by Rob Buyea
My ligament had snapped when I’d landed my switch full—a landing I’d done hundreds of times, maybe even thousands. Just when I’d been coming into my own, gymnastics—the only thing I was really good at—had been taken from me.
Why?
Why?
I was out back throwing passes when a car pulled into our driveway. The instant Otis heard it, he tore around the side of our house, barking like a maniac. That was how he greeted guests. He did it every time. Dad called him a built-in security system.
I fired one last bullet through my tire target, then scooped up my football and jogged out front to see who it was. The barking stopped before I got out there. I knew then that something was wrong, ’cause Otis never stopped like that. I broke into a sprint. When I came around the corner, I saw Otis lying on his belly near Randi’s side of the car. He looked at me and whimpered.
Ms. Cunningham got out and walked around to the passenger’s side. She opened the door and took the crutches from Randi. I watched my best friend climb out of the car. Her right leg was wrapped in a big black brace. I’d seen enough football injuries to know it was her knee.
Randi grasped the crutches and stood. Otis got up then and crept closer and sniffed her leg. He gave her brace a couple of slobbery kisses, and that made Randi chuckle. She patted his head and looked up at me.
I didn’t bother asking her what had happened or if she was okay. I asked what mattered most to her right then. “How long are you out?”
“For the season.” Her voice cracked. “I have surgery in two weeks.”
I dropped the football, stepped closer, and hugged her. Randi broke down, sobbing into my shoulder. No one’s strong enough to hold that kind of hurt and disappointment inside forever. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I really was.
“It’s okay,” she lied. “I’m having the procedure done in New York City with a specialist. Jacob’s sports doctor friend got me hooked up with her. She’s supposed to be the best, so hopefully that means I’ll recover faster.”
I saw Ms. Cunningham wiping her eyes, but I didn’t see my sister. I didn’t even realize Megs was out there until she spoke. “You’ll come back stronger than ever, Randi. You’re the best,” Meggie said.
Right on cue, Otis let out one of his thunder barks to show his agreement, and we jumped. His bark could wake the dead.
“Thanks, Meggie,” Randi said. “And thanks, Otis.” She rubbed his head.
“What do you have there?” Ms. Cunningham asked Megs, noticing the craft project she was holding.
“I’m working on a thank-you card for Mrs. Woods. She gave Gavvy a splendid book for us to read, but first we need to finish James and the Giant Peach. Right, Gavvy?”
I smiled and nodded.
“That’s sweet,” Ms. Cunningham said.
“When did you see Mrs. Woods?” Randi asked.
“Me and Scott saw her at the Senior Center.”
“She told Gavvy to mark her words, he’d have a football coach soon,” Megs said.
“Still no coach? Gav, I’m sorry,” Randi said. “Here I am crying about my knee and gymnastics and—”
“You don’t need to apologize for being upset about your injury,” I said. “You know I understand.”
“Don’t worry, Randi. Everything will be okay,” Megs said.
Otis let out another one of his thunder barks, and everyone jumped again.
Meggie giggled. “C’mon, Otis. We need to go and finish our card.” She gave Randi a hug and skipped off with her dog.
“She’s the cutest thing in the world,” Ms. Cunningham said, watching my little sister go.
Melting hearts, I thought.
“You should call Kurtsman,” I told Randi. “She’ll want to know about your knee.”
“I know. She texted me last week, and I never replied. Wasn’t feeling up to it.”
“I’m going to the Senior Center with Scott on Wednesday. You two should come with us. Mrs. Woods was asking about you.”
Randi shrugged. “Maybe.”
I wasn’t gonna push it, but I hoped she would decide to come. Sitting around was only gonna make her sadder.
After she left, I went back to throwing passes. Knowing that my best friend couldn’t compete made me want to train even harder. The only thing that could slow me down now was not having a coach.
NATALIE KURTSMAN
ASPIRING LAWYER
Kurtsman Law Offices
BRIEF #2
Summer: Shortcomings
The instant I saw Randi’s name pop up on my phone, I felt anger coursing through my veins. It was a good thing I was an expert at maintaining my composure. Otherwise, I might’ve said some things I would have been certain to regret—and there was plenty I wanted to say, like, Nice of you to finally call. I hadn’t heard boo from her since I’d sent my text, but maybe there was an explanation for her shortcomings as a friend. It wasn’t easy, but I was able to remind myself that she was innocent until proven guilty.
I answered her call. “Hello.”
I waited. The guilty always blabber—Randi didn’t.
“Hello,” I said again. “Randi?”
“Hi,” she croaked, her voice fragile and barely above a whisper.
“What’s wrong?”
She filled me in. I felt terrible—for her, but also because I suddenly realized that I was the one who’d come up short as a friend. Never once had I stopped to consider the possibility that something had gone wrong. I had assumed that her no response was because gymnastics was more important than me, which would’ve been fair, since the sport had been a part of her life for much longer than I had, but it had still hurt. I’d let jealously play tricks on me and fool my better judgment. The one piece of good news was that Randi actually sounded okay—or at least as okay as one could be in her position. I imagined she had already spilled a lot of tears by the time we talked.
“I’m sorry I haven’t texted you back,” she said after explaining everything.
“It’s okay.” I meant that.
“What did you need to talk to me about?”
I tensed. “Oh, nothing. Never mind.” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Not when my problems paled in comparison to hers.
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll let you go, then.”
“Randi, was there something else?” I asked. Not only was I skilled at reading body language, but I could also pick up on clues in a person’s voice—and there was something else.
“No, not really,” she said. “Just…I saw Gav, and he mentioned going to the Senior Center with Scott on Wednesday. He asked if we’d join them. I guess Mrs. Woods was asking about us. He said Mrs. Mason can give us a ride.”
“Let’s go.”
“I don’t know if I’m up for it, but you should go,” she mumbled.
“No, we’re going,” I insisted. “It’ll be fun.” I was beginning to hear the sadness in Randi’s voice, and I wanted to do something to cheer her up. Eddie and Agnes always made us smile.
“Okay.” She sighed.
“Great. I’ll let Mrs. Mason know. See you soon,” I said. I ended our call and sat there thinking about how I wished that accepting Trevor’s invitation to the beach could be that easy, but it wasn’t. Intellectually, I understood I was being silly, but I couldn’t get my nerves to comprehend that. I was agonizing over the whole situation. I still hadn’t responded to his text from the previous week, and I had ignored his phone call the following day. I was such a hypocrite. I resolved to send him a message after I got back from the Senior Center. I hoped by then I’d know what to say.
Gav and Scott ran off to Coach’s room while Natalie and I set out to find Agnes and Eddie. Surprisingly, they weren’t in the Community Hall. It took us a few minutes because I wasn’t very fast on crutches, but we finally
tracked them down in the Community Theater.
“Randi! Good heavens!” Agnes exclaimed. “What happened, child? Are you okay?”
I hobbled to a nearby chair. “I tore my ACL at gymnastics,” I explained.
“That sport is too dangerous. That’s all there is to it,” Agnes complained. “Jumping and flipping on skinny boards, and all that flying and twisting through the air that you do. It’s no wonder you hurt yourself.”
“Oh, Agnes. Don’t go getting your panties in a bunch,” Eddie countered. “Randi is plenty tough for that sport.”
“I know she’s tough,” Agnes snapped. “But ‘that sport’ is dangerous.”
“She’s going to heal. Isn’t that right?” Eddie said, turning to me.
“Of course she is,” Agnes agreed. “I have no doubt about that.”
“I’m going to try,” I said.
“You just take your time and make sure you’re all better before you go back to that flipping-and-flying-through-the-air business,” Agnes ordered.
I blinked my eyes shut so that they wouldn’t see me rolling them.
“She’s right about that,” Eddie agreed. “Don’t rush it, or you’ll get hurt again.”
I let out a quiet sigh and nodded. I never knew you inherited so many coaches by getting injured.
Being the pro that she was at picking up on body language, Natalie jumped in and changed the subject from gymnastics. “We were surprised to find the two of you in here and not out in the Community Hall,” she said.
“Agnes and I just got done watching Days of Our Lives.”
“You watch that stuff?” Natalie asked, incredulous.
“You betcha,” Eddie replied. “It’s our daily soap opera. The smut keeps us young.”
Agnes huffed. “The girls don’t need to hear that, Edna.”
Eddie mimicked her in a high-pitched voice, and I almost laughed. Poor Agnes. Natalie couldn’t keep from giggling.
“Ever since your boyfriend and his buddy revamped this joint, it’s been getting more and more use,” Eddie told Natalie. “Matter of fact, Mrs. Woods and the old boys will be joining us soon so that we can watch Judge Judy together.”
“Judge Judy!” Natalie shrieked.
“Yes,” Agnes replied. “A lawyer girl like yourself oughta watch it. Might help you in your training.”
“That show is more outrageous than your soap opera,” Natalie said.
Agnes and Eddie laughed. “You’re probably right about that,” Agnes agreed.
“So how is that boyfriend of yours, anyway?” Eddie pressed Natalie.
“Trevor’s not my boyfriend,” she responded.
Whatever, I wanted to say. Not even the best lawyer could’ve made us believe that.
“What does that even mean anyway, ‘boyfriend’?” Natalie said. “Does that mean I’m obligated to go places with him? Does that mean I have to act a certain way? Because that’s not happening.”
“Uh-oh,” Eddie said. “We’ve struck a nerve. You’d better tell us what’s wrong so the old pro here”—she pointed to herself—“can give you some advice.”
Natalie hesitated, then looked at me.
I shrugged.
“You can tell us,” Agnes encouraged her. “Girls need to be able to talk about this stuff with each other.”
Natalie sighed. “Maybe it’s time to spill my case so the jury can deliberate and give me a decision. Who knows, perhaps you can help me with my conundrum.”
“Stop trying to convince yourself and just tell us,” Eddie said.
Natalie took a deep breath and spit it out. “Trevor has invited me to go to the beach.”
“Just the two of you?” Eddie asked.
“No, we’d go with his brother and his girlfriend.” She sank down in her chair.
“That’s it? That’s what’s got you in a tizzy?” Eddie said, which was exactly what I was thinking. “He’s asked you to the beach, and you don’t know what to do?”
“Yes!” Natalie cried. “It’d be the first time Trevor and I would be together without the rest of the Recruits. And if we’re with his brother and his girlfriend, then there’s going to be all kinds of pressure to be all boyfriendy-girlfriendy, and I’m not ready for that.”
“So say no,” Agnes said.
“I can’t,” Natalie confessed. “I don’t want to hurt Trevor’s feelings, and…I want to go.”
“There’s a simple solution here,” Eddie declared. “You need to have a couple of friends go with you. That’ll solve everything.”
“That’s a great idea, except I can’t invite others because that would be rude.”
“Well, there’s got to be a way around that,” Agnes said. “That’s silly.”
“Well, if there is, I’d like to hear it,” Natalie snapped, growing frustrated.
What we heard just then instead of a solution to Natalie’s problem was a commotion right outside the room. We looked toward the door, and Scott and Gav came racing in.
“I win!” Scott exclaimed.
“You got lucky,” Gav teased.
“You ladies ready for our show?” Scott’s grandpa hollered, entering the theater next. Coach and Mrs. Woods were right behind him.
“That a football injury?” Coach asked the instant he saw my brace.
“Girls can’t play football!” Scott squawked.
“Wrong,” Mrs. Woods thundered. “A girl can do anything she puts her mind to, Mr. Mason. And that includes playing football or coaching football.”
Scott froze. I wasn’t sure if it was Mrs. Woods’s tone or her words that had scared him stiff, but he didn’t make another peep. It looked like he was holding his breath.
“It’s a gymnastics injury,” I said, answering Coach’s question.
“ACL?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Injury like that, and your recovery is all about attitude. I’ve seen it. Athletes who’ve come back even better, and others who never make it back. Valentine and Junior tell me you’re the best, so keep fighting. Don’t let this get you down.”
I swallowed and nodded. Yes, I was sick and tired of everyone trying to give me advice, but it didn’t feel that way with Coach. I understood why Gav and Scott loved when he talked to them like they were his players. I glanced at Gav, and he looked so happy. Coach was having one of his better days.
“As I was saying,” Eddie said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sure others will want to go with you, Natalie.”
“Go where?” Scott asked.
“To the beach,” I was quick to say.
“I want to go,” Scott said. “You want to go, Gavin?”
Gav shrugged. “Sure. I’ll go.”
“Me too,” I chimed in.
“Looks like you’ve got some friends who want to join you, Natalie, and you didn’t even have to ask them,” Eddie said. She winked at me, and I smiled—my first real smile since I’d gotten hurt.
“It’s time for Judge Judy. Quiet now,” Agnes barked, shushing us.
That was an important afternoon—for many reasons.
NATALIE KURTSMAN
ASPIRING LAWYER
Kurtsman Law Offices
BRIEF #3
Summer: Case Solved
When I returned home that evening, I responded to Trevor’s text like I had promised myself I would, and it wasn’t even difficult. I knew what to say.
Me: Hi. I’d love to go, but Randi and Gavin and Scott want to come, too. Is that okay?
After hitting send, I waited to see if tiny bubbles appeared—and they did. He was replying. Suddenly I got nervous. Should I have told him that I didn’t invite them? What’s he going to think? Is he going to be mad at me?
Trev: OK gr8t
Trev: does that mean ur not mad at me
Mad at him? Is that what he’d thought? True, his lack of punctuation and attention to spelling and mechanics when texting irritated me no end, but I wasn’t mad at him.
Me: I was never mad at you.
Trev: phew
Me: Sorry I didn’t respond sooner.
Trev: no worries
Trev: after I talk to my brother I’ll text you details about pickup time and stuff
Trev: sound good
Punctuation! I wanted to scream.
Me: Sounds good.
I would’ve underlined the period in my text if I knew how.
Our conversation ended, but the thought of our day at the beach left me feeling giddy. I kept my phone nearby; my nervousness was mixed with excitement—and this was a new kind of excitement for me.
I was ready for Brian to get mad when I told him more of my friends wanted to come to the beach, but he didn’t, because that meant Dad had to let him borrow the Highlander, and the Highlander was way nicer than his car. We packed our gear in the cargo carrier on the roof, and that left us with seven seats inside the SUV—just enough for Brian and Madison sitting up front, and Natalie, Randi, Gavin, Scott, and me in the back. So what was the problem? Mark. He’d gotten back early from vacation and had texted me, wanting to hang out. I felt bad about ditching him, but I never mentioned the beach. I was nervous enough about being with Natalie. I didn’t need him there busting on me…so I lied. I told him my mom had made plans for school shopping and I couldn’t get out of it. I didn’t like lying to him, but if he never found out, it wouldn’t matter.
