Leap Year (✔)

August 25

~188 Days till Leap Day~

The ball soared over the red team's defense and landed with a thud in front of the blue team's midfielder. Unfortunately for the blue team, their midfielder was Rosie.

"Kick it!" cried one of the juniors in Period 3 P.E. "What are you doing?" She was one of those JV soccer players that was constantly trying to prove she had what it took to make varsity. Apparently, that included treating a P.E. scrimmage like the World Cup.

Rosie snapped to attention as the soccer ball rolled to a stop in front of her. She nudged it with the tip of her sneaker and it rolled straight to the feet of a red team offender, who dribbled past Rosie with ease. Why couldn't P.E. classes be separated based on athletic ability?

The JV player rolled her eyes dramatically. "Come on, pay attention!"

"I am paying attention!" Rosie protested.

But she wasn't really paying attention. She was staring at a girl.

The same girl she'd seen three days ago in the hallway, the same girl that had stolen her heart on the beach. Today Brie was wearing white-rimmed glasses and her long, windswept hair brushed hastily into a low ponytail. She was wearing the same loose PE shirt and unflattering shorts as everyone else, but she wasn't sweating. Rosie remembered she was from Florida; she must've been used to the heat.

"ROTATE!" Rosie's P.E. teacher whistled, signaling for the blue team to switch out with the yellow team, who was currently running laps around the field. The good part about a P.E. class of forty students was that Rosie's P.E. teacher didn't know her name. The bad part was how embarrassing it was when Rosie realized she didn't have a single friend in class-- a fact that became painfully obvious as the girls on the blue team broke off in pairs and trios to start jogging.

It was August in Chicago, which meant it was hot and humid. Last Rosie checked, the temperature was eighty-seven degrees. To make matters worse, her P.E. class was at twelve p.m in full sun. Rosie wiped her forehead as she jogged past Brie's P.E. class. She was smiling and chatting with some tall, scrappy boy behind her in the softball batting line.  Rosie imagined Brie was smiling at her.

It must have been hard to move from Florida for her last year of high school, Rosie thought as she panted past the softball field and up around the soccer pitch. No matter where she was on the track, her eyes kept darting back to Brie.

They'd have to talk eventually. Rosie knew that. But it was easier to daydream than to work up the nerve to actually talk to her. It was daytime-- in P.E., no less. Rosie wasn't in her 2am dreamy state of mind. And there was no darkness to hide her imperfections. She was stuck with spreading pit stains, cheeks that were probably an embarrassing shade of fuschia, and gym shorts riding up so high she looked like a member of the boys swim team.

Still, what were the chances of her seeing Brie again? And here she was, at Rosie's school, only a few feet away!

Rosie strayed off the track when her P.E. wasn't looking and strolled over to the seniors' softball game. A few of the guys looked over with a smirk at the pink-faced, sweating mess inching up their batting line. Rosie felt herself blush, but thankfully her already pink face covered it up.

Brie was looking the other direction, out toward second base, where one of her teammates had just arrived. Her messy ponytail was blowing in the hot breeze. Did she always straighten her hair for school?

Rosie reached the back of Brie's head. "Hi!" She waited a minute, but it seemed like Brie hadn't heard her, so she said it again, "Hi!"

Brie turned around-- it felt like slow motion-- and her eyes landed on Rosie. She wasn't sweating at all, which was amazing to Rosie. Brie's eyebrows creased for a moment and then her eyes widened.

"It's me, Rosie!" Rosie added when Brie remained silent.

People in the batting line were starting to turn around. Rosie wished she had waited for a more private reunion.

"I..." Brie stammered. It seemed like all the people watching were making her nervous.

"Brie, I thought I would never see you again. You never told me you were moving to Chicago!" Rosie wanted to laugh at it all. The improbability of them ever meeting again. Their awkward reunion in high school gym class.

Brie blinked. "My name is Gabriela."

"But... you go by Brie, right?" Rosie's face was heating up quickly. "I swear I've met you before. Remember, Camp Teeter? The canoe?"

Brie pushed her glasses up her nose and smiled, not quite making eye contact. "Sorry, you must be thinking of someone else." But Rosie recognized that smile. Her dimples. The one crooked tooth. She had been thinking about that smile for ten whole days and she was certain this was the same girl in front of her.

Rosie opened her mouth to speak when the boy Brie had been talking with earlier appeared beside them. He was pink-faced too, from just rounding the bases. "Hey, Brie, I told you I'd get a run!" he called with a huge grin.

Brie opened her mouth then shut it, her eyes flitting from the boy to Rosie.

"Brie?" Rosie's mouth was dry.

It had all been a lie, then. All the talk, all the flirting, it was just a bored straight girl looking to mess with someone.

She turned away. Tears stung her eyes.

It all made sense. Why else would she have left Rosie stranded on the beach? Not given her contact information, not even her last name. Rosie cursed herself for being so stupid, so innocent.

Tears started streaming down her face before she could make it to the track. The same smirking senior boys grinned and "oooohed" at the sad, sweaty girl crying in her gym clothes.

Screw it, Rosie thought, as she sprinted down the track. Screw them all.

As she jogged away, Rosie held onto the futile wish that Brie would call "wait!" and she'd come running over and they'd have a rendezvous of apologies and giggles and it would be just like their ride in the canoe. But the only call she heard was her P.E. teacher, telling her to get back on the field.

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