“Besides, whoever this person is that broke your heart is missing out on being with someone pretty special. You just wait and see. Everything’s going to work out just fine. I promise.”
She says exactly what I need to hear, and I love her more right now than I have in a long time. So, of course, I feel even more horrible. Not just about stupid Keeta, but about how bad I’ve been treating my mom and all the lies I’ve told her.
“I promise, Abbey Road. I promise things will get better,” my mom says again, which only makes me cry even more.
Chapter Thirty
I don’t know why Kate bothers knocking on my bedroom door because she comes in before I even have a chance to ask who it is.
She finds me lying in bed in the tank top and underwear I put on last night after my fiasco at Keeta’s because it’s way too hot to wear much else. But I doubt Kate wants to hang out with me half-dressed, so I quickly cover myself up with the tangled sheet at the foot of my bed before I turn toward the wall.
“Kate, I’m not in the mood to talk.”
“I’m not here to talk.” She sits down on my bed. “I’m just here to listen.”
I have nothing to say, so I don’t know what she’s planning on listening to.
“Your mom told me you were pretty upset. What happened yesterday?”
“Nothing. I love my life. See you later.”
She pokes me in the back. “Come on. I’m missing a Project Runway marathon to sit here, so spill it.”
New tears run down my face.
“Okay, I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess your surprise Keeta visit didn’t go too well.”
I wipe my face with my sheet. “Not exactly. Wait, did you tell my mom where I was?”
Kate gets up and closes the door. “No, but I totally thought you told her about, you know, your big secret. She kept on saying I should talk to you because I knew what it felt like to have a broken heart. And then she used all these generic pronouns when she talked about it. Like, someone hurt you and that person doesn’t know what they’re missing. So, anyway, she may be on to you. Wait, do you think she thinks I’m gay, too?”
“No, I don’t think she thinks you’re gay, Kate. God. Hand me a tissue would you?”
She pulls a fresh tissue out of the box my mom left for me last night and dangles it in front of my hidden face. When I reach up to grab it, she yanks it away so I have to turn to get it.
After she sees my puffed and blotchy face, I figure there’s no point in trying to hide anymore, so I turn over and grab the tissue from her hand. Then for some reason when I see her face, I cry even more. “You were right. I should’ve listened to you. Everyone was right.”
“Come on, you can’t beat yourself up, Abbey. You fell in love with Keeta. Worse things have happened. Sure, she ended up screwing you over in the end like I said she would, but let’s look at the bright side.”
I reduce my sobs to a snivel and ask, “What bright side? This sucks.” My head’s pounding so I rub my temples to relieve the pressure.
“Well, for one thing, now that you’re single again, we can spend more time getting caught up on all the horror movies we missed this year.”
“Is that all you have?”
She gives me another tissue. “Well, now that you’ve been with a girl, you don’t have to be so freaked out next time it happens. I mean, if it happens again. Or whatever.”
I like that she’s willing to talk about me liking girls, but I still don’t feel better. “Nope, not good enough. If you need me, I’ll be here until the end of senior year.” I fall back onto my pillows. But being in my bed only makes me think of all those nights Keeta and I spent hanging out in my room, back when I actually believed I was her whole world. And it makes me regret ever saying no to her. Maybe if I had said yes, she wouldn’t have wanted Garrett at all. Maybe it’s all my fault for being so immature.
Kate squints her eyes and looks strained while she thinks of something else to say. “Okay, I got it. Now you don’t have to keep anything from your mom. Since there’s no girl, there’s no reason to lie and hide who you are. That’s cool, right?” She throws up her hands. “See, everything’s falling into place.”
She’s a good friend, but I now realize that there are going to be some things she’ll never understand: I’m not done being gay just because Keeta and I are over.
“No. Everything is out of place, Kate.” Then I tell her what I walked into at Keeta’s house yesterday.
“Damn,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I kind of know how you feel.”
I doubt it, but say, “Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“The same thing happened with me and Derrick.”
“Really?” I blow my nose again. “With that one chick?”
“No, it was before that. I caught him kissing some girl behind the gym one day. He tried to deny it even though I saw it with my own eyes. He was all, ‘It didn’t mean anything. It just happened.’ Can you believe that bs?”
“Yeah, I can believe it. Why didn’t you tell me before?” I toss my heavy tissues into the wastebasket and she gives me another.
“I was embarrassed.”
We don’t talk for a while and just listen to the Ani DiFranco CD Mia made for me, which I have been playing all night and morning. Sometimes music makes me feel better, but sometimes I need it to make feeling bad an okay thing, too.
“Abbey, listen,” Kate says like she’s excited. “Let’s just forget everything that happened this year. It doesn’t matter anymore. Besides, we have each other. And, you know, you’re honestly the only person I can really trust, anyway.”
“Really?” I finally smile.
“Really. But you gotta get out of this bed. It’s a beautiful day out there and it stinks in here. Plus, you really need to wash your face before you totally break out.”
The thought of functioning in the world makes me dizzy, but then my mom comes in to announce that brunch has been prepared. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, so my stomach is pretty much digesting itself at this point. “Okay, I’ll get up.”
After my mom leaves, Kate laughs to herself.
“What’s so funny?”
“Well, your hair, for one.”
I try to hit her with my pillow, but she dodges the blow.
“No, it’s just, I was remembering that promise we made to each other last summer.”
I know exactly which one. “Yeah, no basketball and stay away from the lesbians. That didn’t go very well, did it?”
She shakes her head and laughs again. “Yeah, you and your cheating lesbian lover and me with my controlling jock boyfriend. It almost makes me not want to play next year.”
“Shut up,” I say because I’m shocked. I will never give up basketball now that I have a taste for it. It would be like trying to give up mocha shakes or gummy bears. Just plain crazy. “But you can’t do that. I was looking forward to playing with you on the same team. We would totally kick ass.”
“Hey, I said almost. Forget those losers. They may have ruined our freshman year, but they can’t ruin basketball. Oh yeah. We’re totally going to kick some serious butt.”
We high-five like the dorks we know we are.
“But how about we make one more promise,” I say.
“I’m still laughing about our last broken promise, but okay.”
“How about we stay clear of boys, and girls, for at least the rest of the school year. We’re too young for all this drama. It can’t be good for our health.”
She thinks about it for a second, then sticks out her pinky. “Okay, deal.”
We sing our old song and swear in the new promise.
“Now come on. I’m starving.”
“I’ll be right there,” I say.
Kate’s right. It smells like misery in my room, so I open the blinds and let some fresh air in. That’s when I see the letter taped to my window. I remove the screen and pull the envelope off the glass. My stomac
h quickly forgets how hungry it is. My heart, on the other hand, easily remembers its pain. The envelope is warm from the intense sun shining on it, and I press it to my cheek and close my eyes, remembering the way Keeta’s touch felt on my face.
Inside is the necklace Keeta gave me on my birthday, a poem, and a short note:
There’s a word for what I’ve done to you; the only one that says it all.
This word is as ancient as time, but never loses its sharp edge.
It tells the story of how I lost you in a moment of dread.
It explains why I haven’t slept a wink all night.
It describes how one stupid decision has ruined two lives.
Yes, there is a word for what I’ve done to you; the only one that says it all.
It’s what stings and hurts the most, and that word is betrayal.
A, I am so sorry for hurting you. It’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. You are still in my heart and on my mind. I hope that we can talk soon. Call me when you’re ready.
K
I rest my head against the warm windowpane and wonder when she came by. Did she hear me crying myself to sleep? Why hadn’t she been brave enough to knock? But then again, maybe, for once, she was doing the right thing by leaving me alone.
I hold up the necklace and look at the dangling A in the late-morning light. Maybe she does still care. Maybe it doesn’t have to be over. Then I hear Kate and my mom laughing in the kitchen. No, I tell myself. A deal is a deal.
Chapter Thirty-one
Four weeks have gone by since one of the worst days of my life, and I’m feeling somewhat functional now. It helps that I don’t see Keeta around the halls much, or Garrett for that matter. I thought it was all because of my efforts to avoid them, but maybe they’re avoiding me, too.
We have a track meet at Tucson High today, so Kate and I are stretching out to get ready for our first race of the day. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and things seem nearly tolerable. Then Garrett shows up in the stands.
When I see her, I don’t want to roll up like a pill bug like I thought I would, and I only have a slight increase in my heart rate and a little bit of the nervous sweats. Maybe time has helped heal whatever happened between us. I have constantly wondered if Garrett and I could be friends again because, technically, she didn’t do anything wrong. Keeta and I weren’t girlfriends, and even though I wanted to deny it, our relationship was open. Besides, was what Garrett did any worse than what I did to Stef? How could I throw such a huge rock (a boulder, really) in my own glass house? Garrett did call my cell phone a few times, but I ignored the calls. But maybe she wants to apologize as much as I want to apologize to Stef for what I did to her. Could I give her a second chance? Plus, Garrett is my only connection to the big gay world. So even though I have Kate back, I actually miss hanging out with Garrett and being around someone who really does understand and doesn’t just pretend. Am I totally insane? Most likely.
Either way, there she is, just as gorgeous as ever, leaning over the bleacher railings and talking to a girl from Tucson High’s team. With the way the two of them seem to be carrying on, I think that maybe it’s her new girlfriend. Maybe Tai and Garrett broke up after Tai found out about her and Keeta. But then Tai comes up and drapes her arm over Garrett’s shoulders, which means either Tai is the most forgiving girlfriend ever, or Garrett hasn’t come clean yet.
After Garrett shows up, the day continues to get progressively weirder. First, the sun fades away as the skies become overcast with cumulus clouds. Then, a strong dry wind starts tearing through the valley, blowing dust in our eyes and wreaking havoc on everyone competing.
And that’s why in my first race, I nearly biff it on the fourth hurdle as I try to outrun a miniature tornado that seems to be following me. By the time I cross the finish line, I have what feels like sandpaper in my eyes and new bruises on my knees. I end up getting fifth place in my heat, which is especially embarrassing considering that there are only five of us competing.
Then, during the high jump competition, the wind picks up even more.
“Damn it,” I yell after landing on the blue mat. A second later the bar falls to the ground. I only have one more try to get over the 4’2” mark. I have been sailing over the 4’3” bar in other meets with room to spare, but today I’m officially sucking and letting down my team.
As the other three girls successfully contort their limber bodies over the bar, I curse the wind, I curse Garrett for showing up, and I curse myself for not being able to get my ass over the damn bar.
Coach Parker gives me some encouraging advice. “Just take your time, Abbey. Watch your steps. You’re rushing it.”
I nod and set myself up for my last attempt. When I think the wind has taken a brief breather, I propel myself forward, counting out my steps like I’ve done a hundred times before. But when I push off the ground to jump, something goes terribly wrong. My ankle, the one I wrecked when I fell off my bike, slides oddly in its joint like a doll’s plastic limb. The pain jolts up my leg and my body seems to stop in midair. I somehow manage to land on my knee on the asphalt, missing the mat entirely.
I shout an inappropriate expletive and punch the mat.
“Whoa, Abbey. Settle down.” Coach kneels besides me. “Let’s take a look,” he says and squeezes my already swelling ankle. “Does this hurt?”
I shake my head.
“How about this?”
“Not really.”
“And this?”
“Ow!” I want to kick him in the groin to show him how much it hurts, but he stands up before I get the chance.
“It’s not too bad. Hang on, I’ll get some help.”
Being carried off the field by a couple of the pole vault guys makes my list of top ten most uncomfortable moments in high school without doubt. At least, so far. And since I’m all sweaty, bleeding from the knee, and haven’t shaved for three days, the guys carrying me must be feeling the same way and want the experience to end as quickly as possible, too.
Kate’s in the middle of her long jumps, so she can’t join the fun, but I give her a reassuring thumbs-up as my entourage and I pass by. She doesn’t look too worried. Actually, she laughs at me before giving me a thumbs-up back.
The dudes dump me on a padded table in the trainer’s office.
The buff female trainer makes my gaydar go off the charts, but that doesn’t help my situation. She gives me a quick look over, gathers some items, and sprays down my knee with antiseptic. “You’ll need to ice your ankle for about twenty minutes. Here ya go,” she says, putting a bucket filled with ice in front of me.
“Are you kidding me?” I look at her like she’s just told me to dip my toes in wet dog food. “I’m not sticking my whole foot in there.”
She sighs and crosses her supermuscular arms across her chest. “Look, I can’t make you do anything. But if you want to keep the swelling down and heal faster, you’ll do it. Don’t be such a wimp.” Then she walks off to help another injured runner.
I stare at the bucket and paint my face with the tip of my braid for about five minutes. Then I slide my big toe in first but pull it out quickly once it hits the icy slush, which causes my ankle to tense up and throb even more. Another four-letter word slips out of my mouth.
“Do you want me to hold your hand?”
I look up, and there’s Mia standing in the doorway watching me act like an enormous baby. She has on her tiny blue silk running shorts and a Gila High tank top. Her hair is haphazardly pulled back in a low ponytail.
“I saw your manly men carry you in here.”
“Yeah? Great.”
She points to the bucket. “The best way to go in is fast and fearless.”
It’s not Mia’s fault, but her lighthearted attitude that I normally enjoy is only irritating me today. “Don’t you have a race to run?”
“Nope, I’m all done.” She sits down next to me. “Got second place in the sixteen hundred meter.”
She’s just
trying to help, I tell myself. Be nice. “God, how do you run that far? That’s impressive.”
“Thanks.” Her smile is like a muscle relaxant. It’s weird, but it seems no matter what my mood, it’s always improved when I talk to Mia.
“So, just dunk it in?”
“I’m serious. I’ll hold your hand.”
“Okay, on three,” I say and grab her hand.
She counts with me. “One, two, threeeee…”
As soon as my foot is submerged, the profanities shoot out of my mouth like bullets from an AK-47. I squeeze Mia’s hand like I’m giving birth.
“Clean it up, young lady,” the trainer shouts.
“Breathe through the pain,” Mia coaches.
Thirty seconds go by and I’m ready to give up. “It hurts too much. I can’t do this.”
“No, no, no. You’re almost through the hardest part. Wait. In three minutes, it’ll be numb and you’ll be like, ‘Hey, no sweat.’”
She must be losing blood circulation in her hand, but the stabbing tingles in my foot are getting worse and I need her. I also bounce my other leg to help distract me. “You’ve done this before?”
“All the time. I’ve got bad ankles. That’s what I get for running so much.”
Our conversation is helping me ignore the pain, so I do my best to keep it going. “So you run a lot? For, like, fun?” It’s then I realize she probably didn’t try out for track just to stalk me. Of course. Who do I think I am?
“Yeah, every morning. I usually run up Sabino Canyon on the weekends.”
“My dad and I used to go there a lot. I helped him collect native plant samples for his classes. Did you know the paloverde’s leaves are bipinnately compound? They’re like that so they won’t lose as much water during the summer.”
She smiles sweetly at my trivia. “I didn’t know that. We should go sometime. You can tell me more about plant survival, and I can show you the best swimming hole in the canyon. Sometimes, after a long run, I just strip off everything and dive in. I haven’t been caught bare butt yet.”
I look down at my red foot in the icy water so she can’t see my blushing face. “You’re right. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” I let go of her hand and she rubs life back into it. “Mia,” I start but don’t really know where I’m heading.
Freshman Year Page 28
