Chapter 2 - "Why do you have an Elliot McKenzie book?"

Don't throw up. Don't throw up. Definitely don't throw up on the guy helping you. That would be super rude. And gross. And embarrassing. Which I've already had an overdose of today. So don't throw up.

"Are you okay?" Micah asked, eyeing Courtney. "You look like you're going to throw up."

Courtney grinned. Though maybe it was a grimace. She wasn't sure.

"I do but know that if I do I will do all that I can to avoid throwing up on you."

Courtney didn't even know why she felt like throwing up. She hurt her ankle, not her stomach! For a second, Courtney closed her eyes, the pain overwhelming her.

"Almost there," Micah said.

Did he sound panicked? Maybe it was the threat of being thrown up on.

They made it to Coach Ramirez's office, which doubled as a nurses station. Coach Ramirez leapt to her feet and took Courtney's other side, guiding her to the exam table. Once helped onto it, she collapsed back.

"Let's take a look at that," Ramirez said, her voice soothing and calm.

"I don't think it's a break," Courtney said, her eyes closed, willing herself not to cry.

After four years in cheer, she knew the difference a break felt as opposed to a sprain. Which looking at it was a really strange sort of knowledge to carry. Give me a clean bill of health, Doc, it ain't broke just sprained, I'll dance out of here.

Courtney fought down a laugh, pretty sure the intense pain was rattling her brain.

"This is going to hurt," Ramirez said. "Just keep breathing."

Going to hurt? It was hurting!

Ramirez tugged off Courtney's shoe and she nearly cried out as pain sliced up her leg. She curled her fists, trying to keep it together.

"That's so gross!" Micah said.

"Thank you, Micah," Courtney said, in a thin voice. "That's the phrase to every girl's heart."

"Sorry. I didn't...It's just... Sorry."

Courtney did laugh because it felt better than crying at whatever Ramirez was doing to her ankle. Did she need to poke so hard?

"Do you want to help?" Ramirez asked.

Courtney figured she was talking to Micah since, you know, Courtney was incapable of moving. And the help she was offering was not kicking Ramirez with her other foot to make her stop poking her.

"Yeah, I can. Yeah."

How adorably awkward he was.

Ramirez had shifted Courtney's ankle and Courtney decided to tune everything out, going back to the mantra of not throwing up. She breathed in and out slowly, willing her stomach to CALM DOWN!

The breathing helped as did the pain meds that Ramirez helped Courtney to take and the ice packs she wrapped around her ankle.

"All right, Cory," Ramirez said, peering down at her. "Good news. Not broken."

Thanks, Courtney could have told her that long before the poking session began.

"But it's not good," Ramirez said. "It's going to be at least two weeks before you can walk on it."

Two weeks...Two weeks! That was the entire life span of a fruit fly. Or was it? Who cared! Two weeks.

"But cheer," Courtney said.

"I'm sorry. But you'll have to fully heal, which will be about a month before you can work with the team again."

Don't cry and don't throw up.

"Tonight's game..." Courtney said.

"Is out of the question. You're going home now, icing it, and keeping it elevated. Call your parents, they will have to come and pick you up. You can't drive."

Right, because it was her right ankle that was busted up. How was she going to be able to drive to and from school? This day was just... She wanted to yell at the universe: are you not entertained! But it was unlikely the universe would get the reference.

"I don't have my phone on me," Courtney said.

"I can get it," Micah said.

Courtney closed her eyes, hating how her eyes were watering.

"It's in my backpack on the far side of the gym. Soft pink with a cheer medallion hanging off one of the straps."

"Got it."

Micah left and Courtney was left with Ramirez, who she'd always liked having as a coach but right now she wasn't sure she liked her anymore.

"You're going to have to walk with crutches," Ramirez said. "I'm serious about staying off it for two weeks, if you don't take care of it the healing process will take longer."

"Got it, Doc," Courtney said.

"I have a pair of crutches you can use."

As she left Courtney's side, Courtney continued her slow breathing. It was that or yell. She figured this was more dignified.

Micah returned and handed Courtney her backpack. She retrieved her phone and stared at it. Someone to pick her up....

Parents: in New York giving some big tech company a media makeover. Heather: likely apartment hunting or lost in the world of coding. Miles: in class or lost in the world of design.

Even as Courtney called her mom, she knew what the result would be. Still, she let the call go through to voicemail.

"Hey mom," Courtney said, cheerfully. "Call me when you have a free sec. Hope the trip is going well."

Her father's voicemail: "Hey dad, I'm copying and pasting this message from mom's voicemail to yours. Call me when you have a free sec. Hope the trip is going well."

Heather's voicemail: "How's the hunt going? If you're free, call me."

Miles: "How did your chem exam go? If you're free can you call me?"

"No luck?" Ramirez asked.

Well, if she'd been eavesdropping like any other normal human being she'd know the answer to that.

"No. I can get an Uber."

"I can... uh, drive you home," Micah said.

Courtney sat up, regretting it as her ankle flared. She swallowed down her reaction and took another breath. Pretty soon she was going to suck all the oxygen from this room if she kept taking such deep breaths.

"You can?"

"Yeah, if you give me a second I can be ready to go."

"That would be great. Thanks, Micah."

He paused as if her using his name was surprising to him still. Right, whole trying to be invisible tactic. Ramirez brought Courtney a pair of crutches.

"Let's get these adjusted to you."

Courtney slid from the exam table onto her only working foot. By the time the crutches were the right height, Micah had returned.

The trip to his Jeep was slow, painful, and awkward. As was the first few minutes of the drive. Courtney figured the car awkwardness came from neither of them knowing each other that well, instead of her failing attempts at using crutches.

"You said your brother was Denzel," Courtney said. Not her smoothest conversation opener but she was still in pain so she was going to let it pass. "You mean Denzel Jackson, right?"

Micah nodded. "Yeah...yup...that's my brother."

Courtney sensed a door slowly closing but wasn't sure.

"How's he doing at Notre Dame? I haven't seen any updates on his profile."

Micah glanced at his side mirror, his review mirror then the side mirror again. Okay...door definitely closed. She decided to knock just to be certain since this was their one common dominator.

"Must be great knowing that you'll get to visit him and watch him play," she said.

Mirror check again and turned on the radio. Oh, so it was a vault door then. Well, who didn't enjoy a good silent, awkward car ride? At least it couldn't get worse.

"I'm sorry...about your boyfriend...and your ankle...that sucks."

What do you know, it could get worse. Her ankle was just the poison cherry on top of a crap cake day.

"Thanks," she said.

When Micah pulled up to the gates leading to Oak Tree estates, Courtney started to tell him the gate code, but Micah was already punching one in. The gates swung open and he drove through. He lived here.

He lived here and they had failed to have a neighborhood Meet Cute? Her running past his house - she didn't run. Him outside mowing the lawn shirtless - he didn't seem the type to go shirtless just to mow. They would chat, flirt. She wouldn't look gross and sweaty. He'd look sweaty but not gross. Which never made sense in books, but whatever. Then that would be it.

But no, their meeting was Courtney first being dumped. Then Micah having to carry/drag her to Coach's office, all while fearing that she'd throw up on him. Yup, this had been a delightful day.

Overhead light filtered through oak trees that lined the street. It defused the heat and made the world seem almost tranquil. Ha! As if.

Micah turned the Jeep into the curved drive in front of Courtney's house. It was one similar to all the others in the neighborhood. Big enough to show the family had money but not so flashy as to be obscene.

Micah untangled Courtney's crutches from the backseat and helped her out of the car. He walked with her to the front door and dropped her backpack in the foyer. The house seemed dead, but with the two isolated worlds her sister and brother lived in within their rooms it was hard to tell if Courtney was really alone.

"Thanks for the ride," Courtney said. "And helping me get out of the gym."

Micah nodded. "Yeah, I figured the last thing you wanted was your ex helping you."

"That was thoughtful of you. Thank you. I'll see you around, Micah."

Possibly while I'm running and you're mowing a lawn. Right, ankle sprained. Can't run. That possibility is out. As well as unrealistic.

"Yeah, see you."

As he hopped into his Jeep, Courtney eased the door closed. She stared around at the open layout of the house, the wide archways and open doors giving glimpses into the rooms beyond. No sign of life. Also, it was Friday, which meant Sara had a half-day of cleaning.

Courtney thought of seeing what she'd left in the fridge to eat but the memory of her nausea was still fresh. She gazed up at the wide, curved stairs. You are my Everest.

And an Everest she would avoid for now. She needed comfort right now. Most people had a comfort food, book, song, stuff animal, activity or such. Courtney had a comfort room. Her sewing room.

The walls were lined with framed fashion sketches from her favorite designers. Cupboards were filled with colorful swatches of fabric and bins held taken apart shirts and dresses, things she could remake. Three mannequins stood statue, at one end. One wore the start of Courtney's Homecoming dress and another was Lynn's half finished dress for the dance.

Nope. Definitely no energy for that issue. Everest it is.

Instead of trying to climb the stairs with her crutches, Courtney decided to go all in, half crawling up the stairs with the crutches hooked on her arm.

Only when she reached the top of the summit, did she notice that her backpack was down in the foyer. Oh nutter butter! Whatever, she wasn't going to descend Everest again right then.

On two legs again plus crutches and minus a foot, Courtney regained her dignity and clomped to Miles' room. From outside she heard music playing. She didn't bother knocking, simply opened the door. Music playing on his speakers meant only one thing: he was designing. And when he was in Design Mode nothing else existed, including his phone.

The inside of her older brother's room was like the inside of his head. Or Courtney figured it was. Every wall was covered with one of his designs: logos, tattoo ideas, character art, fonts, obscure images, rough drafts. Everything that a graphic designer who was building his own business would need to create.

At nineteen, Miles was still in college only because he'd made his parents a deal. If he made so much money in a year because of his designs, then they were fine with him dropping out.

"Hey Miley," Courtney said.

Miles didn't answer, Hey Farewell playing too loud on the speakers to be heard over. Courtney had once made fun of her brother for listening to them because most people considered them a boy band. Miles had merely stared at her then gone back to designing.

Sometimes Courtney wished she had his superpower. The power to not give a flying fart in space to what anyone thought and the expression that came with it.

Courtney thumped her way over to Miles' unmade bed and sat down. Slowly, she lifted her sprained ankle and laid it on the mattress. The pain eased a bit.

Sitting there, she noticed an opened package and a book laying on top. Since she was a younger sister and therefore charged with the task of always snooping on her older siblings, she picked up the book.

The cover was of a girl with a hood covering half her face, the lower half showing striking features, red lips and strands of blonde hair. The title read Undercover and the author Elliot McKenzie.

"Miles," Courtney said, raising her voice. "Why do you have an Elliot McKenzie book?"

Her brother didn't even turn in his chair or lift his head from his work.

"Because I designed the cover for her."

"What?! That's amazing! She's like the biggest Teen Fiction writer!"

Miles merely shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

Courtney opened the cover and saw an inscription. Miles, this cover has me tickled from my head to my toes. Thank you. - Elliot.

Huh, she was as weird as everyone said. She glanced at the dedication: Cece you bet me fifty dollars I couldn't write an action book. Pay up. You can find me in my room.

Courtney read the synopsis. It was about a girl who hid her true self from the world in order to protect a tech moguls' daughter by pretending to be an easy-going blonde.

Interesting.

"I'm not leaving your room," Courtney said, flopping back on the bed and opening to the first page.

Miles didn't reply. Reading while being mostly deafened by Kade Mathew's beautiful singing seemed like a better alternative to Courtney than braving the stairs again for her backpack.

Or being alone in her room where the events of the day were likely to pounce on her. Like Aiden, Lynn, school-wide humiliation, or the football game she wouldn't be cheering for tonight.

Yes, loud music and a distracting book were a much better solution. Because like the great Abraham Lincoln said: leave for tomorrow what you want to avoid today.

Or something like that.

**********************************************************************

Dingos kidneys! What a chapter!

🙋‍♀️🙋‍♂️ Raise your hand if you'd totally read about Courtney and Micah's alternate Meet Cute! I know I would! It's a classic!

You can tell me your thoughts about the chapter or not! But I hope you do because well they amuse me. And if you don't amuse me then what's the point of life! 💬🗯💭

*fall dramatically to the floor*

Oh life, oh Martha! Oh Christmas! Wait, I'm just quoting the Grinch, aren't I? Never mind.

This is what I thought of the chapter *takes a spoonful of ice cream* Ihhm wanhsjk wnjfjak wiusyb! JKnfej! oaka gidruhb! jfnetkj! *swallows ice cream* You know what I mean? Classic.

Question: did any of you understand the irony of Elliot's book Undercover.

If this is my first book you're reading then don't stress, I figured only my more devote subjects will see the connection.

If no one does then...wow I'm really not doing a good job about getting this whole cult following thing going.

Eh, having mass amounts of people looking to me for advice sounds exhausting, I'm just going to take a little catnap instead.

Be free minions! Fly! Sail into the great blue yonder! (But with a boat, don't try to swim I'm not sure you'll survive)

We are voting, we we are voting! We are commenting, we we are commenting! We are following, we we are following!

Nailed it!

If you have preferences on types of memes let me know or I'll just do book related ones.