I’m jealous out of my mind, but I’m stil laughing hysterical y. Only Henry would do this to the new guy on his first day at a new school.

“You think it’s funny, do you?” Ty says, grinning. “I didn’t get home until after midnight. I showed up covered in mud and now I’m in trouble.”

“Hel yeah, it’s funny.”

“And that Kristen chick has been stalking me al day.”

I glance over at the cheerleader table, where Lacey continues to glare at JJ and the redheaded French fry slave. I locate Kristen, who is gazing over at us. She waves at Ty and blows him a kiss. I’m tempted to catch the kiss and pretend to crumple it up with my hand, throw it on the ground, and stomp on it.

Instead, I sip my chocolate milk and say, “Sucks to be you, man.”

He elbows me. “I think you planned the whole thing.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.” What is this? Third grade?

“Make it up to me.” He stares straight into my eyes. Breathe, Jordan, breathe. “I didn’t do anything wrong, so I’m not making anything up to you.”

“What are you doing after school today?”

JJ and I are going out to eat after school. I could invite Ty to get grub with us. I want to, but I just can’t—if he comes, I won’t be able to relax at al , and I need to freaking relax before tomorrow night’s game.

JJ and Carter final y come sit down at our table. The minute JJ’s back is turned and he’s facing me, I see Lacey stand up and go over to the redheaded freshman. I don’t need to read lips to know what Lacey’s saying. I’m pretty sure she just cal ed the girl a whore. The redheaded freshman gets up and rushes her tray to the dishwashing window, then bolts out of the cafeteria as tears fil her eyes.

the cafeteria as tears fil her eyes.

Ty leans over to me. “Did you see that?”

“Yup.”

“I take it she’s a bitch?”

“Yup. I’l go make sure that freshman’s okay once I’m done eating.” Gotta keep my energy up for the game tomorrow.

He stuffs more fries in his mouth. “You know, there’s no more dangerous creature on Earth than the teenage girl.”

“Hey! I’m a girl.” I punch him in the arm.

“Ow…” he says, rubbing his bicep, but then he smiles. “So about this afternoon?”

“I’m sorry—I have plans.”

“Oh, okay…”

“So who’s the redhead?” I ask JJ.

“No idea,” he says, shrugging. “Cute though, don’t you think?”

I don’t know what comes over me when I grab some of Ty’s French fries and say, “Hey, Ty, guess who I am?” and lean across the table toward Carter and start trying to feed him.

JJ and Ty laugh.

“Nasty,” Carter says, batting my hand away. “You know I hate school food, Woods.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, sitting back down in my chair. “These are the best steak fries in town.”

“Agreed,” Ty says. Smiling, he opens his mouth, like he wants me to give him a fry. So I pop one in his mouth.

Oh my God.

Did I just feed Ty a fry?

I should probably take my temperature.

stupid fitted tee

“What the hel ’s wrong with you, Henry?” I say, shoving him up against a locker.

“What?” he says, shoving me back.

“I told you to take Ty home, not let him get molested by Kristen.”

“He wasn’t complaining last night! I think he had a great time.”

I shake my head.

“What do you care what he does, Woods?” Smiling, he raises his eyebrows at me and looks down at my black tee.

“I don’t care.”

Henry keeps grinning. “Yeah, that’s bul shit. Since when do you wear shirts like that? We never get to see your boobs.” I shove him again. “Fuck, Woods, do you like this guy or something?” he whispers, shoving me back.

I move to shove him yet again, but he jumps out of the way. Damned bal erina reflexes. “I care about my team. Ty told me you didn’t drop him off until late. You shouldn’t be out past midnight two days before our first game.”

“So he made it home then?”

“What do you mean?”

“He wouldn’t let me take him al the way home. He had me let him out on the highway. It was weird, but I could tel he was serious. He didn’t want me anywhere near his house.”

How bad could his house be? Half the guys on my team live in trailers—it can’t be worse than that. I stare into Henry’s eyes and tan face, which has broken out recently. He never used to have acne, but now he’s got a smattering of it.

“Sam?” I say, grabbing his hand.

“Yeah?” he says, burying his other hand in his crazy hair.

“Um, I’m wondering if everything’s okay with you. Are you stressed out or anything?”

He sighs and leans against the lockers. “Yeah—

maybe a little.”

“Is it Carrie?”

He shakes his head.

“Then what’s up?”

He brushes the curls off his forehead and stares at his flip-flops. “I dunno…a lot’s up…Dad’s never home and Mom’s sadder than ever…I’m worried about col ege. I want to go so bad and I think a footbal scholarship is the only way my family wil be able to afford it.”

Judging by his eyes darting around and that familiar twitch of his mouth, I can tel he’s hiding something. But I rub his arm anyway and play along. “I know. But you’re great—just keep playing hard and you’l be fine. And I’m sure you can get some money since you have great grades.”

He stares at flyers tacked al over the bul etin board on the other side of the hal way. “I hope so. My future’s riding on footbal .”

“I get it,” I say, and looking away from Henry, I notice Ty coming down the hal . He stops for a sec when he sees me with Henry, but just passes right by us and doesn’t say anything as he goes into the art room. Henry smiles, shaking his head. “Listen, I won’t say anything to anyone about your liking Ty. Promise.”

I wince.

He bumps his fist into mine, then puts an arm around me and walks me down the hal toward music appreciation class. Now that we’re seniors and only appreciation class. Now that we’re seniors and only concentrate on footbal , I swear, we are taking some of the stupidest classes ever. Today we’re learning how to play the xylophone.

“Just keep wearing those shirts,” he says with a wink.

“He’l notice those boobs for sure.”

Before music appreciation/xylophone class starts, Henry and I are huddled over a piece of scrap paper, playing Hangman. I jot down _ _ _ / _ _ _ _ _ _.

“Category is famous footbal players.”

Henry says E, and I draw a head hanging from a noose. “A,” he says, and I fil in the second letter of both words. Then Marie walks up behind us, looks over Henry’s shoulder at Hangman, and says, “I know it.”

I snort, and Henry elbows my side and gives me a look. He pul s her onto his lap and wraps an arm around her waist. I sit up straight when he gives her a peck on the lips.

“I wish you could’ve come out with us yesterday, Jordan,” Marie says, and I shrug. “Ty was asking about you.”

“What? Sizing up his competition?” I ask Henry, who starts staring at the idiots trying to smash each other with cymbals on the other side of the room.

“No,” Marie says, smiling. “He wanted to know what you’re interested in. He wished you had come out too.”

I sit up even straighter. “I had stuff to do.”

“How’s getting ready for Alabama going?” Marie asks me as she drapes an arm around Henry’s shoulders.

“Why do you want to know?” I ask.

“I know it’s important to you,” she mutters. Then she climbs off Henry’s lap and walks back toward her desk.

“Dan Marino,” she cal s out over her shoulder.

How the hel did she know the answer?

I start fil ing in the other letters, and Henry whispers in my ear, “Not every girl is bad.”

“You wouldn’t know, ’cause they fawn over you al the time. You don’t see how Kristen and Lacey treat other girls, how they treat me in the locker room and bathroom, and back in—”

I shut up, not wanting to talk about what happened in seventh grade, and start drawing Alabama Rol Tide logos.

Henry whispers, “I real y doubt Marie’s ever said anything bad to you.”

I shrug again.

“Give her a chance,” Henry says, “I bet you’l like her.”

He takes the pen from my fingers, pul s the scrap paper closer to him, and writes _ _ _ _ _ _/_ _ _ _ _.

“Dan Marino,” he says with a smile. “I knew it the second you wrote out the blanks.”

“Bul shit,” I say, and he punches my thigh and we laugh.

“A,” I say, and Henry draws a head. He looks over at Marie.

Staring at him, I cal , “Yo, Marie. Come help me figure out Henry’s puzzle.”

After school, JJ and I jump out of my truck and head into Joe’s Al -You-Can-Eat Pasta Shack. I don’t know why Joe decided to cal his place a shack, considering shacks don’t make anyone think of Italy, but the food is amazing. Before every game, JJ and I come here and load up on carbs for hours. We’ve been doing this for just about forever. Not only does this give us the opportunity to de-stress, but we get to eat tons of food while talking strategy.

I grab our usual spot, and JJ squeezes into the other side of the booth. I have to pul the table back toward me so he’l fit comfortably. Joe comes over and we order water and our first plates of spaghetti.

“So,” I say to JJ, “ready for tomorrow?”

“Yeah—nothing to worry about. It’s just Lynchburg,”

JJ replies, taking a sip of water. He pul s a pen and a book of crossword puzzles out of his bag. He clicks the pen and shuffles through the book. This is how he destresses. “You worried at al ?” he asks.

“Hel s no, I’m not worried about Lynchburg.”

“Worried about anything else?” He glances up from his book and looks at my face, then down at my shirt. Why in the hel did I wear this fitted tee?

I shake my head and drink some water. Then I start playing with the salt and pepper shakers. I do that game where you put one shaker on top of the other, then pul the bottom shaker out quickly so the top one fal s straight down onto the table. But you can’t let it fal over. Or you lose.

“You sure, Woods? I hope you’re not upset about Ty Green. I can’t believe Coach let him on the team.” JJ

clenches his fists and starts clicking the pen repeatedly.

“It’s not a big deal. I’m not sure what the story is, but apparently Ty just had to move here with his family and didn’t have a choice. I think he just wants to play bal .” I cough, then take another sip of water, which I proceed to choke on. I hit myself in the chest with my fist. JJ focuses on his crossword puzzle. “Let me know if he’s a problem.”