Bad Taste in Boys Read Free Page B

was.
    “Trust me,” he said before closing the door, “during a play, all I’m thinking about is not getting clobbered. I’ll send Logan out.”
    I’d just engaged in witty banter—how in the heck had that happened? Maybe I wasn’t as hopeless as I thought. My mother would never let me live this down.
    I kept replaying it in my head: the way he laughed at my joke, the way he looked at me like I was interesting and not just like he wanted to copy off my test. The situation had me all in a tizzy.
    Logan came out the door, and I grinned like a complete lunatic. He stared at me like I’d grown a third eye.
    “What?” I asked.
    “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. What’s up?”
    “Oh. Nothing.” I beamed at him. “How’s the finger?”
    “Hurts.” He held his hand out. The tape was slipping, so we sat down next to the cart to repply it. My hands started sweating about halfway through. The elation quickly wore off and was replaced with a feeling of dread. Would Aaron expect me to flirt like that again? What would I say? Something told me he wouldn’t be interested in hearing random factoids about fungal infections.
    Now I was so worked up that I couldn’t stop shaking. I whacked Logan’s injured finger against my thigh by mistake. His face went white, but he didn’t say a word.
    “I am so sorry,” I said, wiping my hands on my pants. “Are you okay? Do you need painkillers? Ice? Gatorade?”
    “It’s okay.” He stood up. “I think that’ll get me through the game. Thanks, Kate. You’ve been really great.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    I felt so ashamed. It was a minor miracle that I had managed to talk to a guy without making a total fool of myself, but I needed to chill. I had a job to do, after all.
    It was time to get back on the field. I reluctantly tapped on Coach’s door.
    “What?” he yelled.
    “Time to go back out, Coach.”
    He opened the door. “How’s the finger?”
    He had a tray of steroids in his office. Was he seriously worried about a broken finger?
    “Fine,” I said, and then I turned my back on him and walked away before I said something I’d regret.
    Not that I was going to let the steroid thing slide. No way. I actually felt a little protective now. Steroids could kill, and I wasn’t about to let that happen to any of my players.

fter the game, my brother, Jonah, met me outside the locker room wearing a giant chicken suit. Every year, a freshman was chosen to be our team mascot, Birdy the Bantam. The costume had to be one of the most emasculating things in the known universe, particularly since Birdy was a girl and wore a cute little cheerleading outfit complete with yellow tights and pigtails.
    Jonah wasn’t usually the school-spirit type, but he had an epic crush on Kiki. Being our mascot allowed him to spend a lot of time on the sidelines ogling her and the other cheerleaders. I tried to tell him Kiki wasn’t attracted to giant cheerleading chickens, but he never listened to me.
    “Take me with you,” he squeaked. I thought he might finally be hitting puberty. He was fifteen, so it was about time.
    “What on earth are you talking about?”
    He shadowed me to Coach’s office. “You’ve got to let me come with you to Kiki’s bonfire.”
    “I don’t think cheerleading poultry are allowed. Besides, I’m only staying for a minute to be polite, and then I’m going home.”
    “Please. Please, Kate.” He patted my arm desperately with his wings, trying to grab me, but the costume had no hands. “I swear; I’ll do anything. I’ll do all your chores for a month.”
    He sounded so desperate that I figured I might as well take pity on him; it wasn’t like I’d be there long enough for him to embarrass me anyway.
    I sighed. “Fine. Just get out of my way so I can lock this stuff up.”
    He obediently flattened himself against the wall so I could push the Gatorademobile up to the office.
    When I knocked, Coach yelled through the door. “I’m