Kasey Screws Up the World (20 page)

Frantic, I threw my arm toward Lara. “Grab on!”

Her fingernails dug into the skin on the back of my hand, indenting tiny half moons that connected a few of my freckles. I ground my teeth and tried to yank her up with my clammy, tear-streaked hands, barely dragging her an inch.

“Don’t,” she begged, no longer a scream, but a whisper.

I wasn’t sure if she meant
don’t drop me
or
don’t save me
.

My muscles strained from bearing her weight. I couldn’t see her through a film of tears, and the wind punching me in the face didn’t help. My grunting from exertion drowned out whatever Finn was shouting at me. Ragged breaths rushed from my mouth in a competition all their own. I should have been pulling her up, but Lara’s cries dragged me down instead.

She was right. It was all my fault. I’d stolen everything from her and it was time to give it all back. I’d put her in this position, and so I said the words I’d wanted to hear from her. “I’m sorry.”

And then, I lost the battle I was fighting.

I caught the horrified, desperate look in her eyes before her fingers slipped from mine. Her body elongated as straight and elegant as a ballerina’s as it careened toward the ocean.

I ripped my eyes away from Finn’s wide-mouthed expression and stared at my hands as if they might have the answer to the one question pounding through my brain—

Did I drop her? Or had I let go on purpose?

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AS EACH HEAD SWIVELED in my direction on my way to my locker, I felt like I’d been opened up on the operating table, my guts exposed for all to see. A girl tapped her friend when she spotted me, and both their eyes widened, making me stumble. I stepped around them cautiously, like I was testing the temperature of the water with my toes.

A boy I didn’t recognized came right at me in the hallway, pointing with both hands toward the front of his t-shirt. The words
Team On Purpose
were emblazoned in large black letters on the front of the white shirt.

Another girl tapped me on the back and gave me thumbs up before she jutted out her boobs to reveal her own
Team On Purpose
shirt.

I squinted at them, not sure why I should care. Theories ran through my head. New band making all the rage among students. School project requiring students to market shirts. A hipster trend I’d only like once it wasn’t cool to like it anymore.

I reached my locker and Amanda Reynolds from English class sidled up next to me. “Don’t worry. I got your back.” To emphasize this, she patted my shoulder before joining a group of girls all wearing similar white t-shirts. Except theirs said
Team Drop.

The book I was holding fell from my hands. All the blood drain from my face as she strutted away. I rushed after her, weaving past cliques of
Team On Purpose
and
Team Drop
. Several people up ahead were lifting the incriminating shirts over their regular school clothes. One boy decided to strip down to his abs before donning a
Team Drop
.

“Amanda!” I called after her. “Wait.”

She turned around and the rest of her posse stopped as well.

“Where did you get that shirt?”

“Do you want one? Britney got it for me.” She jutted her chin toward a girl next to her.

“Fifteen bucks,” Britney said in a deadpan.

My stomach bubbled. “You’re selling these?”

Britney gave me a confused look. “Not me. The dance team.”

Of course. The dance team. My hands curled into fists. “Where?”

The warning bell blared, and I cursed under my breath. It didn’t matter where. They were probably already packing up shop and shipping off to class. I’d just have to confront them in lunch.

As the day progressed, the number of students wearing their regular clothes diminished. I stood out in my faded jeans and green t-shirt and the truth, written all over my face. I couldn’t even decide whether or not I let go of Lara on purpose or dropped her accidentally and here these students thought they knew. By my unscientific poll of counting t-shirts and evil glares, I’d say the results were about fifty/fifty.

I stood in the doorway of my Spanish classroom, my eyes scanning the room until I spotted Lonnie in a light blue shirt. The breath that flew from my lungs sent my bangs flying. He hadn’t taken a side.

But that didn’t mean he’d still be on mine.

I plopped my books on the desk next to his. It took all my effort to swivel to face him. He studied me for more than a minute, keeping his notebook pressed against his chest.

“You didn’t choose a side?”

“Oh, I did.” He left it at that.

I took him still talking to me as a good sign. I picked at a splinter curling up from my archaic wooden desk. “I don’t understand why you don’t hate me after all this, Lonnie.”

“You’re never going to forgive yourself unless someone forgives you. And that someone is me. Well, until I find out what it is you ruined for me.”

The corners of my lips tugged into a smile. “So I guess you’re
Team Drop
, then?”

He shook his head.

My face fell. “The other one?”

He shook his head again. “I try not to be a follower. I made my own team.” He unfurled the notebook from his chest to show off the words
Team Finn
written in sharpie marker.

His shirt forced me to wear the only other smile I’d donned in days. “Does your shirt mean you’re done thinking about the other thing you weren’t supposed to be thinking about?” I chose to speak in vague terms in case the ears surrounding us were eager subscribers of my blog.

He must have caught on to my cryptic lingo, because he ripped out a sheet of notebook paper and scribbled on it:
That depends, what are you thinking about?

Instinct made me want to crumble the paper and toss it in the garbage. I didn’t need another reminder that I’d never stop thinking about Finn, no matter how hard I tried to replace him with someone else. No matter how much I liked that someone else too.

I drew a happy face on the paper.
I’m thinking about Denise
.

His eyebrows shot way up his forehead.

I ripped the paper out of his hands and added:
Not like that!

If he didn’t start liking Denise, my whole plan to get her to forgive me would backfire. The blog would only get me so far. Plus, they had even more in common than he and I did. She liked music for more than just dancing. He liked to eat. Okay, I did too, but still, wasn’t a way to a guy’s heart through his stomach? The only thing I’d ever given his stomach was an ache or two. But it wasn’t just hobbies, it was personalities. They were both outgoing while I decidedly wasn’t. They both stuck up for their friends—until their friends betrayed them, anyway. They both had good hearts, they just needed someone else to fill them.

Lonnie shrugged. Notebooks opened in a synchronized move, each student flipping to a blank page to the beat of Señora Ferrara’s heels clicking as she walked to the blackboard. The last of the stragglers rushed into the room, his
Team Drop
t-shirt flapping behind him.

At lunch Ali sat proudly behind a table covered with t-shirts. She of course wore a
Team On Purpose
shirt, though hers was several sizes too small, accentuating her boobs. She offered a two-for-one deal at the low low price of twenty-five dollars.

I headed over to her table, keeping both my breathing and my walking even, ignoring the way my hands shook. I also ignored the sea of white t-shirts behind me. Lonnie followed me.

“Two for one special.” Ali beamed at me. “Unless of course you just want the one.” She strung a
Team On Purpose
over my arms. “It’s for a good cause!” She clapped her hands and pointed at a smaller sign taped to the edge of the table.
All proceeds go to the Dance Team
. “To pay our way to Nationals.”

I ripped my eyes away from the Nationals sign. That new information made me want to sprint back to my table and bury my head beneath it like an ostrich. I should have been going with them. At least Lara’s reign would be living on with them as they performed her choreographed moves at the competition.

“I’ll take two.” I snatched up a
Team Drop
shirt and draped it on top of my
Team On Purpose
shirt.

When I handed her the money, she studied it like it might be counterfeit. “And for you?” she asked Lonnie.

“Oh, I’m not here to buy anything. Just to stare you down disdainfully. Consider it my gift to you.”

Ali shrugged. “Hmm. I smell a coward. Taking after Kasey now? Too chicken to make up your mind?”

“If I were to buy one. It would be this one.” He pointed at the
Team Drop
shirt. I let out a breath. He still supported me, despite what I’d done to him.

“Then move along. You’re blocking the customers.” A small line had queued up behind us. Students flapped their money as they shifted from foot to foot. Ali waved the next customer forward until her eyes locked on something clear across the cafeteria. “Denise!” she yelled, causing several people carrying trays to turn their attention to us. “It’s your shift!”

My mouth went dry. I pivoted slowly to see Denise coming toward us. Wearing a coral shirt. Not a team shirt.

But that just meant she hadn’t chosen a side yet.

Denise slipped behind the table and set down a Tupperware filled with some sort of cream pies she’d baked. She avoided my eye as she announced, “Chocolate with orange cream.” She waved her hand over the Tupperware in invitation. It took all my will power to keep my hand stiff to my side instead of reaching out to pluck one like I desperately wanted.

Lonnie, however, yanked off the blue lid and helped himself. He shoved the entire pastry in his mouth. “Yum.” Bits of chocolate flew from his lips. “These are really good.”

Denise turned away from us, preventing me from discerning whether she was smiling or not.

Ali shoved a
Team On Purpose
t-shirt into her hands. “You need to advertise the merchandise.”

A blush crept across Denise’s cheeks. “I’m not wearing one of those,” she addressed Ali. “I don’t think it’s right.” She turned to me. “This wasn’t my idea.”