Troy High

Iliad

IT WAS A LATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON WHEN I kissed my best friend.

We had been playing our favorite video game, Martial Battle 2, in his parents’ den. Playing video games was something we did a lot. Kissing was not.

"Oh, you are so dead, Cassie Prince," Greg Mennon growled, his eyes locked on the TV screen.

We watched as the two fighters on the screen lunged toward each other. My fighter, a woman dressed in a long flowing gown, grabbed Greg’s hulking fighter and slung him over her shoulder. He fell so hard, he cracked the virtual floor. The screen proclaimed, CASSIE WINS!

That’s what you think, I said, kicking Greg’s foot with my own. I even beat you in heels.

You cheat, Greg told me.

I snorted. Yeah, okay. If it makes you feel any better, go ahead and believe that I cheat and not that you just suck.

Greg hit the button on his controller to start a new game and the Choose a Character screen appeared.

So tomorrow’s the big day, he said as he selected his next fighter. We go back to being enemies again.

I rolled my eyes. I can hardly wait.

Every school had a bit of a rivalry with other schools, but the one between Lacede High and Troy High was legendary. It made sense, I suppose, that our mascots were the Spartans and Trojans, respectively. Just as the Greeks and Trojans battled thousands of years ago, our schools fought wars on the football field.

The rivalry had been going on since before my parents had been in high school. Back in the 1950s, right after Troy High was built, Lacede and Troy played their first football game against each other. The game took place at Lacede and everything was going fine—until the fourth quarter. Then a Trojan player caught the ball just before being roughly shoved out of bounds by a Spartan. Or at least, that’s the Trojan version of the story. The Spartans claim that the Trojan had already stepped out of bounds before he caught the ball. The Trojan shoved the Spartan back and the coaches had to break them up so the game could continue. The referee sided with the Spartans.

But that wasn’t the end of it. The next time the Trojans lined up to start their offensive play, one of the Spartans said the Trojans played football like little girls and they should try cheerleading instead. The quarterback leaped out of position to lunge at the Spartan and wrestle him to the ground. Soon, all of the players, even the ones who had been sitting on the sidelines at the time, were throwing punches at one another. And a bloody brawl ensued.

Troy lost the game, the Trojan quarterback was banned from the team for the rest of the season, and war between the schools had been declared. During my parents’ time at Troy, some guys had let a bunch of pigs loose during a dance at Lacede. In revenge, the Spartans had rigged up buckets of soured milk to dump onto the Trojans when they entered the school one morning.

The rivalry was a thing of legend around the two neighboring school districts. Everyone had a story. Everyone liked to act as if they played a part in continuing the saga.

Greg went to Lacede High.

I went to Troy.

Greg pressed the Start button and our fighters appeared onscreen again, staring at each other while the countdown flashed between them.

I punched at the buttons on my controller, making my fighter throw a wild series of punches and kicks so fast that Greg could barely get his fighter out of the way in time.

Twenty bucks says Lacede kicks Troy’s butt this season, Greg grunted as his fingers tried to keep up with mine.

My dancing lady tried to grab Greg’s blue wolverine, but he jumped out of the way at the last second, flying over her head to land behind her and grab her around the waist. The wolverine swung the dancing lady over his head, but I got her to free herself and somersault through the air, then land gracefully.

I rolled my eyes. You know I think that rivalry is stupid, but there is no way Lacede will beat Troy. You haven’t seen Perry and Hunter practicing.

Perry and Hunter were my older brothers and both played on the Troy High football team, Hunter as the quarterback and Perry a cornerback.

And you haven’t seen Lucas, Greg told me. His older brother was the Lacede quarterback.

His fighter grabbed mine again, but this time she couldn’t break the hold. He tossed the dancing lady backward, slamming her into the ground.

Greg punched the air with his fists. Booyah! Who sucks now?

I threw my controller at him. Grow up. It’s just a game.

Aw, what’s wrong? Greg taunted me. Sad now that you lost? What happened to all those big words about how you can kick my butt in heels?

I bopped Greg over the head with a throw pillow. Shut up.

Wanna play again? he asked.

I’m tired, I said, leaning back into the couch.

No, you’re scared. He poked a finger into my ribs. Scared of being beat again.

Puh-leeze … , I said, swatting his hand away.

But Greg wouldn’t give up easily. You’re scared of wounding your pride. Every time you start to lose, you claim you’re tired. He leaned toward me, smirking. Admit it, Cassie. You’re just scared. You’ve never done a thing in your life that frightens you.

Oh, really? I asked, suddenly filled with annoyance and the desire to prove him wrong.

For months I had thought about kissing Greg, had even dreamed about it. But I’d always been too afraid to do it, too afraid of ruining our friendship.

We’d met two years ago at band camp, when Greg had discovered me hiding in a supply closet and scarfing down three pints of chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream stolen from the counselors’ freezer while everyone else watched the evening movie. I had planned to share it with my roommates in the hopes that maybe they’d stop calling me Gassie. Which they had started doing on our first night at band camp, when I accidentally laughed so hard that, well, you can guess what happened.

But then as I had headed back to my room with the stolen ice cream, I’d overheard my roommates laughing about me with some other girls in the common room.

So I hid in the supply closet and started eating all of the ice cream myself. I was halfway through the third pint when the door opened and Greg came in, looking for a soft rag to clean his trumpet with.

I had seen Greg around camp before then, but I could never work up the courage to talk to him. Not only was he a Spartan—even in band camp Spartans and Trojans didn’t mingle together—but also other people always surrounded him because he was so nice and friendly. And I … well, before Greg, my last best friend had moved away when I was ten and I’d just never really gotten along with anyone else. It didn’t help that my brother Perry liked to tease me in school in front of everyone. The rest of Troy High followed his lead just because they thought he was so cool.

Now, the supply closet was pretty roomy, but I was not thrilled at having company. Just as I was about to hurl a spoonful of ice cream at Greg’s face in the hopes of getting him to go away and leave me alone, he took the carton from me, helped himself to a big spoonful, and somehow made me laugh.

We’d been inseparable ever since, even though our schools were the biggest rivals in the area. Unfortunately, we had to endure constant harassment about being friends.

But still, the thought of being more than friends had popped into my head only recently. And once it did, it would not go away. And believe me, I tried to force it away by thinking about things like Greg sick with a snotty nose. But even that wouldn’t get rid of those crazy thoughts.

So I leaned across the distance between us on the faded green couch and planted my lips on his before I could change my mind. Never would I have dared do it if Greg hadn’t taunted me like that.

I was kissing my best friend.

The guy who had seen me with bed head and dressed in my grungy pajamas.

I was kissing Greg.

And I liked it.

I pulled back, keeping my eyes on the wall in front of me. Greg still hadn’t moved. Shocked, he sat perfectly still, his controller pinched in his hands.

I heard the front door open and a moment later, Greg’s older brother, Lucas, entered the room, followed by his girlfriend, Elena Argos, and his friend Owen, who was also on the Lacede football team.

I’m not done talking to you, Lucas, Elena said, her hands on her hips.

Well, I’m done listening. Lucas plopped onto the other end of the couch and snatched up the controller I had thrown at Greg. Who wants to play me?

I glanced at Greg from the corner of my eye. He still sat frozen.

Lucas waved his hand in front of his brother’s face. What’s up with you? We playing or not?

Greg snapped out of his stupor and tossed his controller to the floor. No way. You cheat.

Aw, poor wittle Gwegowy scared of a challenge? Lucas asked, poking out his lower lip.

I’ll play, Owen said, scooping up the controller and squeezing onto the couch between Greg and me.

Elena glared down at Lucas with her dark blue eyes. If you have nothing better to do than play video games, I’m going home.

See ya, Lucas called, not looking away from the TV.

I glanced at Elena to distract myself from the fact that I had just kissed my best friend. Elena was a sophomore, like me, while Lucas and his friends were juniors.

Two things made the Lacede-Troy rivalry even more heated this year: One, my brother Hunter had brought down the star of Lacede’s defensive line—a wild card named Ackley—in the game between our two schools the year before. Not only did that secure the win for Troy in that particular game, but also since it was early in the season and Ackley had twisted his ankle pretty badly, he was unable to play in any of Lacede’s remaining games that year. Therefore, Lacede had no chance at winning the regional championship. Lacede held Hunter responsible. And they were out to get him.

The second reason the rivalry had grown so huge this year was that over the summer the board of education had redrawn the school district lines to help ease overcrowding at Lacede. Which meant that some of the Lacede students would now be attending Troy High, starting tomorrow.

And the most beautiful girl at Lacede, Elena Argos, was one of those students.

My stomach twisted just a little at the thought of Elena being set loose among the guys at Troy High. That couldn’t lead to anything good. She was the kind of girl who could really drive guys crazy.

Elena looked over at me. "I don’t know how you can stand to be around these immature little boys all day while they play video games, Cassie," she told me.

None of the guys seemed to hear her. Or else they were ignoring her.

Uh, I said, removing myself from the couch and Greg’s presence, I’m going to … get something to drink.

Bring me a Coke, Lucas said.

Me too, Owen piped up as his fingers flew over the game controller.

Greg stared at the TV, his face a slight tinge of pink, and didn’t say a word.

I jumped from the couch and practically dashed into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter for a moment, taking a long, deep breath.

What had I done? I had to be the stupidest, most insane—

Can you believe what a jerk Lucas can be? said a voice behind me.

I turned to see Elena had followed me into the kitchen. She stood with her arms crossed and her face creased into a dark scowl. She was even gorgeous when she was angry.

I busied myself with getting a glass of water. After taking a long sip, I said, Why are you with him if he’s a jerk?

Elena snorted. Good question. She sighed. Take it from me, Cassie. Guys are nothing but giant pains. At least you got the nice Mennon brother.

I nearly dropped the glass I held and sputtered water down my chin. W-what? I don’t … Greg’s not …

I had hoped that Lucas might one day grow up and stop being such a self-centered baby, but apparently that’ll never happen, Elena went on, as if she didn’t hear my stammering. I could dump him right now and he’d never even notice because he’s too busy playing video games. She raised her fists in front of her, shook them, and gave a growl of frustration.

I followed her back to the den, where the boys still sat in front of the TV.

I’m leaving, Elena announced in a loud voice.

No one seemed to hear her. Lucas’s and Owen’s fighters battled onscreen, and Greg still stared blankly at the TV.

Elena glared at Lucas a moment longer, but he didn’t seem to notice the death-ray look she shot him. Finally, Elena gave an aggravated groan, spun on her heel, and stomped out of the room. I heard the front door slam shut behind her.

The guys still sat on the couch, oblivious.

You are so dead, Lucas said. He was an active player, swinging and tilting the controller while he punched the buttons and bounced in his seat.

I sneaked a few glances at Greg while Owen and Lucas battled. What was Greg thinking? Was he thinking about the fact that we had just kissed? Was he ever going to speak to me again? Was he going to pretend nothing happened?

I had to get out of there before I drove myself insane. Greg obviously thought it was a huge mistake. I could take the hint.

I’ll see you guys later, I said, standing up. I’m going home.

You want me to ride with you? Greg asked.

I knew he would have gone with me if I had said yes, but I didn’t want the ride to be one long, uncomfortable moment of silence.

No, it’s okay. See you later.

Bye, Greg and Owen called as I left the room. I didn’t think Lucas even noticed what went on outside of the video game.

I lifted my face toward the late summer sun as I rode my bike away from Greg’s house. I couldn’t believe how fast the summer had disappeared and how it was time to go back to school already.

School was not my favorite place in the world. Sure, I was in the Troy High band and I really did enjoy playing flute. But the rest of high school—the cliques, the popularity contests, the gossip—I was not a fan of.

Halfway home, a car