Let Me Love Him

XXI.

"I'm the team captain," Ted warns everyone.

The air is running high. Dan Wilson is almost ready to hide and run, but gets behind and pretends to be confident.

The only problem — he's not.

Dan has goosebumps. He squeezes his football uniform and looks at the captain's wide back. "Go, Bullworth, go!" is spreading through the long corridors of the academy, which points to the appearance of cheerleaders — Mandy — and Dan feels this tremor inside. Raises his eyebrows.

Ted looks with a slight grin (at her) and a bit of respect (which he actively refuses to acknowledge). It's as if with one look he says:

You look marvellous in that blue uniform, Mandy.

Of course, there should be a less beautiful word — not "marvellous", it's Ted anyway.

But Mandy knows that he likes her.

And she goes on dancing like she's not offended and doesn't care.

Because, in fact, she does.

Mandy has a black hole inside, her movements are sharp, and she looks bored with how hot she really is. There are millions of words in her. And they try to fly out. In football players. Just like bullets.

Kirby overturns Constantinos's tray and fills the table with apple juice. Constantinos looks silently, gloomily, not even twitching (like Gordon sitting next to him), as if he's not afraid at all. It always happens before important games — football team, cheerleaders, coach get into massive pep rally.

Gordon looks at the spots on the dark green sweater and throws him a napkin.

"Clean it."

Gordon is always so arrogant — he thinks he's special and looks down on everyone.

Constantinos nods to him, but Gordon doesn't care.

"And don't look at her. Your jaw is gonna fall off," he pushes Const into the shoulder. He sees only blue uniform of the cheerleaders. Then he looks more attentively. Pinky Gauthier is in front of him.

"I don't look at her," Constantinos says. He says it like he tries to get rid of these persistent thoughts. "I really don't."

He does.

Constantinos is bad at lying, by the way.

There's huge abyss and one icy ocean of all the icebergs of the world between him and Pinky Gauthier. He never gets to her first, he gets embarrassed, scared, awkward and immediately wants to run. Pinky never looks at him first — girls like her are made for other boys. Boys with impeccable reputation. Boys who will carry her on arms and flood with gifts. Constantinos can't even lift her. And if he does, it's gonna be only five seconds.

Pinky doesn't like boys who doesn't (can't) make the first steps. Nor does she like Johnny Vincent's gloomy looks, thrown and frozen on her, stuck on her smooth movements.

(not because they make her confused)

Pinky doesn't lose her temper at all, doesn't get angry (though very much). She raises all her contempt — heavy — and throws with one glance.

Pinky doesn't care.

Pinky has the look just like cheerleader's moves — clear, sharp, but fascinating. She dances to Mandy's right and doesn't look at Johnny (tries not to look) as if she doesn't want to apologize, as if she hasn't thought about it all night long.

Johnny looks at Norton with suspiciously heavy eyes, and no longer looks at her at all, and Pinky... Pinky already doubts that he even recognized her among the crowd of cheerleaders. That she is here. With the football team. Right here, close. Which is annoying. Annoying. Really-really annoying. God, he pisses her off! Johnny gets up from his seat, and Mandy's movements seem to be even more distinct. Her smile becomes brighter.