Free Confessions of a Queen B* by Crista McHugh Page A

rested his hands on his knee. “We need to have that therapy session over fro-yo and figure out a way to get you some action.”
    “I don’t need any action with him.”
    “Bullshit. Besides, this isn’t about needs. It’s about wants, and I saw that little exchange between you two yesterday.” He gave me an evil grin. “You totally want him.”
    “What I really want is to be done with high school and off to college.”
    “And I want to be in the middle of a Johnny Weir and Adam Lambert sandwich, but I still have to make do with what I have in the meantime. Like this.” He held out his hands toward the field. “So, I’m making the best of it and rating all the players on my Gay-o-Meter.”
    Laughter forced its way up my throat and spilled over. I could just imagine Richard writing little comments along the roster about who he thought was hiding in the closet.
    “But if you had a choice, would you rather be here or at a club on Capitol Hill?” I asked once I stopped laughing.
    “Why not both in one night?” He pulled out his wallet and showed me the shiny new fake ID. “Morgan hooked me up.”
    “You look more twelve than twenty-one.”
    “Fuck you.” He put away his wallet. “Actually, I take that back. I don’t want to fuck you. Sorry, but you don’t have a penis.”
    “No apologies necessary.”
    I scanned the stadium, taking in the atmosphere. The scents of kettle corn and hot dogs wafted over from the concession stand. The megawatt lights chased away the darkness and created a world of daytime brightness. The chants of the cheerleaders echoed through the crowd, growing louder by the second.
    Beside me, Richard chanted right along with them, mocking their pompom shaking movements. At the end, he stood up and wiggled his ass like the dance team girls did in their tiny skirts below, earning matching frowns from Summer and Taylor. “See, I told you I’d make an awesome cheerleader,” he said as he sat back down.
    “I’m not arguing with you. I think it sucks that they wouldn’t let you on the squad.”
    “They just aren’t ready to handle all this.” He gestured to his thin-framed body that made him look younger than his sixteen years.
    “More like they were all worried you’d flirt with the players and steal their boyfriends.”
    “I like how you think.” He laid his head on my shoulder. “One of the many reasons I love you, Alexis.”
    My heart hiccupped at that moment. I had to admit, it felt good to be loved. My thoughts turned to my conversation with Brett earlier today. “Richard, do you think I should try to be nicer?”
    His eyes widened. “Have you been drinking?”
    “No, but it’s sometimes exhausting to be the Queen B, 24/7.”
    “I know it’s always exhausting to re-establish your place at the beginning of the year, but don’t go soft on me, please. If you do, then I lose the protection I’ve gained from being your friend.”
    I quirked a smile. “So is that the reason you’re my friend? Because I offer you protection?”
    “Damn straight, girlfriend. No one’s going to bully me as long you’re the Queen Bitch of Eastline. Of course, I’m dreading next year after you graduate and leave me here on my own.”
    “You’ll be fine. And if you’re still worried, I’ll start prepping you to become the next Queen B.”
    “I don’t know about that—it all depends on what the tiara looks like.”
    I bumped his shoulder with my own, laughing again and not caring who saw me. During the school day, I had to keep my game face on to rule as the Queen B. But now it was Friday night, and I was glad to have a friend I could joke around with, even if it meant letting others see I wasn’t a total bitch to everyone.
    “Besides,” Richard continued, “I’m not sure I have enough bitchiness in me.”
    “You’re as bitchy as the best of us.”
    “Aw, that’s so sweet.”
    It was time for kickoff. As soon as the ball flew into the air, I was lost. I had no idea what the