Chapter 4

Bad idea. I don’t forgive him a third time and knock him off his feet, sending him to comb the grass with his nose.

“Pay attention, Captain! Or you’ll catch a hornet!”

“What the… fucking… hell, Palmer?! Are you starting shit again?!” He jumps to his feet at once, his cheeks red with anger and frustration, and clenches his hands into fists. “Keep playing games, trash, and I’ll move you off attack and throw you off the team!”

Yeah, right. I’m up to my throat in threats.

Getting in Renton’s face is easy. Holding myself back is much harder. I lock my fingers around his stick and force him to lower it. Looking him in the eye, I promise coldly, sincerely hoping that one day I’ll really get a clean shot at him:

“If I were you, Renton, I’d bite that rotten tongue while you still have something to bite with! You sure you can manage that? Or did you forget you came here to do something besides scratch your ass, C-Captain?”

He hasn’t forgotten. He remembers very well. Just like our fight. I know he isn’t happy I’m back, but that is one thing I can definitely survive.

Snickers fly in from the guys on every side, and everyone hears Coach Hurley’s loud voice carry from the edge of the field:

“Renton! Palmer! Both of you, over here! Everyone else, stop play!”

The girls are standing beside the coach—Ashley and Amber, one with a camera and the other with a recorder—and I am absolutely fine with that company.

Renton and I approach the coach and both take off our helmets. Of course I’m looking at Ash. Nothing else interests me. Not even the reason he called us over.

“Here’s the thing, guys,” the man says, scratching his eyebrow. “We have a new interview for the paper. Say a few words to the girls about last Friday’s game and the mood on the team. And don’t forget, our sponsors and competitors will be reading this. Everything is extremely serious, understood?”

“Thank you, Coach Hurley! We just have a couple of questions!” Amber nods briskly and holds the recorder out to Renton first.

I noticed a long time ago that Ashley has great friends. That is definitely something you can envy in a good way, and something that would be impossible if Miss Smile were different. And of course the girl with a hundred pink braids remembers perfectly how this guy treated her friend. Otherwise, when asking him a question, she wouldn’t press her lips together as if she were looking at a rotten fish:

“Esteemed Captain, tell us, how does it happen that all the team’s recent games are built around Matthew Palmer’s attacks? Who came up with such a brilliant strategy for our school? Could it really be you? In that case, we should applaud such a Golden Eagles captain. Thank you, Sean. As soon as Matthew returned to the team, we started seeing excellent results again!”

What? I want to laugh, that’s how transparently she’s trolling Renton and backing him into a corner. The questions are definitely insulting, but as far as I’m concerned, he deserves them. So when Renton starts mumbling something back to Amber, I forget about him and look at Ashley.

She has tied her stunning hair into a ponytail, but the wind has still dropped wavy strands onto her cheeks. The day is autumn-warm, and she came to the field without a jacket, in a light sweater and a short flared skirt above her knees.

Nearby, thirty girls are practicing in skirts much shorter than hers, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl slimmer or more attractive than red-haired Simba. The Red Foxes lost a lot by not getting her on their team.

Ashley doesn’t see Renton either. She smiles at me, and my lips spread into an answering smile all on their own. I can’t hide it, not even when she lifts her camera and immediately takes advantage of that. After taking one shot of the captain’s grim face, she starts taking pictures of me.

Amber has already asked Renton her two questions and switches to me too.

“Tell me, Matthew, how do you manage to combine school with daily practices and show better results with every new game? Is it true that changes are brewing on the team? Sean just told us he listens to your opinion. Do you think competition among the guys inside the team helped the Golden Eagles reach the city lacrosse league?”

One day, this plump girl with the sharp gaze of clever eyes will become a good journalist, and Hurley understands that, or he wouldn’t have let her get this close to us.

“Matthew?”

I turn to Amber and catch another friendly smile. And I don’t think I mind one more friend appearing in my life.

“A win is always the team’s shared result and hours of work, including studying. I think all of us are trying to play better, every one of us. That’s the whole secret of healthy competition.”

“Oh, don’t doubt it, you’re doing great! Right, Ashley?”

“Right!”

“Coach Hurley,” the girl declares briskly, holding the recorder out to the man, “I have to say on behalf of the whole school that bringing Matthew back onto the team is your best achievement this year! I’m sure the Golden Eagles have more than one victory ahead of them!”

“I think I’ll agree with you, girls. And that’s enough for today. Hey, guys!” The coach calls everyone in with his whistle, putting a period on the interview. “Practice is over! Everybody home!”

Hurley is a serious man, and the situation probably isn’t the best one for showing him how I feel about Wilson. Besides, everyone here remembers who she was dating back in the spring. But I don’t care. I miss her, and I don’t give a damn who thinks what about me.

“Hi, Ash!” I finally walk up to my girl and kiss her softly on the lips. Remembering I’m sweaty and dirty as hell, I risk it anyway and put my arms around her waist. I notice the thing that makes both of us laugh:

“This time you were holding your camera tight. So? I hope I’m messy enough that not one photo makes the front page of the paper?”

“Hi, Matthew.” She leans toward me and kisses me back, not afraid to get her sweater dirty. “Don’t even hope.”

“Will you stand with me for a bit?”

“Of course!”

My evenings have long been taken up by work with Dad in the garage, so I don’t stay on the field with Ashley for long. But when I return to the boys’ locker room, I realize the guys haven’t wasted any time. And also that I was wrong.

I really don’t give a damn who thinks what about me.

But I will never not care who thinks what about Ashley.