time. I tried to focus but pieces of their conversation stuck out to me.

"Maddoc is so hot he broke the scale. 11 out of 10."

"I like my men pretty, but not prettier than me. 8 out of 10."

Maddoc stood next to Wyatt, and looked out into the stands. He wiped nonexistent sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his shirt to show off his abs. He could be a model if he wanted.

Coach Anderson wrapped her introductions u p, "And finally, Number 32. Milo Chloros!"

I held my breath, waiting for the people around me to scream first.

Trying to hold it in was like catching a tornado in a jar.

There was never a more perfect time to stop and stare. Milo stood in a semicircle with Wyatt, Killian, and John.

"Now, Milo, he could get some of this,"

"Ohh, you like em chunky,"

"That boy band hair, and those earrings, ahhh, I can look past the chub."

What were they talking about?

His face looked sharper.

It lost that summer roundness.

His arms.

Glorious, glorious, boa constrictor arms.

They didn't see the effort he put into 'sculpting' as my mom called it. He was at the W.C. at least 3-4 days a week for the entire summer.

I liked the way he looked. But more importantly, I liked his brain. He was more than dismembered body parts. More than a cute face, or a round booty, or sexy arms. He was a person too. I stopped myself from defending him. My response would indicate I'd been eavesdropping and possibly raise questions about why I cared so much.

The pep rally ended on a high note. The marching band had a final performance—a rock styled rendition of the school song.

"Come on, it's starting!!!" I bounced on the heels of my feet. Karolina and Nolan held the edges of the sign and I tucked my hand under the bottom of it.

We snagged a row close to the field. Mr. Maganlith called me and asked for pictures of Wyatt. I would've refused to respond in the past, but with the breakthrough I had with my own family, it was clear that we were gravely misunderstanding our parents. In their own way, maybe they were doing the best they could.

The whistle blew, and the game began with both teams battling for control of the ball. Our Parrots had possession and were moving the ball swiftly down the field. The crowd erupted into cheers as the striker, Maddoc, took the ball and made a run towards the goal. But the Heglo Hellhounds' defense was not to be underestimated, and they managed to intercept the ball and clear it out of danger.

We were the first to score, sending the crowd into a frenzy. However, the Hellhounds refused to give up, and they battled back fiercely, ultimately scoring a goal that sent their mini cluster of fans into a wild celebration.

As the clock ticked down, the Parrots desperately tried to equalize, but the Hellhounds' defense held strong. In the end, the match ended in a thrilling 2-1 victory for the Hellhounds, leaving their players and visiting fans ecstatic with joy.

It was a close match. Losing the homecoming game would sour anyone's mood but at Cedar Valley we were different. We took this as an opportunity to learn, and not to be disappointed in ourselves.