All In (Changing Hearts Book 2)

by Yesenia Vargas

  And I’m glad he doesn’t make a move to.

  We don’t need a repeat of last time.

  “It’s my choice. There’s nothing you can do. You’re a good friend, but…” He stops for a second. “This is just the way things are. I thought maybe things could be different. But my parents are always gonna be addicts. And I’ll have to be here, waiting until one day they overdose or decide to drive…” His voice cracks. “There’s just no way out.”

  I almost don’t know what to say. Then I think of what our counselor was always telling us. “You’re right. There’s nothing you can do about your family. We don’t get to choose our family. But we get to choose what happens in our lives and what we do with them. You can still go to college—”

  He scoffs. “Not with my grades.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. He’s right. Neither of us had the best grades, but I did okay. I had mostly Bs. Ryan, on the other hand, would be happy if he had all Cs on his report card.

  “Tell the coach I can’t be on the team anymore.” He finally gets out of the car and walks to his house. Just as he shuts the door, rain starts to pour. Ryan becomes a blur.

  Eight

  When I get home, I want to head straight to my room. But not before my mom and dad pull me aside.

  I get in the door, and they’re already asking me where I’ve been before I’m even done wiping my shoes off.

  I usually check in with them if I’m gonna stay late to practice, and I hadn’t even bothered reading their messages earlier.

  Just the ones about Ryan and where he might be.

  “Where were you? It’s late,” my dad asks. He was sitting on the sofa, and my mom had come into the living room from the kitchen.

  “We called you several times,” she says. “You never answered. Your father was getting ready to go out and look for you.”

  I walk in but don’t take a seat. “Sorry. I—Ryan needed a ride home from a friend’s house, and I just forgot to let you know.”

  “We agreed that when you got your car that the number one rule would be you telling us where you were and with who,” my mom says.

  I sigh. I really don’t feel like getting into it right now. “You’re right, mom. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  I start walking towards my room, but my dad calls out. “Aren’t you going to eat? We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Sorry. Be there in a sec.”

  I drop my bags as soon as I get inside my room and close the door. I lie down and pull out my phone.

  I see a few texts from Mayra. Damn. I still hadn’t replied to her. Not with everything going on. She must hate me. I need to call her back. After dinner, I will. I definitely will. I just need to text Ryan first.

  Please go to the game tomorrow. Please. Don’t do something you’re going to regret later.

  I wait for a reply while I change my shirt and head to the kitchen to eat, but he never replies.

  The next day is our last game before the finals. We need to win this one to keep first place and move on to the state championships. And Ryan hasn’t shown up. Our game starts in less than fifteen minutes.

  The coach is not happy.

  He’s one of our starters, and our best three point shooter, and I think the coach is actually surprised, even if he was gonna bench him.

  He pulls me aside. “Why isn’t he here?”

  I think about how to say it. “I think he’s going through some tough things, Coach. With his family. He said he can’t be on the team anymore.”

  I see the coach’s eyes soften, and he looks away. He nods and doesn’t say anything before walking away.

  “It’s a shame,” I hear him mutter.

  I sit down on a bench. I can’t believe he didn’t show up. He’d been at school today. I just assumed he’d be at the game too. If we win today, we’ll be playing the finals in less than week, and he won’t be there. It feels wrong.

  I text him one more time.

  If he hurries, he can still make it.

  Even I don’t believe my own lie.

  I look at the screen on my phone. Nothing.

  I finally put my phone away in my locker. I need to focus. Coach Blair might be coming tonight or during the finals, and I need to be completely ready.

  This is my chance. Ryan’s my best friend, but he made his choice, and as much as it hurts, I can’t let him keep me from reaching my goals.

  Ten minutes later, we’re heading onto the court. I glance at the empty scoreboard, and it reassures me. Then I glance at the stands, and I almost run into the guy ahead of me. My parents are sitting down in their normal spot. They give me a wave. Mayra isn’t there.

  After the game, I walk towards the locker room. We just won by sixteen points. This team was pretty easy, luckily, which means we’re headed to the championships as planned. Just that accomplishment is more than we were able to do last year.

  I played most of the game. My muscles ache, and I’m covered in a sheen of sweat. But I feel good. I played like never before tonight. I set new personal records: 29 points, 4 steals, 11 assists.

  People pass me by, other players, cheerleaders, random people, but I don’t see any of them. Ryan should have been here tonight. Mayra too. I glanced towards the crowd after the first and second quarters, but I had stopped looking after the third quarter.

  What Ryan said was true. He’s not going to be on the team anymore. I just hadn’t believed him. He’d done it before, but he had come back. Now he’s gone for good.

  And even though we won, it feels like a loss. Ryan won’t be with us at finals next week. He’s hardly coming to school anymore. I have to do something about it. He can’t drop out three months before graduation. He just can’t.

  Who knows why Mayra wasn’t here. She usually comes to every one of my games, switching shifts at work if she has to, but maybe she finally got tired of coming, especially after me not seeing her for so long. Or bothering to call her. I sigh.

  Damn.

  Just when I seem to get a hold of one part of my life, the rest of it falls apart. I feel like a good-for-nothing clown who sucks at juggling.

  I feel a pat on my shoulder. “Nice work out there tonight, Jimmy.”

  “Thanks, Coach,” I hear myself say.

  I guess all those hours of practice are paying off.

  “I think that Coach Blair is gonna have to think twice after the last couple weeks. I can really tell you’ve been putting in the time and work. You’re really starting to play even better than before your injury.” He glances at my ankle.

  “Thanks, Coach.”

  He gives me another pat and walks off.

  I have no idea what to think.

  The next week at school, I’m staring at Ryan’s empty seat. The teacher, Mrs. Tucker, doesn’t even ask about him anymore. Just skips his name during roll call.

  I tap my pencil on my desk. I should be finishing last night’s homework while I can. Mrs. Tucker is gonna ask for it any minute now, but I can’t focus. I can’t stop thinking about Ryan and how I haven’t seen him in days.

  I wonder who I can ask for help. His parents are an automatic no. My parents? They probably wouldn’t want us to get involved in his business. They love him, but the most they’d be able or willing to do would be sit down and talk to him, and that’s already impossible if he won’t come over anymore.

  What about a teacher?

  I look at Mrs. Tucker. She’s probably the nicest teacher we have, one who actually cares, but we don’t really talk to her much outside of Language Arts stuff.

  “Okay, guys, please put last night’s assignment to the tray while I get us started on—” Mrs. Thacker is interrupted by a knock on the door. It’s the guidance counselor, Mrs. Dawson. She’s a tall, skinny lady who talks too much about college and our future.

  What about her?

  Mrs. Dawson walks in with a stack of small purple flyers in her hand. “Mrs. Thacker, do you mind if I hand these out really quickly? Sorry to i
nterrupt, but it’s for the meeting for the seniors tomorrow afternoon on financial aid options.”

  Oh, yeah, I need to tell Ariana to help me out with that.

  I make a mental note to make an actual note about that in my reminders before jumping out of my seat. “I’ll help you pass those out, Mrs. Dawson,” I say, grabbing the flyers from her hand.

  “Thank you, Jimmy. Such a gentleman.” As I count out flyers at the start of each row, she explains how it’s important that we go to this meeting after lunch tomorrow. “There is no reason any of you here should not go to college because of finances. There is so much free money out there if you’ll just look and apply.”

  I see a few people roll their eyes and get up to turn in their homework instead. One guy goes ahead and puts the purple flyer in the wastebasket, ignoring the glare from the teacher.

  I walk over to Mrs. Dawson with the big stack of extras. She must be walking around to every class of seniors distributing these.

  “Here you go,” I say.

  “Thanks again, Jimmy. I appreciate it.” She gives me a smile and turns to leave, but I follow her.

  “Mrs. Dawson, could I talk to you about something?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down. I can feel Mrs. Thacker’s gaze on my back. She’s probably waiting for me to get back to my seat already, but the guidance counselor is the only hope I have left.

  “Is it an emergency?” she asks.

  “I guess not—” I say.

  “Stop in by my office after class then,” she says. “Book an appointment with my secretary, and I’ll meet with you as soon as possible. Maybe tomorrow.”

  She gives me one last smile before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind her. I turn around and head back to my seat, feeling a little deflated.

  But first I turn in my homework. It’s mostly done. It’ll have to do.

  Then my mind goes back to Ryan. I wonder what his life would be like if he had people in his life who cared about him, a mom who actually made sure he had dinner and breakfast and clean clothes for school. If just one teacher at school cared enough about him to find out why he isn’t here.

  Two days later, Ryan still hasn’t shown up to school. I wonder how many days he has to miss before he’s automatically considered a drop out or something. I try not to think about that as I wait in the counselor’s office. She had finally called me in.

  I glance at my phone. It’s been ten minutes. I don’t care about missing class, but I just really want to talk to Mrs. Dawson.

  I scroll through my messages, not caring if the secretary or someone else is watching. The last time I texted Mayra was…two weeks ago.

  She had texted me a few days after that, and I’d forgotten to reply.

  Shit, shit, shit, shit.

  I shoot her a quick text.

  Sorry, babe. Lots of crap going on. Want to go to a movie this weekend?

  How has it been two weeks since I’ve talked to her? And since she’s talked to me?

  And at least a month since I’ve actually seen her. Maybe three weeks. I’m really messing things up with her, and I can’t do that. Not after everything we’ve gone through to be together. Her months of self-doubt and indecision in the beginning just to throw it all away now. I need to go see her today after practice. Maybe tomorrow, at the game.

  If she shows up to the game.

  While I wait for a reply from Mayra, I open up my last text to Ryan. I haven’t talked to him either. Not since our last conversation right when he decided to quit the team. How have I stopped talking to two of the most important people in life? People who have always been there for me, and who I’ve always been there for?

  Basketball’s taken over my life, that’s how.

  Mrs. Thacker had said the other day how we’ll probably lose touch with just about everybody from high school after graduation in May. She had said that a few months back too, and I just remember meeting eyes with Ryan and shaking my head, a smile on each of our faces. Yeah, right, we said.

  Not us. We’ve already been through middle school and high school together. Hell, we live less than a minute away from each other by car. No way are we gonna stop hanging out, stop talking. Just because we aren’t in high school anymore.

  Yet, here we were. Three months from graduation, and we haven’t said a word to each other in days.

  “Hey, Jimmy, how are you?”

  I look up and Mrs. Dawson is walking towards me. I stand up and follow her to her office.

  “I’ve been better,” I reply.

  We walk into her office, but she leaves the door open. She motions to the chair in front of her desk, and I take a seat.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. What can I do for you? Is it college applications? Tell me you’ve at least started working on those, Jimmy.”

  She’s already talking a million miles an hour and clicking away at her computer screen.

  “Uh, no, I mean, I’m done with my applications already.”

  She finally turns towards me. “Really? Wow. I’m glad to hear it. Where’d you apply?”

  “Um, UGA, Kentucky, the community college here, and a couple other schools in Georgia. My sister, Ariana, helped me during winter break.”

  “Ariana. I remember her. Smart girl. I’m so glad she’s helping you out. Where’d she end up going again?”

  She pops a peppermint into her mouth from a tiny jar on her desk. She motions to it, and I shake my head. “No, thanks. University of Georgia.”

  “That’s right,” she says, throwing away the wrapper. “Are you thinking of following in her footsteps?”

  “Um, maybe. I don’t know. I’m still waiting to hear back from a basketball scout.”

  She looks back at me in surprise. “Good for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  There’s a brief silence, and I take advantage of it before she makes any more small talk. “Mrs. Dawson, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.”

  She turns back to me. “What is it? Is everything at home okay?”

  “Uh, yeah. It’s actually my friend. Ryan.”

  I’m seeing that his name isn’t ringing any bells.

  “Ryan Hart.”

  She nods, and I see her wheels turning, but she doesn’t say anything.

  “He recently dropped out of the basketball team. And he hasn’t been coming to school anymore.” I stop right there, waiting for her to say something.

  She moves around some paperwork on her desk until she comes upon a small stack of papers. “Oh, that’s right. Ryan.” She looks up at me. “He came in for some paperwork the other day. He wants to drop out, I believe.” She sighs.

  My stomach sinks. He was really turning in the paperwork to actually drop out?

  “Yeah. That’s probably right.” I slide down in my chair a couple of inches. I can’t believe he’s actually dropping out. I don’t know if I should be angry or what, but I just can’t believe this.

  “Is everything okay?” Mrs. Dawson’s voice is lower now, almost a whisper. Where do I even begin?

  “Ryan can’t drop out,” I blurt.

  “I know, but the law says that there’s nothing I can do. If he’s sixteen or older, he can drop out of school.”

  I hate her then, even though I know it’s not her fault, that she’s just the messenger. But I hate her all the same. And I hate Ryan. For doing this. For doing something so stupid.

  I sit there, fuming, for a few minutes.

  “I don’t know. I just thought that maybe there was something you could do.”

  Mrs. Dawson sighs. “About this, no. I’m sorry. But is there anything else about this situation that I should know about?”

  I think about that for a minute. As much as I hate Ryan right now, I can’t tell Mrs. Dawson the truth. Ryan would never forgive me for that.

  One time, when he was in elementary school, before my family had moved to this town, he had been taken away from his parents and placed into foster care. His parents
had been arrested on DUI or something. Both of them had gone to jail. And he’d been stuck with some strangers in their home while his parents’ legal issues were being sorted out. It had only been a few days, but even I didn’t know what all had gone on while he was there. He wouldn’t talk about it. He’d just said he’d rather be with his parents a million times than put into foster care again.

  I sigh. “No.” The phone on Mrs. Dawson’s desk begins to ring. “Thanks for your help anyways,” I mutter on my way out.

  I don’t want her to ask any more questions, and I don’t want any more help. Because it might just make things worse, and things can’t get worse for Ryan.

  As I grab my backpack and head back to class, I start to think that maybe Ryan’s made his choice and there’s nothing I can do but back him up and be his best friend. That’s better than not talking to him at all.

  That night, after a late dinner and some small talk with my parents about school and basketball, I lie in bed and finally call Mayra.

  I miss her so much. I need to hold her again, laugh with her. Kiss her.

  I want to run to her house right now, but that’s a stupid idea. I want to climb in her window and into her bed like I’ve done so many summer nights before. Hold her until the early hours of the morning until I have no choice but to come back to my own bed.

  Instead, I call her and wait for her to pick up the phone.

  It rings and rings, but her voice never comes through.

  I try again. Nothing.

  And again.

  I’m getting desperate now. All I’m getting is her voicemail.

  I try a few text messages, and I close my eyes, trying to be patient.

  Next, I turn on the TV, but I keep picking up the phone, waiting for her to reply. I guess this is what I deserve for ignoring her for so long and caring about everything else instead of her. Always assuming she’d be there when I got back.

  I’m so stupid.

  I realize I’m looking at the TV without watching it. I turn it off, and then I quickly turn it back on. I turn it down for a few seconds as I try to listen to see if my parents are still up. I glance at my phone, this time to see what time it is.