I can’t stop thinking about what my dad said last night. How Mayra might not be it for me anyway, and instead of making me feel better, it just makes me feel worse. I don’t want any other girl if it’s not Mayra. Not being with her would mean misery for me. All I know is that when I”m with her, I’m happy. Fulfilled. Whatever crap you want to call it.
She is it for me. I don’t care who says it or what they tell me. I just know it. We’re gonna grow old together and have kids and all of that. It’s just that no one else knows it yet.
She doesn’t know it yet.
But I’m gonna show her. I’m going to remind her.
That afternoon, I’m lying on the couch with the TV on, except I tuned it out like thirty minutes ago after finishing my homework. I’m on my phone, looking at pictures of me and Mayra. When was the last time we even took a picture? Or went somewhere? Or I went to her house and we watched a cheesy romantic comedy while we cuddled on the couch? And pigged out?
I smile as I remember the first time we ever did that.
Ariana was going on her first date with Lucas, her ex. Except we told our parents both of us were going to the movies. But I told her to drop me off at Mayra’s at the last minute. We had left her completely out of the loop, and she had freaked out but left us alone so she could meet Lucas. Ariana had found us a few hours later, asleep on Mayra’s living room couch, way past our curfew. Nothing had happened, no kissing or anything. Just holding each other. But it’s still like the best night of my life.
My thoughts are interrupted when my mom calls out my name.
“Jimmy.” Her voice rings through the house. “Tienes correo.”
Huh? I never get mail. Last semester, I had gotten some mail from a few different colleges wanting me to apply, but the deadlines were all over. Why would they send me anything now?
For a few seconds, I ponder if it’s worth it to drag myself from the couch to go see what it is. Maybe I’m starting to get those credit card offers my parents get like every day.
I start thinking about that. It’d be nice to have a credit card. Go out, buy Mayra a big fat diamond necklace or something.
But, no. She’s not into that kind of thing. Yeah, she likes jewelry, but she’s not about to get back with me just because I buy her a necklace. Nor would I want her to.
I decide I want to go see what the letter is, so without thinking, I roll off the couch and jump up, like I’m doing a burpee.
Then I get it. It’s probably to let me know if I got into one of my three college choices. I’m supposed to be finding out any day now, I think.
I walk into the kitchen and see the stack of mail my mom just left on the counter. She’s pulling stuff out from the fridge. I notice some thawed-out meat in the sink.
“What are you making for dinner?” My stomach is already growling, and I open the fridge door right after she closes it to look for a snack or two.
“Un guisado. With refried beans and rice.”
“Hmm, Mom you’re killing me over here.” I’m about to joke that she needs to teach Mayra all these recipes for when we live together someday, but I stop short. I close the door and start hunting some stuff down in the cabinets instead. I find a huge bag of chips and take them to the dinner table, grabbing the mail on the way.
I’m crunching away as I look for the envelope with my name on it. Bill, bill, bill. Credit card offer. Junk mail. Lots more junk mail.
Aha.
Jimmy Aguilar.
The envelope is creamy and a little thick. The return address and little fancy logo say Florida State University. It was one of the schools I’d submitted my profile to on the NCAA website.
“Hm,” I say to myself, turning it over and opening it.
I pull out the letter and start reading, grabbing another handful of chips and popping them into my mouth, loving the cheesiness.
I brush away some crumbs, but I realize I’ve already gotten a cheesy thumbprint on one corner of the letter.
Damn. Doesn’t make me look like a sloppy pig or anything. I try my best to get it off, but I pretty much make it worse, so I just get back to reading it.
It’s dated a few days ago, and even the paper it’s on is kind of fancy. I skim it first, noticing Coach Wallace’s name on it at the bottom. Looks like he signed it himself instead of having one of those stamps.
I finally start reading the thing.
And start choking on my food.
Like literally choking, my mom hears me dying and has to come in and pound my back a few times and then run and grab me a drink of water.
Did I just read this right? I hadn’t even gotten past the first sentence.
Dear Jimmy,
Congratulations on your excellent display of basketball talent this year despite an unfortunate injury. Florida State University would like to express our sincere interest in you as a prospective student-athlete and inform you of our desire to recruit you on full scholarship.
The Florida State Seminoles have a history of success we would like you to help build on. We want you to continue the proud tradition of successful Seminoles of the past and bring the program to new heights. With great support from our fans and experienced staff, as well as our state of the art facilities, you can achieve all of your goals.
The letter goes on but ends with:
We look forward to getting to know you and hearing from you.
And then there was his info at the bottom. Personal cell and email and everything.
“What is it, mijo?” My mom pulls up a chair next to me. I hardly register her look of worry as I continue staring at the letter.
The coach of Florida State University wants me on their team.
This school isn’t really my first choice. But I honestly don’t care right now. I have an offer.
Right here in front of me.
An official offer.
It looks like they want to hear from me soon.
“Jimmy, what is it? Is it good news?” she asks.
I finally turn towards her. Hell yeah, it’s good news.
“Ma, they want me to be on the team. Florida State University wants to recruit me.”
She looks at the letter with me.
“I think they’re offering me a scholarship.”
“Are you sure?” She takes the letter from me. “You just told us the other day how schools probably didn’t have any scholarships left. That they had already picked.”
I see her read it for herself. She knows enough English to pick up most of what it says.
“I guess not. I mean, I have to ask for sure about the scholarship, but yeah, I’m pretty sure this is it.”
I stand up and walk around. I hardly notice the blank expression on my mom’s face. I slap myself on the cheek to make sure I’m not dreaming. I go and wash my hands and face after I realize I just slapped cheese powder all over myself.
I stare at myself in the mirror, at the crazy smile on my face right now.
I go back to the living room and grab my phone from the couch and start texting Mayra.
I stop in the middle of the first word. Why would she want to know anything about me right now, especially this?
Maybe I can text Ryan.
Nah. It’d probably only push him away. He resents me enough already.
I finally end up texting Ariana.
I feel like a balloon that just went from about to burst to that same balloon a few days later, almost to the ground and over half deflated.
It’s Florida. Am I willing to leave everything behind and go to Florida, even if it means making my dream finally come true?
Twelve
I’m lying back on the couch. This time, I’m watching TV but not really listening to it. And the letter is on the coffee table beside me, still unfolded.
I touch it about every two minutes, just to make sure it’s still there. That it’s real.
I may actually play for the Florida State Seminoles.
I can hear my mom calling her sister and
bragging about me. Second kid to go to college on a full ride. From the look of things, my cousins probably won’t go to college at all. I switch from lying on my side to lying on my stomach. I put my phone on my stomach. I give a small jump when it vibrates. Then it keeps vibrating.
I swipe the screen. I have bunch of notifications from Twitter and Facebook. Great, somebody’s tagged me on something. I better untag myself now before I get ten thousand more notifications.
It’s a YouTube video. A basketball video. A bunch of people I know and hardly know have mentioned me in the comments.
I push play. It looks like the state championship finals. And some other games. It’s us. Our team. It’s me. Dunking. Blocking at the last second. Passing. Everyone else is there but clearly somebody compiled this about me. It’s even set to music, like the NBA videos I like to watch.
Then I notice the title of the video:
Jimmy Aguilar: Biggest Sleeper of the Year?
I quickly check the number of views.
Holy cow.
Twelve thousand? In the last week or so? This is crazy. I almost start wondering if I’m on drugs when I see a text from Ariana.
She’s replying to my all caps message from earlier.
Sorry! I was in class! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. THAT IS SO COOL. MY BROTHER IS GOING TO BE A FAMOUS BASKETBALL PLAYER.
I smile and reply.
I guess I’m already famous.
I send her the video link. Then I continue tapping out a message.
You’re still in school?? That must suck. AND YEAH. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. I FEEL LIKE CINDERELLA OR SOMETHING (WAIT DOES THAT MAKE YOU THE EVIL STEPSISTER??). I’m gonna show the letter to my coach tomorrow and see what I need to do next BUT YEAH.
I hit send and switch to my side again. I pick up the remote next to the letter, my letter, and start flipping through channels until I land on Spongebob. Good old Spongebob.
I get another text from Ariana as I’m watching the video of me again.
I’m saving this shit. This must be the reason Florida’s interested, although I’m still not a hundred percent sure I’ll take their offer, even if that’s what I said I would do all along. The price is too high right now.
No way lol you’re going viral! Maybe the fairy godmother since I helped you fill out all the forms haha. Let me know what he says! :) I can’t believe you’re heading to college already…I bet you’re sure you’re going to Florida, huh? By the way what did Mayra say???
How do I reply to that? I didn’t tell her about what had happened between me and Mayra. I barely talked to her either over the past few months after Christmas.
Who knows what Mayra told her? From the looks of it, not much if anything.
I wonder if I should tell her what’s going on. But that would make things so awkward for her. I don’t want to do that to her.
I make my fingers stop shaking enough so that I can text out a message.
She’s happy, I guess. And idk yet.
I need to change the subject.
When are you gonna come celebrate with me???
I press send and then think about the fact that when she does come home to celebrate, she’ll be wondering why Mayra isn’t there celebrating with us.
Duh.
Oh, well. I’ll figure that part out later. Hopefully by then, we’ll be back together and all of this will be in the past.
When I see Ariana’s reply a minute later, I’m glad to see she took the bait.
Spring break for me is next week :) I’ll be there. Start thinking about where you want to go to eat, little brother. Food’s on me ;) Mayra too. Btw, when do you find out about getting into all those colleges??
I start tapping out another message. I actually thought that’s what today’s letter was about. I need to check but I think any day now.
She replies. That’s good. It’s always smart to have a plan B ;)
That’s what everyone keeps telling me, I reply.
I place the letter on Coach Roger’s desk.
He quickly puts on his glasses, the ones that make his eyes look ten times bigger, and he starts reading.
A minute later, he looks up at me with a smile. He gets up, walks around his desk, and gives me a hug.
“I knew it,” he says.
“What? You mean you knew about this?” I point to the letter and stare at him. He leans against his desk and crosses his arms, not taking his gaze off of me.
“I heard rumors from the vine that there might be an offer after how you played at the championships last week. Ever since the new year, really.”
“And you didn’t say anything, Coach?” I’m not mad at all, just incredulous really. Like he knew all along and could have saved me so much worry. I give a chuckle. Of course he knew. With his connections… He used to play college ball himself back in the day.
“I didn’t want to give you false hope, and it’s the kind of thing you shouldn’t find out from me, now, is it?” That smile of his is still plastered on his face, and I nod. He’s right.
“Besides, I knew all along. From the moment I saw you at tryouts four years ago. Basketball was taking you somewhere. It was just a matter of when.”
“That when sure took a while,” I say with a laugh.
“True. But wasn’t it worth it? To really know that you earned it?” His hand is in a fist in front of him, and he shakes it with every few words he says. “That even though you suffered an injury that would have put most players on the bench for the rest of the season, even after recovering, you didn’t give up? You were determined enough to not just play as well as you used to before that injury but even better?”
I look down at my ankle. I realize there are tears in my eyes and a small lump in my throat. Damn. I’m worse than my mom. She bawled when my dad came home and we told him. Then he let me take a shot with him. I was thoroughly embarrassed when I felt the tequila burn my throat, and I ended up coughing most of it up. Then my dad laughed at me. Then I told them I wasn’t sure of anything yet, and they said that was okay.
“What you did, those schools noticed, Jimmy, and they didn’t care that they were out of scholarships. They came up with money just for you. In fact, don’t be surprised if you get another offer or two before the week is over.” He walks back behind his desk and sits back down.
“Congratulations,” he says.
“Thanks, Coach,” I say. Then I realize there’s something I need to say to him. “Thank you for giving me a chance, and…teaching me everything I know about basketball.”
He looks down and shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. You worked your way here, Jimmy. You worked harder than anyone I know. You made sacrifices.”
I look down and push away thoughts of Mayra and Ryan.
“Everything you did. You owe it to yourself. You should be damn proud of yourself, son. You’ve made me proud.”
I nod and look at him one more time. “Thank you, sir.”
I grab the letter from his desk and walk towards homeroom. I realize I forgot to ask him for a pass to class, but frankly, I don’t give a crap if the teacher asks me for one. My mind is fixated on Coach Rogers’s words.
That he’s proud of me. If I thought getting that letter felt good, this feels about ten thousand times better. Maybe even better than my dad telling me last night that he’s proud of me. I just wouldn’t be here right now without Coach Rogers.
The rest of his words are also on my mind, though. You made sacrifices.
No, I think. I pushed Mayra away. And I should have been a better friend to Ryan, my best friend. Some sacrifices shouldn’t be made.
That night, I’m watching TV with my parents on the couch. I finish the last of a project and put it in my backpack. Then I take it to my room and head back to the living room.
I’ve been thinking about Coach Rogers’s words all day. Sacrifices.
I didn’t want to have to make those sacrifices. Mayra and Ryan are not sacrifices I want to make. They’re my friends. My girlfriend and
best friend, and I’m done not having them in my life.
I get up and head to my room, telling my parents good night as I leave.
I land on my bed with a huge bounce. I hear my dad yell to stop doing that but don’t really pay attention and yell back a vague, “Okay.”
Going to Ryan’s house again won’t solve anything. Chances are, I’ll run into his dad again. It’s been weeks since he’s been in school. I guess he actually dropped out.
I know he spends his time at those guys’ houses, doing who knows what. Drinking. Maybe drugs still. Just wasting his life away. Like his parents.
I need to see him in person. I need to be his best friend one more time. He might not care what I have to say. He might finally see the light and come back to school. They can’t say no, right? They have to let him back in. Then I can talk to Ariana, and we can help him fill out some college applications. I know for a fact it’s not too late to apply to the technical college a couple of towns away. I remember Ariana talking about it. He can still turn his life around or whatever. Not become a junkie. A nobody.
I know that’s not Ryan. He’s too smart for that.
Or he might not care what I have to say. In that case, there’s nothing I can do except let him keep on living his life like he is. But I know what’s gonna happen.
We’ll each go our own way. If he goes on the way he is, I know for a fact that I can’t keep being his friend.
And Mayra. I need to confront her too. Let her know I’m not gonna let her walk away without one last fight for us.
I lie there and think. And before I fall asleep, I think I know what I have to do. I grab my phone from under my pillow and slowly type out a text to Mayra with one eye open, the screen is so bright.
I know you don’t want to see me right now. You probably hate me. But please just meet me one more time. Give me one more chance.
I go back to sleep, not expecting her to reply until the morning maybe, but a minute later, my phone buzzes, and I grab it again. This time, both of my eyes are open as I read her message.
Okay. And I don’t hate you.
I have no idea what to do. I’m at Mayra’s window again. I’m supposed to be in bed. At least my parents think I’m in bed right now. But Mayra said to meet her now. I’m guessing she just got out of work or something. Her mom’s not here right now from what I can tell, but I’m at Mayra’s window, just to be safe.
All In (Changing Hearts Book 2) Page 14
