Her face lit up with laughter as a howl rose over the crowd noise. I knew from experience it was Mike singing his falsetto boy band imitation, which he'd started this season when Lila and Keke blasted their CDs in the swim team van. Normally Mike was painfully shy and turned beet red if you looked at him, which made this strange performance that much funnier to the other swim team boys. They beatboxed along with him. The girls on the team weren't as into the performance because whenever Mike howled and the other boys beatboxed in the van, we couldn't hear each other talking. We were imprisoned by Mike's falsetto until he coughed to a stop. It's hard to explain what many, many afternoons spent with the same seventeen people could do to you.
But this time, because we weren't stuck in the van with him and it wasn't so annoying, Lila laughed and fluttered her eyelashes at Mike. Keke said, "Oh my God," and pointed, grinning. The junior girls danced to the beat Mike had built with the swim team boys. Across the aisle from us, a few drummers in the marching band took up the beat, and the trumpets echoed the falsetto tune. The dancing spread to the majorettes. The drum major looked befuddled.
Only Doug stood aloof from the swim team, stock-still in the midst of the dancing crowd, arms folded across his T-shirt. He'd been to juvie, so no girl at our school wanted to date Doug. He was that hilarious guy with the black hair and beautiful eyes and the temper. Girls kept their distance because he might turn on them and cut them down. Last year there was a rumor he dated a girl who went to high school in Destin. It was only a matter of time until she found out about juvie. Sure enough, somehow Mike spilled the beans to her--which was why Doug and Mike hated each other. I'd overheard half this story on the van last year and mentally cursed everyone for making so much noise that I couldn't hear the rest, but I did not like to pry, and I didn't want to give anyone the impression I cared about Doug's love life.
I was thinking this about Doug, but I didn't realize I was staring at him until he glanced over at me and caught me. He stared hard, expecting me to chicken out and avert my eyes. My heart sped up again and the skin on my forearms tingled. I was that impala making a fight-or-flight decision, targeted by that lion. But I didn't look away. I stared right back at him as Mike sang hateful words about a girl who broke his heart and wasn't worth the trouble. Doug Fox didn't own this football stadium, and I would not show him weakness and open the door for him to hurt my mother. He would not ruin my carefree high school experience, my party, my night with Brandon.
And that's the last thing I remember.
"ZOEY."
"I'm up!" I sat straighter on whatever I'd slumped against. It had a bottom and a high back, so it must be a sofa. Whose sofa? I hoped no one had seen me fall asleep in public. I was captain of the swim team, a school leader. I couldn't go around falling asleep just anywhere. And I wasn't drunk. I never lost control that way, ever.
"Y had a wreck." It took me a second to place the smooth voice: Doug. His voice had the slightest edge, like he'd seen the wreck happen and was a
ou little freaked out but was trying to remain calm. "Y need to get out of the car."
Issuing commands was not Doug's usual style. Getting pissed when other people issued commands, yes. Issuing them himself, no. Now he was telling me what to do, and it scared me.
I was in the driver's seat. I slid toward his voice on the passenger side. He was lying on the ground and leaning through the doorway, half in and half out of the car. Headlights from outside blanked his face like an overexposed photo in shades of white. His hair hung black over his forehead, and his shadowed eyes were two black sockets. Something must be horribly wrong.
"I totaled my Bug," I wailed.
"Y you did," he said grimly.
es,
"Did I total your Jeep?"
"Get out of the car." He nodded toward the empty space beside him in the doorway. "Get out of the car now, Zoey."
I slid farther toward him. When I reached the passenger side, the dashboard leaned so far forward that it blocked my way. To get by, I had to draw my legs up onto the seat. Then I slid them beside Doug on the ground and stood up.
And fell down, splatting into mud.
"That's what I was afraid of," Doug called from several feet away. "Y can't stand up?"
"I can stand up," I protested. It was better to lie down, though. I just wished the headlights from the car I'd hit weren't so bright, streaming into my eyes. Long blades of grass glowed green around us, and white raindrops streaked down on us. Beyond the small circle where we lay, the night was black, and I couldn't see.
I felt him crawling beside me until his face was even with mine. He rose above me. His arm circled me, warm after the cool wet grass. He hoisted me upward and groaned.
"I am not fat," I said.
"Of course you're not fat." Now he sounded like he was talking with his teeth clenched.
"Brandon told me I look like I've gained weight since the summer." He hadn't meant it as an insult. He was just kidding around, flirting with me. I'd actually lost weight since the competitive swim season began. But since Brandon had texted that message to me on Tuesday, I'd skipped breakfast, just to make sure.
"Brandon," grunted Doug as he took a big step and slung me forward. "Can." He took another step and groaned again. "Kiss. My. Broken. Ass." He let me slip through his arms to the ground, and he collapsed beside me.
From this distance, through the bright raindrops in the dark night, I could see the two cars kissing each other with steam rising from their lips. My Bug and definitely not Doug's Jeep. "Whose car?"
"Mike's Miata."
"Mike Abrams ?" I'd wrecked the whole swim team.
"He's not hurt, but he's stuck inside. He's calling 911. We'll get help soon. Don't worry."
I hadn't been worried. But now that he brought it up, the gravity of the situation sank in. It was night. It was raining. We'd crashed head-on. And Doug must be hurt, or he wouldn't be lying down in the grass in a rainstorm. "Doug, I'm so sorry."
"Sorry! It's not your fault. Don't you remember what happened? Y and Mike both swerved to keep from hitting a deer in the road."
No, I didn't remember the deer. "Is the deer okay?"
"Fuck the deer. Hush now." Gently he drew me to him and pressed down on the back of my neck until I lay my head on his chest.
It was totally innocent. Doug was comforting me after we'd been in a wreck together. Brandon still would not approve. But I couldn't do anything about it because I felt dizzy. My hands found Doug's T-shirt, and I gripped fistfuls of fabric to keep from falling off the edge of the earth. I nuzzled his warm chest. He smelled faintly of chlorine.