Friday Night Stage Lights Page 10

  Tanner pulled up to the light in front of my school, and I practically had my hand on the door before he even stopped. Why wait for Tanner to turn into the parking lot? That simply meant I’d have to listen to him complain more, and believe me, I was perfectly fine walking the extra distance if it meant I didn’t have to do that.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I said as I closed the door. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to say good-bye, but I didn’t care. I was done with Tanner. There was no way he’d ever get me to see his point of view.

  Chapter 24

  I’m pretty sure that if I were a cartoon, you’d have seen smoke coming out of my ears all day long. I was furious at Tanner, and there was no way I was going to calm down anytime soon. And the worst of it was, I didn’t have anyone to talk to. While Jayden and I had started hanging out after school, watching movies or playing board games, he wasn’t the type of friend I’d confide in about something like this. Dasha’s mom didn’t let her have her cell phone during the school day, and Mia was on a field trip with the Art Club. Talk about the worst possible time to need one of your best friends and not have them.

  That’s why I had to schedule one of Mia’s and my emergency taco heart-to-hearts.

  CAN YOU MEET FOR BURRITOS? EMERGENCY! I texted her.

  OF COURSE! WHAT TIME?

  AFTER DANCE CLASS. 6:30 @ LOCOS TACOS

  !!!!

  That’s all that Mia needed to let me know she was there for me, which is why she’s such a good friend. Not that it’s very hard to convince each other to go to Locos Tacos; they have the best food ever. I bet you could travel all over the world and eat in thousands of fancy restaurants and never find a meal as good as Locos Tacos. Seriously, if I had to choose between never having chocolate again in my life or their burritos, I’d always pick Locos Tacos hands down.

  You’d think that a small silver Airstream trailer with two tiny windows wouldn’t be able to make the world’s best burritos, but you’d be wrong. There was nothing fancy about the chalkboard sign where they wrote the specials of the day and the picnic tables, which were so old you had to be careful you didn’t get a splinter, but when you bit into one of their burritos, with the perfect mix of pulled pork, black beans, cheese, salsa, their top secret hot sauce, and guacamole, you might believe you were eating the best meal on Earth. Which was why Mia and I loved it so much. It was halfway between her house and mine, and because I could cut through the park to get there instead of going on a busy street, Mom let me go whenever I got the craving. It’s the perfect spot for an emergency heart-to-heart, and this afternoon was definitely one of those times when I needed to go.

  There was a long line when I rode my bike up, but Mia had worked her magic and gotten one of the five tables. She already had food and peach fizzers waiting for us. Peach fizzers were their specialty: a tiny bit of peach juice in sparkling water.

  She pushed one of the drinks my way along with a square cardboard tray wrapped in foil. “Here you go: one pulled pork burrito.”

  I took a giant sip of the peach fizzer and bubbles popped all over in my mouth. I told myself not to drink it all at once, which was pretty much impossible because it was simply that good. Mia and I usually sucked our first ones down and then went back for a second.

  “I dream about these things,” I told Mia as I unwrapped my burrito.

  “They are pretty amazing,” she said and pulled out her phone and pointed it at me. “So tell us, Brooklyn, the world wants to know, how much do you love that burrito?”

  I took a giant bite and a bunch of the insides came out the other end. I held up my pointer finger to signal to Mia to wait while I chewed, and then when I was done gave her a giant smile.

  “Well, Mia, let’s just say that if my house was burning down and I had the choice of saving either my most prized possessions or one of these burritos, I’d have a hard time deciding.”

  “You’re nuts,” Mia said but laughed.

  “Nuts about these burritos,” I said.

  Mia shook her head and put the phone down so she could pick up her own burrito.

  The two of us made our way happily through our burritos for the next couple of minutes. When my stomach was satisfied, I took a break and wiped my messy hands with a napkin.

  “So about this meeting. Things are a bit tense at my house . . . ,” I started.

  “What’s wrong? Is Tanner leaving his stinky practice jerseys around again?”

  “I wish it were that simple. He surprised us all with some news. He doesn’t think he’s going to play football in college.”

  “He’s going to try to go straight to the NFL?” Mia asked. “He’s good, but I didn’t think that was an option.”

  “No, it’s the opposite. He doesn’t want to play at all. He wants to focus on his premed courses. He’s afraid football will take up too much time.”

  To Mia’s credit, she didn’t reply for a moment. And who could blame her? The news was pretty shocking.

  “You’re joking, right?” Mia asked, and I shook my head. “Why wouldn’t he take the scholarship? Tanner not playing football is un-American.”

  “And unfair. He hasn’t even thought about what Mom and I had to leave behind to come here so he could play.”

  “How about what you gained?” Mia asked, and I could hear that tiny bit of hurt in her voice that she’d been getting more and more lately, especially when I talked about TSOTA.

  “There’re a lot of great things that happened when I moved here,” I said and pointed at her. “You’re the number one best thing, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard to leave the only life I’d ever known. It isn’t fair of Tanner to make a decision like this after all we’ve done for him.”

  “It does seem crazy; he’s so good at the game. The town loves him.”

  “Wait until they hear about this. It’s all anyone is going to talk about, and people aren’t going to be happy.” Typical, even when Tanner wasn’t playing football, he was still the most talked about thing in this town.

  “It would make a good story,” Mia said, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her mind.

  “Nope, no, this is between us. What happens at our burrito heart-to-hearts, stays at our burrito heart-to-hearts.”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Mia said and pretended to lock her lips and toss the key over her shoulder. “Hey, look on the bright side, at least you won’t have to go to football games every week now.”

  “I didn’t even think of that. Maybe there is some good to Tanner not playing football.”

  “There is,” Mia agreed and picked up her drink. “Although, as my best friend, you’ll still be expected to come to the games with me.”

  “So what you’re saying is that I’m never going to get away from football?”

  “Yep. You’re stuck with football and me forever. You should go ahead and mark your Friday nights as busy in your calendar for the next ten years.”

  As the two of us laughed over burritos and peach fizzers, I thought about how lucky I was to have found a friend like her who could turn things around when life wasn’t going my way.

  Chapter 25

  That Saturday, I finished my morning dance workout with Dasha and headed upstairs, my stomach growling like it always did after a long practice.

  But when I walked into the kitchen, I found a silent house that smelled like it always did. A mix of Mom’s cinnamon candles and the pine scent of the floor cleaner. This wasn’t right. Everyone was supposed to be debating last night’s game. The house was supposed to smell like bacon and sausage and maple syrup and coffee. But it was none of those things because Mom and Stephen were still fighting with Tanner. Each side thought they were right, and no one was willing to listen to anyone else. And so this morning the house smelled like our house, which really bummed me out.

  I went into the empty kitchen and made myself a gourmet breakfast of strawberry Pop-Tarts and orange juice. I headed to my room, a bit bummed that we were breaking tradition, ev
en if it did mean a pause on the football talk. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t find something else to do. I propped my computer on my knees and watched videos of the ballet Giselle. It’s crazy to see all the variations different companies do. I watched a few of my favorites and had just started a new video of the show, one from Italy, when the doorbell rang.

  I didn’t think anything of it—it was probably one of Tanner’s Neanderthal friends stopping by—but then Mom called to me.

  “Brooklyn, there’s someone here to see you.”

  Someone to see me? That was odd. Mia usually had art classes on Saturday mornings, but maybe she skipped them this week.

  “I’ll be right down,” I said and paused the video on the computer. I thought about changing for a brief second; after showering, I had put on polka-dot pajama pants and a shirt that was around three sizes too big for me, and my hair was wet and tangled. But why bother? This was Mia, and Mia had seen me tons of times after I’d woken up.

  “Why isn’t your family at brunch?” I asked as I headed down the stairs. I purposely slid in my socks across the wood floor Mom had just cleaned and into the kitchen, but it wasn’t Mia waiting in there.

  It was Logan.

  I froze, wishing I had taken the time to change my clothes.

  Stop being silly, I thought. What did I care how he felt about my outfit? So instead, I struck a pose.

  “What do you think? I was trying out costumes for our big dance number.”

  Logan studied me for a moment. “I think that polka dots would look great on me.”

  “Perfect! I’ll get a pair in your size,” I joked. “But I’m guessing you didn’t come for the costume. What’s up? Did you love our first practice so much that you couldn’t wait until the next one?”

  “Nope, we’re not dancing today,” he said with a sneaky glint in his eye. “It’s time for my half of the deal. We’ve got a football game to go and watch.”

  “Um, what?”

  “Football. Remember? I dance with you, you learn all about football? I’ve come to pick you up for the big game.”

  I groaned. “You weren’t serious about that, were you?”

  “Of course I was. And you need to change. Quickly. We have to get moving.”

  He pulled something out of the backpack he had with him and tossed it at me.

  I grabbed the piece of orange cloth and unfolded it. “A football jersey? You have to be kidding me.”

  “It’s a game day essential,” Logan said.

  “What team is orange and white?” I asked and he gave me a look as if I had sprouted three heads.

  “It’s burnt orange, and that’s the University of Texas’s colors. Haven’t you seen it around your house enough now that Tanner is playing for them?”

  “I don’t really pay that much attention,” I told him, and pointed at the shirt. “And I’m not really the type of person to wear a team’s shirt.”

  “Hey, if I’m up for wearing polka dots, you can definitely put on a Longhorns shirt.” He pointed at his own Longhorns shirt he had on. “Suit up. We have to get moving or we’re going to be late.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked. My head spun. I wasn’t expecting this.

  “My house. We watch the game every week. It’s low-key and a lot of fun.”

  “Fun?” I asked and raised my eyebrow.

  “Give it a shot,” he insisted. “Now really, go change. We need to go, or we’ll miss the kickoff.”

  “Fine, fine, fine,” I said and headed upstairs with the shirt to change, wondering what the heck kickoff was and what I’d gotten myself into.

  Chapter 26

  When Logan had told me that we were watching the game with his family, I’d pictured his mom, his dad, maybe a sibling or two. What I didn’t picture was a house jammed full of people and more spilling outside to watch the game on multiple TVs around the house, including a giant one on the patio.

  And every single person was in burnt orange and white—University of Texas colors, according to Logan. Some of them were even in it from head to toe with hats, socks, and even a pair of burnt orange pajama pants.

  “I guess you were right about wearing this shirt. I would’ve been the only one not in anything,” I told Logan. The shirt was a bit big on me, but I had put it over black leggings and tied a little knot on the side of the shirt to make it fit better. I’d left my hair down for once, deciding against a bun, and put some small yellow star earrings in for a little pop of color. When I sent Mia a picture of myself, she sent back a bunch of thumbs-ups.

  “You have to wear burnt orange on game day,” he said. “It’s the law.”

  “And apparently, this is the place to watch the game,” I told him. “Your house is packed. I thought you said we were watching with your family.”

  “This is my family. My dad has three siblings, my mom has five, and I have two older sisters with kids of their own.”

  “And you do this every Saturday?”

  “Every Saturday, and usually Sunday, too, for NFL games.”

  “So colleges play on Saturday and the NFL plays on Sunday?”

  He looked at me in amazement. “You really don’t know anything about football, do you?”

  “Not at all,” I admitted. “I mean, I go to Tanner’s games, but I don’t understand much of what’s going on beyond everyone chasing each other around the field and trying to knock one another down. I only stand up and cheer because everyone else does. And unless someone tells me, I never have any idea why they’re even cheering.”

  I figured it was best to leave out the teeny tiny part about listening to music on my headphones, because some stuff is probably better left unsaid.

  He shook his head slowly. “You have a lot to learn, which means that I have my work cut out for me. But I like a challenge. We’ll make a football expert out of you. Just you wait.”

  “That’s going to be an impossible feat,” I said.

  “Hey, if you can teach me to dance, then I can figure out how to turn you into someone obsessed with football. Now come on. It’s time for your first lesson.” He pulled me into the kitchen and right past some of his family members, who looked interested in talking to the two of us.

  “This lesson must be important,” I told him, after he dodged under the arms of an older lady who tried to hug him.

  “It is,” Logan said in a solemn voice. “Before we can talk football, I need to teach you about game-day essentials. Specifically, the food. You need to get a fully loaded plate to ensure that you miss as little of the game as possible. You with me on this?”

  “Um, I think so,” I said as I took a paper plate from him.

  “Good. So the secret is to get your drink and silverware first. That way you can tuck them into your pocket and your hands will be free to carry your plate. Because if you do it the other way around, your hands will be full.”

  “You’re a genius,” I said. “I’m so glad you’ve solved such a major world problem. Now I can sleep better at night.”

  “You may joke about it, but I’m pretty sure you’ll thank me later.”

  The two of us grabbed cans of soda and silverware, but there was a problem.

  “Um, your plan didn’t include what to do when you have leggings on and no pockets.”

  Logan looked stumped for a moment, then held up his pointer finger as if an idea suddenly came to him. I could practically see the light bulb pop up over his head. “Easy: Make sure you hang out with someone who has lots of pockets. I’ve got some on both sides, so we’re set.”

  I gave him my stuff and followed him as we made our way through the food table.

  “So what foods should I get for the full experience?” I asked, because I could tell Logan liked to act like an expert on all things football.

  He studied the table as if he were making very serious decisions. Finally, he pointed at a Crock-Pot with something orange in it. “That’s a must. You need some buffalo chicken dip. Lots of it. It’s my aunt’s recipe, and s
he refuses to give us the secret ingredient. She claims that she plans to take it to her grave, which is totally unfair. Believe me, you’ll feel the same once you try it.”

  I put a large serving on my plate along with a bunch of other things Logan pointed out. Some seven-layer taco dip, pulled pork, pizza bites, nachos, and cheesy sauce.

  “Okay, and then the last step for the game-day grub is to grab one of those bowls for the chili. You can rest your plate on it.”

  “Wait, we’re going to eat chili, too?” I asked, not sure where I was going to fit all of this. And none of this was what I usually ate as a dancer.

  “Chili is the centerpiece of the meal. It’s one of the most important foods on college football Saturday,” Logan said and dished us both up giant bowlfuls, which he then sprinkled with mounds of cheese. “You can’t watch football without it.”

  I took my bowl, balanced my plate on top of it, and followed him outside, where we sat down at a picnic table near one of the TVs.

  “Is this team any good?” I asked after I tried the buffalo chicken dip. Logan was right; that recipe was amazing.

  “The Longhorns are always good,” Logan said with this look on his face that told me I shouldn’t even be asking this question. Like it was something obvious I should’ve already known. “Although this season they’ve lost more than they’ve won, but I’m not giving up hope on my boys.”

  “Your boys?” I asked. Football was so weird. What about it made fans turn crazy and act like their lives were over if their team didn’t win? Why did people gather together every week to watch the games and pledge their undying love to their team? And dressing up in team gear seemed silly to me. I didn’t get it, and I was pretty sure I never would.

  “They’re my boys for life,” Logan said and then focused on the TV. He jumped up and began to cheer. Everyone around us did too.

  “Go, go, go!” His family yelled to the TV screen. I may be clueless about most things football, but I did know that when someone is holding the ball and heading toward the goalpost, you want them to run like crazy and not get tackled. At least, I think you do? Right?