Playing With the Boys by Liz Tigelaar Page A

Charlie and Carla to leave, then grabbed Lucy’s arm.
     
     
    “Come on, let’s go,” she said, in a rush to make her way down to Benji on the sidelines. “It’s party time!” Lucy and Max followed her to the chain-link fence, which separated the field from the fans, looking for Benji. He was nowhere to be seen.
     
     
    “I’ll find him,” Lucy offered. After all, she was the ring-leader of this little plan. She snaked her way through the crowd, searching, but after ten minutes she walked back to Pickle and Max with bad news.
     
     
    “Well?” Max asked, jumping around to stay warm. Even Southern California got a little cold at night.
     
     
    “I don’t know where he went,” Lucy admitted. She pulled out her cell phone to try calling him. But the number just rang and rang. Time passed. The stands and field emptied out.
     
     
    “Maybe we should wait by the locker room door,” Pickle offered. “We could catch him when he comes out.”
     
     
    “Sure,” Lucy said. She was open to suggestions. She just felt like an idiot. These girls were waiting and counting on her . Where was Benji? It was understandable if he wasn’t exactly in the party mood, but would Pickle and Max understand? After all, Lucy had convinced them to come.
     
     
    After they’d been waiting another twenty minutes with no sign of Benji, Lucy didn’t know what to say. “I left him a message that we were coming and needed a ride—I don’t know what happened.”
     
     
    “He probably just forgot. I mean, he did blow the game,” Max reminded them. “That may be all he’s thinking about.”
     
     
    Pickle sadly agreed. “I’d just never been to one of these parties before. . . .” She trailed off, her voice filled with disappointment.
     
     
    Lucy looked around, one last time, feeling terrible. “I’m really sorry, you guys.”
     
     
    Pickle looked at her watch. “Tomorrow’s the last day of tryouts anyway,” she said. “I should just call my mom and have her pick us up,” she said matter-of-factly.
     
     
    Max shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. That’s fine.”
     
     
    Pickle turned to Lucy. “Are you okay to get home? Because my mom could probably drive you. . . .”
     
     
    Lucy shook her head. She didn’t want them going out of their way for her. Not after she’d screwed up so monumentally. “Oh no, that’s okay. I can just call my dad.”
     
     
    “Okay, well, we’ll see you tomorrow then,” Pickle said, giving Lucy a small wave. “Don’t feel bad about tonight. You know . . . it happens.”
     
     
    Lucy looked down at her shoes and nodded. “Thanks.”
     
     
    Pickle and Max took off toward the front of the school. Lucy stood on the sidewalk, her heart heavy. Here she had been this big talker about getting them into this big party, and she couldn’t even get a ride there. Now she felt like a big loser. She opened her cell phone and dialed.
     
     
    “Hey dad,” she said, “the game’s over. Could you come pick me up?”
     
     
    “I thought your friends were bringing you home. What happened?”
     
     
    “Dad!” she snapped. “I’ve lived here, what? Two-point-two seconds? I don’t have friends yet.”
     
     
    “Lucy?” her dad asked quietly, clearly surprised at her outburst. “What happened?”
     
     
    “Nothing. I’m sorry,” she sighed. And it was true. Thanks to her, absolutely nothing had happened.
     
     
     
It was close to midnight when a tap, tap, tap noise woke Lucy up. At first she’d thought it was rain, but then she remembered that it hardly ever rained in Southern California, and when it did, she’d have to worry about her house getting caught in a mudslide and careening into the Pacific Ocean.
     
     
    She sat up, startled, and opened her phone, using the faint light it provided to make her way to the window.
     
     
    Tap, tap, tap . . . The noise continued sporadically. Her heart raced. Looking through the glass, she made out a dark figure down below. She was