by Segunda L.
I didn’t wonder why she was here. She was probably gonna ask for an update. The girl thought this was some sort of soap opera. Slipping into my flipflops, I said. "Yeah, give me a second." I tossed aside my ipod and unplugged my earphones. Quicker than lightning, Carrie grabbed me as soon as I opened the door and dragged me downstairs.
"Come on, hurry.” She said as she pulled me along with her.
“What’s going on?”
“Just come with me.” Soon enough, we reached our front porch. That was when I noticed it, Kiana was standing beside a new, shiny, black car. I froze. I knew that model. I’d imagined myself driving it around far too many times. The front door of the car opened and out came my dad. Way to go for an entrance. He looked at me and cracked a smile. He must have said something but I didn’t hear it.
Here was my dream car. Right in front of me. This was my motivation. This was what started everything. A car in exchange for being friends with Samara. To be delivered once Thomas signed the business deal.
“—worked hard, son. You deserve this.” Dad threw the keys at my direction and I caught it without thinking.
Carrie, who was still standing beside me, clapped her hands like an excited little girl. “You finally did it, Jared.”
“I’ve been telling your dad to buy you one since you turned eighteen but he kept putting it off.” Kiana walked over to my dad and smiled at me. “Now you won’t have to keep borrowing my girly car for school.”
“Well, aren’t you going to give it a test drive?” Dad urged, noticing that I was just standing there like a statue.
Carrie linked her arms with mine and dragged me once again, this time we were heading towards the car. As soon as we got inside, my body moved on its own, I fumbled with the keys and started the engine.
“Be careful, you two. And be back soon for dinner, okay?” Kiana waved at us. I only nodded and drove away like I was escaping from something.
“Woah, there.” Carrie began shuffling in her seat and put on her seatbelts when I sped up. She tampered with the radio, switching stations at first then finally settled on a Miley Cyrus’s song.
“Oh god, turn that thing off before my ears starts to bleed.” I groaned, shivering a little.
Carrie laughed. “I figured that will get you talking.” Dammit. Girls and their observation skills. She was right, I hadn’t said anything since I saw this car waiting for me on our front porch.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me. Did something happen with you and Samara after I left?”
I shook my head furiously to say no. “Nothing happened. Well, nothing between me and Samara anyway. But between Samara and TJ, something did.” I swerved the wheel to the left, not really having an idea where I was going.
“Did he...”
“Yeah, he finally told her he loves her.”
A sigh of relief escaped Carrie. “Okay, so what’s wrong then? You don’t look so happy. Jared, your efforts all paid off.”
My grip on the stirring wheel tightened. “I don’t know, Carrie. I just don’t…” Stopping in the middle of nowhere, I pulled on the break and rested my head on the wheel. “I don’t feel satisfied.” I said, barely a whisper.
“I knew this was going to happen.” Carrie said, calm and confident. “Do you know why you feel unsatisfied?” She didn’t wait for my reply. “You want the girl, not the car.”
She was right again. I slowly raised my head to look at her. “What should I do now?”
“You do nothing.”
“I want to tell her how I feel.” Unable to hold it in anymore, I confessed.
Her eyes were on the road as she said, “No, you won’t.”
And again, she was right. What will I gain from telling Samara? Nothing but complications. And a whole lot of awkwardness. I sighed and dropped my head on the steering wheel again. Beside me, Carrie unbuckled her seatbelt to get closer. She rested her hand on my shoulder and put pressure on it. I felt some of the tension finding release. I welcomed her touch. It was familiar and I missed her company. But then she dragged her hands down to my jeans. “It’s been so long since we’ve done this.” She purred while busying her hands with the zipper of my pants.
That was enough to send the warning bells in my head ringing. “Carrie, let’s go home.” I stopped her hand from going any further. I missed her touch, but not this way.
Careful not to hurt her, I unattached myself from her hold. “We’ve talked about this before. I know you’re just trying to comfort me, but normal friends don’t have sex just to cheer each other up.”
“You’re just saying that because of that girl. Forget about her. You don’t need other girls, Jared. I’m the only one who can understand you. Can’t you see that?” She said it as if it should be obvious to the both of us while wrapping her arms around my neck.
Maybe it was because I wasn’t in the mood and my fuse was short, I decided to make it clear to her where our friendship stood. “Us,” pointing to myself then to her, “it’s never going to happen. I like you as a friend. And maybe you’re right, you do get me more than anyone else, but…I just don’t see you as anything more.”
“Oh yeah? Then maybe you should have thought of that before you took my virginity when we were thirteen!” She hit my chest with a forceful jab.
Left with nothing to say, I replied, “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck you!”
Instead of arguing with her, I started the car, hoping that the noise will drown our conversation. No such luck. It hanged above us like a brick in danger of falling and hitting me on the head.
Silence was our company during the whole ride back home. Carrie finally talked once we were in front of their gate. And when she did, I was stunned how steady her voice was. “Jared, you and I are the perfect match.” Looking at her, I didn’t recognize my childhood friend anymore. Her eyes were cold and calculating. “Why do you think I get you more than anyone else? It’s because we’re both fucked in the head.” She opened the door of the car and slammed it shut leaving me inside.
Chapter 28
Jared
“Norman shoots again! The Stallions are crushing the Red Eagles tonight, ladies and gentlemen. It’s now eighty-two to ninety with the Stallions on the lead. Still garnering the highest points is Norman of Montesque High. A total of twenty-one points and nine assist. Coming in second is Jared Kippling of the Red Eagles with nineteen points, thirteen assists. Followed by TJ O’Connor with eighteen points and twelve assists. And just in time, Coach Roger of the Eagles calls for a timeout! Will the Red Eagles be able to turn the tables or will we have the same champion as last year?”
The game was down to the last three minutes. Cheerleaders were shouting (most of them my name) at the top of their lungs with pompoms on their hands. I could see my Dad—eyebrows stuck together—as he tried to concentrate on the game with hormonal teenage girls sitting beside him, clapping and raising a banner that said “RED EAGLES FLY HIGH”. Beside Dad was Kiana, she seemed to have learned the cheer and was chanting along with the teenagers. The empty seat next to her was a reminder that Carrie was still upset with me for last time. In all of my championship games, Carrie was always there to watch me play. I tried calling her several times but each time I was directed to her voice mail.
“What the hell are you ladies doing?” Coach barked loud enough to raise my grandpa from his coffin, his belly heaving from each deep breath he took. A stern look was passed to each of us, and I caught sight of his bald shining head when the light hit it. “Your games are sloppy. Lennon, you should have taken the shot when the ball was on you. We didn’t practice your fade away shots for nothing. Frank, how hard can guarding a five foot eight inches guy can be?”
Frank, who was more than six feet shied away and looked down in shame. “He’s short but fast, Coach.”
“Then be faster.” Coach growled which Frank answered by scratching his shaved head. “Jared,” uh-oh, here it goes, “TJ was wide open. Why didn’t you pass him the ball? You’re doubl
e teamed, I expect you to work with your teammates and pass them the ball when you can’t get a clear shot. Understand?”
As I thought, nothing got past Coach Roger. TJ gave me a questioning glance and I pretended to be busy with an imaginary lint on my shirt. Dammit. I was such a selfish bastard. Jeopardizing the team because of my personal issues. For the past week, with all the preparation the team was going through for the championship game, I had been avoiding TJ. Partly because most of the time, he was with Samara. And for the life of me, I still couldn’t stay in the same room as them. They weren’t exactly going around telling everyone that they were into each other but you could see it in their eyes, the way they glowed when they were around each other or how their actions naturally synched.
It was a pain to watch the two of them together. And as if they were rubbing it in, TJ looked up, his eyes seeking the crowd. I could tell he found what he was searching for by the way his person glowed. He winked and I had the mistake of following the direction he was pointing it to. Bad move. I was just in time to see Samara smiling, cheeks flushed while waving around a triangular paper with the number 19 on it. TJ’s jersey number.
Talk about devotion.
I wanted to be angry. Smash a few skulls. Tear someone’s limbs. Anything.
But the referee couldn’t care less about my warring emotions. He blew on his whistle, calling the players to get back in the court. If Coach had his way, he’d have us here all day. Just listening to him talk how girly we were playing. Not gonna happen.
“On three. One, two three, Eagles soar high!” My team, though wary, screamed like warriors ready for another round of blood bath. “Alright, let’s go do some real damage.” We only had three minutes to change the tides. In basketball, so much could happen given that amount of time. They knew it. I knew it. I just had to use my anger into something useful. Playing aggressive for example.
Two towers headed for me as soon as the referee blew his whistle to start the game. They were seniors like me. “Ready to lose, pretty boy?” Fun fact, they hated my guts to the core. Had a run in with them a year ago, back when the school rivalry was at its peak.
“Funny. You asked the same question before I rearranged your face last time.” I answered, smirking. He was about to attack but his teammate stopped him. How lame. Too easy to mess with.
Frank was dribbling the ball, looking for anyone who was open. I wasn’t open. The two towers guarding me were unmovable walls. But I kept pushing. Fueled by my anger. “Defense,” the crowd chanted. A home court advantage. The ball was passed on to Lennon. He attempted to shoot. Number 21 of Stallions blocked him. Lennon faked it. I saw the fake coming. The two towers didn’t. I breezed past them. Lennon passed the ball to me. I shoot.
Ball went in.
“A three point shot from Jared Kippling! And we’re down to eighty-five to ninety. Looks like there’s still hope for the Red Eagles after all.”
The whistle was blown again. Opposite team had the ball. One of the twin towers threw the ball to Norman. I was guarding the Norman. Team captain to team captain. Norman was a good player. Nearly as good as me. Hands raised, I blocked all his attempts to shoot. Finally, he gave up and passed the ball to number 7. Harvy cut in. He passed the ball to TJ. TJ goes in for a lay-up.
Crowd went wild.
“You could feel the energy in the gym tonight. The walls are shaking from the cheers. Read Eagles’ fans are going up and down on their seats. Their team is making a comeback and is slowly catching up to Stallion’s four point lead. Only one minute left, ladies and gentlemen. The Stallions need to tighten their defense because the Red Eagles are not going down without a fight.”
Sixty seconds.
Frank wasted no time. He passed the ball to TJ. TJ was heavily guarded. He dribbled. Passed it to Lennon. Norman intercepted. I ran after him. Norman shoots. I blocked.
The referee blew his whistle. “Number4, Kippling, fourth foul!”
Dammit.
Norman’s first free throw went inside the hoop. The second missed. I jumped, hugging the ball protectively.
Fifty seconds.
Our team got the ball. I ran back to our court. Dribble. Dribble. I shoot. It went in.
“Another three point shot from Jared Kippling! He’s our miracle worker for the night. The pressure is up with only twenty seconds left.”
Drums were hit. “Defense!” Bottles were knocked together. “Defense!”
Number 15 of Stallions passed the ball to number 21. TJ was guarding number 21. His hands were spread on each side. Blocking all of number 21’s movements.
Ten seconds left.
Norman swerved to the right. I followed. Too late. Norman had the ball. He moved left. I moved left. Hands outstretched. My nerves in high alert. My reflexes sharp. Norman dribbled. Stooped low, prepared to shoot. He missed. I jumped for a rebound. The ball was on me. Two towers were on me. Push. Push.
Five seconds left.
“Go, Jared!” Some girls screamed.
Too strong. The defense was too strong. I couldn’t take a shot. Couldn’t risk getting a foul. I looked around, left and right. There was an opening. TJ had a clear shot.
“IT’S A BIRD, IT’S A PLANE. NO, IT’S RED,” cheerleaders raised their pompoms, “EAGLES!” Clap. Clap. “WE FLY HIGH, YOU CAN’T DENY. WE WILL BEAT YOU WITH OUR CLAWS, SO STEP ASIDE OR YOU’LL BE CRUSHED!”
Three second left.
So it came to this, huh? In the end, I had to be reasonable. Had to think rationally. Had to bury my feelings. Had to stop ignoring the facts. And that didn’t only apply to basketball.
TJ was waiting for me. Cocky bastard. He knew I was going to pass him the ball. I dribbled between my legs. Caught it with my right hand. I shifted the ball to my other hand. Passed it to TJ. He received it. He leaped and shoots.
One second left.
The buzzer rang. Red Eagles won.
~*~*~
“Nice game, Jared.” A cute sophomore girl walked down the stairs. She wore a sleeveless pink blouse, and I must say, for a sophomore, she had quite nice rocks.
Tipping my red cup at her, I said, “Thanks.” More people from my school came and congratulated me, their voices muffled by the blast of the speakers. I nodded in response, hurrying upstairs to return to my friends. My plan to take a piss was longer than I expected it to. Comfort rooms were filled with girls redoing their make-ups.
The victory party was held at my late mother’s villa. Dad was feeling generous and lent me the key of the country house, even going as far as telling me that my friends could stay over for the night. Provided that I (along with my friends) acted responsibly of course. He’d been trusting me more nowadays. Even more after I returned my black Mercedes-Benz to him. Wished I brought a camera with me the night I gave it back. Dad’s reaction was gold. He was a mix of disbelief and shock. Checking my pulse rate to check if I was coming down with a fever.
“Are you really my son?” He said to me from his study table, adjusting his glasses to take a better look at my face as I dropped the car keys in front of him. Only one lamp was on, the room was dark and in the shelter of the night, my dad appeared younger, less worn, and more carefree.
“In the flesh, Dad.” I answered, laughing at his obvious doubt. “I don’t want the car anymore. Just send it back or something.”
Dad might have turned deaf because he asked me the same question for the third time. “Are you sure about this?”
“Geeze. Is it really that hard to believe?” Dad’s face had a clear answer for my question. So I didn’t bother hearing his reply. “For the third time, yeah, I’m sure.”
“Is there something wrong with the car? Just let me know, I’m calling the shop right away to get you a new model.” Dad offered. His hand already on his phone, ready to dial the shop’s phone number.
“No, it’s perfectly fine. I just don’t want it.”
“Why then?” Dark as it was, but I could still see my dad’s confusion clearly as if it was mornin
g.
There was no sufficient lie that I could make up to explain why I was returning the car. Afterall, my dad thought it was my prize. Something I earned for working hard. Problem was, I didn’t see it that way anymore.
“Because it feels wrong.” I said in all honesty.
Given the chance, Dad would have probably asked more questions but Kiana entered the room, carrying a cup of coffee for my dad. Kiana had that serious face on, the one she had when she wanted to talk about something important. I dropped my case and bid them good night.
“What’s the deal between you and that chubby chick? Whole team’s wondering.” I overheard Frank asking TJ when I finally returned after being stopped almost every minute by drunk girls and guys giving me high fives. The basketball team claimed the kitchen, a place nearest to the booze and snacks. TJ and Frank were playing beer pong, their audience having keen interest in their conversation. Most of the people present where cheerleaders and varsity members. The party started just an hour ago but things were already escalating fast. People had red cups on their hands, dancing to an Arctic Monkey’s song. Adjoining the kitchen was the living room where Samara and her friends gawked at my mother’s collection of paintings by famous artists. For the party tonight, Samara was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. I hadn’t seen her for a week. Though I kept tabs of her by asking Gage how she was doing with the exercises. She was doing pretty well for her first week.
