Saturday's Storyteller: "She giggled maniacally, thrilled that her plan worked."

by Belinda Roddie

She giggled maniacally, thrilled that her plan worked. In about seven minutes, Connor would be heading to the locker room, thinking he would be inviting her crush to the Valentine's Day dance. Instead, he'd be met with a gaggle of her friends with silly spray and whipped cream to douse him with. Nothing tasted sweeter than the flavor of inflicted humiliation.

Reaching into her backpack, Nikki proceeded to pull out her phone and text a brief numeric code to her bestie Chelsea, who was the ringleader of the gang and its enforcement of the master plan. In the meantime, she had a pretty dame to woo. She practically skipped to the soccer field to watch the beautiful Amanda, all grass stains and ponytail and cleats, play some scrimmage before the junior varsity team's big game.

Amanda was nearly six feet tall, brown-skinned, sharp-browed, and very, very attractive. She towered over the rest of her team as she played, her capacity as fullback in full force. Nikki found a spot on the mostly empty bleachers to watch her, sipping from a beaten up bottle of water that she had refilled after sixth period. Toward the opposite end of the field, their coach was both refereeing and keeping score.

About five minutes later, Nikki's phone went off - Connor had shown up early, but Chelsea and her army had been prepared. "Be careful, though," the text read. "He might show up where you are. He is piiiiiissed." That didn't matter to Nikki. The game had wound down, and Amanda was walking toward the bleachers, mopping the sweat off her beautiful face with a white towel.

"Hey, sweetie," cooed Nikki, once Amanda got close.

"Hey," replied Amanda, a little coolly. She was now dousing her dry face with water from a pink bottle, then drying it again.

"You played really well," murmured Nikki, a teasing smile crawling across her lips. "I wish I could be that good of an athlete."

Amanda didn't say anything. Instead, she went back to a handful of her teammates, talking about God knows what. Nikki bit her lip. Maybe she was going about this all wrong. Maybe Amanda was straight after all. She could've sworn that Amanda's ex had been a girl, though. Then again, her exes had been girls and guys. She knew that Connor had been on Amanda's radar for a while, yet he seemed like such a gross potential boyfriend. Connor was the kind of guy who made snotballs and burped the alphabet just to annoy the teacher. That was not Nikki's idea of a suitable, well, suitor.

To both Nikki's surprise and relief, Amanda walked back over to her and sat on the bleachers beside her. The rest of her teammates were starting to pack up and leave, their chitchat high-pitched and cheery as the sky got dimmer and dimmer. Nikki checked her phone for any more updates when Amanda spoke.

"So why did you come by?" she asked.

Nikki shrugged and tried to be as nonchalant as possible. "I just like watching you guys play," she said. "I've always wanted to be a soccer player. I was just never good enough."

"You were okay in P.E."

" 'Manda," Nikki laughed, "I almost got a concussion one day while playing goalie."

"I forgot all about that," said Amanda, chuckling. She crossed one leg over the other and sat with her back very straight. She looked like an Amazon warrior. "So, you got a date for the dance yet?"

"Not yet," said Nikki. "I've thought about asking a few people, but...I don't know."

"Did you try asking Oscar?" asked Amanda. "I've seen the way he looks at you in physics class. He's totally into you."

Nikki wasn't sure why - she hid her curvier shape in baggy jeans and hoodies, and Oscar, despite being decent-looking, was a bit awkward and a bit too goofy and, of course, a bit too manly. She shifted her backpack against her knees and watched as the coach disappeared into the gym, either to cool off or torment some of his less athletic prisoners. That last part was made up, but Nikki always wondered.

"I wouldn't ask him," she muttered, before looking at Amanda. "I was actually thinking of asking - "

"You!"

Connor's angry, trilling voice broke in at that point. There he was, dripping with half-melted dairy and pink silly string, his San Jose Sharks jersey streaked with the stuff. He was livid, shaking, his wet curls bouncing up and down on his head.

"Heya, Conboy!" cried Amanda, waving before bursting into giggles. "What happened to you?"

Connor was having none of it. "Nikki," he howled, pointing at her, "I swear, when I get the chance, I'll fucking destroy you. No one screws around with me like that! No one!"

Nikki was half-expecting Connor to explain to Amanda what happened, and why he happened to be such a mess, but he seemed too infuriated to speak too coherently. As he marched off, Nikki couldn't help giggling a little bit. She looked apologetically at Amanda.

"My friends may have pulled a little prank on him," she confessed. "If only to teach him a lesson."

Amanda sighed, smiling and shaking her head. "Brat kind of deserves it," she declared, which made Nikki happy. "He's in Algebra with me, and man, is he a pain. You know, I bet he wanted to ask me to the dance next Friday."

Nikki tried to hide a blush. "He might have."

Amanda grinned. "Too bad I'm going to ask someone else."

"Oh!" Trying to conceal her curiosity was harder than concealing the reddening of her cheeks. Nikki leaned toward Amanda. "Who?"

Amanda giggled, stood up, and began to walk away. "You'll see, Nikki," she called to her as she beautifully sauntered down the bleachers. "You'll see."

This week's prompt was provided by Arden Kilzer.