Four
JUNIOR YEAR
As a cheerleader, I’m used to being at the center of crowds. But when Jadie and I get back from our impromptu shoot-off with Joel and Ben, I’m more aware of the eyes on me in Meredith’s living room than I’ve ever been in an entire stadium full of spectators.
The girls have gathered around the TV and are watching a video of last year’s regional competition, analyzing what to emulate and what to improve. The second Jadie and I enter the room, sweaty and flushed, the routine is forgotten.
“Details,” Anna Chen says. “Now.”
“Relax, weirdos,” Jadie says with a dismissive wave. “We were playing basketball. There’s no law against it.” She squeezes herself into the space between Anna and the arm of one of the two sofas in the room. “Where’s Meredith?”
“I think she went up to her room.”
Mrs. Kopala pokes her head in from the attached sunporch. “Why did Meredith go upstairs? Was she not feeling well?”
“I’ll go check on her,” I say, turning on my heel. I have a feeling that Meredith’s escape has nothing to do with her health and everything to do with the vantage point that her bedroom offers: a perfect view of Ben’s driveway.
When I get to the top of the stairs, her bedroom door is cracked open, so I knock and push it wider. Meredith is sitting at her desk in the far-left corner of the room, staring disinterestedly at the computer screen.
“Hey. Sorry. I didn’t think we’d be gone that long. Are you mad?” I ask.
Meredith looks away from the screen long enough to shake her head. “Watching that video too many times gives me ADD. I’m trying to get some new ideas for the Halloween fund-raiser.” Unsurprising. Not only is Meredith the co-captain of the squad, she’s also the student council vice president. She has her hands in everything, and makes it look like child’s play. The mouse clicks as she asks, “Did you have fun?”
Anyone else would think it an innocent enough question. But the gold M that hangs from her necklace is pressed between her thumb and forefinger as she drags it back and forth along the chain, the way she always does when she’s worried or nervous, right before she pulls the necklace up over her bottom lip. And . . . yep, there it goes.
“Uh-huh. Proved once again that Pirates are no match for Ravens.” I settle at the foot of her bed, where Ben and Joel are visible through the window next to her head. There’s a red-haired little boy with them now, and they clap when he shoots the ball, even though he misses. When Meredith sees me staring, she leans back in her chair.
“Isn’t he cute?”
“Ben’s brother?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Or Ben?”
She rocks forward again, closing out the page she had up. “Whatever do you mean, Macy Jean?”
“I put in a good word for you.”
Meredith’s lips tighten. I can almost see the tug-of-war inside her head, that split-second decision of whether to keep denying once you’ve been caught red-handed. She goes for the cop-out, coyly twisting the chain of her necklace around her finger.
“He’s not my type.”
I raise an eyebrow. “We both know that your ‘type’ could use a makeover.”
She snorts. “Speaking of which, Ken asked me to homecoming.”
“Tell me you didn’t say yes.”
Ken Davenport might’ve done a great job of playing the victim after Joel broke his collarbone, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is a royal douche, something we both learned firsthand during his and Meredith’s short-lived relationship last year.
“I told him to roll naked in dog shit infested with fire ants.” We both crack up, and I relax into one of her cushy down pillows.
“So Ken gets an ass crack full of poisonous ants, but Ben gets to help with the homecoming float. What does that say?”
Meredith shrugs. “It doesn’t say anything. Yeah, Ben is nice. And funny, and sweet, and he has beautiful eyes—”
“Sounds to me like he is your type.”
She grabs a package of lip glosses off her desk and chucks it at my head. I block it with my hand, giggling as the transparent pouch of shimmery reds, pinks, and peaches bounces onto the bed next to me.
“He’s also a goofball, and he’s too short—” She cuts off when she sees me making a face. Meredith is five feet, seven-and-a-half inches tall. My guess is that Ben is somewhere in the ballpark of five nine. Being five feet, three inches myself, “short” would not be a word I’d use to describe him. “Short for me, I mean,” she amends. Her fingers find the M on her necklace again. “Plus I’m a jerk magnet, so he’s automatically disqualified.”
“Meredith, come on! You’re assuming the worst without even giving it a chance.” I sit up, taking the package of lip glosses into my lap. “He thinks you’re out of his league, you know.”
“Of course he does.” She mock tosses her hair. “I am.”
I roll my eyes and pull a gloss from the pouch, tipping the tube as I spread the strawberry color over my bottom lip. “Love Spell,” I read aloud. Then I notice the label on the front of the package. “The Seduction Collection?” When I turn it upside down, I have to stifle a snicker at the name stickered on the bottom of each tube. “Heartbreaker, Crush . . . Pillow Talk? Wow.” I fix suspicious eyes on Meredith. “Didn’t you buy these right after we gave Ben a ride to Smoothie King on our way to the mall?”
Meredith groans and throws her hands up. “You are so reaching, Macy Jean. Ben and I are friends, and that’s how it’s staying. Got it?”
She seems dead serious, almost annoyed, and I’m ready to drop it. Until she turns to grab a pile of papers off her printer, and I catch the way her eyes wander toward the window as Ben sinks a basket and lifts his brother over his head in victory.
A wistful smile tugs at her lips. A smug smirk pulls at mine. If I can help it, Meredith will be eating her words by homecoming.