Chapter 13

It was another blistering autumn night, but the entire T.C. Williams student body braced the cold air to cheer on their favorite Titans, as they gathered for one massive pep rally. The night began with a cook out in the school parking lot, followed by an assembly honoring the team and the coaches. But, it was after that, that the fun really began. In a little game of Titans Defense versus Titans Offense, the crowd roared with delight. The team that they were so used to seeing play with poise, precision, and aggression played with clumsiness and humor, pleasing their classmates with laughter.
"Boy, that was some game, wasn't it, Emma?"
Emma tore her intense gaze from the student-swarmed field to acknowledge her friend, Gladys. Emma nodded. "Yeah, it was."
Gladys knit her eyebrows with confusion and turned toward the field, trying to pick out at what had held Emma's attention with such rapt. It didn't take her long to spy the twosome near the edge of the field, engaged in a deep conversation. She cast a sidelong glance at the blond beauty next to her and then back at Gerry and Isabelle. Though Emma had hidden her feelings well, Gladys wasn't one to be fooled. She had known her friend since they were kids, can could tell that being friends with her once-upon-a-time boyfriend was not enough for her. But, as she looked at Emma's unwavering blue eyes, she detected a hint of something she hadn't seen before; malice.
"Uh, Em, are you all right? You look…well, possessed. If you really want to go catch that late movie, we will--just don't look so-"
"It's not about the movie," she interrupted. She sighed sadly and plopped back down on the cold bench she had just vacated. "I should be the one down there with him. I should be the one holding his hand. I should be the one waiting by his car to go out somewhere while he's in the locker room." She paused. "Not her. I don't get it! What made him pick her over me?! What don't I have that she does?" She gazed longingly at Gerry and swallowed hard. But, her eyes shifted over to Isabelle and she slowly narrowed her icy blue eyes.
"Well, what are you going to-" Gladys started, almost afraid to hear what she had to say.
"I'm going to get him back," she stated with defiance, looking Gladys in the eye. "If it's the last thing I do, I'll get him back."
Gladys looked back down at the happy couple and raised an eyebrow. Their once deep conversation had turned into a full blown argument and now Gerry was storming off the field, leaving Isabelle standing alone in dismay.
"Well, Miss Hoyt. I'd have to say now is the perfect time to go in for the kill."
But, before she could finish her sentence, Emma was already flying down the bleachers heading straight for, not Gerry, but Isabelle.

"Couldn't handle it, could you?"
Isabelle reeled around to face the mocking voice that was directed at her. Emma. In a way, she expected it from her; being tied to Gerry for so long, naturally, she'd feel resentment. But, in a way, she didn't. Emma seemed nice and more mature than to say what she just did.
"Excuse me?"
Emma smirked. "You couldn't handle being Gerry's girlfriend, could you? Or no, maybe it's just because you two don't belong together. Or maybe it's just what you get for stealing my boyfriend away from me."
"WHAT?!"
"You heard me loud and clear, Isabelle. You just wriggled yourself and your damn Californian ways into Gerry's affection, leaving no room for me. Ain't it so?"
"What the hell are you talking about?! I didn't steal Gerry away from you! And please explain to me what you mean about not being able to handle Gerry! Because, I do not HANDLE Gerry; he's his own person, with his own mind to follow."
"Figures you'd say something like that. I just mean, well, since you guys just broke up-"
Isabelle rolled her dark eyes and sighed with exasperation. "We did not break up, for your information and--you know what? I've got better things to do with my time. Good BYE, Emma."
As Isabelle fumed off the field, Emma watched her retreating back with a look of mischief upon her face. "Oh, I can fix that little 'we did not break up' bit. I can fix it no problem."

"Well, Gerry, she really didn't have a say in the matter," Rev pointed out gently. He watched his friend stand in front of his locker, his forehead wrinkling with frustration, his hands balling up with anger, and his jaw clenching with fury.
"Yes, she did, and she still does!" he yelled back. "But, she just won't take a stand!"
"Whoa, what's all the yelling for?"
Gerry turned around to see Ronnie return from the showers, clueless as to what had Gerry so uptight.
"It's Isabelle," he muttered back. "She ain't comin' to state." He looked at Ronnie's questioning eyes. "Well? Aren't you mad, too?"
He shook his head. "Sure, I'm a little disappointed, because she's one of my best friends, but I'm not going to be mad-how can I if I don't know WHY she's not coming?"
Isabelle had known for a while that she wasn't going to be able to make Gerry's game, but it scared her so much to tell him, that she had postponed the inevitable until the day before the game; the night of the pep rally. When he had exploded at her news, she had tried to explain to him that she had to go back to California on account of a promise she made to her dad. When he was in Alexandria that last time, he agreed to let her stay in Virginia with her mother, so long as she visited him when he asked. No questions asked. Desperate to remain in Alexandria, she hastily accepted his bargain, failing to realize that his demands would conflict with her own life. But, despite her mistake, she wouldn't back down from a promise-a trait in herself she took pride in.
"And that's why she won't back down on her promise, and why she' ain't comin' to state."
"Well," Ronnie ventured, attempting to defend his friend, "I can see why you're mad. But, just keep in mind, that she's just as upset as you are."

"Maybe he's right," Isabelle countered, staring into the rest of her strawberry milkshake. She was perched at the counter of a local ice cream parlor, drowning her sorrows in her dessert and talking to the owner of the store. The parlor was still lit, even though it was past closing hours, but Mr. Owens couldn't deny her tear filled eyes and happily whipped up her strawberry shake.
"And what makes you say so, dear?" he asked. Isabelle looked up and smiled. He reminded her of a grandfatherly figure, with his gentle eyes, soft voice, and humbleness. His white hair was combed behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, and his nose sometimes twitched from the whiskers beneath it.
"Because my dad's never really been there for me. He's never kept a promise to me-maybe that's why I'm so focused on keeping my promise-while Gerry's always been there for me. Well, except for this one little time. But, I owe it more to him than I do to my dad. Therefore, I should pick his game over my visit, right? Oh, I don't know! I'm so confused."
Mr. Owens, took the empty from Isabelle and wiped the little circle of condensation. "Why are you confused? It sounds to me that you already know what you need to do."

"Maybe she's right," Gerry said aloud. He was alone in his car, on his way home, too tired to continue on with the party on the field with his teammates and classmates. As he scanned the intersection to make a turn, he caught sight of the new sports bag Isabelle had given him. She had had his name and number stitched onto the side.
"I mean, if something's this important to Isabelle, I should understand that. She's been supportive of me throughout the entire season, and like Sunshine said, she really didn't have a say in whether or not she could go."
As he pulled up into his driveway, he thought back to when Isabelle first told him. He cringed when he remembered his reaction. He was flat out outraged. He yelled and argued with her, while she tried so hard to explain to him her side of the story. He winced even more when he thought of her crushed face. Even if she was wrong to not stand up to her father, like she had so many times before, Gerry knew that did not reserve him to right to treat her the way he did.
He slammed his car door shut and hauled his lumpy sports bag to his house, where he dumped it on the floor in his room. Then, on his way out, he passed his mother's room. Mrs. Bertier was getting ready for bed, when her son knocked and entered her room.
"Did you have fun, Gerry?" she asked, smiling at him.
"I did, Ma, I did."
She looked up at her son inquisitively. His serious eyes and strong, definite features reminded her of his father. "Well, if you had such a great time, why do you look so down and why aren't you out with your friends?"
He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I messed up, Ma, and I ain't-"
"'And I AM NOT,' Gerry," she corrected gently. "But, continue."
"I messed up, and I AM NOT proud of what I did, so I'm going to go fix it. I'll be back in about two hours, is that all right?"
"Nothing illegal, dangerous, or immoral?"
He laughed and bent over to kiss her cheek. "Not at all."
After he left his mother's room, he bounded down the stairs, on his way to the door, hoping he would find Isabelle at home. But, as soon as he threw open the door, he was surprised to find Emma standing on his porch, her finger hovering over the doorbell.
"Well, hey, Emma. What brings you here?" he asked, stepping out onto his porch.
She looked down, and then up at him. "I heard about what happened between you and Isabelle. You looked pretty upset and I thought you might like a friend."
He smiled widely. "Thanks for thinking of me, but what I need right now is to talk to Isabelle."
Her face dropped a little. "Oh." Before he could get away, Emma grabbed his arm. "Gerry, I was thinking." He looked at her, his kind face prompting her to continue. "Maybe we rushed into this whole breaking up thing too fast. I still have feelings for you, Gerry. And maybe that fight you had with Isabelle was a sign: that you and I still belong together."
"Emma…"
"No, Gerry! I've always been there for you. I've always supported you at your games, I've always supported your busy schedule with football, and I've never caused any grief for you! Why did you pick her over me?"
His warm brown eyes shined with affection for her, and Emma's heart swelled. "I know, Emma. You've been great, and I'll always love you-as a friend. But-"
She moved closer to him. "Before you go try to patch things up with Isabelle, just remember. Remember how…we used to be." She pulled him down for a kiss, when she felt his hands try to push her away, and heard a car door slam shut.

Prepared to apologize to Gerry, and break her promise with her father, Isabelle drove along Gerry's street. She finally approached his house and eyed an unfamiliar car. She cautiously turned off the ignition and stepped out, to see a clear view of Gerry and Emma engaged in a kiss. Furious, she violently slammed her door shut, and Gerry immediately pushed Emma away. He looked up, his face frozen with horror. He pushed past Emma and ran down his porch, towards the driveway, with Emma calling after him.
"Isabelle, wait, it's not what it looks like!" he exclaimed.
"Yeah, sure," Isabelle spat. "I came over to apologize and to tell you I changed my mind. But obviously, you've found another fan to take my place. Good bye, Gerry." Before he could reach her, Isabelle had gotten back into her car, and sped away into the dark.