My locker hates me. Or maybe it's just possessed. Every time I try to close it smoothly, it jams like it's got stage freight. But hey, third time's the charm, right? I shoved my notebook in, slammed the door gently (okay, not so gently), and was about to head to class when I heard—
"Hey Raven."
I turned, blinking. Henry. Henry Martins. Quarterback of the football team, tall, cute, and somehow the owner of the kindest smile in this godforsaken school. His short curls bounced a little as he stepped closer, and he looked like he was holding his breath.
"Oh—Hi, Henry. How's it going?" I asked, trying to sound normal, even though his presence kind of felt like being approached by a very large, nervous puppy.
He just… smiled. Literally said nothing. Just smiled at me like his brain had gone full static. I didn't want to make it worse, so I smiled back. You know, just trying to radiate non-threatening librarian energy.
Finally, he found his voice. "I read your article in the school paper today. Really neat stuff."
I blinked. That's what this was about? "Oh! Thank you. You liked it?"
He suddenly perked up like someone turned on his confidence switch. "You kidding? I loved it. Your writing was amazing. You—" He paused, exhaled like he'd just sprinted here, then kept going, "You were… You are amazing."
I smiled, blinking like a fool. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."
He scratched the back of his head, grinning like he had one more courageous coin to spend. "You know, I have a game later today, and I—I dunno if you… if you wanna come? I mean, only if you want to or have the time. You probably have a busy schedule, or maybe you hate football, or, um…"
He was spiraling.
And then he showed up.
A hand slung itself over Henry's shoulder like a roach clinging to bread.
"Okay Henry, I think you've bored the woman enough. She's antisocial, remember?" the voice said, smooth and cocky.
I didn't even have to turn. Daniel Richards. Satan's assistant in cleats. Of course.
Henry laughed nervously, trying to shake him off. "Daniel—"
"Don't worry," Daniel interrupted, smirking directly at me, "I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again, your majesty."
I scowled. "Um, excuse me?"
"Look, I get it," Daniel said, gesturing wildly. "Big brain, big words, no time for tiny football players with giant hearts. Tragic really."
"Wow," I muttered. "You're a jackass, you know "
"Tattoo that on my forehead," he replied with a mock bow.
And just like that, he dragged Henry off. Henry tried to resist, bless him, but he gave in. Before disappearing around the corner, he turned and gave me a wave. I gave him a half-smile. What else could I do?
People like Daniel were why I never trusted boys to begin with. Loud, arrogant, invasive. But Henry? Henry was different. Kind. Soft. Nervous. He made me think maybe not every guy was an immediate dumpster fire.
Except Daniel. Daniel had "World's Biggest Jerk" stamped across his Forehead in Comic Sans and bold letters.
I shut my locker. The bell rang. Another glorious period of social agony.
* * * * * *
Football isn't really my thing. It never really was part of my routine or schedule to watch a game or any of that fun stuff but there I was, sitting on the bleachers as the sun was setting, surrounded by the roar of the crowd and the smell of concession stand hotdogs.
The game was about to start.
I had the perfect view of the field. Not for Henry, though I guess he was a bonus. I came to see Dove. Dove freaking Lockette. She'd made the cheer team, of course. She made everything she tried out for.
I was pretending to scroll on my phone when Henry spotted me from the sidelines and jogged over.
"Raven—oh my gosh. You really came! Thank you so much!" He looked like a puppy who just realized he was getting a treat.
I didn't want to kill his vibe. "Yeah, it was no problem. You don't have to thank me. I was going to be here anyway."
"Really?" he asked, smiling way too wide.
Shit. Damage control. I glanced at the scoreboard. "Uh—The game's about to start. Shouldn't you be with your team?"
"Oh—yeah! Yeah. I'll, um, see you later?"
I nodded. "Yeah. No worries."
As soon as he jogged off, I let out a sigh of relief.
That was close. I didn't have the heart to tell him I was actually here for someone else. Someone in a short skirt and ponytail.
* * * * * *
The game started. I had zero idea what was going on. People ran. People tackled. The ball moved. I only cheered when our side got points. Henry was kind of incredible though. Fast, focused, confident.
He glanced at me a few times during the game. I smiled each time. What else could I do? He was sweet. Too sweet.
Halftime came, and then she took the field.
Dove.
My brain short-circuited.
Her hair was up in a perfect ponytail. Her mini skirt twirled dangerously as she flipped and jumped and danced. Her bangs bounced with every move, and when she flipped backward, I got a couple of... angles.
It should be illegal to look that good in a cheer uniform.
I probably looked like I was about to faint. My heart was in my ears. If any part of her routine involved eye contact with me, I would combust right there on the bleachers.
And then, as if to make everything worse—or better—our school won.
Because of course we did. Henry was basically a one-man army.
I waited near the field as the crowd spilled out. Dove was chatting with the other cheerleaders and some guys from the soccer team.
And then I saw it.
Henry. With her. Talking to Dove.
Laughing. Smiling.
My stomach dropped.
What could they possibly be talking about? Was he hitting on her? Oh my god. Henry, you traitor.
I stared, not even trying to hide it.
Dove, like she had some internal Raven-radar, turned and locked eyes with me. Then she ran. Actually ran. Straight into me.
Before I could say anything, she jumped—legs around my waist, arms around my neck, squealing like we hadn't seen each other in ten years.
"RAVEN! Raven! We won, we won!"
My brain: blue screen.
"Y-yeah, I'm aware. I was there," I managed, heart thudding against her chest.
She leaned back a little, still holding on. "Did you see me? Our routine was awesome!"
"You were amazing," I whispered. Because she was.
She laughed, her breath warm on my cheek. My arms were shaking. Not from nerves, okay, maybe a little, but also from the fact that I couldn't physically hold her up anymore.
"Um… Dove? Could you get down please? You're kinda… heavy."
She gasped, hopping off. "I'm not that heavy!"
"I'm not that strong either."
We both laughed and hugged again, this time grounded and safe.
Then she said the magic words: "You wanna sleep over?"
Did I? Did she even have to ask?
"Sure. I'll text Mavis. My mom's not around anyway."
We started walking to her house, side by side, our laughter trailing behind us.
And honestly?
It was the most peace I'd felt all day.