The Brightest Star in a Constellation

11: Alone

☽ Peter ☽

I crack a smile, driving back on the route to school. As I approach, the roads become clustered with cars. I'm stuck in the bustle of traffic, sighing as I reach the outside field. From a distance, the bleachers are full to the brim; silver and red, North High's team colours, dominate the posters and jerseys in the sea of people. The opposing team's side consists of an equally large group, waving and jumping in an effort to rival us. For this early in the semester, team spirit is at its peak.

As her sights settle on the field, Nicole gasps. "Holy shit, I did not think the whole school would come."

My hands rest on the wheel, slowly forming a fist, as my fingernails dig into the skin. All at once, I have to avert my eyes from the students around me. Everyone on the bleachers seems to be staring directly through me, hollowing me out, and I have to shake myself out of it.

Nicole hands me my ticket before we reach the table near the front of the field. Two teachers and the student council sit in plastic chairs, punching a hole in every ticket and letting the stream through to the seating area. On a separate table, refreshments and snacks from the cafeteria are available to be sold.

The closer I inch to the table, the more I focus on the student council. Among them is Lucas Azan; I didn't realize he was part of that group, but he doesn't seem out of place next to the outgoing twelfth grade representative, Willow Rowan. It's a strange contrast from how I remember him at the party.

When I'm next in line, Lucas takes my ticket. "It's nice to see you here. How's it going?" he asks quietly.

"Uh, I—I'm doing about as well as expected, considering."

His smile almost seems sad. "Well, I really hope you enjoy the game. This time for real."

"He brought backup," Nicole says. "And as long as I'm here, he won't do anything dumb."

Lucas scoffs. "We could all use a bit of backup sometimes."

I move into the row of bleachers, with Nicole clutching my side and scanning for any trace of Evan. I have no idea why she's convinced that he will be here—no doubt about it—but I guess she's been doing her research on the subject. Either way, within a few seconds of seemingly aimless walking, she settles herself on an empty section of the bleachers about halfway from the top row. The game hasn't started yet, so the steady trickle of students passing us continues.

And then a couple descend from the upper row. The boy is decidedly Evan McKenna, only he's wearing a hoodie, and his hands are shoved in the pockets. The girl next to him I don't recognize, but she keeps glancing between Evan and the field in front of her, as she holds onto the purse over her shoulder, as if paranoid somebody will steal it.

"Jenny Durst," Nicole comments in a low voice, "also known as a volunteer for the school garden, and a goddamned gossip monger. And don't worry, Evan really hates her."

I give her a sideways look. "Nicole, what—and I mean this with all the seriousness in the universe—have you been doing?"

"Stalking, evidently," she replies without missing a beat.

"Isn't that, I don't know, illegal?"

She grins wickedly. "Oh, don't be silly. I would never commit a real crime. Lucky for you, I am very careful. I doubt he noticed. But, yes, I did in fact sit and listen to his friends over my lunch period, which was totally not boring, and totally not creepy."