Anne & Henry by Dawn Ius Read Free Book Online

homing beacon among the dozens of Greyhounds jerseys in the crowd.
    I slink down on my bench and tuck my hands under my butt, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
    Music pumps over the loudspeakers as a line of blond, anorexic cheerleaders run onto the field and take formation. Amid the sea of other Barbies, I spot Catherine and breathe an exaggerated sigh. Squad leader. I almost forgot.
    â€œSo I heard you and Catherine aren’t exactly besties,” Sam says, nudging my shoulder.
    Noise blasts at me from every corner. The thump, thump, thump of feet hitting the bleachers, the hoots and hollers, the catcalling and cheers. I use the distraction to think about a response. It’s not like I’ve got anything against Catherine, exactly. It’s just past experience dictates I don’t blend in so well with those popular, perfect, too-good-to-be-true girls.
    â€œShe’s actually really nice,” Sam says when I don’t respond. “Unless you get on her bad side or hurt one of her friends.”
    I don’t have proof, but I suspect Catherine’s behind the rumors about me—apparently I’ve already got a rap sheet a mile long. My phone number is spray painted on every bathroom stall between Seattle and Medina—how original—and my affection for motorcycles somehow translates into a heroin addiction. In one creative spin on the truth, I sacrifice kittens and hold séances. Shit, if I was a boy, I’d be considered mysterious.
    I’m certain the rumors are worse because Henry doesn’t treat me like I have the plague, not to mention me publicly humiliating John. Their group is close—so close I’m shocked they’re not stitched together. Piss one off and the rest follow? That’s usually how it works.
    The cheerleaders jog off the field to make way for the players. Maybe I don’t get football, but my pulse sure as hell spikes when I see Henry in uniform. He looks up into the bleachers and I’m positive he sees me, feels me, too.
    I try to look away. It’s like my eyes are imprisoned, glued to his well-cut, impressive build, the way his pants cling to his hips and thighs. How his jersey accents the muscles on his arms. Funny that I never noticed his biceps before. I shake the fantasy of those strong arms wrapped around my waist and blow out a long, calming breath.
    â€œThat’s the other mistake you don’t want to make,” Sam says, her tone a mixture of amusement and warning. “Catherine can be a bit possessive about her boyfriend.”
    â€œI’m not after Henry,” I say, a little too quickly.
    She shoots me a look of disbelief and stuffs a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Her voice muffled, she says, “Everyone is after Henry.”
    On the field, Henry bends over, waiting . . . for something to happen. Of course I’m staring at his ass. The play starts. Henry catches the ball with strong, capable hands. Extends his torso, arches his back, and throws downfield. The ballsoars in slow motion. Ten, fifteen, twenty yards, I’m sure. The crowd erupts.
    Sam stands to watch the catch and slumps when the one of the players is tackled near the goal line. “I’m not kidding, though.” She turns to me, serious. “Catherine is the most popular girl in school. She rules this place—but not in a power trip kind of way. These guys have all known one another since elementary.”
    I cringe as Henry is tackled, wait until he stands and shakes it off. “I can hold my own.”
    â€œThis isn’t Hogwarts. The good don’t always triumph.”
    Sam’s warnings are starting to tweak my nerves. Compared to the raucous, obnoxious vibe of my old school, Medina Academy is about as subdued as a morgue. I survived. “Who says I’m one of the good?” I say with a mischievous grin.
    I study the football field. Henry gathers his team in for a huddle. My eyes are trained