The Fated Fire Princess

Step to the Pep

Jack’s POV

I don’t ever want the moment to end. Sitting there by the creek, with her head on my shoulder—the soft smell of smoky campfire working its way up my nostrils—the tingling pleasure shooting through every inch of me—I never want to leave.

But I can’t stay there, either. It’s too much. I love her too much for this to be enough; I want her too much to not try for more.

So I gently pull away from her and step to my feet.

She looks sad, which, of course, makes me hate myself. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “I just…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, which makes sense. What could she say? Why should she be sorry for doing something as simple as leaning her head on my shoulder? Isn’t that something friends can do?

“No,” I say quickly. “I just… need to get back.”

I should probably come up with some sort of lie or excuse as to why I’m about to leave her in the woods by herself, but I don’t. I can’t.

I can’t think about anything except her.

- - - - -

I wish I had someone to talk to about this. Maybe, if I did, they’d convince me to make my move. Just man up and tell her, I imagine my father saying to me if we had a different kind of relationship. Worst that can happen is she says she wants to stay friends.

That’s not the worst that can happen, though—at least, not in my mind. 

“Why would you tell me that?” I imagine her asking me, silvery eyes full of angry tears. “You’re ruining our friendship, Jack!”

Or, worse—“Why would I ever be with someone like you? I’m a princess, Jack. You’re nothing.”

She would never say that, I know. She’s not even capable.

But even if she was as nice as possible about it, she could still reject me, and it could ruin our friendship. Harper is my only true friend here—the one person I care about most in the world. How could I possibly bear losing her?

 The next few days are gloomy, to say the least. My dad loses his temper with me again, though he has the good sense to take the punch to my gut this time, rather than my face—much easier to hide. Harper acts strangely around me, which of course is a result of my acting so strangely around her. And Rex is as douchey to me as ever.

Friday is pep rally day—a common occurrence at Farnethia High, where the closest thing the offspring of Farnethians have to magic is football. 

Thanks to Effie’s bad influence, the three of us usually skip pep rallies together, opting instead for smoking weed under the bleachers. I know, I know—what a cliché. m*******a isn’t legal in New Zealand, but it’s certainly popular—and not hard to come by. Effie’s father, Ace, is a total stoner. Harper’s parents aren’t, but they’re not the type that would freak out if she got caught, I don’t think.

And mine… well, my dad would use it as an excuse to punch me in the face, and then forget all about it about an hour later.

Today, though, when Effie approaches me at my locker, I can tell getting high beneath the bleachers is not the plan.

“Dad run dry on you?” I ask her in amusement when I see her expression.

She snorts. “Please. There’s so much MJ at my house, I could start selling it if I wanted to. No—Harp said she actually wanted to go to the rally today.”

That gets my attention. Harper, attending a sporting event by choice?

Okay, it’s not quite a sporting event, but it’s a sport-related event.

Instantly, the green monster overtakes me. If she wants to go, there can only be one reason. Right?

If Harper has finally decided to reciprocate Logan’s feelings, I swear I’m going to have to leave the country.

“Hey,” Harper greets us cheerfully, seeming to appear out of thin air. She nods at me. “Effie tell you?”

“That you’ve decided to step to the pep?” I ask grumpily. “Yeah, but I thought she might be messing with me.”

Harper laughs good-naturedly. “I know, I know. Just figured I should give it a chance for a change. I don’t think I’ve been to one of these things since middle school.”

I can’t help but wonder what inspired her to make this “change” now. Could it have anything to do with the way I brushed her off at the creek, and her resulting weirdness around me ever since? Should I even flatter myself enough to imagine that?

Either way, it’s bad news.

“I’d certainly rather smoke a bowl,” Effie says with a shrug, “but I guess it can wait ’til I get home. Jack, you down?”

I still hate the thought, but I’d rather be with Harper doing something I hate than not be with Harper at all, so I nod. “Sure—why not?”

- - - - -

I should have stayed away.

I know the moment I step into the gym that this was a bad idea. The streamers and confetti everywhere—the loud, enthusiastic cheering, and the blasts from the marching band—it’s too much.

I can tell from Harper’s expression that she feels the same way.

Effie, on the other hand, looks thrilled. “This is cool, right?” she asks cheerfully as she jogs over to the open floor space nearest the cheerleaders to claim us spots. I glance at Harper, who gives me a marginal shake of her head and makes her way to the bleachers, instead.

Effie shoots us a glare, but stands her ground, making conversation with one of the drama kids near her and turning away from us. I take a seat next to Harper on the bleachers, suddenly very aware of the fact that it’s just the two of us.

“This was a stupid idea,” she mutters, looking down at her hands. “It’s even worse than I remembered.”

I wonder why Harper and I seem to be the only two people in the whole school who feel that way. I know why I feel that way; I’m simply too much of a homebody for pep rallies and giant parties. I’d prefer to read, listen to music, or go for a run. More than anything, of course, I’d just prefer to spend time with her.

But Harper? She’s no hermit. She’s not exactly Miss Popularity, but she’s got much better social skills than me.

I consider asking her why she hates it so much, but before I get a chance, Logan Townsend takes the microphone from Headmaster Morrison, clears his throat, and announces, “Harper Rivers, this one’s for you.”