Secondary Characters (2 page)

I try to strut next to her, but I still feel about three feet high.

“Thanks,” I mutter, bumping my elbow into hers.

“Hey, that’s what friends are for.” She swings her arm around my shoulder and we head into the warmth of the school. I glance back at Mike, standing there like a kicked puppy, watching us.

I can’t believe I ever dated him.

***

We’re freaking killing Dover. The whole team is playing great, and I’ve been playing my ass off because I know Mabel is here. She and Amber are huddled together against the wind at the bottom of the hill, watching and cheering.

Don’t get me wrong, I always play hard, but tonight is different. I mean, I know Mabel comes to pretty much all the games, but now that we have the date planned for next weekend I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she’s watching me.

And that makes my heart pound and my limbs shake with adrenaline. Which is awesome for a defensive tackle. I throw all my extra energy into the game and beat the shit out of those losers from Dover. We crush them, forty-five to six. I’m busting with excitement and feel all jittery like I might just burst into a million pieces right here on the field.

I’m not the only one. All the guys are yelling, pounding each other on the back and talking about how great the game was. Finally, Coach tells us to head back up to the locker room.

When the team runs up the hill back to the school I see Mabel. She’s got one arm linked with Amber and they’re both screaming and hollering at all the guys as we run past. She’s wearing a big, comfy looking sweater and her hair is in two long, dark braids. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and her nose is cherry red. She looks adorable. I wish I could wrap her in my arms and warm her up. Kiss her cold nose and warm her lips.

The kicker runs into my back, knocking me right out of my daydream.

“What the hell, man?” he asks, giving me a shove. “Keep moving.”

I start running up the hill again, losing sight of Maybie. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to make it through the next week.

Chapter Three

Days left until I’m stuck going on this stupid double date: five.

Amber spent the weekend trying to convince me to go along with the whole double date thing. And then explaining that I have no real choice in the matter anyway.

And since I’m nuts (and, ya know, a good friend and all), I’m actually thinking about it.

Lance is in front of me as we walk into English class, and I find myself checking him out. He’s tall, lean but muscular, with light brown hair and broad shoulders. He turns around and sees me watching him. He smiles a little, one side of his mouth curling up. I quickly look away, pretending there’s something really fascinating about the nerd-girl cartoon on the cover of my notebook.

The thing is, he’s not bad looking. It’s his mouth that’s the problem. Specifically, his inability to turn it off.

On Tuesday Lance makes a fart joke in English class that causes every guy in the room to laugh like a hyena. And every girl’s eyes to roll into the back of her head.

Why do guys always laugh at stuff like that? God, I hope they get better when they get older. I really don’t want a lifetime of fart jokes. I’m done thinking about it. Decision made. Amber doesn’t need me and Lance hanging around anyway.

After class I beeline to Amber. “Tell Nick that it’s not happening. I am not going out with Lance.”

She laughs and keeps walking down the hall. She is far too used to getting her way.

“Amber, I’m serious,” I say, planting my feet.

She turns, comes back to me, and puts her hands on my shoulders with an exasperated sigh. “Mabel, it’ll be fun. Besides, it’s not like it’s a real date. Ya know, Lance might not be looking forward to going out with you, either.” She raises her eyebrows with a “so there” snort and turns back around.

“Gee thanks!” I holler after her. She laughs.

She’s obnoxious, but she’s right. It’s not a real date. But it is a real block of time,
my
time, that I have to spend with some doofus when I could be, well, doing
something.

By Wednesday, the whole school knows about the date on Saturday. Not mine and Lance’s non-date. I mean, they know about that one too, but they don’t care. I mean Nick and Amber’s. The whole school is buzzing.

“I heard you guys are going on a double date with Nick and Lance,” one of the cheerleaders squeals, running up to Amber and me, a bunch of girls behind her. What do you call a bunch of cheerleaders? A flock? A gaggle? A swarm?

The rest of the girls catch up, focusing their excitement on Amber. “You and Nick are so cute together!” “You’re totally perfect for each other!” “Oh my gosh, can you imagine how cute your kids will be?”

Because of course this one date totally means they will fall madly in love, get married, and have eight kids. But people need something to talk about, I guess.

None of them says a word to me about my date. Not that I care. Not really. I mean, it’s not like it’s a real date anyway. I know that. But do they all know that? Does the whole school know Lance and I are just being dragged along to keep the conversation flowing in case the real stars of the show run out of compliments for each other?

Not that I care.

In English class on Thursday Mrs. Sandberg gives us time to read some Shakespearean sonnets. Since I’ve already read most of them, I find my eyes drifting between Lance and Nick.

I can see why Amber is so excited, Nick is all kinds of stunning. I look at her, then back at Nick again. They do make a cute couple. With their shiny hair and perfect smiles, they look like a toothpaste ad.

It’s just a movie, right? And it’s not like Lance thinks it’s a date, either. He’s just being dragged along by Nick. Besides, he’ll have to be quiet during the movie. Right? I hate people that talk during movies.

I bet he talks during movies.

I’m staring at the back of his head when he glances over his shoulder and catches me staring. I immediately drop my head back down to my book. Was he looking at me, too?

I wonder if Amber’s right, if he’s dreading Saturday night as much as I am.

So you’ll come to my house to get ready tomorrow, right?” Amber asks in front of my locker after school on Friday, checking her face in the mirror of her compact.

I drop my forehead against my locker door. “When exactly did I agree to doing this?”

Suddenly I hear a confident male voice behind me. “See you tomorrow night.”

Nick grins at Amber. His whole face is lit up. Lance stands behind him, his hands in his pockets.

“We’re looking forward to it!” Amber says.

Lance rushes forward and picks Nick up, swinging him over his shoulder. “I’ll make sure he gets there on time and behaves himself.” Nick slugs him in the back and Lance drops him back on his feet. They head down the hall laughing and taking swings at each other.

“See you tomorrow, Mabel,” Lance calls down the hallway between slugs.

I turn and glare at Amber. “Oh yeah, this is going to be big fun.”

We’re sitting in Amber’s room on Saturday night as she picks out eye shadows and the perfect shade of pink lip gloss. She insisted on doing my hair, and now my dark locks are in a long, loose side braid that hangs over my shoulder. I’m wearing a new, deep-red sweater that looks great against my dark olive skin. Amber’s pale blue shirt was specifically picked for the way it makes her eyes look even bluer.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I say for probably the eighteenth time since I got here. I don’t know why I bother to repeat myself. I said “no” about five hundred and six times this week and it did me no good.

“It’ll be fun.” She dismisses my comment with one wave of her perfectly manicured hand and finishes perfecting her make-up.

“You know, you keep saying that. And yet, somehow, I am still unconvinced.”

“Oh come on, Maybie. Lance is a nice guy. Plus, he’s totally hilarious. He’s pretty cute, too.” She says that last line like a footnote.

“He’s a nimrod,” I grumble at the floor.

She tilts her head back and laughs. “Who says ‘nimrod’?”

The smell of barbeque hits us as soon as we open the door to the restaurant. The boys are already there waiting for us and I have to admit she’s right about one thing. Lance is pretty damn cute. He’s wearing a somewhat tight, long-sleeved Henley that totally shows off his broad shoulders and muscled chest. For some reason his eyes look especially blue tonight. His light brown hair is falling across his forehead and he’s smiling. He actually has a really, really nice smile. Dimples and everything.

Too bad it’ll be ruined when he opens his big, dumb mouth.

No matter how cute he is, he pales next to Nick, who looks like an ad for The Gap with his dark blond hair, tan skin, and perfect white teeth. Seriously, I keep waiting for them to “ping” and make a little starburst in his mouth. He’s almost
too
good looking. I glance over at Amber.

I always look a little more plain standing next to her.

Her blonde hair hangs down her back in waves, like some sort of fairytale princess. Her eyes are blue and surrounded by dark, thick lashes. Her pale-pink lip gloss perfectly accentuates her pouty smile. Nick is looking at her like pretty much every guy looks at her: like she’s a Victoria Secret model. They are grinning at each other with big cartoon hearts in their eyes.

Sometimes I’d really love to hate her, but she’s just so sweet. It’s annoying as all hell.

I may not be stunning perfection, but I actually do look pretty good tonight. Too bad it’s being wasted on Lance.

I sit in the booth next to Amber. Nick and Lance sit across from us, staring at their menus and saying nothing. We listen to the faint country music and other people having actual conversations around us.

I glance at Amber. She tips her chin down and away from the boys and cups her hand over her forehead, looking at me with wide eyes as if to say, “My God woman, say something!”

Nick’s phone buzzes on the table next to him. He picks it up and starts texting.
Well, nice to know he has something to say to someone.

Lance stares at Nick for a second, then clears his throat and looks at us. “So, what movie do you guys want to see?”

“How about that new Sarah Jessica Parker one?” Amber says.

“Ugh. I can’t stand her,” Lance says, making a face.

I snort.

“What?” he asks, his head jerking up to look at me.

I shake my head and play with my straw, knocking around ice cubes. “Guys always hate her because she’s not ‘classically’ beautiful. She’s a perfectly good actress.”

He puts his elbow on the table and holds up one finger. “First of all, my problem with her has nothing to do with her looks. There’s something about her demeanor that makes me uncomfortable. She always looks pissed off.” He holds up another finger. “Second, I don’t think she is a good actress. She’s got like three facial expressions.” Lance raises a third finger. “And third, she has the face of a horse.” He doesn’t so much as smirk, but his eyes slide over to Nick.

Nick snorts into his Pepsi and then they both start laughing like it’s so freaking hilarious.

They’re so irritating and I know I can’t let Lance get the last word. “People tell me I look like her,” I say.

They don’t, but I’m hoping it will shut Lance up. It does. He chokes on his Mountain Dew, then stares at me, his mouth hanging open like a wide-mouthed frog. He’s even turning a little pink on the sides of his face. “But, but,” he stutters. “You don’t …”

That’s right. I hope you feel like a real ass.

Amber flips her hair over her shoulder. “People tell me I look like Reese Witherspoon,” she says, diffusing the moment and giving him an out. I could smack her.

He turns to her with relief written all over his face and grins at her like an idiot. “Now that is a comparison I could see.”

Of course it is.

The meal goes from awkward and uncomfortable to painfully torturous. I think it would be more fun to watch a public execution. Or have one. Okay, I’m exaggerating a little bit. (But not by much.)

It’s ridiculously obvious the date isn’t going well. Amber does her best to at least drag some small talk out of Nick.

“So, what’s your favorite class?”

“I don’t know.” Nick shrugs. His phone buzzes and he picks it up, texting someone under the table.

“What kind of movies do you like?”

“Whatever.” He’s still looking at the phone. He’s not even my date and I’m irritated. I want to reach over and smack his phone right out of his hand.

“Okay. What kind of music do you listen to?”

He glances up and around, like he’s looking for the source of the music in the restaurant. “Not country.” He makes a face then shoves a small pile of French fries into his mouth.

Lovely.

He sets the phone back down and gives Amber a big grin, but I for one no longer find it quite as dazzling. Amber seems unimpressed as well. She does not smile back.

“How about you? What do you listen to?” he asks, but then that stupid cell starts buzzing again and he quickly picks it up. He doesn’t even notice Amber rolling her eyes.

It turns out Nick’s kind of a big, incredibly handsome dud, and Amber starts spending far more time talking with Lance.

And he’s totally talking her up. I narrow my eyes at him and try to figure out if he’s trying to swoop in on his best friend’s date. What a scumbag.

Mike’s face flashes in my mind, with his stupid little goatee, and I quickly force it back out.

Do all guys suck? Or does being around Amber just bring out the stupid caveman in them?

Must. Have. Beautiful. Girl. Now.

Not that Nick’s any better, I guess. I seriously doubt Amber will be interested in either one of them. This whole evening has been a giant waste of time.
Big shock.

“How’s everyone doing?” The waitress shows up to clear our plates and put an end to the dinner date from hell. “Is anyone wanting dessert?”

“Yes, I’d like a malt with two straws,” Lance says and we all turn and stare at him. Prolonging this meal is the last thing any of us want. Not to mention that there is no way I’m sharing a malt with him. What is this, 1950?