____________
M A R C H
"Have you asked anyone to prom yet?"
Dylan looked up from his backpack with a mild look of alarm. He glanced over his shoulder, at the door where Joanna was long gone. Beside Rosalie, Lennie paused in the middle of stacking his books to, likewise, stare at her like she was insane.
She realzied how the question sounded only after it came out—like she was asking Dylan to ask her.
She flushed all shades of pink and waved her hands dismissively. "I'm just—curious."
"I haven't even thought about it," Dylan confessed. Beside him, Jamie-Lee rolled his eyes and muttered, "Of course you haven't." Dylan lashed out to punch him in the gut, but Jamie jumped out of the way.
"What's this about?" Lennie asked.
"I'm just curious!" she lied, voice squeaky. Lennie raised an eyebrow at her. "And... I also might need Dylan's help—if... that's something you'd be willing to do...?"
Jamie cleared his throat, which drew Dylan's attention to him as he said, "I'd do it, but I'm going with Blake."
"And I'd ask Sami, but... I can't exactly be his beard anymore," Rosalie confessed, grimacing a little. Sami would be going to Bradshaw's prom—in secret, so his father wouldn't know that Isaiah Thatcher had asked Sami to accompany him.
"You... want me to take you to prom?" Dylan said, awkwardly, and were this any other situation, Rosalie would have been embarrassed beyond belief to have been turned down in this way.
She rolled her eyes. "No. I'm planning something big and if it ends up online, I don't want Joanna to worry about Arden or Georgina seeing it. So Jamie's gonna record it, and I need you to pretend like you're swooning or something, and then take a picture or two with me before the dance."
Dylan's eyes widened through her explanation, but when he said nothing after that, she sighed and insisted, "And I don't want this to be a lovey-dovey type thing. I don't think Joanna and I are on those terms yet, so we'd be super low-key and you don't have to worry about third wheeling or anything—"
"Dude," Dylan said, looking thoroughly startled. Rosalie clasped her hands over her stomach, her lip between her teeth. "Don't even worry about it. I'm in."
"Really?" she gasped, eyes wide. The weight of her worries lifted at the bright grin Dylan gave her.
"Yeah, I'm in. When's it happening?"
"I don't have the exact date, but I'll keep you posted," she promised, unable to contain her smile. The pieces were all coming together. "There's one other thing—do you have your license?"
Dylan rose an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, why?"
"Because Jamie and I are getting our permits and we can't drive without a licensed driver in the car," she said with a weak, apologetic smile. Dylan stared at her blankly before blinking and looking back at Jamie-Lee. Jamie shrugged as if to say, "What can you do?"
____________
A P R I L
Rosalie wasn't too well acquainted with the Bradshaw stadium's announcer room, which resided in the tower otherwise known as the stadium Fortress. She blamed their mascot for the cheesy name, but the Fortress was manned only by select teachers, coaches, and the loudspeaker announcers. Rosalie had ever been in the Fortress once, and even then, she felt anxious being surrounded by all of the sound equipment.
One person she could trust to give her access was Coach Maguire. Jamie-Lee tagged along after the final bell rang and the soccer girls were back to the Bradshaw locker room. Rosalie never changed so quickly, or ran so fast down the hill to the fields where Jamie-Lee was already waiting at the stadium gates. The track coach was talking to Coach Maguire on the grass at the centerfield, where the Bradshaw girls would be practicing for Nationals. With her stood Kayla Maguire, Coach's oldest daughter.
The track kids were populating the stadium. Among them, Rosalie recognized Dylan Cox. As she skidded up to the gate, she caught him waving from afar. She waved back as she turned to Jamie, panting, and said, "Hey, sorry I took so long."
"I literally just got here, you're fine," Jamie laughed, arms folded over the fence. He pointed to Coach and said, "So you think this is gonna work?"
Rosalie straightened her cutoff tshirt, panting a little from the run. "Yeah, Coach loves me," she said.
But when it came time to going up to the announcer's room, Coach just had the keys in her hands when Rosalie explained, "Oh, I won't be up here. Jaime-Lee will."
Coach looked back at her. Kayla rose an eyebrow from where she was poised on one of the top benches on the stands. They were in the shade of the Fortress tower, at the very top of the stands. From this vantage point, Rosalie could see her teammates coming down the hill.
Rosalie offered a reassuring smile and, with a nudge of her elbow, prompted Jamie-Lee to do the same.
"Berry," Coach repeated. "You want me to give Berry Fortress clearance?"
"I'll be on my best behavior," Jamie-Lee said.
Kayla snorted, looking away. "Yeah right," she said.
Jamie-Lee twisted around, hands on his hips, and said, "You don't even know me."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Yeah, but I know a liar when I see one."
As Jamie-Lee feigned offense, a hand over his chest, Coach sighed. "I'm sure that's what you said when you were fired from announcement duties sophomore year," she said.
Rosalie grimaced. She had completely forgotten about the fact that Jamie-Lee had been nominated as an announcer for being a general loud-mouth in class. He had a reputation by the middle of fall semester freshmen year for being the class clown and, when he wasn't annoying, he was winning everyone's hearts. It was only fair that Jamie-Lee was nominated by Stud.Co. to be a morning announcer, but that privilege was swiped away when Jamie-Lee very explicitly stated that his ass was up for grabs.
Rosalie wanted to facepalm so terribly, but instead, she just looked constipated when Coach turned back to her with a raised eyebrow. "We... won't be using it during any public or school-wide events," she offered, hopefully, with a strained smile.
"My ass is no longer up for grabs, if that sweetens the deal at all," Jamie-Lee said.
Jamie! Rosalie screamed in her head, horrified. Behind them, Kayla pointedly looked away, a hand over her mouth to muffle her snort of amusement.
He shrugged. "What? It's true. And besides, I won't even be using the microphone. I'm just using the aux cable."
Coach crossed her arms, suspicious, and said, "For what, exactly?"
Rosalie explained the situation as she had with Dylan. She considered it a win when Coach Maguire didn't stop her from talking after the first few words, and by the end of it, Coach looked less skeptical and more... suspicious. Rosalie clasped her hands under her chin, biting her lip, and waited for Coach to respond.
Coach opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "Thank you for confirming my suspicions about you and Spencer."
Rosalie slapped her hands to her legs as Jamie-Lee burst into laughter. She rolled her eyes and said, "That is what you got out of my idea? Coach!"
"If this is going to affect the team—"
"It won't—"
"It'll bring the team together," Jamie-Lee said.
Rosalie turned back to scowl at him while Coach put a hand to her forehead and massaged her temple. "Look, all I'm saying is that I don't want this to distract you from doing your best. Both of you."
Rosalie thought about how Jamie-Lee had used his ass (mostly for shits and giggles) in Bradshaw's match against Adams. It scored him a goal, too. But thinking about that made Rosalie shake her head. No, she thought. We aren't like that. We won't be like that.
But Rosalie had never been in a relationship before. She wasn't quite sure what would change. She liked how things were, back before Arden Dodge moved to Georgia and joined the Saint Carter Conquerers.
"We won't be distracted," Rosalie said, shaking her head. "And can kick me off the team if Jamie-Lee does something stupid in the Fortress."
"Whoa, hey, don't put that on me," Jamie-Lee said.
"I won't kick you off the team, but I can give you detention," Coach said, narrowing her eyes. She looked between both of them, and Rosalie swallowed hard under Coach's sinister gaze. "I can give both of you detention, so no horsing around."
Jamie-Lee saluted her. "Understood, ma'am."
"What do you say, Kayla?" Coach said, and Rosalie tensed, turning around to look the brat in the eyes.
Kayla studied them both with a look of disdain before saying, "It sounds like a Disney movie schtick. I'm into it."
Coach clapped her hands and said, "Well, there ya have it. I'll give Berry clearance, then."
The relief was all-consuming. Rosalie slumped with a sigh and a smile that Jamie-Lee shared.
With that, Coach let them into the booth and showed Jamie-Lee the sound controls. Rosalie lingered at the door, still feeling awkward setting foot in such a restricted area. Jamie, on the other hand, was right at home in the office chair in front of the microphone. Rosalie brought a finger to her lips as she leant out of the Fortress and watched the girls down at the center field, stretching in a circle.
Rosalie cleared her throat. "I should probably go get warmed up," she said, gesturing to the field.
"—and this switch turns on the main loudspeaker," Coach was saying.
"This one, right here?" Jamie-Lee said, pointing to it. Coach confirmed it, so Jamie flicked it on. Rosalie heard the electricity buzz up around the speakers where they clicked on—subtly, and likely unnoticed by the people on the field. "And then I just talk into the microphone here?" Jamie said.
Rosalie slapped a hand over her face when she heard his voice muffled on the speakers. She could see a group of runners on the track look up at the Fortress. Kayla stepped up beside her, arms crossed and leaning into the Fortress to watch her mother say, "Yes."
Jamie made a point to clear his throat before leaning over and saying in his best morning radio host voice, "Goooood afternoon Bradshaw!"
Kayla laughed, clapping her hands as Rosalie turned beet red. She swore she heard someone on the field say, "Is that Berry up there? How'd he get into the Fortress?" Meanwhile, Coach closed her eyes, a hand over her mouth, her barely restrained laughter shaking her shoulders. Rosalie peeked between her fingers and looked at the track guys on the edge of the field—the ones gathering for discus outside of the stadium. She could practically see Dylan shaking his head at them.
"And then I just turn it off like—this?" Jamie said, flipping the switch.
Kayla and Coach were still cracking up. Rosalie had never seen her coach laugh so hard before. Jamie-Lee flipped the switch back on to say, "Okay, I'm leaving now. Thanks for your attention—get back to work!"
"What's goin' on up there?!" someone shouted, and Rosalie spotted Brynn Fox standing, hands cupped over her mouth, amidst the circle of soccer girls.
Rosalie started down the steps and threw her arms up in a I-don't-know fashion. Brynn mimicked her, and she saw Juliana put her head in her hands from where she was sitting in the circle with everyone else.
Rosalie jogged down the stairs and across the stands. The gate to the fields was open at the end of the stadium stands, and when Rosalie swung through, she narrowly dodged being flattened by a group of track runners jogging by. She apologized profusely, and one of the guys made a point of bowing like she was royalty and saying, "Please, do pass, my Queen."
"That was months ago!" Rosalie squeaked, heat swelling to her cheeks. The group of runners laughed and someone started bowing, hands out and all. She waved her hands, trying to get him to stop, but then everyone was doing it as she ran to the grass, crying, "It's not even Homecoming—!"
She ran across the field, horrified by the attention. She put her hands to her flaming cheeks and dropped down into the circle between Luanna and Jordan. Luanna scowled at the runners as they went by, and beside her, Ray got to her feet and flipped them off. One of the runners blew a kiss at her until the exact moment they caught sight of Lennie scowling at them from the edge of the field. The runner cursed and waved quickly, saying, "I was kidding! Kidding, dude."
"For your sake, you better have," Lennie said.
Ray hunkered back down, hands on her knees, shaking her head. "I can't believe we have to deal with the track thugs now," she said, annoyed. "Fuck track season."
"You were in track every other year," Juliana said.
"Yeah, 'cause we weren't in season," Ray said, "and I was a hoe back then. Still am, if I'm being honest. But don't get me wrong—I've got class."
The girls all laughed, and Rosalie smiled, still thoroughly frazzled by the Fortress and the track guys. She scanned the circle and stopped at Joanna, who was looking at something over her shoulder until that exact moment. She turned, her fluffy, orange ponytail swishing over her shoulder. Joanna met her gaze with sharp eyes, and Rosalie felt her heart stammer in her chest.
Today wasn't the day, but Prom was closing in. At the lunch table, the seniors on their team all had photos of their dresses on their camera rolls, and Rosalie had yet to even consider what she was going to wear. She had an idea, but it required coordination. She needed to wait for Joanna to decide.
She sat anxiously at the lunch table with Jamie-Lee at her side where Sami used to sit. She couldn't stop her leg from bouncing, her hands clasped together in front of her mouth. She could picture prom now, at the forefront of her mind, and she knew it was all too good to be true. She knew she shouldn't be getting her hopes up. She knew better than this. She knew—
Across from her, a lunch bag dropped onto the table. She looked up just as Lennie Pittmen was sitting down. Juliana shifted over to make room for him as he said, "When's the big day?"
"Today, hopefully," Rosalie said with a small, nervous smile. "I've... never done anything like this before."
"I'll be coordinating with Dylan," Jamie explained. "That'll be easy, though. He's got discus practice today."
Rosalie couldn't eat all through lunch. Her appetite had vanished along with her sanity. She was jittery, anxious, and altogether excited for practice that day. She could barely sit through French, let alone study hall, when her mind became entirely wrapped around practice, where she would pretend nothing was out of the ordinary for all of one hour, at which point she would dismiss herself and tell Coach Maguire, "Hey, I gotta leave early. For my appointment."
She clasped her hands innocently behind her back. Coach narrowed her eyes and glanced at the Fortress. Rosalie nodded. "Fine," Coach sighed.
Rosalie let out a breath of relief. She thanked Coach and turned back to cross the field. She passed Ray, who slapped her on the ass and said, "See ya later, Mason."
Rosalie jumped and scowled at her. Ray snickered and gave her a cute little wave.
"You're leaving?!" Brynn cried from down the line. Her knees were all stained with grass when Rosalie passed her.
"Yeah, I'll see you later," she promised.
She jogged across the track to the gate, where she pushed it open and turned back to shut it. As she did, she looked to the goal. Joanna was watching her, her messy hair swept up into a bun on the top of her head. The air in Rosalie's lungs left her, and in its absence, she felt her heart thudding louder and harder than before. She turned on her heels and left the gate to rattle shut on its own.
At the locker room, Rosalie slipped off her cleats and padded across the tiled flooring to the soccer girls' spring locker room. It was separate from the regular strips of lockers used by students in gym class, and there, she found herself alone.
Rosalie paused in the middle of the room. She passed her hands through her hair and let out a shuddering breath. She tugged her ponytail out only to pull it back again, her teeth clenched tight as she thought to herself over and over again: You can do this, you can do this, don't chicken out—
She opened her locker door and swapped her cleats for her uniform shoes. She shimmied out of her workout shorts and buttoned up her high-waisted slacks. She didn't feel like changing into her uniform shirt, so she tucked in her gym shirt—a cutoff t-shirt from a soccer camp freshmen year.
She slammed her locker door shut and turned to check herself out in the mirror. When she did, she screamed in fright, her eyes landing instead on the open doorway where Joanna Spencer stood.
"Holy crap! Joanna!" Rosalie cried, gasping, a hand over her heart.
"What the hell are you doing," Joanna said.
"Nothing," she said, breathless. She watched, eyes wide, as Joanna crossed the threshold.
Joanna, who had only spoken the same three words to her every day for weeks now, stepped up to the bench at the center of the room. She crossed her arms, eyes gliding down from Rosalie's stunned gaze. Subconsciously, Rosalie took a step back, her hand going to the locker room door.
Joanna scanned the room. Rosalie felt the urge to hide something, but there was nothing physical to hide, as far as she knew. She swallowed hard, her heart pulsing in her throat as Joanna came closer and put out a hand to the locker next to her.
"You want me to repeat myself, Mason?" Joanna said, her voice low.
"I... I have to go—and you should get back to the field," Rosalie said. She took a step to the side, and Joanna watched her all the way. Rosalie glanced at the door and back again.
Joanna dropped her hand from the locker. "Fine. But aren't you forgetting something?"
Rosalie blinked. Was she?
Joanna tapped her knuckles to Rosalie's locker. "Your backpack?" she said.
"O-Oh, right, yeah. Thanks," Rosalie said, scrambling back. She reached for the padlock, and as she spun the numbers in, Joanna didn't move. She could feel Joanna's heat against her shoulder, and smell the sweat from practice on both of them, mingling together as Rosalie's ears turned red with heat.
She opened her locker for the split second it took to snag her backpack and sling it over one shoulder. "Okay—going now, and... you should too," Rosalie said with barely restrained urgency. If Joanna wasn't on the field, none of this would work.
"Nah, I've got time," Joanna said. Rosalie couldn't breathe. "I'll walk you to the parking lot."
Rosalie's voice failed her. She shut her mouth and nodded. When she turned, she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder at Joanna, who was following close behind, expression deadly calm. Rosalie shivered as she led the way out of the locker room, through the cafeteria, and to the courtyard. All the while, Joanna remained just a step behind her. Rosalie distinctly felt as if Joanna was walking her to her death, but rather than dying, Joanna would simply catch her in all of her lies.
They crossed the concrete courtyard. It was empty by now, and the parkinglot was occupied only by vehicles owned by athletes. Rosalie had no idea what to do aside from a half-hearted claim that she would be walking home. That was five miles, at least, and she didn't want to risk Joanna sitting out here waiting with her for a car that would never come.
Instead, however, a familiar blue Maserati peeled up to the curb. The horn blared, and Rosalie thought, That can't be Lennie Pittmen in there.
Rosalie stilled on the sidewalk. Joanna stepped up beside her, arms crossed, thoroughly displeased as the driver's side opened and—
Jamie-Lee Berry stepped out, smiling like an idiot.
"Well, well, well," Joanna droned. "Didn't know you could drive, Berry."
"You'd be surprised by what I can do," Jamie-Lee said, and made a show of licking his lips.
Rosalie went to the passenger's side. She couldn't be more relieved to see Jamie-Lee. She dropped her backpack to the floor and swung in. Once the door was shut, Jamie dropped in, and Rosalie looked out at Joanna.
Joanna watched as Jamie put the car into drive and slowly, gently, pulled away from the curb. He navigated the parking lot, and Rosalie glanced over her shoulder to where Joanna was still standing on the curb. "She's still watching," Rosalie said.
"I can't leave the parking lot—I don't have my license and Lennie told me not to leave the lot. I barely have a permit!" Jamie said, panicked.
"It's fine! We'll just—go around the block and come back," Rosalie insisted.
Jamie-Lee slowed at the stop sign, blinker on. Rosalie had never seen a car crawl as slowly as Lennie's Maserati did in that moment. She held her breath, one hand grasping the dashboard, the other on the window ledge. The car stopped. A car went by the intersection. Jamie let out a calming breath and rolled out of the parking lot.
They were on the road.
"Okay, good, good, keep going," Rosalie prompted.
"Lennie's gonna murder me," Jamie breathed, horrified.
"It's fine—I'll be your meat shield," she promised.
She looked to the front of Bradshaw. Just as they were getting to the edge of the fence, she saw Joanna turn to head back inside. She sighed, relaxing against the leather. "Okay, she's heading back inside."
"Thank God," he said, turning around the block to park the car on the curb. He closed his eyes and crossed his fingers over his chest.
Rosalie rubbed his shoulder and gaving it a tight, reassuring squeeze. If they could survive the chaos of the Bradshaw parking lot, a jaunt around the block would be smooth as silk. She coached him through it, and soon, they were circling back around to the boulevard outside the front of Bradshaw. They drived slowly over the parking lot speed bumps and, at last, found a parking spot far from the rest of the Bradshaw vehicle population. Jamie pulled through so Lennie wouldn't have to back out, and afterwards, Jamie pushed the ignition button. The car shut off.
The instant they were out of the car, Jamie threw himself at Rosalie and hugged her, screaming, "I thought we were gonna die!"
Rosalie laughed, giggling as he rubbed his cheek against hers like a cat marking its scent. "It's fine! You're alive, I'm alive, we're all breathing."
Jamie-Lee double-checked that he had Lennie and the Fortress's keys before running ahead, around the far side of Bradshaw where they'd sneak in through the back of the Fortress. Rosalie chased after him at a jog. Soon, they were running across the fields, along wire fencing, and past the baseball fields. The stadium stands blocked the track from view and, therefore, the sight of Jamie-Lee and Rosalie running up to the back of the stands. Rosalie checked her phone for the time. Practice would be ending in ten minutes.
At the back of the stadium stands, there was a concrete walkway where a concessions stand was attached to the bottom of the announcement tower. There, Jamie-Lee unlocked the Fortress stairwell with Coach's keys. Once open, they ran up the stairs, circling around each flight, as Rosalie said, "I can't believe we're doing this—Oh my God—" while Jamie leapt in the air, fists up, and said, "It's gonna be awesome!"
Up in the Fortress, Jamie-Lee hooked up his phone to the aux chord and handed Rosalie the wireless microphone. He flipped it on and, after opening the audio, he poised a hand over the on switch.
They both looked to the field.
Dylan was entering the stadium, crossing the track. He went to the goal where he snagged Joanna around the neck and gave her a nuggie. Joanna thrashed and started cussing him out, hissing, "You piece of shit, Cox—"
"How's it goin', Spencer? Huh, huh?" Dylan said, teasingly, as Joanna groaned in frustration. He threw his head back and laughed when she successfully shook him off. She reeled back and jumped him from behind, latching her arms around his neck.
A whistle blew across the field. "Cox! Get off my field!" Coach Maguire shouted, snapping her fingers at him.
The two defenders on Joanna's side were laughing. Joanna had him hostage, though, and when he tried going past the goal, she grabbed at the post with both hands, her legs still locked around his waist. She gritted her teeth and held on, stretching farther and farther as Dylan's feet skidded and slid in the grass. Coach started blowing her whistle again, shouting, "Don't you dare pull a muscle, Spencer! Pittmen!"
Lennie jogged over, saying, "On it!"
"I have thighs of steel!" Joanna shouted back, clawing a hand at Lennie, who ducked to avoid getting scratched. "Back the fuck up, Pittmen!"
Something sparked on the stadium speakers.
Dylan stilled. Lennie halted. Joanna looked back from where she was completely parallel to the ground, her back to the grass. Something was humming on the speakers, and after a second, the static ceased.
The speakers ticked again, and a voice said, "If you change you mind—"
"Fuck—" Joanna cursed, her grip slipping. She landed flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her. With a groan, she twisted onto her side, pushing herself to her elbows to the sound of—
"—I'm the first in line—honey, I'm still free—take a chance on me..."
Rosalie was, by no means, a singer, but Joanna recognized her voice in an instant, speaking through the lines, dragging out the verse from the top of the stadium stairs.
All motion ceased on the field, the track, the discus court. With practice coming to a close, everything had been pure chaos outside of the soccer field, but all of that quieted at the sight of Rosalie Mason taking three quick steps down, singing, "If you need me, LET ME KNOW—Gonna be a-round! If you got no-place to go—when you're feel-in' down—"
Joanna sprung to her feet and turned to run, but Dylan was there, catching her by the shoulders and spinning her back around. "Oh, God—no..." Joanna moaned, miserably, her hands going to her face. She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt Dylan laugh behind her, his arms hooked around her shoulders.
Bouncy instrumentals started pinging on the speakers in tune with Rosalie jumping atop one of the center benches, a few paces down from some students lingering on the stands. They watched, eyes wide, jaws in their laps, as Rosalie threw her arm out, the microphone to her mouth—
"Gonna do my ver-y best, and it ain't no lie, if you put me TO the test, if you let me try—!" she sang, confidence spurred on by the group of girls on the stand clapping and giggling. Rosalie looked to them, grinning, her adrenaline higher than ever. She jogged across the stand with a bounce in her step, singing as she sashayed to and fro.
"Take a chance on me..." she sang, low and slow, a hand to her chest. She looked to the field, where Joanna's fiery hair stood out against the grass, against Dylan holding her still and in range of Lennie, who's jaw was on the ground.
She put her hand out in their direction and sighed in a sultry whisper, "That's all I ask of you, honey..."
She swayed to the side, jumping to the next bench, and crossed one leg back, carrying herself across the stands as she all but breathed into the mic, "We can go dancin'... we can go walkin'... as long as we're together...!"
Someone on the track whistled, and it got the soccer girls going in an instant. Rosalie laughed despite herself, giddy beyond belief. She could feel herself shaking, the adrenaline pulsing and pumping in her veins as she watched Joanna wither at the sight of the girls all chanting the lyrics together, clapping their hands overhead.
She looked back at the Fortress. Through the window glare, she saw Jamie hold a thumbs up. She continued on, hopping to the stairs, and put her hand up as she sang loud and clear and far too confident for her musical incompetency, "IF YOU'RE ALL A-LONE—WHEN THE PRETTY BIRDS HAVE FLOWN—HONEY, I'M STILL FREE!"
She bounded to the railing along the edge of the track, her steps rattling the metal stands. She shimmied her shoulders as she crossed down along the bottom edge of the stands, singing, "LET ME TELL YOU NOW!" She pointed a finger at Joanna, over the heads of the runners that were stopped in their tracks to stand and stare at her. "My love is strong enough! To last when things are rough! It's ma-gic!"
She swung her arm up to the side, sliding her feet together with a bright smile on her lips when Joanna lowered her hands from her eyes and down to her mouth, her face so damn red it matched her hair.
Rosalie pointed to her chest and said, "You say that I waste my time—" She put her hand to the sky and leveled it down to Joanna. "But I can't get you off my mind—! No, I can't let go—!"
Rosalie reached the edge of the stadium stairs. She grabbed the edge of the fence and vaulted over it, legs swinging over the wires. She landed smoothly, and the runners near her clapped and hollered.
"'Cause I love you so—!"
She skipped to the final verse, and bounced to each step across the track, giggling when she heard her teammates singing with her. She crossed the grass, smiling like the idiot she was, because she couldn't believe that, somehow, she had cornered Joanna Spencer to feed her her own medicine.
Now she knows how I feel about Homecoming—about all of it, she thought, lowering the microphone as she reached Dylan and Joanna. Dylan stood at her side, a hand over his mouth as he looked between Joanna and Rosalie, eyes wide.
And Joanna—
Joanna stood, stone-still, her hands clasped over her mouth. Her entire face was blochy and pink. Her light brown eyes were focused solely on Rosalie and followed her down to where Rosalie put one knee to the grass, squarely between Dylan and Joanna.
Rosalie felt her adrenaline catching up to her, and it caused her voice to hitch as she looked Joanna in the eye and said, "Will you go to Prom with me?"
Joanna looked at the microphone. Rosalie shut it off. Joanna looked at Dylan, stammering, "I—I—"
Dylan sniffed. "I'm gonna cry," he said, voice watery. Beside him, Lennie said, "You're so dramatic."
"Joanna," Rosalie said, and Joanna turned back, her bun slipping from when she hit the grass. It settled at her shoulders as Rosalie said, "Everyone will think I'm going with Dylan. T—Just tell me what you really want to say."
Joanna sucked in a deep breath and whispered, "Fuck yes. Yes, I want to."
Rosalie laughed, her smile widening. She looked down at her feet, at the microphone grasped firmly in both hands. She pushed herself up and said, "Okay, cool."
Joanna's expression fell. "'Okay, cool'? That's all you can fucking say?" she said, and Rosalie laughed nervously. "What the fuck!" Joanna's voice cracked into an absurd laugh.
Dylan fanned his eyes like the dramatic child he was and said, "Okay! Okay, I'll go with you!"
Rosalie threw her head back and laughed. Dylan lunged at her, hugging her around the waist and heaving her up. They spun, and Rosalie's head swirled as she giggled, hugging him around the neck. At every circle, Rosalie looked to Joanna, who slapped a hand over her forehead as the entire stadium of athletes erupted into cheers.
a/n: Apologies for any spelling errors. I got mad at iOS's updated autocorrect/error detection so I just turned it all off lol
WHO HERE LOVES 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU AS MUCH AS I DO?? I've commissioned my artist friend to draw a new cover for MMW that mimics the 10 Things I Hate About You poster.