Biggest Flirts (Superlatives #1)(59)
Author: Jennifer Echols

“Nah. She’d rather explain to two old men where their antiques are.”

He swallowed. “It’s been forever since I had Puerto Rican food. I forget y’all are half Puerto Rican.”

“Me too,” I said. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, a Sprite. My eleventh Sprite. Down the hall in the fridge.”

Wandering back in with the can, I asked him, “When are they letting you out?”

“They would have let me out already, but someone is supposed to watch me. They need somebody to release me to. My dad isn’t coming home, and my brother won’t get off work until after visiting hours are over. He said he’ll come buy me out tomorrow morning.”

I flopped down in the chair beside the bed. “Will they release you to me?”

“No. I took the liberty of asking, but when I said your name, the nurse looked all outraged and hollered, ‘That girl who—’ Well, never mind what she said.”

I knew which nurse he was talking about. I’d seen DeMarcus’s mom on my way in. DeMarcus had thrown a big Halloween party in seventh grade, and his mom had walked in on me teaching him to French kiss. I guess I didn’t have a reputation for being nursing material.

“I can get somebody down here to spring you,” I said. “Harper’s mom, or—you know who would be perfect? Kaye’s mom.” She was the president of a bank and looked it. Nobody messed with her.

“I don’t want to do that to anybody who isn’t you,” Sawyer said.

“Aw. Hugs.” I stood up and wrapped my arms around him, careful to keep my dress out of the amarillos.

“I’m swearing it all off,” he said into my hair. “Alcohol and weed. All mind-altering substances.”

I sat back down, shocked. “You are?”

“Yes.”

“Working in a bar?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re a vegan working in a restaurant that serves primarily seafood and meat,” I said. “If anybody could swear off alcohol working in a bar, it would be you. And I think that would be great. It’s not good for you, or me either. But if you’re doing it because you had heatstroke . . . I do think being dehydrated the day after drinking didn’t help you, but you had heatstroke because you were dressed up in a pelican costume at two p.m. on the hottest day of the year in Florida.”

“I know.”

“Does it have something to do with your mystery girl?”

“I’m never getting Kaye,” he said. “And I wouldn’t change my life for her. I’ve learned that from you. I’m not changing for somebody else, because that person could disappear. The only person to change for is yourself.”

I was astounded. I’d thought I had him figured out. It never occurred to me that he had me figured out in return. And when he took my thoughts and put them in his own words, I sounded halfway noble.

“But like you said,” he went on, “alcohol was a contributing factor to my mortifying collapse. I shouldn’t be giving in to contributing factors when I already have an ass**le brother and a jailbird dad. You know, for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m really good at something. I was a mediocre athlete. I’m an indifferent student. But I’m an excellent pelican. I support the school and I make people laugh.”

“You do. You’re a great symbol for the school.”

“Being an excellent pelican is pretty sad, as career skills go. It isn’t everything. But it’s not nothing.” He set his clean plate on the bedside table. “What I feel worst about is Minnesota coming around the corner after I’d handed you that joint. I mean, nice guy. I heard he hauled me up the stairs at the stadium.”

“He did,” I said.

“And he stayed with me here until Harper and Kaye and DeMarcus and everybody showed up. He was as nice as he could be after all the shit I’ve given him during the past couple of weeks. I ruined everything between you two.”

“You didn’t,” I said sadly. “I did that all by myself.”

“Obviously not, or he wouldn’t have come looking for you last night.”

I stayed with Sawyer, even doing my English homework there while he made fun of me and called me a sellout. When visiting hours were over, DeMarcus’s mom kicked me out of the room. But all the while, in the back of my mind, I was formulating a plan for how I could put my stress-induced organizational skills to good use.

***

The next day, at the beginning of band, I waited until Ms. Nakamoto turned on her microphone and started explaining what we would do that period. Then I set my drum on the grass—Will watched me curiously but didn’t ask what I was doing—and I walked through the band and up the stadium steps. Ms. Nakamoto didn’t seem to notice Harper walking down the steps in another part of the stadium. She’d gotten out of last period to take pictures and document the coming event for the yearbook.

Ms. Nakamoto kept talking to the band until I stopped right beside her. “Yes, Ms. Cruz?” she asked.

“May I borrow that?” I asked, reaching for the microphone. “Just for a sec.”

Surprised, she handed it to me.

I cleared my throat and read from my notes. “We—” My voice boomed around the stadium. The band yelped a protest, and the cheerleaders slapped their hands over their ears. I backed the microphone away from my mouth. “Sorry. We the students present to you, Ms. Nakamoto, the Sawyer De Luca/Will Matthews Heat Relief Proposal. We understand that dress codes are necessary for schools to function in what the faculty thinks is an appropriate manner. However, our school, in allowing students to disrobe partially during summer practices on school grounds, has already acknowledged that its dress code is not always comfortable for its students, or even safe. We would like that exception to be extended to practices outdoors year-round. We would like you, Ms. Nakamoto, to be our advocate in presenting this proposal to Principal Chen. In the interim, while the proposal is being considered, we respectfully request that you stop enforcing the dress code during afternoon practices on the field.” I pulled off my shirt.

That was the cue. With a prolonged whoop, all the cheerleaders and the entire band took off their shirts—the girls were wearing bikini tops underneath—and threw the shirts up in the air. The cheerleaders unfurled a long paper banner they’d made like their spirit signs for football games. It said REMEMBER THE FALLEN PELICAN.