Rocks and Stars

by Sam Ledel

  I pick at the edges of the plastic encasing around the tape and try to ignore the pairs of eyes focused on me in the suddenly very crowded locker room.

  “All right, ladies! Game time!” Mercifully, Coach wanders in, clipboard at the ready, and the eyes shift from me to her. I exhale as the shuffling of bags and cleats start around me, and I force myself to focus enough to open up the packaging before quickly unpeeling two lengths of tape.

  “Let’s go, let’s go!” Coach exclaims, motioning for all of us to get up and moving. She claps, the sound echoing around the tiled room as she hurries back out toward the field.

  My teammates run out, and I look up to find Emily eyeing me, then she follows the group outside. Jax, true to her word, has changed and is out of the bathroom. She drops her bag in front of her locker, gives me a wink, and jogs out behind the others.

  I finish placing the second ring of tape around my right cleat when the sound of a ball bouncing on the other side of the room makes me jump. I look up. Joey is standing across the room, a ball pressed between her two hands like she’s trying to squeeze the air out of it.

  “You scared me,” I say through a relieved laugh.

  “Sorry.”

  I stand slowly. “You aren’t waiting for me, are you?”

  “Well,” Joey starts, moving the ball to rest under her wrist against her side. “I was. I actually was,” she says, smiling a little, her gaze down. “But it seems like I’ve just been wasting my time.”

  I furrow my brow, confused as to what she’s talking about. “Joey, I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she says, looking back up at me. Her eyes gleam as if she’s fighting back tears. “I mean, it’s my fault really. I was being ridiculous, thinking that you’d wake up out of your little fantasy and realize that…” She stops. “No. You know what? This is on you. Not me. You chose to keep that from me.” Her voice lowers, and the terseness in it takes me aback. “You said it, Kyle. You told me you weren’t ready. Those were your words, don’t you remember?”

  It hits me then what she’s talking about. Of course, Jax had to make a very public display of the fact that she and I are girlfriends before I had a chance to tell anyone else. But I didn’t think…

  “Joey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was going to. But I thought…I thought we were friends. What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying that you weren’t ready, Kyle!” she shouts. “God. What was I, just some little experiment to make sure you really did like girls? Somebody to keep around in case you felt like giving something different a try?”

  My face flushes, but I force myself to reply. “Joey, I never meant—”

  “That night, Kyle! We kissed. And you said you weren’t ready for anything. And I accepted that. Because that was fine. You weren’t ready and that was okay.”

  “Then why are you so upset?”

  “Because!” she cries, her left arm up in exasperation. “Now apparently, you are ready. When it comes to Jax, you’re ready now.”

  “Joey,” I start, the words fumbling out, “when you and I…that was a long time ago. Over a year ago. I didn’t know…I wasn’t sure…”

  “Of what you wanted, I know.”

  I watch her, and for the first time in over a year, for the first time since I met her, Joey is crying. The pang in my chest at the sight of her with tears glistening from the corners of her eyes nearly knocks me out. But I force myself to go on. “You can’t be angry at me for this, Joey. It’s not that simple. Not for me.” As we stand there with the sound of bleachers creaking overhead, the air between us feels as if it’s slowly being sucked out. Like whatever Joey and I had between us is being drawn out, piece by piece, and every moment we once shared is being stolen away to a place I’m not sure either of us will be able to get it back from.

  She looks down again before rubbing at both her eyes. “I guess it’s like you said. That instinct people have when they see a rock on the ground? They kick it aside without giving it a second thought.”

  “Joey,” I start, but she ignores me. She just grabs her water bottle from the bench and jogs out of the locker room and up onto the field.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Hello?”

  “Hi.”

  “Kevin?”

  “Yep.”

  I switch my cell phone to my other hand and turn my wrist to see the time on my sports watch. 4:17 pm. “What’s up? No Technology Club after school today?”

  “It was canceled.”

  I glance out the window when our team bus pulls up to a stoplight. The city limit sign sits beyond it, nestled between trees on the lush roadside. The dry leaves curl at their tips, and I wonder if they feel as beaten down by this past summer as I do.

  “Oh, okay,” I say. Across the aisle, Emily tilts her head in my direction—her curiosity warranted since she knows my family well. Rather, she knows us well enough to understand how we communicate, which is never. Then she lowers her gaze and dives back into the marketing textbook in her lap. Meanwhile I mumble into the phone, unsure how to proceed with my brother. “Um, well, are Mom and Dad working?”

  “Yeah,” replies Kevin. “Mom’s in DC and Dad is in Houston. They’re traveling a lot lately.”

  I nod. “How’s school?”

  “It’s okay. Senior year is a lot easier than last year so far.” I nod while he tells me about his anatomy class. I realize I haven’t spoken to Kevin since my semester started after the summer holidays. And since Jax convinced me to stay in town all summer, I haven’t seen him since he came to a playoff game last spring with Mom and Dad. I didn’t think I’d be missing much by not going home. Just an empty house. But now a pang of guilt hits me.

  “How are you?” asks Kevin. “How’s school and soccer?”

  “It’s fine. I’m with the team now. We’re on our way to a game.” I glance over at Emily and know she’s listening. If I wasn’t on the bus, I wonder if I would tell Kevin about everything that’s going on. He probably wouldn’t even believe that Emily and I haven’t spoken much over the last month. Or that I’m dating a teammate now and have become a hot point for team gossip. I grimace, everything from the last few months sitting on the tip of my tongue. But I choke it back. “Things are fine. They’re…fine,” I finally say. I clear my throat and force a smile. “Classes are fun.” I practically hear Kevin’s smile. “But you always were the smart one between the two of us.”

  “Yeah, but at least you can catch a football.”

  The memory of us three years ago at a neighborhood Fourth of July party makes me smile. All the kids had been corralled into a touch football game. Our neighbor’s son Andrew McCauley was quarterback for our team. Before a play, I tried to tell Kevin where to run, and Andrew said he’d get the ball right to him. Somehow, Kevin made it to the spot on the field, but as soon as the ball came toward him, he put his hands up like some sort of shield. The ball went right through his arms and we spent the rest of the day tending to his bloody nose.

  “Hey, that was just my way of getting Andrew’s sister to talk to you,” I say finally.

  “Sure,” he replies.

  Laughter escapes my mouth before I can stop it. The sound feels distant and unfamiliar; I realize it’s been ages since a lighthearted thought caught me off guard. Especially when it came to my family. The memory of that holiday, featuring my unfortunate brother, lingers next to me on the bus, and then shifts into an image from later that same evening.

  My mom had taken Kevin to an urgent care to patch up his nose, which left me and my dad alone for the evening. That was the summer before everything became complicated with Beth. It was also a rare night when my dad was home. I replay the evening: I’m at home with my dad, watching bad sci-fi movies after ordering pizza. Fireworks crackle down the street, and together we laugh at the goofy costumes and special effects from a bygone TV era.

  I move the phone away from my ear as a swell of noise comes from the other end.
“Sorry,” Kevin mumbles. “The rest of the club just walked past. We’re heading over to Joe’s for ice cream since our meeting was canceled. And the rest of them will be, too, I guess, for a while.”

  I blink, shaking loose my thoughts and bringing myself back to the present. “What do you mean?” I ask, my eyes floating to the tattered cloth on the bus seat in front of me. “They’re not making school cuts again, are they? I remember when they cut the water polo teams. The pool was dyed purple a week later in retaliation. Remember me telling you?”

  Kevin chuckles. “I remember. But it’s nothing like that.”

  Cars pass by outside on the highway we’ve merged onto. I shift the phone to my other ear as T. and Jax turn up the volume on their speaker that’s blaring pop songs in the back of the bus. I wait for my brother to continue. The metal clanking of lockers opening and closing echo in the background on his end.

  “Mr. Collins died.”

  “What?” I say after a few seconds. I press the phone closer to my ear.

  “Mr. Collins, my technology teacher. He died. He didn’t come into school today, and we just heard the news that he was in a car accident last night. He was hit by a drunk driver. The driver was fine. But Mr. Collins…” Kevin’s voice fades and cracks like an old radio. The news seeps into me, slowly at first, then crashes into me head-on.

  “Oh, God,” I finally say. Emily shifts in her seat, her eyes flickering over to me. But I can’t bring myself to catch her eye. “Kevin, I’m so sorry. I know how much you liked him.” Kevin had found his niche in Technology Club since entering high school. He’d always been good with gadgets and read a lot on video game design. He spoke highly of Mr. Collins whenever we managed to sit down to a family dinner. It was clear the man had impacted my little brother.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say again.

  Kevin’s shrug seems audible before he says, “Thanks. I just…” His voice falters. “I wanted to call you when I heard. I didn’t really know who to talk to, since Mom and Dad are never here.”

  My eyes well up, and I turn to face out the window. I swallow. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around this past summer.”

  His silence on the other end magnifies the guilt creeping over me. My mind replays the phone message he had left me in June. Kevin had offered to teach me how to play Assassin’s Creed while our parents were away for work. If I came home. But I was too busy to even return his call. Running a hand over my face, I rack my mind, wondering why I thought it was okay to ignore him. Was I really that selfish, so caught up in Jax?

  “Kevin?” I ask, the line still quiet.

  “It’s all right. I get it.”

  “I’m still sorry.” I run a hand over my ponytail. Then I take a deep breath. “Hey, Kevin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  The line is quiet again, and someone shouts my brother’s name. “I gotta go,” he says.

  I swallow my tears and nod. “Okay, yeah, sure.”

  “I’ll, um, call you again soon.”

  “Yeah,” I say, trying to smile. “I’ll let you know how our game goes tonight.”

  “Okay.” Silence for a moment. “Kyle?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you, too.”

  I hang up the phone and lean back against my seat. Staring out the window, I run the last few months over in my mind. The shining star in almost every memory is Jax. I didn’t think spending time with her would cost me so much time with everybody else. But that’s how relationships work, isn’t it? It’s normal for things to change. People can suddenly fade into the background. I just didn’t realize it would be the people I held dearest.

  “Scoot.”

  I turn and find Emily nudging me closer to the window, sliding one leg onto the seat next to me and tucking it beneath her.

  “What are you—?”

  “Kyle, I am the only person on this planet who understands your family as well as you do. So, spill.”

  I wipe my eyes and shake my head. “Em, you don’t have to do this.” Her mouth falls into a frown, but her eyes are bright and determined. “Really,” I say, tucking my legs closer to me. “Besides, I don’t deserve your help.”

  At this, Emily sighs dramatically. “Come on.” She waves a hand in the air. “Kyle. Please. This has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

  I glance over my shoulder. Jax is deep in conversation with T. at the back of the bus. Then I look sidelong at Emily. “By ‘this,’ do you mean my acting like a complete jerk or your silent treatment and frustration over who I’m dating?”

  Emily purses her lips, then says, “Well, both.” I smile. “Kyle. Look, you had a point about my acting like your big, bossy sister.”

  Slowly, I shake my head. “I didn’t mean what I said that day.”

  But Emily interjects. “Still, there was some truth to it.” She looks down at her hands. “I’ve always seen you as a part of my family, Kyle. And I think I was afraid to say good-bye to you once I graduated high school.” She shrugs and adds, “Getting you to come here was a way for me to hang on to us.”

  “Em, you didn’t make me come to this school. I wanted to.”

  “Well, even so. I’m sorry for acting like the one in charge of what you do. I know you can make your own decisions.” She pauses, “I can’t very well go on pretending things are like they used to be. There’s no use in it. And I’m not saying that I’ve changed my mind about everything. I can’t do that.” My gaze falls and I nod. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t agree to disagree on some things. You and I are adults. That’s the mature thing to do about all of this, don’t you think?”

  Our eyes meet, and once again Emily amazes me with how wonderful she is. I nod in agreement.

  “Good.” She sits up straighter. “So, enough of this nonsense between us. Things always work themselves out in the end anyway. And in the meantime, it sounds like something’s up with Kevin. So, let’s hear it.”

  The rest of the bus ride I tell Emily all about Kevin and my parents spending less and less time at home and all of my guilt about not being there for him. While I talk, I feel something stir inside me. Like the feeling right before a corner kick: the familiar excitement of what’s to come, even if you’re not sure what that something will be. The feeling spreads as Emily nods, listening. I’ve got my best friend back. And I make a promise to myself to never lose her again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “All right, ladies, corner kick time!” Coach Gandy hollers at us from atop the goalie box.

  “Ugh, I swear these water breaks are getting shorter and shorter,” T. grumbles in our scattered huddle along the sideline of the practice field.

  I swallow more of my Gatorade and water mix, then inhale deeply. Now in September, Coach seems determined to work us harder than ever. And this practice has been rough. Callie actually puked once. Even T. had to take a break after our second round of sprints. All of us are dripping in sweat, and my legs are killing me. We hit the weight room yesterday and Coach demanded we do an extra set on top of our normal amount. I literally had to fall out of bed this morning, my legs were so stiff.

  “Come on, ladies,” Emily chimes in, though it’s clear her usual chipper demeanor has been deflated a bit. “Big game next week.”

  She tosses her water bottle down onto her bag and jogs back over to where Coach is standing. A few others follow behind her. I bend down to relace my cleat when a hand grabs my backside. Wide-eyed, I look up as Jax walks away from me, her face straight but her eyes mischievous. “Don’t be the last one, babe,” she calls before turning to run over to the cluster forming near the goal box.

  I watch her jog off when a sudden, sharp rip turns my attention to the bleachers. Joey stands up, tightening her gloved hand. Her eyes are down, looking at anything but me.

  I open my mouth to say something—though I’m not sure what—as she hops down off the bleacher. But before I can, Joey speaks first.

  “Come on,” she says. “I don
’t feel like running more gassers after practice.”

  I open my mouth to reply, then decide against it and jog a few feet behind her back over to the others.

  “Okay,” Coach Gandy says sternly, “just like Tuesday’s practice. Emily, you’re on the corner,” she says, tossing her a blue pinnie. Coach moves quickly, her sculpted arms cutting through the air as she hands a few more out, including to Jax, T., and five others, all of whom pull on the mesh tank top. “Blue, you’re with Emily. And if you can put two and two together, which I sure as hell hope you can, you guys are on offense. You girls without a pinnie, mark up, you’re defense.”

  Before I can even move, Jax is beside me. “Found my girl,” she says, linking her arm through mine.

  I chuckle. “I thought I was supposed to look for you.”

  She shrugs and gives me a playful push before we wander over to the goal box. “I found you first.” She finishes with a hip bump.

  As Emily grabs the ball and runs over to the corner, the rest of us line up along the top of the goal box. Jax tugs at the base of my T-shirt, and I give her a bump of my hip in return. We exchange grins as Emily raises her arm up from the field’s corner, signaling she’s ready.

  The ball sails up and curves just slightly. Half of the team moves forward while the rest of us hang back, including me and Jax. The ball falls and bounces off Sarah’s chest before she taps it in our direction.

  I move forward for it, but Jax is one step ahead of me. I reach for her pinnie but I miss and end up watching her whale a kick off her left foot toward the goal.

  Joey dives to her left. The ball just grazes off her fingertips and falls behind her into the net.

  Everyone in blue cheers and goes to high-five Jax.

  “Nice one,” Coach says before blowing her whistle for us to reset.

  “Lucky shot,” Joey says after she hurls the ball back over to Emily.

  “Please,” Jax says, and there’s suddenly a knot in the pit of my stomach. “That was pure skill.”