Even if God had created everything on Earth, I would have sworn that bleachers had been invented by Satan.
There was nothing comfortable about the lukewarm metal, and I tried to sit on the back of my hands to provide at least some sort of cushion. It didn't work. When Amber turned her head to the left, her hair in a high bun and a foil wrap wrinkled between her fingers, she visibly recoiled at my indignant glower.
"What?" she had the audacity to ask me before she bit into her hot dog. As she chewed the processed meat and pretended to enjoy it, all I could focus on was a tiny spot of mustard painted on her upper lip, almost like a discolored beauty mark. The pumped-up roars did eventually break me out of the trance, and I winced as a few hundred teenagers whooped and clapped at the agile cheerleaders.
"You tricked me," I accused Amber the second they quieted down. "You knew I'd never willingly succumb to the torture that is American football. High school American football."
My best friend rolled her eyes, still not fully done chewing as she replied. "Get over it, Lizzie. We're here for a good cause."
"Watching your boyfriend wrestle with other guys on a patch of grass does not constitute a good cause."
"Our boyfriends," she corrected me, earning another angry glare from me.
"Neither one of us is in an official relationship."
"Yet."
"Look, I admire your optimism, I really do," I lied, and her knowing smirk called me out on it. "But just because we're twiddling thumbs at their game, it doesn't mean Troy or Aiden will get inspired to do a grand romantic gesture. Life isn't like that Fever Pitch movie. Which, by the way, I still think was totally unrealistic."
She didn't hear me. As Arizona Bulls, our school team, entered the spacious field, Amber jumped up on her feet and started chanting Troy's name. The camera around her neck bounced against her chest until she remembered that she was supposed to be taking pictures for the yearbook. By some miracle, the number nine heard her, and he grinned and waved at her as she abused the shutter button. Meanwhile, I was trying to camouflage myself by rounding my shoulders, praying Aiden wouldn't notice me. If I hadn't known he was the one in a purple jersey with a giant, black twelve on it, I could have never pointed him out.
"I hate you," I wailed. "If Aiden sees me here, he's going to think I'm stalking him. And I could have been at home, doing something more productive with my time."
"Like what?" Amber scoffed as she plunked herself back down on the seat next to me. "Posting more ridiculous videos of Berlioz on your new TikTok account?"
"Yes," I hissed, my voice deadpan serious.
You'd think that my infamous dress code fiasco would have stopped me from ever using the app again, but it had managed to do the opposite. When Maddie shot an adorable video of Berlioz dipping his own tail into his salmon-flavored cat pâté and then trying to lick it clean, I decided to upload it and allow the internet to gush and aww over his cuteness. My friends and Aiden immediately followed me, so I got about a hundred followers in a single night. I could have never repeated my initial success, but it was honestly for the best.
The original account was doing fantastic, even more so now after the report. The influx of comments had become a steady, powerful stream, and despite my best efforts, I could no longer keep up with the notifications. They weren't all sunshine and rainbows, anyway.
"Come on, Liz," Amber yelled in my direction, taking a photo of my assumingly frowning countenance. Her voice sounded miles away, muffled and slightly contorted, although there was a mere three-inch distance between us. "This is fun! And you'll have to go to all of Aiden's games if you two start dating, so you'd better get used to it."
I watched the footballers shake the opponent team's hands, the white and purple jerseys like a duo of wiggly lines hugging and intercepting. The Gilbert Tigers' quarterback gave Aiden a sour smile, prompting me to believe there was history between them. Or maybe I was making it up, desperately searching for distractions, thinking that if this was how my life was going to look like from now on, I would have rather been in a coma until college.
I opened my mouth to say the exact same thing to my friend, but the sports commentator chose that moment to announce the national anthem. The cacophony of howling laughter and screaming chorus slowly piped down, a decrescendo of jungle noises now replaced by thundering, patriotic singing. Nothing said 'I love my country' like belting words out of tune.
"Fine," I relented, grabbing the other side of the banner Amber had pulled out of her backpack. "But be prepared for dumb questions."
⁂
When the referee's whistle signaled the end of the final quarter, the roles were reversed. It was Amber now who wanted to strangle me.
"Is it over?" I asked her, pure glee radiating from my face. She scowled.
"Remind me never to ask you to tag along again."
"Thank God," I joked, "because I was going to question you what the numbers on the ground meant next."
It wasn't like I bugged her every time a player got tackled down at the fifty-yard line or passed a ball to someone else. I just wanted to understand the terms like 'great coverage' or 'approaching the endzone'. I knew when to cheer, mostly because Amber would get up and start hopping like a frog on steroids, and I was pretty familiar with the concept of a touchdown. The points system still confused me. The Bulls somehow ended up beating the yellow-helmeted Tigers with forty-eight to thirty-five, which was apparently a fine score.
It was interesting to see Amber so invested in a sports game. I knew she and her parents were avid fans of the national team, but until an hour ago, I had never gotten a chance to witness her exuberant excitement firsthand. To me it was fascinating but foreign, almost like sitting through a space rock opera. I had understood it approximately the same, checking the time every five minutes and wishing it would be over soon – yet once it was done, I was grateful for the experience, if only because I could now definitely say I wished never to repeat it.
"You're coming with, right?" Amber asked me as the cheerleaders showed off their winning routine. I noticed Mel perched on Naomi's shoulders, grinning like she was on top of the world instead of a wobbly pyramid of thin limbs.
"Where?" I finally answered when I saw her raising an eyebrow at my silence.
"Some of the guys from the team are going to celebrate at McDonald's after the game. Troy asked me to join them."
"Seriously?" I whined, remembering the excruciating mockery during the Liz-is-a-meme period. "Amber, we have nothing in common."
"What about Aiden?"
"Aiden? I wouldn't do it if Harry Styles himself invited me."
She eyed me in annoyance. "Most of the cheerleaders will come, too. If I can handle Naomi, you can handle some crude football humor."
I shook my head, irritated by the predicament. It was so typical of Amber to make plans without me and then expect me to just roll with it. If I had been sure she could get home safely afterward, I would have left her to catch a ride with Troy, but I still didn't trust him completely. My thoughts made me scan the stadium for the person in question, if only to send him telepathic thoughts to get his ducks in a row and finally ask my best friend out.
As I watched him take off his black helmet, something else caught my attention. The whole varsity team headed for the middle of the field where he stood, gesticulating and waving their hands, pointing at the white markings on the field as if aliens had left crop circles overnight.
"What are they doing?" I tilted my head at Amber, wondering if this was also an unusual celebration practice that I was unfamiliar with. An alien invasion did seem a bit farfetched.
She was too busy squinting at them through her camera lenses to answer, so my attention was quickly drawn back to the sixteen players. They seemed to be forming some kind of pattern, so the two of us stood on our tiptoes to see better, competing with hundreds of teens who had gotten the same idea.
"Does that say 'HC?', or am I blind?" Amber gaped just as Aiden produced what appeared to be a small, wireless microphone. Troy, positioned as the dot on the question mark, caught the flying device. He then raised his arm to prompt the crowd to give him a vocal drumroll, and the audience whooped battle cries until he wordlessly commanded everyone to hush.
"Thank you all for coming!" he beamed and bowed.
His words were followed by another wave of rambunctious support.
"I just wanna say two things before you all leave and get wasted off your asses," he continued ten seconds later, trapping everyone's attention like a magician. "And the first one is, Gilbert Tigers, you played a good game. We were better," he stopped to laugh at another shower of cheers, interspersed with a few boos this time, "but you guys were a kick to play with. Moving on," the microphone screeched, "there's someone special here today."
Troy raised his hand and pointed in our direction, and I could almost hear the moment Amber's heart stopped beating. "Amber Price is the most chill girl I've ever met, and I am lucky for every minute I get to spend with this awesome chick. I never wanted a girlfriend before, but Amber, the day you walked into that bowling alley and I had to pick your shoes, I knew I found my Cinderella. So, Amber..." he pulled up his jersey with his other hand, flashing the whole audience with big, glittery purple letters that spelled out her name. "Homecoming?"
A shadow darted in front of me, leaving a camera on the bleachers in its wake. The boisterous crowd cheered as Amber ran toward Troy, leaping over several stairs at once, dashing across half the field until she jumped into Troy's arms. The sound system transferred the boom of the microphone hitting the ground, rolling, coming to a halt, all the while Amber pushed her lips against Troy's with such force that he barely remained on his feet.
"Show-off," I muttered under my breath, grinning from ear to ear and clapping.
The entire stadium rose in unison and gave them a standing ovation, and the support hailed from all the directions, even from the opponent's team. When Amber's soles touched the ground again, other football players patted Troy on the back and yelled out deafening congratulations. My bestie lifted the forgotten device before someone stepped on it and grinned, bringing it up to her collarbone.
"In case it wasn't clear, that was a yes."
Troy grabbed her hand and raised it up above their heads in celebration, inspiring another onset of chanting. The cheerleaders did an impromptu dance, spelling out their names together. The only person frowning was Naomi, but that was expected, seeing that she and Amber were far from brushing each other's hair.
As the team slowly started retreating to the locker room, Troy picked Amber up bridal style. She yelped in protest and jokingly slapped his heaving chest, trying to wriggle out. She still let him carry her away, laughing and happily sparkling the entire way.
I waited for everyone at the entrance, and I wasted the minutes away by editing another video of Berlioz – this time of him playing with a pear – when Amber came out with Troy and Aiden. They were both wearing their normal clothes now, showered and glowing with victorious energy, and my heart hiccupped when Aiden threw his arm around my shoulders.
"What a game, huh?" he asked me like he expected a proper commentary from an enthusiastic fan.
"Oh, yes," I frantically nodded. "The best one I've ever seen."
I didn't have the emotional resolve to tell him it was also the only one I had ever watched. Besides, he seemed satisfied with my response, the tips of his fingers gently squeezing my shoulder before letting me go.
If anyone had told me a month ago that I would be disappointed with the duration of a side hug, I would have called them crazy.
"I'm so happy you came today," Troy whispered into Amber's ear, grinning. "Imagine you ditched me and I got stuck talking to a half-empty stadium. Awkward."
"Imagine that," she giggled like a schoolgirl. "I guess you're lucky to have me."
"I know I'm lucky to have you. You always find the best pennies."
"Please, keep it PG," Aiden teased them.
"You're just jealous," Troy nudged him. If it had been me instead of Aiden, I would have probably been launched into the orbit. "Stop being a wuss and ask your own lady out."
A group of teenage girls scurried past me, and one of them almost hit me with her bony shoulder. My brows furrowed when I realized what Troy had just said.
I hadn't even thought about Homecoming. I had always assumed our girl-power group could go together like the last two years, dressing up and laughing in one of our bedrooms, dancing until ten p.m. when the teachers usually shooed us away, and then having a sleepover and whispering silly jokes until we all dozed off.
But it made sense that things would change now. Amber was going with Troy. Julia was probably going to find some college grandma to bring over as her date and show a big middle finger to Jeffrey. Grace, if she didn't find the guts to dump her boyfriend in the meantime, would drag Rob and try to get him to dance with her for approximately three quarters of a song. And when it came to my own date, unless I was as clueless as Cher Horowitz, Aiden was bound to take me.
Right?
The guy in question whistled, winking at me before turning back to his friend. This was the only guy in the universe who could have made winking attractive, and I was completely down for it.
"Not a chance I'm letting you outshine me. It has to be the right moment. Besides, Homecoming is in what, two weeks?"
"Always the last minute with your dumb ass," Troy muttered as he embraced Amber. "Are we going? I could eat a cow."
But before Amber and I could explain why beef wasn't so enticing to us anymore, our phones pinged at the same time. We instantly whipped them out, and I knew she was reading the same message I was.
Grace: Rob is canceled.
Amber: ???
Liz: For real?
Grace: Yup.
Grace: We broke up.
I looked at Amber in understanding. "I can go alone. Troy can give you a ride home, right?"
There was only a moment of hesitation in her eyes, flickering like a ping-pong ball between two drastically different evenings. But then she pressed her lips together and nodded.
"Sorry, Troy," Amber gave him a sad smile. "Looks like we'll have to reschedule."
He looked disappointed, but to his credit, he tried hard not to show it. He kissed Amber's temple and slid her a small, round item. "For your thoughts. Text me tonight."
You guessed it. It was a penny.
⁂
"Guys, I'm fine, seriously," Grace let out a laugh as soon as she opened the door and let us in. She was already wearing her Chinese Zodiac pajamas, a big twelve-part circle filled with red-colored animals taking up most of her top, tiny replicas splattered all over the bottoms. Most of the silhouettes were adorable, but the monkey looked scary, reminding me of the ferocious capuchin that had attacked me at the Olsen twins' party. I inwardly shuddered.
"Fine won't cut it," Amber glared at our friend, bringing me back to the present. "I gave up on McDonald's for you, and their fries are basically a drug."
As Grace scrunched up her nose in disgust, I quietly closed the door. We trailed behind her to the bedroom, roaming the tastefully decorated hallway, the house surprisingly empty and devoid of high-pitched cries.
"My parents took Tao and Jun to a Chinese restaurant to teach them about American food," Grace explained. "They figured they should start adapting gradually."
I gave her a solemn nod. "We came here as fast as we could."
"Yeah, Liz earned us two middle fingers and one very angry honk in the endeavor," Amber playfully bumped me with her hip, happy she wasn't the horrible driver for once. As Grace sat on her bed, her hands in her lap and her nails coated with fresh polish, we joined her on each side and ruffled her duck egg blue comforter.
"What happened?" Amber broke the silence first. Her phone notified her about a new message, probably from Troy, but she ignored it. I assumed that she didn't want to steal the spotlight with her good news.
"I broke up with him," Grace repeated her text message. "It was about time, anyway."
Her eyes met mine, silently conveying every thought spiraling in her head. I kept my mouth shut – her feelings for Julia were hers to confess.
"Hallelujah, honestly," Amber loudly exhaled, plopping on the bed like a Disney princess and making herself comfortable. "I once had a dream that Rob became a dentist and bored me to death with stories about your new dentures. So I was sitting there, planning an escape through the window, suffering through his droning about how you two had decided you didn't need teeth anymore and he took them out, and when I woke up, do you know the worst thing that crossed my mind?"
"What?" Grace asked her, the tone more curious than upset.
"That I wasn't even sure if it was a dream or something that actually happened. I could legitimately imagine that guy saying that and you going along with it. It was like you had no spine around him, no offense."
Amber shrugged, as if any cruelty in her words could be excused by this simple movement, but it didn't really work on Grace.
"Yeah, well," she swallowed. "Sometimes, people would rather stay in a dream than face the reality. Even if that dream is actually a nightmare."
"That doesn't really make sense," Amber knitted her brows and sat up again, but I countered her complaint.
"It makes a lot of sense, actually."
I wanted to say more – a lot more – but I was interrupted by the doorbell. We all exchanged confused glances.
"Did you order pizza or something?"
Grace shook her head and started to get up, but Julia had already bolted through her bedroom door, breathing like she had run the Boston Marathon. It must have taken her less than five seconds.
"Jules?" Grace swallowed the lump in her throat. "What are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood," she cleared her throat, still catching her breath.
Everyone raised their eyebrows. Julia lived about five miles away, and she usually shared the car with her part-timer mom, who often worked nightshifts. Her shiny forehead and ragged inhales convinced me she hadn't driven here.
"I saw your message. I'm sorry," she continued.
Grace scoffed. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not sorry you two broke up. I'm sorry you're hurting."
Grace's eyes glistened, two full buckets threatening to spill out. Even Amber could sense something was up, and I stared as she casually slid into her peep-toe shoes, brushing invisible dust off her faux-leather skirt.
"Hey, Liz, do you think we should go get some post-break-up rations?"
"Rations?" I questioned, already up on my feet.
"You know. Emergency snacks."
"That's a great idea," Julia nodded, filling the vacant place that Amber had left behind. "Buy something greasy and comforting. We can watch that movie where guys get blown up."
I paused. "So like... office-box bombs?"
"Don't forget Snickers," Grace's tiny voice piped up. Amber gave her a thumb up before leaving the room, and I traipsed behind her, trying to catch up to her speedy form.
The last thing I saw before I closed the door was a hint of a smile on Grace's face and the relief on Julia's as the former took her hand in hers.