Fate Only Knows

Chapter Five: Friday Night Lights

--VALENTINA--

Entering the bleachers, I tug on my turtleneck, acutely aware that only a small scrap of fabric is keeping my secret. I wish it wasn't so figure hugging, but I don't have anything else. I take a seat in the back, hoping I'm not as conspicuous as I feel. I can see both teams huddled on the sidelines, Tasmanians in red, Panthers in blue.

"Hey!" A blur of blond pops into my line of sight. "Valentina?" She's so familiar, but I can't quite place her name. Come on, she sat next to you in Mr. Davis' class, she was wearing a pink top...

"Caroline, hey." I croak out, not realizing how hoarse my throat truly is. "How's it going?"

She scrunches her eyebrows at me. "You good? Are you sick or something?" She says, scooting a little further away.

"No, sorry, it's just allergies. So much pollen." She nods in understanding. "I get you, girl. I can't be within five feet of a cat or I'm just a sneezing mess." I'm just glad she bought my excuse. Note: don't bring your nonexistent cat around Caroline.

Her eyes light up as a player walks onto the field. "Oh, no way," she says, gripping my arm in glee. "What?" I ask, thoroughly confused. From what I can make out, the coach is really laying into this guy.

"Okay, see that guy who just walked on? That's Raphael." Noticing she has his number, 42, painted on her cheeks, I ask, "Oh, is he your boyfriend?"

Apparently that was a ridiculous question. "What?" she asks, giggling and pushing me away, "No, silly. He's like, the most popular guy in school. Also happens to be our best and only functional QB, but rumor has it he's been skipping practice."

"The coach looks furious."

"Oh, he is. But he doesn't have a choice. Watch."

Surely enough, after a solid two minutes of verbal abuse from the coach, Raphael joins the huddle with the rest of the team.

"See? They don't have a team without him."

Hm. Another cocky guy who thinks the Earth revolves around him. I guess every high school has one. Caroline can't take her eyes off him. She's obviously smitten. From here, he just looks like a little smear of red to me.

I know next to nothing about football, but Caroline kindly acts as my personal commentator. Mostly when Raphael has the ball. Occasionally she gives the other guys some attention too. She knows all the cheers and chants, too.

"Hey, Caroline," I say, glancing in her direction.

"Yeah?" she says, taking a selfie of the two of us.

"Were you ever on the cheer team?"

Oops. Faux paus number two.

"Okay, I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that, because you're new here," she says, glaring in the direction of the cheerleaders.

"I'm sorry, I just thought, because you're so into the school pride stuff, you know..."

"The cheerleaders are basically the biggest sluts on campus. They're backstabbing whores."

I'm taken aback.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

She flips her hair. "It's fine. Now you do." She resumes her snap chatting activities as I ponder her statements. Daphne seemed pretty nice to me. But I don't know her. But I don't know Caroline either.

The rest of the game passed quickly. As Caroline's excitement grew, she talked more, which I was grateful for as my throat started burning like I swallowed a firecracker. By the winning touchdown, scored by none other than Raphael, I was ready to pass out from pain. Caroline was ready to pass out with excitement.