Rivals
Page 13
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Friday at 4:22 pm
Chase Hi my name is Chase Crawford. I just want to apologize to Janeece Renfro for saying that she worked at my country club. Obviously, she’s too young to work there. But I’m pretty sure her parents, aunts, and uncles all do.
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Friday at 4:25 pm
Janeece Hi Chase, thank you for saying that, because in case anyone had any doubt, it’s now official—you are the biggest jerk in Walthorne. I’m glad you go to private school, and hopefully you’ll stay there next year so none of us have to see you at Walthorne High. Oh, and btw what’s wrong with working at a country club? As long as it’s not YOURS!!
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Friday at 4:26 pm
Chase Yo I’m just kidding around, suddenly everyone needs to be so serious? Look I feel bad that kid got hurt but to be honest he kind of started it
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Friday at 4:27 pm
North4Eva Hey this is Eric and I just want to say that I agree with Janeece, Chase you can be funny but right now you are being a complete jerk, and what you yelled at Janeece was so incredibly gross, it actually made me kind of embarrassed to even know you. Also btw she could completely kick your butt and everyone knows it. And everyone else, I’m sorry for all the trash talking and stuff and also I just want to say to Carter Haswell that I hope he gets better soon because he is literally the best basketball player I’ve ever seen.
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Friday at 4:31 pm
Lucas Thanks Eric, if there are any other North kids on this thread I want to say sorry for mouthing off at you guys, I mean obviously I didn’t know what was going to happen but I said some things that weren’t cool and I just want to say sorry about that
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Friday at 4:34 pm
Janeece Alfie, I know you and I talked about this but I just want to say publicly that i feel so bad for what you had to go through for the last few months, it wasn’t fair at all, we should have believed you all along and I’m sorry, and I think you’re an awesome sports announcer and I can’t wait to see you on espn one day
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Friday at 4:35 pm
Alfie Thank you Janeece and that would be so awesome. I have a long way to go, but I’m just really happy about what people are writing here
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Friday at 4:37 pm
Kevin This is cool, glad you’re doing this, I play for North and man I’m really embarrassed about last night, and to Alfie, thanks for doing this and we shouldn’t have given you a hard time on this page a few months ago, that was bogus, sorry bout that. also just fyi my parents grounded me for two months, so I’ll see everyone NEVER.
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Friday at 4:40 pm
Sham Hahahahaha that’s hilarious, I mean not the Alfie part, the grounding part of course lol
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Friday at 4:42 pm
Kevin It’s cool I deserve it
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Friday at 4:45 pm
Sham Anyone else get grounded?
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Friday at 4:47 pm
Janeece Not me ☺
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Friday at 4:51 pm
Eddy My parents told me we were gonna sit down tonight and talk about it and when I asked what does that mean they said “you’ll see”
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Friday at 4:52 pm
Amir You’re done dude
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Friday at 4:53 pm
Eddy Oh I know it
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Friday at 5:02 pm
Clay If anyone knows how Carter is doing please let me know, also what hospital is he in coz I’d like to send him a card or something, I don’t know him but I hear he’s a good dude
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Friday at 5:05 pm
Janeece He is a good dude
I’ll find out the hospital
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Friday at 5:08 pm
Austin Hi Alfie, I don’t know you but thank you for doing this. Sorry I’m a little late to the party but I’ve been reading these posts so far and they’re really cool. First off, I want to apologize to Janeece for not dealing with Chase at the game, after that disgusting thing he said to you . . . that was pathetic of me and I’m really sorry. And secondly, yeah I can confirm that Carter Haswell is a good guy. A lot of you probably don’t know this but I remember Carter from a long time ago, we used to play basketball in the park. I was taller than him back then and almost as good lol. Anyway we’re also on the AAU team together so I’ve gotten to know him again and he came over to my house earlier in the week and we hung out. I guess my point is that rivalries are fun but making them personal is stupid, and everyone says and does things they don’t mean and wish they could take back. I hope everyone is doing okay and Carter if you’re reading this I hope you’re doing okay and I’m sorry about the other day at my house too
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Friday at 5:11pm
Janeece What happened the other day?
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Friday at 5:12 pm
Austin I was totally uncool that’s what happened
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Friday at 5:14 pm
Alfie Austin thanks for what you said and I’m really bummed I’m not going to be able to call the game tonight, you guys have a really good team
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Friday at 5:17 pm
Austin Thank you
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Friday at 5:19 pm
Lucas I totally remember free shoot! Hey Clay I was really looking forward to that rematch dude, I’m glad your leg is better
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Friday at 5:21 pm
Clay Thanks man, appreciate it
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Friday at 5:22pm
Lucas Next year on freshman team, teammates?
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Friday at 5:23 pm
Clay For sure, unless I make varsity lol
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Friday at 5:25 pm
Sham Oh you’re playing varsity, you and Carter for sure
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Friday at 5:26 pm
Clay We’ll see but thanks
#teammates
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Friday at 5:27 pm
Lucas #teammates
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Friday at 5:28 pm
Kevin #teammates
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Friday at 5:30 pm
Sham #teammates
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Friday at 5:31 pm
Janeece #teammates
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AUSTIN
Over the next week, it turns into a bit of a thing.
People go on Walthornespirit.com every night. More and more kids join, just saying hey, comparing schools, talking about nothing, getting to know each other. I realize that even though we’re in the same town, our school and their school are incredibly different. We have new tennis courts with new nets. They have old basketball courts with no nets. It doesn’t seem fair. No wait—it’s NOT fair. Next year, a lot of us are going to be in high school together, so we might as well start figuring out what we all have in common.
But there’s one person who hasn’t joined the party.
I texted Carter five times the day after it happened, but he never responded. A few days later, his friend Lucas posted about all of Carter’s injuries. As bad as it sounded, it could have been so much worse. Lucas said Carter hasn’t been back to school since it happened.
I try texting a bunch of times over the next few days.
No answer.
So I decide to do something shocking.
I decide to not rely on my phone.
CARTER
The pain is bad, but the boredom is worse.
It’s been ten days, and it still hurts to move. A big day fo
r me is going from the bed to the couch. I’ve watched pretty much every episode of every bad reality show there is.
I know every SportsCenter announcer’s first name, last name, and middle initial, because I stare at them all day long.
For the first week, I played a lot of guitar, but then I broke a string and my mom hasn’t had time to get it fixed.
The other day I even read a book that wasn’t assigned in school!
Okay, fine, I started a book.
But as bored as I’ve been, the one thing I haven’t been interested in is seeing other people, or even talking to them. I just don’t feel like it. Besides, I know exactly what they would say.
I can’t believe that happened.
I’m so glad you’re going to be okay!
How are you feeling?
Are you bored?
When can you play basketball again?
So I’m lying here, trying to do my math homework (as if things aren’t bad enough), when there’s a knock on the door.
My mom’s at work, so she can’t answer it.
My dad doesn’t live here, so he can’t answer it.
You can probably guess by now that I don’t really feel like answering it.
So I just shout, “WHO’S THERE?”
It takes a few seconds, but then I hear, “It’s Austin. Austin Chambers.”
“Who?” I ask, even though I heard it pretty clearly.
“Austin Chambers.”
“Oh. Um, can you come back later? I can’t really get to the door right now.”
“Uh, sure, no problem. You weren’t answering my texts so I thought I’d come by. Hope you’re doing okay.”
“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks man.”
“Okay, take care.”
I hear his footsteps drift away, and I lie back and close my eyes, relieved that that’s one less thing I have to deal with.
My relief lasts two minutes.
Because then the door opens, and my dad walks in with a brown paper bag in his hand. Austin is right behind him.
“Hey ho!” my dad says. “I found this fellow just leaving. He says he was here to see you.” My dad doesn’t come close enough for me to tell if there’s alcohol on his breath. I choose to think there isn’t.
“Dad, this is Austin Chambers. I told you about him, remember?”
My dad’s face slowly changes as he remembers the name. “Oh, yeah, of course.” He looks at Austin. “How are things, son?”
“They’re okay, sir,” Austin says.
“No need to call me sir.”
“Got it.” Austin shuffles his feet, like, he’s nervous. “Uh, Mr. Haswell, I want you to know that I know about what happened at my house a few months back, and I’m really sorry about that. I’m sure it was a misunderstanding, and I don’t think my mom had any idea you lost your job over it.”
“Oh, I think she might have had some idea,” my dad says. “Anyway, I’m feeling a little better about the whole thing these days, because a few days ago your mom made a call to my boss Rico, and she said she may have gotten the circumstances of the incident wrong, after all. He’s agreed to bring me back on, starting next week.”
“Dad!” I try and sit up for a second, and that’s all it takes for my back to tell me to lie the heck back down. “That’s great news!”
“Well, Cartman, it’s a whole lot better than a sharp stick in the eye.” My dad puts the paper bag down on the table. “Anyhoo, I just came by to bring you lunch. Bologna sandwiches, my personal fave.” He starts walking toward the door.
“You’re not going to stay?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Nah. I got stuff to do. New paintbrushes to buy.” He nods at Austin. “Plus, you got company. I bet you two have plenty of ground to cover.”
I bet we do, too, but that doesn’t mean I want to cover it.
After my dad leaves, Austin picks up the bag. “Want a sandwich?”
“Sure, thanks.”
There’s another one there, but he doesn’t take it.
“Help yourself,” I say.
He hesitates. “I’m not really allowed to eat that stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Processed food.”
“Says who?”
“My parents.”
“They’re not here.”
Austin thinks about that for a second, then picks up the sandwich and takes a bite. “Whoa, that’s good,” he mumbles, with his mouth full.
“Bologna is the best.”
We eat silently for a minute or so, then he says, “I can leave if you want.”
“Nah, it’s cool.”
“Okay.” He looks around and says, “Do you mind if I get some water?”
“Of course not,” I say. “The glasses are above the sink.”
“Cool, thanks.”
Austin gets up and walks into the kitchen. I can see him looking around, checking things out, peeking his head into the living room. He hesitates.
“Something wrong?” I ask him.
“Nah, I’m good,” he says, but he’s just standing there.
“What’s up?”
“Can I tell you something, honestly?”
“Yeah.”
He gets the water, then comes back and sits down. “I’ve . . . I’ve never been in an apartment before.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious. Like, how many rooms do you guys have here?”
“Four. My bedroom, my mom’s bedroom, the living room, and the kitchen. And the bathroom, so I guess five.”
“Huh,” Austin says, but I can tell by his face what he’s probably thinking: We have five bathrooms, and they have five rooms total.
I don’t really want to talk about the differences between my apartment and his mansion, so I change the subject. “How’s AAU going?”
“Oh, it’s going okay. We have another sleepaway tournament next weekend.”
“That should be fun.”
“I guess. We were all a little out of it at the last practice. Coach Cash was getting really mad. I think everyone is a little freaked out about your injury.”
“Join the club.”
Austin laughs, then shifts uncomfortably. “So, are you . . . like, did the doctors say when you could play again?”
“They’re hoping three months,” I tell him. “But they say I’ll be as good as new. I guess I got really lucky.”
“Wow, okay.” Austin glances at my back brace, my arm in a sling, my ribs all wrapped up, and I’m guessing he’s thinking that I don’t look that lucky. But I am.
“I got your texts,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I didn’t text back.”
“No, it’s cool. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Well, I really appreciate that you came by.”
“Of course. That’s what friends are for.”
I feel this weird feeling come over me. Like I’m about to cry. I decide to blame the medicine.
“So, does this mean, like, we’re friends again?” I ask.
“I think so.” Austin half-smiles. “I hope so.”
Neither of us says anything for a few seconds, then he adds, “When you came to my house, I . . . uh . . . I’m really sorry about what I said about your dad.”
“Thanks,” I say. I haven’t done much talking in the last week—none, basically—and all of a sudden it feels like I need to make up for lost time. “When you reminded me that we used to play ball together back in the park, I remembered you as being such a nice kid. And then you were cool at AAU, too. And I thought to myself, yeah, we could be friends. But then when I went over to your house, I mean . . . I was like, how can I be friends with someone who lives in a house like this, you know? How is that even possible?”
“That shouldn’t have anything to do with it,” Austin says.
“But it does,” I say. “I mean, my dad was, like, a handyman at your house. Just some worker. And your mom thought he did something wrong, and who knows, maybe he did do someth
ing wrong and maybe not, but that’s a fight he’s never going to win, right?”
“It’s not about that,” Austin says. “People who are different can be friends, if they have other stuff in common. Like, I mean, we’ve both spent our whole lives playing basketball, right? And we both have mixed feelings about it.” He leans back in his chair, and he looks like he’s starting to relax for the first time since he came into the apartment. “Like, my dad was a basketball star in college, right? And I was supposed to be tall and a great player like him. I trained hard, spent hours analyzing just about every game I ever played. I even had a special diet, and I could only have ice cream if we won. But it didn’t work. I wasn’t a great player, and I was never going to be a great player. And when I saw you play that first game of the year, I thought, that’s what I’m supposed to be. And it made me mad, you know? But then, when Clay came back, we played a game of one-on-one, and he beat me, and the world didn’t end. And that day at AAU practice when you came back, and I didn’t take those foul shots, and my teammates started treating me with respect, everything just kind of changed for me. I realized I could let the dream go. I could still love basketball, but it didn’t have to be everything to me anymore. Winning didn’t have to be everything. I didn’t have to tell a kid to play hurt. I didn’t have to be the leading scorer or the best player. I didn’t have to care that much. I just didn’t.”
Austin stops talking and looks at me. Waiting for me to respond. So I do.
“It’s been a little different for me, I guess.”
“What do you mean?”
I hesitate, at first. Then I start talking.
“You wanted to be better than you were, but I kind of wanted to be worse than I was.” It’s not something I’ve ever said out loud, or even realized before. “Everyone thinks it must be totally awesome to be so good at something, and sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s the greatest feeling in the world. But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s too much. Too much attention, too much pressure, too many expectations. I mean, look what happened with the cheating thing—I don’t even love basketball that much, but even so, I did, like, this really dumb thing, because I thought I had to. I literally thought it was the only choice, that if I couldn’t play basketball then everything would be ruined. I mean, I like basketball, I really do. Maybe I even love it. But sometimes it felt like I had to LIVE it. And I didn’t want that.”