by Paula Stokes
“I got you,” Jordy says. “I got you.” I lean on him as he leads me across the lot. I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t care. All I know is that I can breathe again.
We end up on the bench of the scenic overlook, the sky awash in tiny points of light, the ocean just barely visible on the horizon. Off in the distance, a lighthouse blinks, slow and steady. I try to match my breathing to its winking light. Gradually my sobs subside. I look down at the winding road, and my stomach twists into knots.
Jordy shrugs out of his Windbreaker and gives it to me. “You’re shaking,” he says.
“It’s not from the cold.” I let him wrap the jacket around me anyway.
“I’m so sorry.” He fumbles with the zipper, the wind threatening to steal away his hat as he tries to zip me up.
I take the ends of the fabric from his hands and zip the jacket. The sleeves come all the way down over my hands. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“I hate that I made you this upset.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
“Minor panic attack. No big deal.” I blot my eyes with the cuff of his Windbreaker. “It was my idea. All we did was drive to the top of a hill. I need to be able to deal with that.” I look out into the night. “The road just reminded me of the accident.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“No.” I purse my lips, shake my head. “At least not right now.”
“Okay.” Jordy stares out at the ocean for a few seconds. “What does your mom think about everything?”
“What? About me being cursed?”
“Yeah. That, the notebook. Why you are the way you are.”
“She doesn’t know everything. I mean, she knows I had issues after the accidents and that kids avoided me for a while after the birthday party. She was there for my freak-out when the neighbors’ house burned down. But she doesn’t know about the notebook. I’m not sure if she realizes everything is connected.”
Jordy is still looking out at the ocean. “Did you tell Daniel everything?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s good.” Jordy’s shoulders twitch a little as he tries to hide the fact that he’s shivering.
“We don’t have to sit out here,” I say. “I know you’re freezing.”
“I have an idea.” He hops up from the bench and jogs over to the car. He comes back with the emergency blanket from the first aid kit. He wraps one side around me and then sits next to me on the bench again, cocooning us in the crinkly silver material.
“I always wondered if these kept you warm,” I say. “Not too bad.”
The whine of a jet plane fills the air. I can barely make out the silhouette as it tears across the night sky, probably on the way back to the naval base at Coronado.
“As a bonus,” Jordy says, “this space blanket makes us invisible to the military’s thermal imaging technology.”
“Really?” I turn toward him to see if he’s kidding.
“Yeah. We are protected from the government’s prying eyes,” he says. “But just let me know if you want to leave.”
“Okay.” I pull my legs up onto the bench and tuck them beneath the blanket. Even though the journey was hell, it’s kind of nice up here. Peaceful. I like being around Jordy, too, even if it’s a little harder for me to say it. I still can’t believe I told him about my bad luck, but that’s the weird thing about secret sharing. As scary as it is to think of him telling other people, there’s also a comfort in not being the only one who knows anymore. And even if he thinks I’m completely bonkers, he’s not treating me like a crazy person.
The wind steals the corner of the emergency blanket out of my hand and sends it flapping in the night like an out-of-control spaceship. Jordy wrestles the blanket down and drapes it over both of our laps. My head brushes against his arm as I angle my neck to look up at the sky. “Wow. You can see so many stars,” I say.
“Yeah. Makes me feel sort of small.” Jordy rests his head against mine.
My lips quirk into a half smile. “You’re a giant.”
“Nah, I’m just a speck.”
“Then I’m a half a speck.”
He nudges me in the ribs. “Your hair alone makes you more than half a speck.” He reaches up and gently removes the elastic that’s keeping my bun in place.
My hair tumbles down around my shoulders, the breeze sending thick spirals forward in front of my eyes. “What is this obsession with my hair?” My mouth suddenly goes dry.
“I don’t know. It’s cool, and you keep it hidden away from everyone. It makes me wonder what else you’re hiding.” Jordy lifts a hand to my cheek.
For one terrifying moment I think maybe he’s going to kiss me, but then he flicks a strand of hair stuck to my lip back away from my face. Pulling back, I scoff. “Is that Charming Asshole Jordy I hear? He of the slick lines for the fangirls and the cameras?”
“Ouch,” he says, dropping his hand to the bench. “There’s nothing fake about me being here with you, Maguire. I hope you can see that.”
“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I got nervous or something.”
He blinks rapidly. “Do I make you nervous?” The beginning of a smile forms on his lips.
“A little,” I admit. “But so does everything.” I fidget beneath the emergency blanket. “We should probably get going before one of us gets busted for sneaking out.”
“Okay.” Jordy walks a little behind me on the way back to the car, as if he wants to be in position to support me if I start to collapse again.
The trip back down the hill is almost as excruciating, but he talks me through it, one-tenth of a mile at a time. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “You’re okay. We’re almost there.” He repeats these simple but soothing phrases until we’re back on the neighborhood streets.
We pull up in front of my house a little after 1:00 a.m., and I sneak back in without being detected. A few minutes later I receive a text.
I’d call that a success. Wouldn’t you?
I text him back. One word.
Thanks.
Pulling my luck notebook out of my purse, I flip to the last page. I draw a line through therapy challenges one and two. Five more to go.
CHAPTER 16
Jordy isn’t at practice the next day, so I don’t see him again until Wednesday, the day of our first match.
It’s an away match at Lexington High, a school across town. My mom let me drive her car to school so I wouldn’t have to ride the bus with everyone else. I barely survived last night with Jordy. I’m not ready for a bus full of teammates yet.
I meet up with everyone else at Lexington, where Coach informs me I’m going to be playing a girl named Silvia. She smiles and then grabs a can of balls from her coach. She opens the can and drops the silver pop top in the trash. I notice the balls are Wilson #4s. Four is bad luck in several Asian cultures. I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything. Self-fulfilling prophecy. I believe I can win this match.
Jordy is bent over a clipboard with Coach Hoffman and Kimber. He looks up just long enough to mouth “good luck” and then turns his attention back to them. My insides are quivering with nervousness, but I try to hold my expression steady as I walk down to the third court. Since we’re the away team, I get to choose whether I serve or receive first. Everyone always chooses to serve—it’s a natural advantage.
Except for me. After we warm up, I hand Silvia the balls and pick my side of the court instead, the side opposite the Lexington bleachers, so I won’t have to look at anyone during the next game while I’m trying to serve. Jordy jogs around the courts to my side and gestures to me as I’m heading back to the baseline to start the match.
“One second,” I holler to Silvia. I jog back to the fence. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to wish you good luck again,” he says. “In fact, I found something for you.” He pulls a wadded-up tissue from his pocket and folds it back to reveal a four-leaf clover. “Put it in your shoe or w
hatever.”
My cheeks get hot. Gently, I reach my fingers through a hole in the fence and take the clover from Jordy’s outstretched hand. I twirl the stem between my thumb and index finger. “Thanks, that was really sweet of you.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Jordy tosses his hair out of his eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t accuse me of being Slick Asshole Jordy again. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about him.”
“No. I’m glad you . . . shared that with me. I’m sorry again about last night.”
“It’s cool. I know you didn’t mean it. Because I make you nervous.” He winks. “Now hurry up and kick this girl’s ass.” Before I can reply, he gives me a little wave and then heads back around to the side with the bleachers.
I should take his advice and put the clover in my shoe, but instead I tuck it inside the small pocket of my racquet bag. No guy has ever given me anything, and this is one good luck charm I want to keep.
Silvia bounces a ball repeatedly while she waits for me.
“Sorry.” I jog to the baseline and take my place at the back of the service box. Quickly I scan the court, making sure there are no loose tennis balls or any obvious hazards on Silvia’s side. “Ready.” I bend my knees and shuffle from side to side, my heart thrumming with the anticipation of receiving my first-ever serve in a real match.
Silvia serves the ball, and I return it low and deep. We exchange several ground strokes before she finally hits a backhand into the net. I’ve just won my first point!
The next point goes to her when I return her serve off my back foot and the ball goes so long it pings off the painted fence. We trade points again, and then finally I win the game when she double-faults at 30–40. I can’t believe it—I’ve just won my very first tennis game! I try to hold in a huge grin, but it slips out a little as Silvia and I change sides and I catch sight of Jordy smiling at me.
But now I have to serve. Silvia casually hits both balls over the net. I tuck one of them in the pocket of my trunks and grip the other one in my hand. Stepping up to the baseline, I get in position just to the right of the center T.
“Just concentrate. You can do this,” Jordy yells from behind me.
I throw the ball up, but my toss is too low. I let it fall and catch it off the bounce. A second toss, too far behind me. I lean back and catch the ball again. Across the net, Silvia shuffles back and forth. She takes a step inside the baseline, perhaps realizing that she’s about to be served up a cream puff.
“Third time’s a charm,” I mutter to myself. Tossing the ball up in the air, I bring my racquet back and explode upward, making contact with the ball at exactly the right time. The serve lands in the box, and Silvia struggles to return it, hitting a short shot that brings me up to net. I aim for the back corner of the court and plant my feet, ready to volley whatever she aims at me. She goes for my backhand side, and I punch the ball cross-court out of her reach.
“Nice one, Maguire.” Jordy flashes me a thumbs-up as I’m heading back to the baseline.
“Thanks.” I head to the left side of the court, ready to do it again. But this time my first serve hits the top of the net and lands on my side. I try again. Double fault.
Silvia smiles to herself and trots over to the right side of the court. We trade points again, but she ends up winning the second game. She wins the next game too, and then I win, making it two games apiece. We go back and forth like that, trading games until it’s five games to four and my turn to serve. I glance up at the bleachers, but Jordy isn’t watching me anymore. He’s two courts down, talking to Kimber. I can see her scorecard—five games to five. Looks like I’m not the only one struggling. Between us, Penn seems to be winning her second set 3–1.
My new toss abandons me at this crucial moment, and I end up serving a bunch of double faults and losing the first set 6–4. I take a few minutes to stretch out and drink water before starting the second set.
Coach Hoffman jogs down to give me some pointers. “Don’t get down on yourself, okay?” he says. “This is your first-ever match and you’re doing fine.”
I nod, but my chin droops slightly. I really wanted to win for the team, and for Jordy. I don’t want him to think the time he spent working with me has been a waste. I trot back out onto the court and try my hardest, but Silvia ends up winning the second set 6–3. By the time I finish my match, Penn has already won hers, and Jade and her doubles partner are just finishing up. I’m the only one who’s lost so far. Kimber is starting a third set, and we all go to sit behind her court and cheer her on.
Jordy is down talking to the third doubles team but breaks away when he sees me in the bleachers. He jogs down and takes a seat next to me. “How’d you end up?”
“4–6, 3–6,” I say.
“Not bad.” He claps me on the shoulder. “I lost my first match 6–1, 6–0.”
“Really?”
“Really. How did you feel serving?”
“Better. I think I just got nervous when the score was close and reverted back to my old toss.”
“Old habits die hard.”
Jordy and I watch Kimber with the rest of the team. She ends up winning in a third-set tiebreaker. After we all congratulate her, Jordy turns to me. “Want to give me a ride back to school?”
“That’s probably a good idea. Dr. Leed says I need to keep reinforcing my earlier tasks as I move through my list.”
I feel a little better as the two of us head for the parking lot. Even though I lost today, in a lot of ways I kind of feel like I won. I played respectably. I served okay for most of the match. And the team won—and that’s what’s most important. I think about the four-leaf clover tucked inside my tennis bag and decide to leave it there for the time being. Jordy is almost like a living good luck charm.
CHAPTER 17
Session #8
“Why do you let some people call you by your first name?” I ask.
Dr. Leed laughs under his breath. “You can call me Daniel if you want.”
“What’s up, Daniel?” I try it out. “Do you not want me to?”
He shrugs. “I go on a case-by-case basis. Dr. Leed feels kind of stuffy and old, but sometimes with young women it feels a little creepy to be like, ‘Heeey. Call me Daniel.’”
“Ah,” I say. “Makes sense.” I smile. “Can I call you Danny?”
“Not if you expect me to answer.” He smiles too. “So how are things?”
“I rode in a car with someone else,” I say. “Finally.”
“And?”
“It was horrible.”
“But?”
“We survived.” I give him a quick rundown of what it felt like being in the car that first night. “Then I did it again on Wednesday during the day, only that time I drove.”
“Congratulations. So what’s next on your list? Ready to try riding a bus or similar?” Daniel asks.
My eyes widen. “Like during the day? With other people?”
“Well, there are going to be other people on this plane, right?”
“Yeah.” I bite my lip. “What about something like just hanging out in a crowded place first? You know, enough people where I can’t control everything with five-second checks, but where I’m not completely trapped just in case something happens.”
“You’re the boss. Where would you go?”
“Not sure. Maybe the mall or the beach?” I really don’t like the beach. It’s bad enough keeping track of everything happening on the sand, let alone in the water.
“And what about after that?”
“Maybe then I can try the bus?”
Daniel smiles. “Sounds like you’re right where you want to be.”
My heart is pounding a little bit as I leave Daniel’s office. I think about riding with Jordy, about how he talked me all the way through the task. I’m glad we decided to work together on some of our therapy challenges.
I lick my lips and swallow, prepare myself to smile and say hi. But today the waiting room is empty. I remember that he said s
omething about playing in a tournament this weekend. It’s no big deal. I’ll see him next week at practice.
But still, I’m a little sad he’s not here.
CHAPTER 18
On Saturday, I get a call from Penn. “What are you doing today?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I pause. “Did your brother give you my number?”
“Oh. He has a sheet with everyone’s address and phone number on the team. I hope calling you like this is okay.” She sighs. “I need a favor, and since Jordy is your friend, I thought maybe you might help.”
It feels weird to hear Penn call Jordy my friend. I wonder if he told her about our late-night drive. “What’s up?” I ask her.
“I need a ride to my brother’s match. He’s playing at San Diego Tennis Complex. The semifinals of the Pacific Crest Open.”
Last night I Googled Jordy’s results from Thursday and Friday, so I know he’s advanced through the first four rounds of the tournament, but my insides twist a little at the thought of driving Penn somewhere. It shouldn’t be any different than driving Jordy, but it is, for one because she doesn’t know about my phobia. “You can’t get a ride with him?”
“He and my parents are already there. I was supposed to go with them, but tomorrow is my birthday and we kind of all got in a fight.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I’m the invisible child when my brother is winning. But it isn’t Jordy’s fault my parents care more about his matches than my birthday. I feel like crap for some of the things I said, and I want to be there to watch him.” She trails off. “I guess I thought you might want to watch him too. I can get you in for free.”
I think about a crowded tennis stadium. It would work for therapy challenge number three, if I can handle another challenge after the stress of driving Penn. My stomach knots even further. The first two tasks went okay, but this one would be a lot bigger—hundreds of people, way more than on a plane.
But you wouldn’t be trapped, I remind myself. And Jordy will be there, and he does seem to be lucky. So far he hasn’t gotten hurt from being around me—not really. And if I just sat in my seat, maybe everything would go smoothly.
