The Day The Quarterback Died

By Ella Song

Art by Liz Nedelescu

Marcia Williams was hungry. 

All around her, uniform-clad cheerleaders hugged their uneasy boyfriends, mascara tracks ruining their perfect cheeks. Their navy wool school uniform skirts rustled softly as girls lifted lace hankies to their faces to dab their noses. Gossip was usually the source of the murmurs in the hall-who got fat over fall break, and who was sleeping with who’s boyfriend. But today instead of the usual slut-shaming fest, the same phrase reverberated around Marcia’s head: How could this have happened to him? 

Even as she drowned in the pool of grief, all she was thinking about was food. It seemed inappropriate for her to get up and leave her squadron as they were mourning just to return with a hearty breakfast. Especially since she had supposedly been very close to Wayne, even kissed him in the broom closet once.

Regardless, Marcia knew that Wayne had never loved her. Not even close. 

She smoothed her dark hair behind her headband and tried to look downcast. Where had it all gone wrong? Ever since she’d stepped into Prep school, she’d carefully planned out every next step of her life. But somewhere along the lines, her meticulously woven web had collapsed. Her life had split in two, a new hell created after what Wayne had done to her homecoming night. She desperately wanted to feel like “before” again, but Marcia had long stopped believing she’d ever be the same.

A hush fell over the cheerleaders. Marcia peeked up curiously, and saw all eyes fixed on Avery Cross-who was Wayne’s new blonde-haired girlfriend. Condolences spread like a swarm of angry bees. 

Avery nodded at every “I’m so sorry”  and covered her eyes with her hands, but Marcia noticed her cheeks were markedly dry. 

In another life, Marcia thought, they could’ve been best friends. Sometimes, whenever one of their younger cheerleaders said something ridiculously airheaded, they would exchange a synchronistic glance of exasperation. She wished just once they could sit and talk about what happened with Wayne. Maybe they could be kids again, and forget about stupid fad diets and eat pizza over the floor. They could put on those awful pop songs and paint each other’s nails every color. Maybe whisper secrets at night like real best friends. It had been so long since Marcia had done those kiddish things with someone.

But Wayne had seen to those hopes never playing out. Whenever she thought of homecoming night, the taste of dirt and tears would fill her mouth. She had always theorized that she would be able to fight anyone who tried to touch her. Wayne was a 200 pound football player, and all she could do was wait for it to be over. She hated that he had been able to move on and date another person with no consequence. And whenever she saw Avery, she hated her too. 

But that had all been months ago. 

“Thank you so much for your kind words.” Avery croaked. She bowed her head, and even in her supposed fugue state, her blonde ringlets fell perfectly across her face. Marcia envied that hair. She forced herself to look away. 

I should’ve warned her, Marcia thought. She heard the shuffling of bodies and got a heavy whiff of flowery scent as Avery sat next to her on the dining bench. She usually thought Avery laid the perfume on a little too thick, but today it calmed her. It meant Avery was still okay. 

Marcia dug around in her bag and pulled out a tube of strawberry lip gloss, extending it out to Avery like a question. Avery nodded, and Marcia pressed the makeup into her palm. For a millisecond, Avery’s fingers clenched hers and they locked eyes. Marcia searched briefly for grief or remorse and found none. Then the moment passed, and both girls resumed their false tears. Even in its brevity, Marcia knew what the butterfly pressure of Avery’s fingers meant. 

We’re safe. We’re going to be okay.