“Yes, for eff’s sake.” Jamie closed her eyes and smiled. “My mom is totally going to feel shitty when she realizes she forgot.”
“Ooh, parental guilt. That should be good for something. Now come on, open your presents!”
Jamie grumbled good-naturedly as she pulled the package from under her bedside table, but the grouchiness was mostly for show. Emma’s excitement was too much to resist, and besides, she loved getting presents almost as much as she loved giving them.
“Open the small one first,” Emma commanded.
Accustomed to her bossy ways, Jamie complied. Inside the square box lay a green and black leather bracelet with a silver half cuff shaped like an anchor.
“Oh my god,” she murmured, lifting it out. “You remembered.”
During Emma’s visit they’d explored the Haight with Meg and Blair, and Jamie had come across this very bracelet. But it had been out of her price range so she’d placed it back in the display case, intending to come back in a few weeks with the birthday money assorted relatives could be relied upon to send.
“Meg went back and got it while we were at practice. Check inside the clasp,” Emma added, her voice soft.
Jamie turned it over and read in tiny lettering, “JAM - I’ll be your anchor if you’ll be mine - ELB.” She reread the inscription, swallowing against the sudden tightness in her throat. After what Jamie had revealed, she’d half-expected that Emma would go home and never contact her again. But nothing had changed after the visit. Well, that wasn’t quite true. They were closer now, easier with each other than before. Shoshanna had seemed pleased that the telling of her back story, as the therapist called it, had gone so well, though she’d cautioned that might not always be the case.
“Well?” Emma had asked. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” Jamie had assured her. “It’s perfect.” You’re perfect, she’d thought, but somehow that felt like coming way too close to a line she didn’t even want to admit existed between them. “Did Meg tell you my middle name?”
“Yep. You have a very excellent sister.”
“True. So what’s the L stand for?”
“I had a feeling you were going to ask that.”
“Duh. Why, is it really bad?”
She sighed. “It’s Louise, okay? For my mom’s mom.”
“That’s not so bad.” Jamie tried unsuccessfully to hold back a snicker. “We had a cat named Louise when I was little.”
“Thankssss.”
As she reached into the box again, Jamie could almost feel Emma’s glare through the phone line. “Let’s see what else you got me, Blake. Better not be a Man U jersey.”
“I’m more original than that, thank you very much,” the other girl had said sassily as Jamie opened her next present.
Now as Blair took another puff on the joint beside her, Jamie rubbed the smooth metal anchor. She hadn’t taken the bracelet off all day, except to shower. It calmed her somehow to have Emma’s words pressed against the vulnerable inside of her wrist.
And dang it, there was that line again. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to have to think about what it might mean.
“Isn’t that the bracelet you were jonesing for over break?” Blair asked.
“It is.”
She would have told him where the bracelet came from, but she wasn’t in the mood to hear the comments that information would garner. Her childhood best friend had made no secret that he found Emma hot. His exact words after he met her were, “If you’re not going to hit that, can I?”
As if Emma would ever go out with him.
The joint was almost gone when her phone rang. Jamie checked the screen: unknown number from an area code she didn’t recognize. She almost let it go to voicemail, but at the last minute she picked up, hoping her voice didn’t sound too rough. “Hello?”
“Jamie Maxwell?”
The woman’s voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. “Yes.”
“This is Jolene Nichols. I’m a coach with the US women’s national youth team program. How are you doing today?”
“Um, good, thanks,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady as her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Jo Nichols was a former captain of the US women’s national team and the current coach of the under-16 side. Was the weed stronger than it’d seemed, or was this actually happening?
“Your mother gave me your number. Is this a good time?”
Jamie glanced over at Blair, who was trying to get the lighter to fire up. “Sure thing, Coach Nichols,” she said, shushing him with her free hand.
“All right, then. I think you know from one of your club coaches that we’ve had our eye on you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She tried to breathe normally, also without much luck.
“We’ve decided we would like to take a closer look. There’s an under-16 training camp coming up next month at US Soccer headquarters here in LA, and we would very much like it if you would consider joining us.”
“Awesome.” Jamie bit her lip, trying to contain her massive grin. “I’ll totally be there.”
Jo Nichols laughed. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but why don’t you talk it over with your parents first? I’ll send you an email with all the details.” She confirmed Jamie’s email address and then added, “I’m looking forward to meeting you, Jamie. We all are.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” she said, the grin finally splitting her face. “I can’t wait.”
“Don’t worry, the time will go by faster than you expect. Oh, and by the way—happy birthday.”
The line went dead and Jamie held the phone away from her ear, staring at the screen. Best. Birthday. Ever.
She hit recent calls and clicked on a name. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she muttered as the line rang and rang. She was about to give up when she heard Emma’s breathless greeting. “Oh my god!” she yelled by way of hello, and then reined in her voice as Blair flinched and gave her a quizzical look. “Guess who called to wish me a happy birthday?”
“Um, Mia Hamm, judging from your current decibel level?” Emma teased.
“Close. Jo freaking Nichols, that’s who!”
“Wait, does this mean you got called up?”
“Totally! There’s an under-16 camp next month, and they want me there. Can you believe it?”
Blair finally seemed to grasp the enormity of the phone call and held up his hand for a high five. Jamie complied perhaps a tad over-zealously and winced at the resulting sting.
“Of course I can believe it.” Emma’s voice was warm. “I told you it would happen, Jamie. The way you see the next play and the play beyond that… I’m serious, that kind of vision isn’t very common in someone our age.”
Jamie’s ears felt warm as she touched the bracelet. Emma thought she had vision. This birthday kept getting better.
They talked for a little while longer, and then Emma said she had to go. She was out for the day with her family in Seattle, and her parents were miffed she hadn’t turned her phone off earlier when they’d asked her to.
“I must have known you were going to call,” she added.
“Right, because you’re so psychic.” Emma’s supposed telepathic powers were a running joke between them. “But I should go too. Assuming you’re done, dude?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Blair, who nodded, smiling lazily.
“Who are you talking to?” Emma asked.
“Blair. We took a few minutes to get a little happy in his Jeep, if you know what I mean, before hitting the skate park.”
“You were smoking when Jo Nichols called?”
“I know. Too funny, huh?”
Emma released a noisy breath. “That’s one word for it. Go have fun, birthday girl. And don’t get hurt! You have national team camp to prepare for.”
Hearing her say it out loud made the excitement come roaring back. “Holy shit, Emma! It’s really happening, isn’t it?”
“It is. Good job, Jamie. I’m so happy for you.�
�
“So am I,” she said, and she wasn’t even joking.
As soon as they hung up, she dragged Blair out of the Jeep, even though the smoke cloud hadn’t quite dissipated. But she didn’t care. Nothing could bring her down from the high of getting her first call-up. She was sixteen, and not only would she have her driver’s license by this time tomorrow but she would soon be training with Jo Nichols and the rest of the girls’ national pool. A-freakin-mazing.
Life was sweet, she decided as she and Blair headed into the park, nodding at a couple of other skaters they knew. Even with everything that had happened in the last year, she couldn’t help but feel that things were looking up. She pressed the anchor clasp against her chest, right over her heart, and then she stepped onto her board and dropped into the large oval bowl in the middle of the park.
“Woo hooo!” she shouted, and behind her, she heard Blair and the other guys cheer in response.
#
Emma returned her phone to her purse and headed back inside the Pacific Science Center. Skateboarding while high didn’t seem like the best plan, but it wasn’t like worrying from afar could change anything. Besides, she was too happy about Jamie’s call-up to fixate on her dicey decision-making. With both of them on the national team track, their friendship had a much better chance at a future. Obviously any number of things could happen to prevent either of them from playing at the highest level, but at least now they were both officially in the national pool. Too bad Jamie’s call-up hadn’t come sooner. The under-16s and -17s often had training camp together and scrimmaged each other semi-regularly. Now that Emma was in the under-19 pool, their paths were less likely to cross.
When she reached the science center’s NASA exhibit, her brother was suiting up for a spacewalk simulation while her parents looked on indulgently. Her mom was leaning against her dad’s chest, his arms loose around her, and the sight only amplified the happiness Emma felt at Jamie’s news. Her dad glanced over his shoulder and caught her eye, offering a quick smile and wiggle of eyebrows. He had been away the previous weekend for work, so this was their first real family time since she’d gotten back from Berkeley. Next month it would be her turn to fly away again—the U-19s had camp and a friendly against Mexico coming up in Texas. She was starting to rake up the frequent flyer miles, too. Like father, like daughter.
“Emma,” her mom said as she reached them, “I thought we agreed to no phones?”
“It’s Jamie’s birthday, Mom, you know that.”
“I thought you already talked to her this morning.”
“I did. But guess who she got a call from? Jolene Nichols.”
Both of her parents looked impressed. Probably best that she leave out the part about smoking weed at the skate park.
“Isn’t Jo Nichols the under-16 coach?” her dad asked. When Emma stared at him, he shrugged. “What? I pay attention.”
She snorted. “Yeah, to your call schedule and the Journal of Otolaryngology.”
“That’s not fair.” Her dad’s pout reminded her of Ty.
“Let’s be honest,” her mom put in. “It’s pretty fair.”
“I see how it is. Girls ganging up against the guys, as usual.”
“You said it, not me.” Emma held up her hand and her mom slapped it.
“Now will you turn off your phone?” her mother added.
“Fine.” But she only turned it to vibrate. If by chance Jamie ended up in the emergency room, she wanted to find out sooner rather than later.
After their science center adventure, Ty and their mom headed to a pizza place on Denny Way while Emma and her dad stopped at the Experience Music Project. The first-floor restaurant there was one of her dad’s favorite dinner spots in the city. Like most Seattleites, he claimed to find the exterior of the EMP confounding. But ask him about the interior and he would wax poetically about the curves and high ceilings and gorgeous polished wood and metal, not to mention the tranquil environment he called “a cross between a church and a fish tank.” The food was damn good, too.
They ordered their usual: potato pancakes to start, followed by the portabella mushroom napoleon for her and the trout for him. Her dad’s pint glass glowed amber in the overhead lights, and when he saw her eying it, he pushed it toward her.
“Go ahead. We can share.”
“Really?”
“You’re a good kid, Emma. You don’t have to pretend you’re perfect. At least, not with me.”
She took the glass and gulped down a slug of the microbrew, wiping her mouth as she slid it back his way. “You have good taste in beer.”
“Apparently so do you. Tell me, what’s new in your world? I feel like one of us is always away.”
“Probably because we are. Are you and Mom still going to Maui in March?”
“Planning on it. If you’d rather not stay alone with your brother, I’m sure we could make other arrangements.”
“I’m okay with it. I bet Mom’s nervous, isn’t she?”
“Maybe a little. You know how she is.”
Cautious bordering on overprotective, for which she routinely blamed her job. For some reason, his work seemed to affect him differently.
“We’ll be fine,” Emma said. “Ty’s almost fourteen, and it’s not like we’re going to throw a party the second your back is turned.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Uh, yeah. Talk about stressful. Why would I do that to myself?”
He laughed. “You are so your mother’s daughter.”
“She said the same thing recently.”
The server brought their latkes, filled with smoked salmon and chives and topped with crème fraiche, and Emma immediately dug in. After her morning run followed by a day of wandering Seattle Center, she was starving.
“Anyway,” her dad said, his hazel eyes slightly narrowed behind frameless glasses, “I’m glad we’re getting this time together. In a few months you’ll be starting what probably feels like your real life.”
She nodded, swallowing a bite of salad greens. “It does feel like that. Although with everything going on with the under-19 national team, I kind of think I’ve already started.”
“I can imagine.” He paused. “Did I ever tell you about the year I took off before med school?”
“I don’t think so.” She’d known he took a break after college, but he’d never gone into much detail about his time off.
“I ended up in New Zealand working on an organic farm. Don’t look so surprised. Organic farms have been around for a while. Anyway, I was only marking time before med school, but looking back, I wish I had paid more attention. I loved farming.”
She could honestly say she had never thought that last sentence would come out of her father’s mouth. “You did?”
“Absolutely. I loved getting up early in the morning and working outdoors all day with tractors and hydraulic equipment. There was something so elemental about it. You had to be patient, and a storm or a flood or a drought could destroy all of your work. It was completely different from what I do now. On that farm, I wasn’t in control the way I am with surgery. I wasn’t responsible for anyone else’s life, not directly.”
Emma looked at her dad across the table. His salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly coiffed as usual, his button-down shirt clean and crisp even after a day out, but there were dark creases beneath his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Seeing as he had recently crisscrossed the globe, his internal clock was probably all messed up. With his travel schedule, it seemed like he was jet-legged more often than not.
“Are you saying you wish you had become a farmer instead of a surgeon?”
“No, not at all. I only wish I hadn’t been so focused on the end point that I ignored the ride. It’s like the difference between being a journey hiker and a destination hiker. If you spend too much time thinking about where you’re going, you risk missing the side trails and viewpoints along the way.”
Was he trying to give her advice about her own l
ife? Because in her case, playing soccer was the journey. Or at least, it was what made her happy. On the soccer field she got to be part of something that was greater than just herself.
“Of course,” he added, “if I had paid more attention to the journey than the destination, I might not have gone to med school at all. And if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met your mother, and then you and your brother might not exist. So ultimately I’m glad I stayed the course because you and Ty and our family are what I’m most proud of in my life.”
It was such an uncharacteristically sentimental statement that Emma stared at him, trying to determine if he was joking or not. But his eyes were earnest, his smile sincere.
“Even more than all of the kids you’ve saved?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s not even a question.” After a minute, he added, “And not because you’re on the national team. Though for what it’s worth, I think you have what it takes to be the next Mia Hamm.”
“More like Joy Fawcett or Carla Overbeck,” she corrected him. “I’m not a goal-scorer and I never will be.”
“You don’t know that for sure. You’re still young, and people change, Emma. The trick is to follow your heart and not give in to what other people want or expect of you.” He paused. “But I don’t think you’ll fall prey to the same traps I did. You’re more like your mother—steady and loyal, and way too smart to let what someone else thinks sway you.”
“Thanks. I guess.” He was so chatty today. What was the deal? He never talked this much. She could almost sense the wheels turning in his head and waited, wondering what would come out of his mouth next.
The latkes were gone and their entrees half-demolished when he finished off his beer, set his fork down, and said, “Your mother tells me that you and she have had some pretty serious conversations in the past couple of months.”
Emma nearly choked on a bite of portabella. She washed the tender meat down with a sip of soda and sat back, gripping her napkin beneath the table. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“She didn’t offer up any details, only said I might want to ask you about it.”
Well, that explained why he had suggested they grab dinner together. She chewed the inside of her lower lip. “I don’t know. They’re not the kinds of things you and I usually talk about.”
Training Ground Page 10
