I was trying not to panic. “My elastic broke. I need a hair tie. Doesn’t anybody have one? If I don’t put my hair back, those assholes on the other team are going to rip it out.”

“You can use mine. I have another one.” Her voice was quiet, but her words spiked my pulse. It was the new girl, Parker something. She was shy, and pretty, and people flocked to her. She was the All-American girl with stunning blue eyes, long blond hair, and straight, white teeth.

When I saw her in my dad’s office on the first day of school, I normally would’ve introduced myself, but there was something about her that made me want to both run away and be near her. It was perplexing. I watched as she slid the tie from her long ponytail. She didn’t hand it to me but told me to get on my knees and turn around. “A ponytail is fine,” I said.

“Nope. We’re not going to give them any reason to get their hands on you.”

I could tell she was French braiding my hair. Her fingers felt amazing and it was hard not to lean back or relax into her. All eyes were on us. I stayed on my knees and waited for her to finish. I wanted to say something clever and fun, but I was tongue-tied. The rest of the cheerleaders were walking through cheers, but Parker was focused on me. She quickly wrapped the end of my braid in the elastic and tucked the part that would’ve stuck out of the helmet up into the braid.

She patted my shoulder. “That should get you through the game.”

I jumped up and took a step forward before turning to thank her. “You saved me tonight. I owe you big.” I adjusted my helmet and ran over to the sidelines where my teammates stood.

“McCoy, you’re out there with Max,” Coach Larson barked. Max and I jogged to the Puma logo in the center of the field. We nodded at the right times and deferred the ball to the visiting team when we won the toss. It wasn’t hard to miss Parker on the sidelines with her long blond hair. I almost wiped out on the run back to the sidelines because Max slowed down and I was looking elsewhere. My cleat scraped the back of his ankle.

“Ow. Sutton, pay attention,” Max said.

“Fuck. Sorry!” I helped him with his shoe when we got over to the bench.

“Where’s your head at?” He followed my glance. “Oh, I get it. The new girl.” He shrugged. “I think there’s a long list so you might want to get in line.”

“McCoy! Johnson! Up for the kickoff,” Larson yelled.

“Sutton’s helping me with my shoe. Be right there.”