Tonight, she would see Josh again.
A rush of adrenaline shot through her as she moved on to the final combination, doing handsprings in sync with Jessie. Two handsprings and a double tuck later, they landed in perfect unison, standing side by side. “Yeah!” the squad cheered behind them.
“That rocked,” sophomore Jane Rossi squealed. Emerson managed a half smile at her. There was nothing wrong with Jane, one of the squad’s two new additions. She was cute and bubbly, and she did a mean basket toss. But every time Emerson looked at her, she saw the girl who should have been standing there instead. Emerson turned away, squelching the memory of Caitlin.
“You were amazing, Em!” Marta came jogging onto the field, her silky, red hair flying out behind her. “You’re going to kill it on Saturday.”
Emerson gave her a distracted smile, still thinking about her approaching hour with Josh. “Thanks, Marta. I have to run, but I’m glad you came to watch.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Marta put a hand on each of Emerson’s shoulders, which at her height of five foot five meant she was practically standing on her toes. “Emerson Cunningham, I’m here to cheernap you.”
“You’re here to what?” Emerson asked.
“Cheernap you,” Marta repeated. “Jessie and I are going to grab dinner at Mama Mia’s with some of the guys, and you’re coming with us.”
“Oh, Mart, I really can’t,” Emerson said apologetically. “I have something I have to—”
“Uh, uh,” Marta interrupted. “Whatever it is, cancel it. You are coming to dinner with your friends if I have to carry you there myself.” She took her hands off Emerson’s shoulders and shoved them into the pockets of her brown twill coat. “I know it’s been hard, Em,” she said softly. “I miss her, too. So much it’s like a physical pain sometimes, you know? But I’ve already lost two friends. Please don’t make me lose another.” When Marta looked up, Emerson was surprised to see that her eyes were wet. “Please. I promise it will be fun. Hunter can’t make it, but Nate and Tyler will be there, and I even convinced Sean to climb out of the hole he’s been hiding in and come with us.”
That got Emerson’s attention. She’d been trying to get in touch with Sean all day, but he’d been M.I.A. ever since lunch yesterday, even skipping another practice this afternoon. Tyler had mentioned that he’d come down with a cold, but that didn’t explain why he hadn’t answered any of her texts or calls. “Sean’s definitely coming?” she asked.
“Yeah. Or at least he says. And now it’s your turn to say the same. We tried to get Tenley to come, too, but, apparently, her mom’s chained her to the house for a wholesome family dinner.”
Emerson tugged absently at the red sweatshirt she was wearing to keep warm on the field. In less than an hour, she was supposed to meet Josh for a walk. But Marta was right; she’d been a terrible friend lately. And this could be her best chance to talk to Sean. “Okay,” she told Marta. “I’m in.”
“Yes!” Marta pumped her fist into the air triumphantly. “Nate doubted me, but I told him we hadn’t lost you yet.”
Emerson winced. “You’re not going to lose me,” she promised. “Okay?” She gave Marta a quick hug. “I just need to grab my stuff. Meet you in the lot?”
“Of course,” Marta replied. She broke into a smile. “You’re driving with me. Top down while we still can!”
Emerson laughed as Marta skipped over to Jessie. Her friend’s enthusiasm really was infectious. She grabbed her stuff out of her locker, automatically touching a finger to the rabbit’s foot in her bag. Then she sent a quick text to Josh saying she had to postpone for another night. A strange mix of disappointment and relief bubbled up inside her as she made her way outside. She wouldn’t be seeing him tonight.
Marta was waiting in her car, the top rolled down and a red polka-dot handkerchief tied around her head to keep her hair out of her face. She tossed a matching one to Emerson. “Hair protection,” she said solemnly. “The number one priority of convertible ownership.”
“Obviously,” Emerson agreed. The wind rushed over her as they sped down Ocean Drive, lifting goose bumps on her arms.
“I think I’m hungry enough to eat a whole Hungry Man Pizza tonight,” Marta declared.
Emerson leaned back against her seat, closing her eyes. The Hungry Man Pizza was Mama Mia’s specialty: a personal pan pizza piled high with every topping they had. It had been Caitlin’s favorite dish at the restaurant, despite the strange smell that always accompanied it—a potent mix of veggies and meats and cheeses. “If you’re going to get a pie, you might as well get the pie,” she used to say whenever Emerson teased her about it. Emerson felt a sharp needle of sadness stab at her. If Caitlin were here, she would know exactly what Emerson should say to Josh. She always gave just the right advice.
Emerson opened her eyes and glanced over at Marta, who was humming loudly to the radio as she drove. She loved Marta, but she wasn’t exactly a beacon of sage advice. Emerson and Caitlin used to joke that Marta was like a hyperactive puppy: well-meaning and loving, but too busy chasing her own tail to ever really sit still and listen. “Oh, guess what,” Marta chirped. “I found a dress for homecoming! It’s this really deep green color, which my mom insists goes well with my hair, and I’m obsessed with the material.”
Marta was still detailing her homecoming ensemble as they joined Jessie, Tyler, and Nate at one of the round tables in the back of Mama Mia’s. The restaurant was pure old-school Italian, with white tablecloths and murals of Italy covering the walls. Emerson’s gaze flickered longingly toward the booth that she and Caitlin always chose whenever they came here. It sat empty and quiet now, looking lonely in the crowded, chattering restaurant.
“Don’t you think, Em?” Marta asked, nudging her in the side.
Emerson forced her attention back to the group. “What did you say?”
“I’m thinking maybe we should order one of every pizza on the menu, and then we can all share.”
“Like pizza tapas!” Nate chimed in.
“Exactly,” Marta said, sounding pleased. “That way everyone can have a little taste of everything.”
The Hungry Man Pizza already was a taste of everything, Emerson wanted to point out. But Marta looked so proud of her idea that she found herself saying, “Sounds great. Should we wait for Sean to order, though? Or is he not coming anymore?” She tried to keep her voice casual, but Marta gave her a strange look.
“What’s with all the Sean-obsessing?” She leaned closer to Emerson, lowering her voice. “Is there some kind of crush going on that I should know about?” She elbowed her playfully in the side, but there was a strange note in her voice: concern, maybe.
“Of course not,” Emerson said quickly. “I’m just… worried about him, that’s all.”
Marta nodded. “We all are. But he’s meeting us here soon, and then we’re all going to have a fun dinner, okay?” Marta scrunched her face up into a funny expression, and Emerson couldn’t help laughing.
“Deal,” she said.
The waitress had just taken their order when Jessie suddenly let out a squeal, making a stray brown curl spring into her face. “You guys have to hear what Abby posted on Facebook a minute ago.” She paused dramatically, waiting until she had everyone’s attention. “ ‘This homecoming, don’t just vote for the model. Vote for the model student!’ ” She let out a loud groan. “Clearly, she thinks Em is Delancey’s biggest competition.”
Emerson rolled her eyes. She found it absurd that someone could care about homecoming—about anything in high school—that much.
“Since when do people campaign on Facebook for homecoming?” Marta snorted.
“Since when does anyone understand what Abby does?” Tyler offered.
“Don’t worry,” Jessie assured Emerson. “It doesn’t matter how much Abby campaigns. Everyone knows the real race is between you and Tenley.”
“And you’ve got me to campaign for you,” Marta said. “I know I’m no Cait,” she added, her face clouding over a little, “but I do make a mean poster.”
“She always got gold stars back in art camp,” Nate confirmed, flicking his straw wrapper at Marta.
Marta stuck her tongue out at him. “Yeah, and Nate always got red marks.”
“I was ten,” Nate replied. “How was I supposed to know that pee isn’t allowed to be used as paint?”
As everyone laughed, Emerson caught sight of someone lingering outside the restaurant. Sean. He was standing next to the window, staring in at them with a stony expression. When he caught Emerson’s eyes, he turned away and slumped against the side of the building.
“What’s up with him?” Jessie asked, her gaze following Emerson’s. “Is he coming in or what?”
“I’ll go find out,” Emerson said, standing up. She cut quickly through the restaurant, sidestepping two waitresses and a screaming kid who was throwing a tantrum over his spilled spaghetti. “Ah, peace and quiet,” Emerson breathed as she walked outside, letting the door clap shut behind her.