Twenty-Seven

This is Why I Don't Volunteer

Quinn's POV

I had to wake up extra early Sunday morning to go volunteer at the cross country meet, and I forced myself out of bed so that I wouldn't be late. As much as I knew this wasn't exactly the ideal way to spend my weekend, I knew I had no choice to go if I wanted to improve my Geometry grade. Plus, I sort of did promise Mr. Arellano that I'd be there.

Since I wasn't planning on seeing anyone I needed to impress at the meet, I threw on ratty athletic shorts and another graphic t-shirt Julia had given me, this time for my birthday last February (this one said "There's No Way You Woke Up Like That"), and applied minimal makeup. It was a long way to the cross country meet, but I'd already asked Mom and she'd told me last night that she'd drive me.

I was looking forward to a nice, peaceful day spent volunteering and improving my grade in math class. During the car ride, I worked on braiding my hair back into a high ponytail so that it would stay out of my face and then reviewed the email Mr. Arellano had sent me with driving directions. By the time Mom and I found the school where the meet was hosted, I was two minutes late.

I jumped out of the car with record speed and dodged through the crowd, trying to find the tent that was associated with Providence Prep. Finally I saw it, in the middle of the school's football field. Several students in uniform were already milling around it and I saw Mr. Arellano standing with a clipboard in hand, directing foot traffic.

"Hey, Mr. Arellano," I said, hurrying up to him and pushing past a guy in my grade who looked overly committed to warming up properly. "What do you need me to do?"

My Geometry teacher looked thoroughly frazzled as he scribbled something on a sheet of paper. "Hi, Quinn," he said absentmindedly, ripping the paper out from his clipboard and handing it to me. "Sorry, this is an invitational and things are crazy. Everybody's still warming up right now. Do you want to head over to the concession stand? I left a bunch of water there. Just hand whoever's behind the counter this note."

I had no idea where the concession stand was, but after asking a few too many people instructions, I found it tucked back behind the bleachers, way out of sight. This school definitely needed to work on its signage.

Not wanting to delay Mr. Arellano, I hurried up to the concession stand and cleared my throat so that the guy behind the counter would notice me. "Hey," I said, shoving the piece of paper across the counter, "The Providence Prep coach sent me to get water--"

I trailed off as the guy behind the concession stand turned around and I saw Andrew Summers' two bright blue eyes staring back at me. Both of our faces morphed into expressions of shock as we locked eyes for a few seconds, a blush quickly rising up to my cheeks. Unable to tear my eyes away from him, I pushed the paper Mr. Arellano had handed me a little closer to him. He took it, still gazing at me, and finally broke his stare long enough to read what it said.

"Right," he said, disappearing behind the counter. "One second."

While he went to get the water, I chewed down on my lip and tried not to panic. I should have expected him to come--he always volunteered whenever he could. Even though we'd broken up, I regretted wearing my disheveled (and admittedly overly sassy) outfit to volunteer. And what if he thought I was still stalking him?

I was contemplating explaining to him that I was failing math (which would only make me more undesirable to him) and needed the extra credit when he reappeared, handing me back the note. Our fingers brushed and we both shot our hands back as quickly as we could so that the paper fell on the floor.

"Sorry," he said as I bent down to get it. Of course he'd still have manners. "I put the water jugs on this wagon, but they won't all fit. I can pull the wagon if you want to carry these back to the tent."

He dumped three extremely heavy-looking water jugs on the counter and I pasted on a fake smile as I hefted them into my arms.

"No problem," I said, trying to forget that I was actually talking to him as I readjusted my grip on the jugs. He came out from behind the counter pulling a wagon filled with water so that the sinew in his arms stood out.

Neither of us said a word as we navigated through the increasingly thick crowds, him toting the wagon and me trying not to drop the three cartons of water. It was without a doubt the most awkward and physically exhausting walk I had ever taken, and we were both panting when we finally reached the tent.

"Perfect!" said Mr. Arellano when he noticed us. He seemed a little less frazzled now, and the swarm of students in the tent had lessened significantly--I guessed they were all off warming up. "Why don't you two unload these? I'm sending Sam over to man the concession stand for you, Andrew, if you and Quinn want to head over to the starting box once you finish with these."

And then he disappeared before either of us could protest.

I kept reminding myself over and over again that I was only doing this so that I wouldn't fail Geometry as I began hoisting the water jugs out of the wagon and onto the grass, which was still wet from the early morning dew. Andrew began unloading, too, and we worked quickly together, even though we ignored each other. My throat was beginning to crack from lack of talking by the time we had stacked all the jugs on the grass and I was finally able to speak to go return the wagon.

Eager to escape from the tension, I took my time walking back to the concession stand, watching the runners jog in place and practice sprints to prep for the meet. Even though it was eight o'clock, I was already starting to sweat, and I fanned myself with my t-shirt with one hand as I pulled the wagon with the other, wondering if I deserved this awkward punishment just for not being exceedingly adept in the field of mathematics.

My misfortunes were not over, though, because when I walked up to the concession stand, wagon in tow, I saw Cody's best friend Sam serving a customer a hot dog.

Who eats hot dogs for breakfast, anyway?

"Hey, Quinn," he said as the kid walked away with his hot dog and I moved to stand behind the counter.

He was looking at me carefully, as if trying to elicit a reaction from me, so I said quickly, "I just came here to return a wagon." The second it came out, I realized how weird it sounded, so I added, "Someone lent it to me to take water over to the tent, and I thought I'd return it."

"Oh sure," he said easily. "Just roll it on over."

I brought the wagon behind the counter, but when I turned to go back to the Providence Prep tent I saw that he was still studying me. Nervously, I tucked a piece of hair that had fallen out from my ponytail behind my ear. "What's up?" I asked.

He stuffed his hands deep in the pockets of his basketball shorts. "Nothing," he said lightly. "Just wondering how you could break Cody's heart like that."

"What?" I demanded, whirling back around to face him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Shrugging, he said, "I wouldn't expect you to. All you care about is your reputation. He was better off with Julia."

That hit me like a punch straight in the gut, and I strode up to Sam until we were practically nose to nose, hissing, "Cody and I aren't even together, Samuel McCormick. Get that through your head. And also? Stay out my business."

"I'd be more than happy to stay out of your business, Ramirez, except now you've brought Cody into it and I won't stand for that."

"What are you?" My voice was high-pitched now--too high-pitched, as if I were working way too hard to defend myself. "His guardian or something?"

Before he could reply, someone cleared his throat from the behind the counter, and Sam and I looked away from each other to see Andrew staring at us, his eyes wide. "It's bad publicity to fight when you're working at a concession stand," he said simply. "Pushes away the customers."

"Bossy," I muttered under my breath, turning away from Sam and shoving my way out from behind the counter. "I'm going to the starting box. Don't either of you dare try to follow me."

I stormed off, but a little ways behind me I could hear Sam asking, "What's her problem with you?" and Andrew replying, "Who knows? I don't even know her anymore." Angrily, I kept walking, pushing past a little four-year-old who stared after me in an expression that bordered on awe.

When I reached the starting box without further incident, I saw Mr. Arellano sorting the runners as they attached numbers to their uniforms. He noticed me and said quickly, "Hey Quinn! Did you get the water bottles?" He didn't wait for me to reply before he said, "That's all the help we'll need until the guys are finished running their race. Why don't you go find a spot and watch?"

Still mad at Andrew and Sam, I shrugged nonchalantly before heading back over to the bleachers, sitting down alone in the corner and hugging my knees to my chest. Most of the crowd was standing alongside the ropes that blocked off the trail, and I found myself enjoying the peace as I closed my eyes and soaked up the sun.

Someone sat down a little ways away from me a few minutes later and I opened my eyes to see Andrew Summers pulling out his cell phone and texting. He didn't look at me, and I doubted he even noticed I was there. Quickly, I looked away and focused on the high school guys who were about to start their race.

I sat in the bleachers until all of the guys had finished running, and then I helped Mr. Arellano sort out times and scores. A Providence Prep runner had finished first, fourth, fifth, sixth, and tenth, which was pretty good considering how many people were competing.

Andrew and I continued to ignore each other as if the other person didn't exist while we volunteered. I could tell he wasn't trying to be mean about it--he was just trying to stay true to his word when he'd told me that we should stay away from each other. I tried really hard not to pay him any more attention than I would a random other student volunteering, but I put so much effort into it that I actually came across as icy and cold. Sam, the only other Providence Prep student helping out at the meet, was still angry at me for whatever reason, and he didn't refrain from shooting me a stony glare every now and then as we worked.

Finally, Mr. Arellano seemed to catch on to the tension between all of us, and after a particularly nasty incident between me and Sam about who had ruined the timesheet, he separated the three of us. I was sent all the way across the track to the finish chute, where I was told to congratulate runners as they completed the race. I had a feeling my teacher was trying to get rid of me more than anything.

After patting a few people on the backs and getting a sweaty palm as thanks, I clasped my hands behind me and just smiled at people as they passed, occasionally saying "great job!" if I knew the runner. Before long my cheeks were beginning to hurt from trying to keep my grin on my face and my eyes were squinting in the intense sunlight. When a girl finished the race and then fainted right in front of me, I jumped out of the way as a coach hurried over to help her.

"These runners mean business, don't they?" someone asked, and I whirled around to see Julia standing right behind me, her impeccably styled bob glistening in the sunlight. I could tell she was still angry at me because of the way she'd spoken--plus, her bright eyes were still narrowed ever-so-slightly as she looked at me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her, crossing my arms and staring at her right back.

She shrugged lightly. "Meeting a friend for lunch after the meet."

And then she turned and hurried away, as if she had only wanted me to know that she was at the meet and hadn't wanted to spend any more time with me than she'd had to. I sort of hoped she'd notice that I was wearing a t-shirt she'd bought me and maybe forgive me, but it seemed like she hadn't. So I turned back to the finish chute as the unconscious girl was efficiently brought back to her senses and continued congratulating people.

Being the cheerful one sure did get exhausting after a while.

I didn't see Andrew for the rest of the morning. He stayed far away from me, and the expression on his face implied that he wasn't even missing me at all. I kept sneaking long glances at him from wherever I was standing, watching as he worked or smiled and talked to people. He always looked so capable and kind, even when he was intent on pretending I didn't exist.

Maybe I didn't exist to him anymore. He'd spent a heck of a long time thinking about me and liking me and then a much smaller amount of time dating me, and maybe he'd meant it when he said it wasn't what he'd thought it would be. Maybe he decided he hated me and wanted nothing to do with me. Maybe he didn't even want a girlfriend right now.

I began punching numbers on a calculator per the request of a sporty looking girl who had demanded to know how her time added up to her season average, trying not to think of Andrew anymore. I had to keep telling myself that our breakup wasn't my fault so that I didn't feel guilty. Regardless of what he said, I knew that I was still the same Quinn Ramirez I'd ever been, and if he couldn't see that, then too bad for him.

Right?

I spat out the time to the girl, who then started ranting to me as if I had somehow magically caused for her time to be slower than usual. Then she stormed away to go whine to her coach, leaving me to stand staring after her because she hadn't even bothered to take back her calculator. I set it down on the plastic fold-out table next to me where I hoped she'd come back to look for it and then started wandering aimlessly around, looking for something to do.

The JV boys were currently in the midst of running their race, and other than submitting to the petty wishes of the athletes who had already finished, I had absolutely nothing to do. I meandered back over the the Providence tent and started straightening the water jugs that had been carelessly tossed around by the team, enjoying the shade because the heat had definitely intensified over the last few hours. Mr. Arellano had disappeared entirely, Sam was working at the concession stand, and Andrew was off socializing with a group of students from an opposing team.

Finally, I had nothing better to do, and I had just sat down in a fold-out chair when the girl who'd ranted to me earlier stormed up to me demanding to have her calculator back. After I lazily pointed her in the right direction, I closed my eyes, intending to drift off for only a few minutes. As I fell asleep, the sounds of Andrew and Julia's voices floated around in my head as if they were conversing with each other--I couldn't decide if I was imagining it or if it was actually happening. Deciding I was paranoid, I let myself slowly slip off into sleep, figuring someone would wake me up when I was needed--which was unlikely.

I was never, ever volunteering at another cross country meet again.