Feeling everyone’s enthusiasm, I clap along and give add to the loud applause when the song comes to an end.
The crowd however, doesn’t accept the final note. They scream “Encore!” “One more time” and “More! More” and the band gives in and does a repeat.
In the middle of the second verse, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket.
DEAN: Are you here tonight?
MIA: Nope...I told you pep rallies and football aren’t really my thing. That third option you listed wasn’t good enough either.
DEAN: Liar. I’m looking at you right now.
I hesitate before texting back. I look around, but I don’t see him.
MIA: Shouldn’t you be focusing on your teammates or something?
DEAN: I’d rather focus on something that’s had my attention for quite some time...
MIA: Are you referring to that term paper you need to finish this weekend? I would get on that tonight if I were you.
DEAN: I’m referring to the girl I’ve had a crush on since sophomore year.
My jaw drops.
DEAN: The girl whose notebook I had to steal to finally make her notice me.
MIA: Are you secretly drunk right now? Is that why you’re saying this?
DEAN: Completely sober, and I mean every word.
MIA: Um...
DEAN: I see you’ve switched from red to purple...I approve :-)
MIA: I didn’t switch my bra color for you.
DEAN: So it’s just a coincidence that the day after I asked you if you had any purple bras, that you’re wearing one tonight?
MIA: Absolutely.
DEAN: LOL. How did you get here?
MIA: Autumn drove...Why?
DEAN: Wait for me after this is over. I’ll take you home.
As I’m about to reply “No, you don’t have to” he sends another text: I’m not taking no for an answer. Let me take you.
I don’t text back.
I look up and see him standing by the bonfire. Our eyes meet and he gives me a short wave. Then he types something into his phone.
DEAN: You think you can come to the first game next week, too?
MIA: Now you’re pushing it...I don’t even know how to watch football.
DEAN: You don’t have to. Just focus on me :-). I parked behind the end-zone to your left. See you soon.
I watch as he puts his phone in his pocket. He looks up and his eyes meet mine one last time before he turns away and joins his teammates in a series of chants.
The crowd is now intoxicatingly electric—even from the bleachers—they’re on their feet, erupting with praise. I stand, clapping as well, feeling happy that, for the first time, I don’t feel like an outsider, I feel like I fit right in with everyone else at Central High...
***
When the rally is over, I find Autumn and tell her that Dean will be taking me home tonight.
“Really?” She smiles. “Oh my god! I told you that he likes you! He really likes you!”
“It’s just a ride home, Autumn.”
“Um hmmm.” She opens her purse and pulls out a condom, slipping it into the front pocket of my jeans. “Make sure you tell me all about that ‘ride’ tomorrow.”
“What the—I don’t need this!”
“You’ll always need this.” She nods. “Safety first, Mia. Didn’t you learn anything is Sex-Ed?”
“Do you hear yourself right now?”
“I should’ve known,” she says, tapping her lip. “I was wondering how he always managed to get in all of your classes for two years straight—even after you switched.”
“What?”
“Hmmm. Interesting, isn’t it?” She gives me a hug. “Me and Jacob just made up, so he’s meeting me at the drive-in-diner to treat me to ice-cream. I would ask you if you wanted to come join us but...” She points to where she placed the condom in my pants and starts walking backwards—throwing me a thumbs up sign.
I give her the middle finger and she laughs in return, eventually turning away.
I make my way to the far side of the parking lot and find Dean’s car. As I approach it, I notice that someone has had a field day writing bright and colorful quotes all over it: “Lead us to a Three-peat!” “Go Bulldogs Go!” “We Love You, Dean!” “#1 Quarterback!”
I can’t help but smile as I read the quote on the bumper: “Let’s Beat the Shit Out of Greenway H.S.! Thanks in Advance!”
Zipping up my hoodie, I shiver as wind whips my hair around my face.
I take out my phone and snap a few pictures of the fans running through the parking lot with blue streamers. I capture pictures of people kissing as they sit on the back of pickup trucks, and of people holding up their cell phones and singing along to a song I can’t quite remember.
I know that half of these people won’t be going home anytime soon, and I feel a small tinge of regret for not seeing this side of Central High life until just now.