The high of spending Friday night fooling around with Amber lasts a whole lot longer than the high of the game did, especially when I let the memory of her cheer replace the ones of the quiet pep rally and the missing party invitation. In fact, it lasts right up until Monday afternoon’s practice, when all the usual anger, annoyance, and general shittiness comes flowing back. If I’d thought a win would be the ticket to a change, I know now that was a stupid, pointless hope. And even though Coach tells me I did a good job, the fact that he waits until everyone else is gone just makes me angry.

He’s such a damn coward.

The difference the blessing of his shoulder pat would make if the team actually saw it is huge. I know it and he knows it.

But.

This whole fucking school is full of cowards.

I’m trying to get where everyone’s coming from. I am. When we were catching our breath the other night, Amber gave me a lot more background, and I gather that Robbie was well-liked and the guys are taking his death really hard. But why they’re taking it out on me is still something I don’t get—not when I’m helping them win.

Whatthefuckever. Homecoming is coming up, and given that this isn’t my home, I couldn’t give a shit about making Atherton alumni proud, but these guys should.

I knew they were gonna be weird about playing with a girl. Coach even warned me it might take the guys some time to warm up. But I throw a hundred and sixty yards a game, rush for sixty-five, and had every single play memorized before I even started here. I haven’t asked them to change a damn thing about the way they act or talk around me that might offend my feminine sensibilities. (Not that I have any, but if I did.) Hell, I’m even fooling around with a cheerleader like most of them are, or at least have at some point, if the shit they shoot around practice is to be believed. What more can I do to get the message across that I’m here to stay and that it’s a good thing I am?

It’s hard to hold on to my rage when I think about Amber, even if she’s pretending to be just as hard-core Team Robbie as the rest of them. Hours of talking and making out kinda dulled that edge. Even now, I’m half pissed about Coach keeping his praise on the DL and letting the rest of the team continue to treat me like crap, and half pissed that I missed out on riding home with her for the privilege of being their punching bag.