Catching Jordan by Miranda Kenneally Read Free Book Online Page B

the hal toward music appreciation class. Now that we’re seniors and only concentrate on footbal , I swear, we are taking some of the stupidest classes ever. Today we’re learning how to play the xylophone.
    “Just keep wearing those shirts,” he says with a wink. “He’l notice those boobs for sure.”

    •••

    Before music appreciation/xylophone class starts, Henry and I are huddled over a piece of scrap paper, playing Hangman. I jot down_ /
    . “Category is famous footbal players.”
    Henry says E , and I draw a head hanging from a noose. “ A ,” he says, and I fil in the second letter of both words. Then Marie walks up behind us, looks over Henry’s shoulder at Hangman, and says, “I know it.”
    I snort, and Henry elbows my side and gives me a look. He pul s her onto his lap and wraps an arm around her waist. I sit up straight when he gives her a peck on the lips.
    “I wish you could’ve come out with us yesterday, Jordan,” Marie says, and I shrug. “Ty was asking about you.”
    “What? Sizing up his competition?” I ask Henry, who starts staring at the idiots trying to smash each other with cymbals on the other side of the room.
    “No,” Marie says, smiling. “He wanted to know what you’re interested in. He wished you had come out too.”
    I sit up even straighter. “I had stuff to do.”
    “How’s getting ready for Alabama going?” Marie asks me as she drapes an arm around Henry’s shoulders.
    “Why do you want to know?” I ask.
    “I know it’s important to you,” she mutters. Then she climbs off Henry’s lap and walks back toward her desk. “Dan Marino,” she cal s out over her shoulder.
    How the hel did she know the answer?
    I start fil ing in the other letters, and Henry whispers in my ear, “Not every girl is bad.”
    “You wouldn’t know, ’cause they fawn over you al the time. You don’t see how Kristen and Lacey treat other girls, how they treat me in the locker room and bathroom, and back in—”
    I shut up, not wanting to talk about what happened in seventh grade, and start drawing Alabama Rol Tide logos.
    Henry whispers, “I real y doubt Marie’s ever said anything bad to you.”
    I shrug again.
    “Give her a chance,” Henry says, “I bet you’l like her.” He takes the pen from my fingers, pul s the scrap paper closer to him, and writes_
    _/_. “Dan Marino,” he says with a smile. “I knew it the second you wrote out the blanks.”
    “Bul shit,” I say, and he punches my thigh and we laugh.
    “A ,” I say, and Henry draws a head. He looks over at Marie.
    Staring at him, I cal , “Yo, Marie. Come help me figure out Henry’s puzzle.”

    •••

    After school, JJ and I jump out of my truck and head into Joe’s Al -You-Can-Eat Pasta Shack. I don’t know why Joe decided to cal his place a shack, considering shacks don’t make anyone think of Italy, but the food is amazing. Before every game, JJ and I come here and load up on carbs for hours. We’ve been doing this for just about forever. Not only does this give us the opportunity to de-stress, but we get to eat tons of food while talking strategy.
    I grab our usual spot, and JJ squeezes into the other side of the booth. I have to pul the table back toward me so he’l fit comfortably. Joe comes over and we order water and our first plates of spaghetti.
    “So,” I say to JJ, “ready for tomorrow?”
    “Yeah—nothing to worry about. It’s just Lynchburg,” JJ replies, taking a sip of water. He pul s a pen and a book of crossword puzzles out of his bag. He clicks the pen and shuffles through the book. This is how he de-stresses. “You worried at al ?” he asks.
    “Hel s no, I’m not worried about Lynchburg.”
    “Worried about anything else?” He glances up from his book and looks at my face, then down at my shirt. Why in the hel did I wear this fitted tee?
    I shake my head and drink some water. Then I start playing with the salt and pepper shakers. I do that game where you put one