planned to be on, and Penn Station was about ten minutes from the gallery by cab.
Sam reached over and lazily pushed up the sleeve of his jacket. "It's seven-ten," he said.
I leaped up off the bench, my heart pounding. "Oh my god! How is that possible?"
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"Well, the big hand's on the--"
"No, no, I have to get out of here," I said. "I'm late."
He scrunched up his face in mock confusion. "Wait, let me guess ..." Suddenly he waved his
hand in the air. "I know, I know. It must be the night of the BIG GAME, right?"
I couldn't help smiling. "If I had the time, I'd punch you," I said.
"In that case, I'd better get you a cab,'* he said, and he turned and walked toward the gate. I
followed and waited on the sidewalk while he hailed a cab, trying not to tap my foot impatiently.
Luckily a cab pulled up right away; within a minute Sam was holding the door open for me.
As I slid into the backseat, it occurred to me how rude I was being. "Sorry to race off like this," I said, buckling my seat belt.
"No worries," he said. "I wouldn't want you to turn into a pumpkin right before my eyes." And then, smiling, he shut the door of the cab.
"Where to?" asked the driver.
"Penn Station, please." The cab sped off, and when we stopped at the corner for a light, I realized I hadn't even really said good-bye. I craned my neck around to see if Sam was still standing
outside the gallery, but he wasn't there. I leaned back against the seat.
"Do you know what time it is?" I asked the driver.
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"It's seven-fifteen," he said.
If I missed the seven-twenty train, the next one was the seven-forty, which meant there was no
way I'd get to the eight o'clock game before eight-thirty.
It was all Mara's fault. If she hadn't been such a witch, we wouldn't have gotten into a fight, and
if we hadn't gotten into a fight, I wouldn't have had to come to the city to avoid getting grounded,
and if I hadn't had to come to the city to avoid getting grounded, I wouldn't have stayed at the
gallery all that time talking to Sam, and if I hadn't stayed at the gallery talking to Sam, I wouldn't
have missed my train, and if I hadn't missed my train, I wouldn't be late to the game.
Tonight was a perfect illustration of why Cinderella and the Prince get married twenty-four hours
after they meet. Because when you're living with your stepmother, there is no happily ever after.
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Chapter Sixteen
I'd expected to arrive halfway through the first quarter if I was lucky, but when I yanked open the
door of the gym, the teams were still warming up. How was that possible? Looking up at the
clock just under the scoreboard, I saw that it said eight-thirty. So I was late. But so was the game.
I stood by the door watching as each player took a shot and then melted into the snaking line of
players forming and reforming below the basket. Fans cheered so wildly the gym literally shook.
Music blared out of the loudspeakers, and the room itself seemed to be sweating from all the
bodies crammed inside. I felt the heat and noise acting on me like an elixir. In less than a minute
I'd identified Connor--like magic, the second I saw him, he sank a perfect layup, and the crowd,
me included, went wild.
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It took forever to find Madison and Jessica, and then my chunky-heeled boots turned the climb
up to were they were sitting into an aerobics class. By the time I arrived at the sliver of space
they'd been able to save for me, I was panting as hard as the guys on the team. "Sorry I'm late," I said after I'd hugged them both hello. Then I looked down at the court just in time to see us lose
the tip.
Jessica waved away my apology. "Guess what?" she asked.
South Meadow was good. Really good. We'd barely managed to get the ball when they got it
back.
"Know what?" Jessica asked again.
I pointed at the clock. "Why'd the game start late?"
"I think their bus broke down or something," Madison said. I watched as the ref called Glen Lake for traveling.
"Aren't you going to ask what?" said Jessica.
"What what?" I asked. South Meadow made the foul shot, and I managed to take my eyes off the
court long enough to notice both Madison and Jessica were grinning from ear to ear. "What?" I
repeated.
"The prom committee's announcing the prom theme on Monday." Her smile broadened. "And
you know what else?"
"What?--The ref blew his whistle just as Jessica put her arm around my shoulder and leaned in to
whisper in my ear. Had he called another foul against Glen Lake? I
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couldn't see. "What three girls are the only sophomores who will be receiving invitations?"
Suddenly my mind was very much not on the game. "No!" I said, staring at her.
Jessica nodded. "Yes."
Now I started to smile, too. "Wait a sec," I said, rethinking what she'd said. "You don't know they're going to ask us."
Madison put her arm around my other shoulder and leaned into me, the three of us forming a
tight huddle. "Not only are they going to ask us," she said, "but I think they're going to ask us tonight."
"Tonight?" I repeated.
She and Jessica squeezed me, like they were making a Lucy sandwich. "Tonight," said Jessica.
Just then Connor got the ball, and the three of us leaped to our feet along with the rest of the
Glen Lake fans. I cheered until I was hoarse as Connor dribbled the ball toward the net, moving
so easily he didn't even need to fake out the people sent to guard him--his fluid body simply
swayed one way, then another, and suddenly there was only empty space where he'd been a
second before. Watching him sink the ball, I couldn't believe someone so confident and talented
had chosen me to be his girlfriend.
Still clapping, Jessica leaned into me. "There goes your prom date," she said.
"Stop," I said, hitting her on the shoulder. "Watch
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the game." But I couldn't help laughing and neither could she.
It was probably the only time anyone on our side of the gym laughed all night. By the third
quarter, the game, which everyone had predicted would be a close one, was proving to be
anything but. South Meadow--a team that seemed to have the ability to read one another's minds,
twelve giants who dwarfed even our tallest players--was unbeatable. No, not unbeatable--
untouchable. While they sank basket after basket, we barely scored, until eventually we were
behind by almost thirty points. Their coach started rotating in players who probably hadn't been
off the bench all season, letting the score get a little closer before sending back in a well-rested
starter or two. Our starters, meanwhile, were exhausted; they'd been running all night, but the
few times they were rotated out they couldn't sit still. I watched them pace back and forth along
the court, swigging water restlessly until they were sent back in. When the final buzzer rang and
South Meadow had won by fifteen, most of the guys on the Glen Lake bench were holding their
heads in their hands. A few were actually crying.
Even Madison and Jessica were crushed, though for a very different reason. "The guys are gonna