Chapter 2— THE FRONT ROW

Ella's POV

The pitch is so loud I can barely hear myself think.

People everywhere. Students packed into the bleachers, parents standing along the sides, teachers trying to keep order and failing. They all looked so tired of making sure things are in order. The spotlights make everything look like a movie.

I'm sitting in the front row. Front row. Me.

I wore my blue dress. The one Mom helped me pick at the mall last year. It's not fancy or anything, but it's my favorite. It brings out my eyes, she said. I spent an hour on my hair, curling the ends just right. I even put on makeup, which I never do.

Tonight matters. Tonight, people are going to see me.

Sera and her cheerleaders are sitting diagonally behind me. I can hear them whispering. Feel their eyes on the back of my head.

"Look at that dress," someone says. Tessa, probably. "Where'd she get that, a tent store?"

Giggles.

"She really thought showing up dressed up would change anything," another voice adds.

Sera doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to. Her silence is louder than their words.

I grip the edge of my seat and stare straight ahead. It doesn't matter what they say. They don't know what I know. They don't know about Damon. They don't know about tonight.

Let them laugh. They won't be laughing later.

The announcer walks to the microphone. An older guy in a suit, someone from the league. He starts talking about the season, about great plays, about sportsmanship. I'm not listening. I'm watching the players' bench.

Damon's sitting there, talking to Branson. He looks calm. Confident. Like he already knows he won.

He catches my eye for half a second and smiles. Just a tiny smile. One that no one else would notice.

My heart does a flip.

"And now," the announcer says, "the moment you've all been waiting for. The Best Player of the Season award."

The crowd cheers. I stop breathing.

"The nominees were outstanding this year. Truly outstanding. But one player stood above the rest. A player who led his team to victory after victory. A player with heart, with skill, with determination."

Say his name. Say his name. Say his name.

"The winner is... Damon Silverton!"

The pitch erupts.

I scream. I actually scream. Clapping, whistling, people standing up. Damon jumps off the bench, grinning huge, hugging Branson, hugging the coach. He waves to the crowd like he's famous or something.

Then he starts walking toward the podium.

My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. This is it. This is really it.

He reaches the podium. The announcer hands him the trophy. Damon holds it up and the crowd goes wild again.

When it quiets down, he leans into the microphone.

"Wow," he says. "I don't even know what to say. This season was insane. My team was insane. I couldn't have done any of this without them."

More cheers.

He waits for them to settle. "But there's someone else I need to thank. Someone who's been there for me all year. Someone who believed in me when no one else did."

This is it. This is the moment.

I stand up.

My legs feel like jelly. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. Everyone's going to see me. Everyone's going to know.

"Damon!" I call out.

My voice carries. The crowd goes quiet. People turn to look at me.

I don't care. Let them look. Let them all look.

Damon's eyes find mine.

For one second, one tiny second, I see it. The guilt. The fear. The thing he always hides.

Then his eyes slide past me like I'm not even there.

He smiles at someone behind me.

"And the person I want to share this with," he says into the microphone, drawing it out, "the most beautiful girl in school... my girlfriend... Sera Moon!"

Behind me, Sera stands up.

She's wearing a red dress. Shiny. Expensive. She looks like she stepped off a magazine cover. She walks past my seat, and when she reaches me, her shoulder slams into mine hard enough to knock me sideways.

I stumble. Almost fall.

"Thanks for warming the bench, fatty," she whispers.

Then she keeps walking. Right up to the podium. Right into Damon's arms. He kisses her cheek and the crowd goes absolutely insane.

I'm still standing there.

Standing in my blue dress with my curled hair and my makeup and my stupid, stupid hope.

People are laughing. I hear it now. The laughter cuts through the cheers like glass.

"Did she really think he meant her?"

"Look at her face!"

"Someone get her a bigger dress!"

"Fatty thought she had a chance with Damon Silverton!"

I can't move. My legs won't work. My brain won't work.

At the podium, Damon has his arm around Sera. They're posing for pictures. He still won't look at me. Not once.

Sera looks right at me though. And smiles.

That smile says everything. It says I won. It says you lost. It says you were never even in the game.

Someone behind me yells, "Sit down, fat girl! You're blocking the view!"

Another voice: "Maybe she thought the seat could hold her!"

More laughter. Louder now.

My legs finally move.

I don't walk. I run. Through the crowd, past the bleachers, past the surprised faces. I run until I'm out of the pitch, out of the lights, out into the cold night air.

I keep running.

Behind the gym, I stop. My stomach heaves. I bend over and throw up in the bushes. Everything comes up, the dinner I barely ate, the hope I swallowed whole.

I'm on my knees in the dark, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, when my phone buzzes.

I pull it out. A text from Damon.

I'm sorry. You know I had to do this. Her family... it's complicated. I'll explain later.

I read it three times.

Four times.

Then I stand up, wind up my arm, and throw my phone against the gym wall as hard as I can.

It shatters. Pieces fly everywhere. The screen goes black.

I stand there in the dark, alone, with throw-up on my dress and tears running down my face.

And I laugh.

I laugh because what else can I do? I laugh because I'm the biggest joke in school. I laugh because I actually believed him.

Then the laughing turns into crying. The kind of crying that comes from somewhere deep. Somewhere broken.

I slide down the wall and sit on the cold ground.

The night is quiet now. Just me and the stars and the pieces of my phone scattered on the ground.

Tomorrow, I have to go back to school. Tomorrow, I have to face them all.

But tonight, I just sit here.

And let myself fall apart.