Near Touch

Chapter 11: Watch Me

"... So the four-one-one is that you got high on molly and then dry humped the road in the middle of the storm," spoke Gemma, energetically passing onto Amy the best and the most widely accepted theory about her 'little accident' that the whole school had decided to run with. They were driving down to the campus for the rivalry game with Madison County.

Amy flipped and burst out, "Good lord, the entire population of this high school has nothing better to do?"

"Not the entire student body, love. You are not that popular."

"Oh, boo-hoo."

Amy buried her hands under her butt, trying to discover some semblance of warmth there that her silver sweatshirt was failing to provide. She was one of those humans whose body could never generate enough heat and her current circumstances weren't exactly ideal either. "Can't we roll up the windows, please? I am freezing to death here."

"There is only one rule in Gemma's Fiesta. Feel the night baby," she sang. 

Amy had started to harbor a dislike for cars in general and her friend wasn't assisting in allaying her negative spirits. The downhill route from her house to the school in a mobile freezer meant that the cold wind was biting the skin off Amy's bloody face. She knew she had to resemble some kind of splotchy, deformed tomato by now. Mercifully, the trip was as short as it was balmy. Amy's teeth chattered as she said, "You know who is waiting eagerly for me at the end of this ride?"

"Who?"

"Hypothermia."

Gemma reached out and pulled her cheek, laughing. She parked next to a space-grey jeep that probably belonged to someone on the football team and casually threw her next line at Amy. "You know, your hot-shot boyfriend is playing tonight. He is probably waiting for you too."

Amy knew better than to fall into this bear trap. "Whatever, Craft. It's the usual for you and Henry tonight, isn't it?"

"Yup. I get off to the sounds of all those people yelling and screaming for me," she simpered, arching one carefully shaped eyebrow.

Amy snorted. "They are cheering for the team."

Every football game, Henry and Gemma made their way into the dark corners of the bleachers and played a whole other ball game. Amy was relieved, naturally, when her friend ditched her and excitedly started making her way to the stadium. No more questions tonight. 

Henry was waiting for Gemma near the concession stand and off they went, arm in arm, to their 'love-spot' – which vaguely reminded Amy of a prelude to some kind of serpentine mating ritual. Smirking to herself, she turned her attention to the crowd. Amy spotted an attractively familiar figure, staring yearningly at some nachos.

Amy pulled out her phone from her pocket and put it to her ear before saying, "You know, too many of those will give you heart disease."

"It really is a shame that I can't have too many of those then," Caleb said, wistfully. His eyes followed Jessica Colt as she munched three nachos at the same time. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better. The fever has reduced but not much," she answered. "Enough for me to convince my mom to let me watch the game tonight."

"It feels weird not playing," Caleb said, his tone morose. 

That alerted Amy to his inner thoughts. She realized that every little thing in his vicinity must hurtfully remind him of what he was missing. Amy felt guilty.

Caleb finally looked at her. "Shall we go watch the rest of the game?"

The night was crisp and tailor-made for a football game where the stakes were apparently too high. The moon and the stars were shielded by an overhanging ceiling of the clouds. Like she was in a cave of grey and obsidian rock, watching an exciting spectacle; while a sneaky draft whistled by, creeping up behind Amy and tickling her ears, reminding her that there was an exit if so she wished.