“You really don’t have to come. I know you don’t like Hannah,” I say now that we’re alone, hoping to somehow get out of what will most likely be the most awkward afternoon ever.
“I don’tnotlike her,” she says, though it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “I just wish she wasn’t imposing on what was supposed to be your one-woman president-ship.”
“I told you already that she’s not imposing.”
“Okay, but I worry. Clarity, sometimes you don’t speak up.”
“I speak up,” I insist.
“But, like, you’re the kind of person who if you want orange ribbons and Hannah wants red ribbons, you’re going to buckle.”
“I’m not going to buckle. I’m not spineless,” I say, a little offended.
We follow the path past the football field over to the field hockey field.
“Hannah isn’t some bully,” I say, huffing a little from how heavy my backpack is.
“I’m not saying she is. Right now, I’m simply tagging along to the game I wasinvitedto,” she says, leaning on that word and making a point of looking at me. I roll my eyes.
“If you insist,” I say. I know if I keep pushing, she’ll figure out that the fact is I don’t want her there.
A little while later, the game is in full swing. No one has scored yet, but both teams have been keeping each other at bay, pushing the ball up and down the field without getting close enough to either goalie to make a shot.
I keep tracking the plays, catching myself every few minutes and relocating Hannah on the field whenever she’s not in the thick of the action.
Kristen lets out a snort behind me and I turn to look at her. She’s lying down in the grass. We decided not to sit in the bleachers because we didn’t want to be in the crowd of students and parents. With her head resting against her backpack like a pillow, Kristen is propped up enough to see the game whenever it’s at our end of the field.
“God, they’re almost as bad as the cheerleaders,” she mumbles.
“What does that even mean?”
“The super-short skirts,” Kristen says, like it’s obvious.
“That’s just their uniform,” I point out.
“Still, just seems like a bunch of girls wanting attention—just like cheerleaders.”
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask, sitting up and turning around to look at her.
She glances at me before pulling her phone out of her pocket. “What do you mean?”
“When did you start insulting random girls you don’t know?”
“When did you startcaringabout random girlsyoudon’t know?” she asks, mocking my tone.
“I don’t care,” I say quickly, instantly realizing that’s a lie.
I might not know the team, but they saved the committee, they welcomed me to dinner even though I don’t belong, and Rowena even offered up her house for the festival committee baking party tomorrow. And yeah, they did that all for Hannah, because Hannah is the kind of person who I myself would do almost anything for.
“I’m just saying they haven’t done anything to us,” I mumble.
“Okay, but theyhave,” she insists, sitting up. “They took over the committee.”
“They’rehelping,” I say, my guilt getting replaced with disbelief. “Why are you so stuck on that?”
“Stuck on what?”
Vincent materializes, coming around the fence.