Freshman Year (19 page)

“Meet me on the track so we can run the mile together?” I plead.

She agrees.

*

I'm stretching next to the bleachers when Kate walks up. “Let's go,” she says and takes off in front of me.

To ensure privacy on the track, Kate sets a ridiculously fast pace. I'm gasping for air after about fifty yards and am pretty sure I might collapse, but I have to tell her my side of the story so I delay passing out. “Look, I know I lied to you,” I say and wipe away the sweat that is already rolling down my face. “I felt horrible as soon as I did it. I never thought it was okay. It was just—” I stop talking to sort out my thoughts and catch my breath. “It's just that…I don't know.” But I do know. I know I was scared I would lose Kate if she found out. “I thought you would be grossed out and hate me. I kept on thinking about the way we freaked when we heard about the girls on the team and about the pinky swear we made.”

After I say that, Kate rolls her eyes and runs faster on our second lap. “Abbey, I'm not just some bitch in the hall.”

I steady my breath and tell her the rest of it. “I know. It's just I couldn't stand to lose you because, well, because I love you.”

Kate slows down to a fast walk to let a bunch of girls run by. She waits for them to pass before saying, “Abbey, what are you saying? I'm not like them, or you.”

I have no idea what she's talking about, but then I get it and I nearly laugh. “Oh my God, Kate. I don't mean like
that
. You have Derrick and that's cool, I just mean I love you as my best friend. And I just couldn't stand the thought of you hating me for being like, well, you know…like that. I guess I'd rather have you hate me for lying. Then at least I would know it was because of something I did, not because of who I am. Or who I think I am.” I really can't tell anymore if I'm making any sense. “You know what I mean?”

Kate looks at me very seriously and I try not to look away. But then Mrs. Schwartz blows her whistle at us. “You two better kick up some dirt or there will be two detentions waiting for you at the end of class!”

We start running again, which means I have only one more lap left to win back my best friend.

“Abbey, it just sucks that I'm the last one to find out. I thought you trusted me.”

“But I do and you aren't. I didn't actually tell Jenn—she just figured it out, I guess. Actually, I haven't told anyone anything, not even Garrett. I swear, Kate. I'm telling you the whole truth.” I don't think Ms. Morvay counts, so I still think it's the truth.

She's breathing hard, but her face seems to soften.

Then I say, “I'm sorry I lied.”

Kate turns around and runs backward in front of me. “Okay, I'll forgive you if you promise me one thing.”

What if she asks me to stop seeing Keeta? Could I go back to lying that quickly? “Okay. What?”

“I don't want you to lie to me ever again. I don't care what it is, just tell me the truth.”

A huge smile spreads across my face. “Okay,” I pant, “I promise.”

Then she sticks out her hand. “Pinkies?”

“I thought we were done with those.”

“One more, for old time's sake.”

I reach out and grab her hand and try to link my pinky with hers, but my gigantic foot steps on one of her giant feet. She stumbles, pulls me forward, and down we go like…well, like a couple of idiots trying to pinky swear while running. She lands on her butt, then pulls off a backward somersault, and somehow ends up on her feet again. I fall next to her, but with a much less glamorous performance. My ankle survives without injury, but I fall hard on my nearly healed knee.

Even though I'm in excruciating pain, I'm so happy we're friends again that I start to laugh. When Kate tries to help me up, she doubles over, too.

Mrs. Schwartz, however, is not feeling the love. She blows her whistle again and promises the detentions as soon as we finally make it across the finish line. We both explode again and roll around in the dirt like we're back in third grade, like we don't care what anyone else in the world thinks. And it feels like the coolest thing ever.

*

My knee requires some cleaning before I go to Spanish, so we sign our detentions, change out of our PE clothes (Kate still changes in the bathroom stall), and head over to the nurse's office as friends again.

We walk in silence at first, but then Kate asks, “So, are you guys, like, girlfriends?”

The idea that I might have a
girlfriend
makes me freak out inside. Plus, I don't actually know if I have a girlfriend and that seems stupid, so I stall. “Uh, why do you ask?”

“Abbey, no more secrets remember?”

“I know, I know,” I say and have no choice but to tell her the truth. “See, the thing is, I don't know if we're dating, or girlfriends, or what you would call us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And you want the whole truth?”

She gives me a look of exasperation, so I take that as a yes.

“Um”—I can't look at her when I say it—“she's still sort of dating Stef, I think.”

“Well, when is Keeta planning on breaking it off with Stef?”

“I don't really know.”

“Don't you think you should find out?”

She makes it sound so easy. “I tried this morning. Kind of.”

“So, how long have you and Keeta been, you know, more than friends?”

“We just kissed for the first time yesterday. So, like, not long.” It's so weird talking to Kate about my private kiss with Keeta, and I wonder whether honesty really is the best policy.

Then, just outside the nurse's door, Kate asks me one more question. “Do you even know anything about her?”

It's a simple question. Easily answered with a yes or a no or with details about what I know about Reyna Moreno, who goes by Keeta for some reason. When she asks it, though, I feel a rush of fear shoot through my middle. I know pretty much nothing about Keeta except for her first and last name, that she plays basketball and guitar, and that she's perfectly willing to cheat on her girlfriend with a dork of a freshman like me. That isn't much to go on, so I shrug my shoulders. “No. Not really.”

Kate rolls her eyes and says, “Well, I have to go. See you later,” and leaves me standing here feeling like I have a giant L on my forehead—L for loser, not for lesbian.

*

After Spanish class, Stef, Garrett, and I walk over to my locker to make plans for my Saturday Night Birthday Extravaganza.

“Hey, I know, let's go bowling,” Stef says. “They have those cool lights where everything glows, and I think it costs like three dollars per bowler or something.”

My guilt about what I did to Stef is seriously killing me on the inside, but I hide it by saying, “Yeah, that sounds superfun!”

Garrett scrunches up her nose. “Nah, it has to be special. Something mature. Our little baby is growing up.”

“Oh please,” I say, “spare me. I've already got my mom in tears every time she looks at me. It's not like I'm dying. I'm just turning fifteen.”

After my third attempt, I get my locker open, and as I search for my social studies book, a note falls out of my locker, landing face up onto the gritty linoleum floor. Written across the front in beautiful lettering is my secret name: Amara.

I see it. And Garrett sees it. But Stef, who is yelling down the hall at one of our teammates, doesn't see it. My muscles go into atrophy and I'm unable to do anything to save myself.

Thankfully, Garrett was born with the common sense I lack and she quickly covers up the note with her foot. I know Stef told her about the letter she found in Keeta's bag, so even if Garrett doesn't know about my special name, Garrett probably recognized Keeta's handwriting and is smart enough to put it all together. We both glance quickly at Stef, who is now digging in her backpack for something.

Garrett takes hold of Stef's arm. “Well, we will figure out the appropriate affair for the Duchess's celebration,” Garrett says in a perfect British accent. “In the meantime, we will see you after school at practice. Come along, Ms. Woodside. We must be off.” She turns on her foot but doesn't lift it.

“Ta ta, Abbey darling,” Stef says over her shoulder.

As they walk away, Garrett kicks my letter behind her, looks over her shoulder, and smiles coolly at me.

I think I manage to smile back, but inside I'm totally confused. She has covered for me without giving it a second thought, keeping my secret closer than I did. What kind of friend is she to Stef anyway?

As soon as the coast is clear, I pick up the letter and dust off Garrett's shoeprint. I wait ten more seconds to be sure they're out of range then unfold it in my locker and read Keeta's words:

Amara,

Hey girl, why'd you leave guitar so quickly? I wanted a kiss good-bye! Anyway, I hope you feel our kisses as deeply as I do. You know, at first I was freaked out about how I felt for you because you're like soooo much younger than me. I mean, a senior with a freshman? But I think you're more mature than most girls I know. I just hope I don't make you too nervous. Maybe I'm not your first, but if I am, we can take things slow, okay? You just let me know what you need.
No te quiero apresurar
. Though I did like your kisses this morning, so I wouldn't mind getting more of those really soon.

I'm smiling right now just thinking about you. When I close my eyes, I picture your lips, your fiendishly flirtatious sparkling blue eyes, and your long, silky blond hair. Not to mention your legs.
Chale
, I've never felt so short in my life, but I'll get over it. Haha.

So, this might sound really weird, but when I'm with you, the whole world seems to disappear, Amara. It's like
tú eres mi mundo
. I even had a dream about you last night. I am not going to give you all the details because it's way too embarrassing, but you were there and I was there and the moon was very full.
Órale
, it was an interesting one. Hmm, if you come to guitar class early again tomorrow, maybe I'll tell you about it. Geez, maybe I'll have a new dream to talk about.
Quién sabe
. All I know is you're different, Abbey…in all the good ways.

Okay, I've said way too much already.
Ya me voy a historia
. I can't wait to see you tomorrow in guitar. Which reminds me, you better stop practicing so much or I won't have a reason to stop by and “help” you. (wink, wink)

Te estaré mirando
,

Keeta

“Come on, Abbey. It's time to get up,” my mom says, standing over my bed.

My “Here Comes the Sun” alarm is also going off and the combo attack of the two of them is driving me crazy. “I'm up!” I shout but roll over and cover my head with my pillow.

“I'll make you some good-luck pancakes, but only if you get up right now.”

“Mom, please just let me sleep.” I'm groggy and cranky because last night I tossed and turned like a sock dancing in the dryer while worrying about today's game against Saguaro High. Though my ankle is better, Coach didn't let me play in or even dress out for our first game. Then yesterday at practice he told me I'd be starting as center today. About 1.4 percent of me was excited when I heard that bit of news, but the other 98.6 percent wanted to run away and hide in the caves.

And my mom is only making things worse. When she's nice to me like this, I feel like a rotten daughter. Like, it's just another reminder that I can never break it to her that her only child is falling in love with a girl at school. This fear is totally unrelated to the real issue at hand, that I'm too nervous to play in the game, but every worry is torturing me this morning.

“You don't want to miss your chance to show off your hard work, honey,” she yells from the kitchen. “And, just so you know, I'm not falling for your usual sore-throat act.”

I whine, but know she's right. What's the point of practicing if I hide in my room whenever we have a game? “Okay, okay. Start the dang pancakes.”

*

After a well-balanced meal and a hug from my mom, I leave the house feeling somewhat confident. Maybe it's the push-up bra I borrowed from Kate, maybe it's the eyeliner and mascara, but when I walk into guitar and Keeta notices my new mature look, I feel even better. Keeta's kisses in first period definitely sweeten my day, too. But by fifth period, I'm back to feeling nauseated and am starting to regret the extra jalapenos I piled on top of my nachos at lunch. I'm just about to ask Mr. Zamora if I can be excused, when Tai waltzes through the door exuding her usual generous amount of coolness.

After she hands Mr. Zamora the pass, she looks right at me, smiles big, and then leaves, shaking her head like she knows something I've done and should be ashamed of doing.

Mr. Zamora holds up the square of paper but continues writing on the overhead. “You'll need to take your things, Abbey. Class is nearly over.”

I don't look at the pass until I step outside the room. It's addressed to Mr. Zamora from Mrs. Guzman, the librarian. I haven't checked out any books, so I'm a little confused about why the librarian wants to see me.

“Don't worry,” Tai says, leaning against the wall, out of view of Mr. Zamora's classroom. “You're not in trouble. She just
had
to see you.”

“The librarian?” I ask.

My innocent question makes Tai laugh. “Garrett says you're a pretty smart girl, but I'm beginning to wonder.”

I stare blankly at her.

“Girl, it's K. She's in the library waiting for you.”

I try, but I can't hold back my smile. Then my stomach sinks again. Tai
does
know something I should be ashamed of. I wonder if it was Garrett or Keeta who told her. More importantly, I wonder how much longer I have before someone spills it to Stef.