The crowd exploded in wild, earsplitting cheers as the brass band began to play.
After Quin finished riling up their audience, Riya switched off the mic, and together, they walked off the pitch.
“I still don’t understand why wecaw,” she observed. “We’re the AbbersettFalcons, not the Abbersett Crows.”
“Use that giant brain of yours, Riya,” Quin replied, tapping their skull. “A real falcon call is literally ashriek. Just loud, high-pitchedshrieking. You want that to be our call?”
“No, thank you. You’re annoying enough as it is.”
Quin laughed.
Riya peeled off toward Mel, who’d saved her a seat with her lavender cardigan.
“It’s starting, it’s starting!!” Mel bounced.
The brass band’s instruments gleamed under the fading sunlight, sending booming notes through the stadium as the soccer team jogged onto the field.
Mel grabbed Riya’s arm.“It’s Andrew!”
Bringing up the rear, Andrew wore the same white-and-gold jersey as the rest. To Riya, he looked the same as always—but Mel’s excitement made him seem larger somehow. More significant.
Riya blinked. She didn’t understand how simply looking at someone—someone you weren’t even dating—could bring such happiness. Especially when love seemed to hurt Mel just as often. Was it truly worth it?
Shaking off the thought, Riya pulled out her notebook from her backpack. She had bigger things to worry about.
Mel frowned. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Working on my Caltech essay. May as well get some work done if I have to sit here.”
It was already October 9. The application deadline was looming, and lately, it felt like she was making no progress. On anything.
“But thegame! You have to watch! That’s how we support them!”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Riya muttered, scrawling a single word at the top of her page:Caltech.
She scowled. The word practically inked on her eyelids, haunting her every blink.Just write what you love!That’s what all the college essay tip books said. Easier said than done, though. How was she supposed to focus when everything around her was unraveling?
Suddenly, a guitar strum echoed through the stadium speakers, making her jump. Her pen slipped from her fingers, clattering down the bleachers.
She looked up—and felt the blood drain from her face.
“Abbersett! Pardon the interruption.”
Kian stood dead center on the pitch, haloed in stadium light.
Holding a guitar.
The players froze. Murmurs rippled through the stands.Feedback crackled through the speakers as Kian strummed again.
“While I have your attention,” he said, grinning up at the crowd, “I’d like to take this opportunity to perform a little something for a special, special girl. Hit it, Eric!”
Down by the new video board, Eric from the AV Club knelt by a laptop, looking like a deer braced for an eighteen-wheeler. The scoreboard flickered and the display vanished. A night sky swelled across the black screen, before a smattering of stars locked into silvery letters:
Riya
“This one’s for you, Riya.”
A hush fell. The cheer squad jogged back onto the field and formed a wobbly two-line block behind him. Then came the music—an unshakably confident melody spilling across the field like fog.
