Biggest Flirts (Superlatives #1)(57)
Author: Jennifer Echols

“No, I have no idea,” I said honestly, refraining from laughing at the thought.

“When Will cursed and threw his phone across the field on the first day of camp. I was going to kick him out of the position right then, but you handled him and you handled me. You saved drum captain for him, at least until you challenged him.” She stood as if the conversation was over.

“No, wait a minute, nuh-uh,” I told her, keeping my seat. “I’m an underachiever. You don’t seriously want me in charge!”

“Sometimes we put underachievers in positions of responsibility and they rise to the occasion. You are one of those people. You’re a sharp young lady and a fine percussionist, Tia. You are the drum captain. Why not enjoy it? You only get one senior year in high school.” She opened the door for me, letting in the bustle of band, and nodded toward it, since I wasn’t budging. “Now I’m running late. Please tell DeMarcus to get practice started without me.”

Grumbling under my breath, I trudged across the parking lot to Will’s car, where he’d left my drum propped against a tire. I was guessing that I was evicted again. I pulled my harness over my shoulders and carefully descended the stadium stairs.

From this height, the band formation looked beautiful. The circles and curlicues weren’t squashed anymore. They were as precise as if Will had drawn them.

He stood in his place in the drums, close to Travis, leaving an empty space for me. And—wonder of wonders—today he was talking to Travis. As I watched, he threw back his head and laughed.

He glimpsed me on the stairs. His smile faded. He turned back to Travis.

This was how it was going to be from now on. He must have been furious that he couldn’t get his drum captain position back. He’d already been furious with me at school all day. But furious on Will was the silent treatment. He simply didn’t interact with me. He stayed away from me. The only time he’d acknowledged I existed was in English when a couple of basketball players hit on me. He’d gone out of his way to walk slowly down the row where we were standing, and he’d shouldered each of them in turn, saying “Excuse me” as if he simply wanted to get by. They’d watched him wide eyed and told me they would catch me later. They’d gotten the message.

I should have been angry. Will didn’t want me back. Where did he get off elbowing basketball players away from me? Apparently I had a better chance of hooking up with someone new now that I was stressed out and practicing good grooming habits. I had tried to lay out my room and bathroom so that when this stress reaction inevitably faded, I would still be organized enough to look decent in the morning. I’d enjoyed the attention I’d gotten at school all day, along the lines of Ms. Nakamoto’s Don’t you look like you’ve bathed this year! Too bad the one guy I’d really craved that comment from no longer wanted to take a selfie with me.

When I reached the sidelines, I gave Ms. Nakamoto’s message to DeMarcus. He glanced down at his watch, then up the stairs at the stragglers. We had a little time left before practice began. Rather than spend it in a shroud of silent treatment beside Will, I dumped my drum and sat down on a bench, next to Sawyer. I’d never seen him sit down in his costume. He immediately leaned over until his huge pelican head lay in my lap. I stroked his feathers absently.

“Being in love totally sucks when they don’t love you back,” I said.

He felt for my hand and held it in his feather-covered pelican glove.

Kaye looked over at me from a cheerleader huddle and stuck out her bottom lip in sympathy. She and Harper had taken one look at me when I got to school and had known my talk with Will hadn’t gone well.

DeMarcus climbed to the top of his podium. He was about to start practice. I needed to be in the drum section when that happened, ready to play my riff. “Sawyer,” I said, “I have to go.”

He didn’t budge.

“Sawyer,” I complained, “not funny. You’re going to get me in trouble. You know I’m stressed out, so I actually care about that shit today.”

He was incredibly heavy in my lap.

“Now you’re worrying me,” I said. “You’re making me think you’ve passed out in there. Come on, Sawyer. Joke’s over.”

DeMarcus made his move and Will played the riff, which the rest of the drum line repeated. The boom of drums echoed around the stadium, followed by silence, just as I pulled Sawyer’s pelican head off.

Sawyer’s soaked blond head and broad shoulders lay limp across me. He really had passed out.

“Will!” I shrieked.

DeMarcus turned around on his podium. The cheerleaders off to the side of the band rushed over. “No, no, no,” I yelled as they gathered around, “Don’t crowd us. I need Will.”

And then he was there, towering over the girls. “Back up,” he told them. They all stared at him with wide, heavily made-up eyes and took two steps back. He shouted to DeMarcus, “Call 911.” He told me, “Hold him,” and when I put my arms around Sawyer, Will pulled off the rest of his costume. Sawyer wore only a pair of gym shorts. His muscular body flopped like a rag doll. That’s when I really got scared.

Will knelt down under Sawyer, then stood so Sawyer’s whole body draped over one shoulder. “Come on,” he told me. “Get them out of my way.”

I jumped up. “Move,” I barked to the cheerleaders and majorettes gawking at us. They parted, clearing a path to the gate. I stepped aside to let Will pass, then closed the gate behind me, glaring at the girls and daring them to cross me. I turned and jogged up the stairs behind Will, who was making great time up the incline despite carrying a hundred and fifty pounds.

At the top of the stairs, he grunted, “Help me.” I reached up to ease Sawyer onto the ground, in the shade underneath the bleachers. Will nodded toward a hose coiled next to the concession stand. “Turn that on.”

I dragged the hose over and let the water gush over Sawyer’s legs, then his torso—soaking his gym shorts, which I would have made a joke about any other time—then his arms and his neck, keeping the flow away from his face so I didn’t drown him.

“No, get his head.” Will turned Sawyer on his side.

I wet Sawyer’s hair, then looked to Will for guidance.

“Keep doing it,” Will said. “We just need to cool him down.” He pressed his thumb over Sawyer’s wrist to feel his pulse.

“How do you know this?” I asked, moving the hose down to Sawyer’s chest again.