The Originals
Page 13

When I emerge from the darkness, my senses come to life. Massive lights shine so brightly that they make the green grass seem fake. I look down at my yellow and black uniform and practically need sunglasses it’s so vibrant. I suck in my breath and get high on the fresh air and the scent of just-clipped grass. I listen to the sound of hard plastic hitting hard plastic, the grunts of boys warming up, instruments being tuned. I shiver when a breeze winds around my bare legs like a kitten’s tail. I look up to the first few stars already shimmering in the darkening sky even though there’s a glow of daylight peeking through. I feel overwhelmed, and without warning, tears pop into my eyes.
I’m out at night.
“Elizabeth!” someone calls. “Elizabeth! Over here!”
I see Grayson waving at me, with Morgan, Jane, Natalie, and a few others smiling behind her. I’m neither first nor last to arrive: just how I like it. I smile and wave back, then work my way down the ramp to meet up with the girls. I look around for Sean, but he’s nowhere to be found.
“This is amazing,” I say to Grayson when I join her and the others on the sidelines. She nods, but looks confused: She’s been here before and assumes that I have, too. Except that I haven’t—Betsey has. Thankfully, she doesn’t point out my weirdness.
Isla and several other squad members arrive. We start stretching, and more girls appear from the tunnel. Soon, we’re fifteen strong and the bleachers are filling up and the players head into their respective locker rooms to get pumped for the game of the year, against Woodbury’s biggest rival. According to Grayson, this game is even bigger than Homecoming.
“Guys, line up!” she shouts. “Let’s get the crowd going.”
I move to the center row with the four other medium-height girls and make sure I’m staggered to the right of short Isla in front of me. I know tall Simone behind me will do the same. The goal is for everyone to be visible from the student section.
Grayson begins by shouting, “Ready? Okay!” Then everyone joins in.
Bang, bang, choo-choo train!
Come on, Woodchucks, do your thang…
The words are completely humiliating, but the moves are a little like jazz, so I zone out and pretend I’m on the dance team instead. Except there is no dance team. The cheer is an easy one consisting of simple clapping, kicking, and jumping—no lifts—so I just go with it and even add an extra high kick at the end.
Grayson calls out, “Spirit!”
We’ve got spirit, yes, we do!
We’ve got spirit, how ’bout you?
The growing crowd yells back at us. Yep, they’ve got spirit. The starter cheers go on for a while until the bleachers are packed and the band starts playing. That’s when Grayson brings out the big guns, like “Launcher!” and “Human Cannonball!”
Thankfully, it’s only the short girls in row one who get tossed up in the air. But I swear, every time gravity takes over and Isla or Jane or Maya drops back down, I hold my breath until she’s on solid ground again. After “Fireball,” I turn to see what’s happening on the field.
Sean is standing on the edge of center field, pointing a massive camera right at me. I tilt my head and give him a half smile, almost hearing the shutter go click. Then I turn away with a little head shake. I move back into formation and refocus on cheering so I don’t get booted in the face. I do my best not to gawk at him the rest of the game, but there’s rarely a moment I’m not aware of where he is.
I can’t say that I’m a huge football fan, but I do manage to get into the action. In fact, I’m so caught up in the final play before halftime that when the whistle blows, I get that little start you do when you forget and then remember something exciting.
Sounds bombard me: The announcer booms about the marching band’s halftime performance. Grayson shouts, “Meet back in twenty!” Morgan squeals about how some guy she likes looks in his uniform. But I’m focused. In my bubble, I watch Sean pack up his camera equipment and stow it in one of the locked bins under the bleachers.
The squad scatters like marbles and I take off, too, having to check myself so I don’t run to the south entrance. Sean’s closer to that end of the field than I am; I can see him moving in the direction of our meeting place before hoards of snack-stalkers surrounding the concession stands block my view.
I am a ball of nerves as I zoom down the right side of the rotunda. Most people are sauntering straight down the middle, happily bottlenecking the walkway as they chat about plays and passes. I can feel the precious seconds floating away like dead leaves in late fall. Finally, when I break through a blockade of dawdlers and reach our meeting point, I find Sean leaning on the left wall, looking out toward the parking lot.
I stop to catch my breath.
He looks over and smiles like sunshine.
Slowly, I close the gap between us.
“Hi,” he says quietly.
“Hi.”
“How much time do we have?”
Realizing that I left my cell in my coat under the bleachers, I ask, “What time is it?”
Sean pulls out his cell, taps it on, and shows it to me. The picture on the screen is a rusty old mailbox. I note the time.
“Eighteen minutes,” I say.
“Then let’s go.” Sean grabs one of my cold hands and guides me outside. It’s the first time he’s held my hand, but it isn’t awkward at all—it feels completely natural, like we’ve done it a thousand times before.
He steers us to the right around the outside of the stadium. I hadn’t realized it before, but on this side the arena is built into a small hill. I let Sean lead me up in silence, feeling more alive than I have in a while. I admire the view even before we’ve reached the peak, but when we’re standing on top of the world, looking down at the ant-sized people, I sigh.
“We’re outside the light,” I say. I mean it literally—the field lights don’t touch us here—but it sounds bigger than that.
“Yeah,” Sean agrees, and I wonder how he means it. He turns to face me.
“So, you said in class your mom’s pretty strict,” he says. I nod. “Then how do we see each other?”
His directness forces a smile out of me. “I don’t know,” I say quietly. “I guess just at school.”
“Not good enough.”
I look down and he bends a little so he can see into my eyes. He’s so tall; I love how tall he is.
“I like you, Elizabeth,” he says, his voice steady. Warmth moves through me; I look away for a second. “We barely know each other, but I feel like we do, you know? That sounds so messed up, but—”
“No, I get it,” I say. “I feel the same way.”
A breeze blows my hair into my face and I shake it away. Looking at Sean, I see his happiness—to him this is obviously the beginning of something. But to me, everything about this night—from the stars to the colors to the rock anthem on the sound system now that the band is done to the perfect feeling in my low belly—is nothing but tomorrow’s memory. It’s nothing but what could have been.
It’s nothing.
“I’m glad you feel the same way,” Sean says, straightening up and glancing down at the field. “Now we just have to figure out how we can hang out.” He squeezes my hand, and then, when I don’t offer a solution, changes the subject. “I got a great picture of you tonight.”