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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AFTER BARB'S FUNERAL, THE WHOLE SCHOOL WENT BACK TO PITYING DYLAN HOLLAND. Everyone that passed her in the Hawkin's High hallway was sure to utter a condolence of some kind. Except Carol, of course, who rolled her eyes and snapped her gum every time someone uttered a 'sorry,' or 'here for you.' It was almost refreshing to know that some people are actually what they present themselves as, in a way, and overall Dylan was satisfied that her former friend was still rocking a nice shiner. It made up for a lot.
Dylan and her classmates poured out of chemistry class at the bell, taking over the hallway. As predicted, many of them stopped to simply put a hand on her should or say sorry for something that was never their fault.
"Miss Holland!" Dylan turned around to find the basketball coach coming up behind her. "Just the girl I was looking for. There's a game tonight."
She gave him a pointed look as if to say 'so?'
Coach laughed. "Remember our preposition? I keep you out of detention, you be my water boy."
Dylan had forgotten all about that in the chaos that was the Upside Down. "Watergirl," she corrected."
"Of course, watergirl," he chuckled to himself, already walking away. "Be at the gym for 6! Sorry about your sister, by the way."
There it was. Typical.
Dylan stood at the sidelines of the Hawkin's High basketball court, setting out cups on a fold-out table. An oversized yellow jug laid beside her, filled to the brim with icy water. She had to laugh at her situation — Dylan Holland at a sports event and her main goal of the night wasn't to ogle hot guys.
Steve, clad in his uniform—short green shorts, a yellow tee, and calf high socks; it was ugly to say the least and she'd like to have a word with who designed it—waltzed up to her table, a sloppy grin on his face.
"So, you were telling the truth," he never tried to hide his amusement. He glanced her over, she too was wearing an ugly Hawkin's High tee, coach had tried to force her into the green shorts as well, having extras from the girl's volleyball team, but Dylan was not having that. She fought him tooth and nail until he gave up that idea. "You're on the team. You give us water."
"Laugh it up," she said coolly. "But like you said—I give you your water. Yours might have a nice loogey in it if you keep looking at me like that."
"Like what?" Steve mused. He had seemingly forgot the last spat they shared.
"Like that!" Dylan told him. "Like my misery is oh-so-amusing to you."
Steve shook his head, his wide grin never faltering. "Your misery isn't amusing to me, Dyl—I just think it's kinda funny, you in my basketball uniform, handing out waters. It's kinda cute, actually."
