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

game was about or if I should cheer or boo the refs. Thankfully, Richard knew more than enough to explain the basics to me.
    One thing was very clear, however. Brett was a god on the football field. He walked onto it like he owned it. All the players gathered around him, turning to him for guidance. And when he had the ball in his hands, things happened that electrified the crowd. Sometimes he chose to keep it for himself and run. Other times, he’d launch the ball down the field with such precision, it left me speechless.
    It was after one of those plays that Richard turned to me and said, “Now you know why he’s one of the top high school players on the West Coast.”
    “He’s better than the other quarterback—I’m not going to argue with you there—but one of the top players? Really?”
    “He already has eight colleges begging for him to sign with them.”
    “Wow.” But I could see why. He made it look so easy, so effortless as he shot the football in a tight spiral toward Sanchez. All the wide receiver had to do was hold his hands out, and the ball fell into them.
    The perfect pass.
    I was up on my feet, jumping and shouting with the rest of the crowd as Sanchez scampered into the end zone for a touchdown.
    Something rolled in my stomach when I realized what I was doing. I’d drunk the Kool-Aid and joined the cult.
    I sat back down and crossed my arms, pressing the doll into my cleavage. “Does he have any flaws?”
    “None that I can see,” Richard said in a dreamy voice, “except for the fact he seems to have something for you and not me.”
    “You mean because he’s straight?”
    “No, I mean because he’s staring right at you.”
    I followed Richard’s finger and found Brett standing on the sidelines just as he described. Our eyes met, and he winked at me before joining his teammates in high-fives.
    My stomach rolled again for an entirely different reason.
    Richard came closer and said just loud enough for me to hear, “Are you sure there’s nothing between you two?”
    “Absolutely nothing.” I watched as Summer broke away from the other cheerleaders to plant a kiss on Brett’s cheek. “How can there be when he’s with her?”
    “Yeah, bummer. Maybe he’s not that perfect after all.”
    The game ended with Eastline completely demolishing their opponent. Richard mentioned something to me that Brett had broken some kind of passing record, which I assumed would only increase his attractiveness to the schools that would give him a free ride for his throwing arm. I had to admit that I’d enjoyed the experience, maybe enough to come back as long as I had Richard beside me with his colorful commentary.
    We filed out of the stadium with the crowd and their infectious energy.
    “So, are you taking Morgan’s gift and hitting the clubs after this?” I asked.
    Richard rolled his eyes. “I wish. My grandmother is in town, and I have to play straight for a few more days if I want her to give me a car.”
    “What?” I pulled him aside, wondering if I heard him correctly.
    “My grandmother is old school from China. She doesn’t get the fact that I’m gay, and frankly, if I told her, she might keel over and die, so I’m pretending to be straight when I’m around her until I get my car. Once I have it, then I’m free to go where I want and I can send her pictures of me kissing all the hot guys on Capitol Hill.”
    “And I thought I was evil.”
    “We all play games to get what we want, Alexis—you included—so don’t judge me.”
    “I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.”
    “Right, you just keep telling yourself that, but you and I both know you’re lying.” He pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at me. “I’ve been watching you, and I know someone’s getting you all hot and bothered, but you’re too proud to admit it because you think he’s beneath you.”
    “Are you sure you aren’t suffering from some temporary delusions brought on by too much pompom