Freshman Year (35 page)

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” Keeta says and runs off to laugh and flirt with some girls from the varsity basketball team who are also trying out. It makes me wonder how she can turn everything off so easily. Does she just flip a switch in her heart? And what's wrong with me? Why can't I be more like her or Garrett? Why do I think everything is such a big deal?

A whistle blows, and the students on the field all head toward the end line of the football field. “What is it with coaches and lines?”

Kate shrugs. “It can't be too much harder than conditioning for basketball.”

She couldn't have been more wrong. For the next hour, we have to do all these crazy exercises up and down the field. First, there's the high skip, then the crab crawl, and finally deep leg lunges that make my butt burn so bad I nearly cry. In fact, I'm in so much pain during our line work I don't even notice Mia is there until after Coach Parker blows his whistle and we are all allowed to collapse again.

Mia uses the opportunity to drink water, and I use it to lie lifeless on my back staring at her. Maybe it's because she always wears her heavy black Doc Martens, but Mia doesn't seem like the kind of girl who would try out for track. Without her boots, baggy shorts, and hand-printed T-shirts, she looks like everyone else. And, for some reason, that disappoints me.

Kate falls down next to me and starts on her own complaints. “What a jerk.”

I turn my head to look at Derrick and his friends. They are squeezing their water bottles at some girls who are screaming for the boys to stop, but they obviously like the attention.

“You knew he was going to try out, too, so why are you so upset?”

“I'm not mad. He's a loser, which is obvious, but that doesn't mean I don't want him to see I'm over him. The problem is he hasn't looked at me once so I can show him just how over him I am. It's those skanks. They're ruining everything.”

“So, you
are
mad.”

“Shut up, Abbey,” she says and then sighs loudly.

“Well, if you ask me, I think you just want him to see you in those skimpy spandex shorts they make us wear.”

Then, like always, she reminds me that she didn't remember asking me what I thought. She finally closes her eyes to block him out of her sight and her heart. “I hate him.”

“He's scum, Kate. Don't waste your time even thinking about him.”

“I know.” She squirts a gulp of water into her mouth from her water bottle and hands it to me. “I could say the same to you, you know?”

“Ah, here we go.” Kate has this annoying pattern: when she finally stops bitching about Derrick, she starts in on Keeta. It makes me miss the days when I was lying to her about it.

“I mean, it doesn't make sense that you're dating a girl who acts like an asshole boy. She's such a player, Abs. Everyone sees it but you. She won't even tell you she loves you. Why don't you date a girl who will treat you right?”

“That is the million dollar question, Kate. But I love her. That's all I can say.”

“Are you sure?”

Of all the messed up things that have happened this year, it's the one thing I hold on to as truth. I am sure I love Keeta. But before I get to answer Kate, Coach Parker blows his whistle again and we're back on the end line. As I crab crawl the length of the football field with Mia on my far left and Keeta on my far right, I realize another sure thing: I am seriously into pain.

*

“You should have seen how scared Mia and I were,” I say to Kate as we wobble painfully out of the locker room to the hot track on the fifth day of tryouts. “Mrs. Guzman was so mad she nearly wrote us up, but instead she's going to make us shelve returned books next week. I don't know which punishment is worse. Oh, and guess what Mia's letter said?” I don't wait for a response. “She said she'd be happy to be my stalker any day of the week. She's such a flirt, huh?” I look over at Kate for a reaction, but get zilch.

She's too preoccupied with squinting up at the sky and frowning. “Don't you ever get sick of the blue skies around here? Wouldn't it be nice to have more variety in our lives?”

I look up at the sun and my eyes water. “Um, if you say so.”

“And I don't know why you insist on sharing your Mia stories with me. I mean, you know I'd rather you date her than the one who shall not be named.”

Instead of having our usual argument about Keeta, I pretend not to hear her.

It's almost three o'clock, and I notice the coaches huddled by the goalpost with their clipboards. I wonder where I'll end up, if anywhere. I had a strong showing the first three days, but yesterday I could hardly walk, let alone run. In fact, I could barely even touch my knees, and my legs were so sore that doing things like putting on socks and stepping into the shower evoked very ungirly, guttural moans.

“He's such a man slut,” Kate hisses. “Look at him over there.”

Kate's plan is definitely backfiring. Instead of Derrick noticing how over him she is or how bouncy her boobs are when she runs, Kate notices every girl he speaks to or looks at, and it's getting old. At least I'm not
that
crazy about Keeta. In fact, I feel proud of myself for not keeping tabs on Keeta the whole practice. But thinking this makes me look for Keeta. I don't see her and now I'm wondering where she is. I hope she comes soon because, according to Jenn, if you aren't here when they announce the team, you're automatically cut.

“It's one thing to flirt with other girls, but to flirt with Sherice Franks?” Kate continues. “How desperate is he?” Kate spreads her legs and bends forward to stretch. “I mean, she's so stupid, she probably thinks absolute zero is a new vodka drink. And her breasts are so huge they create their own gravitational pull on every guy that tries to pass by. She's like a freaking planet. What a slut.”

I nod my head and give my usual, “Yeah. He sucks,” but I have my own troubles. Is Keeta coming today? I saw her at my locker after second period, but she didn't tell me she wasn't going to track practice.

Then Mia walks up and distracts me from my worries. “Hey, jerk,” I say playfully. “Thanks for getting me in trouble.”

“Uh, if I recall correctly, it was you who fell out of your chair. I passed that letter under the table with perfection. You're just a klutz.”

“Don't think I didn't see you check out my ass when I was trying to get up.”

She smiles. “Yep, you got me. Oh hey, that reminds me. Are you still seeing someone? I'm updating my records.”

“Yes!” I throw a handful of grass at her. “And you better get out of here before she kicks your butt.”

“Ooh, I'm shaking,” she says and pretends to take out a notebook to write down my response. “Still dating loser,” she writes in her palm and trots away.

“God,” Kate says and rolls her eyes. “You're so freakin' weird, Abbey.”

After the coaches call us around, they read off the students who made the cut. Kate and I both make the team and, since she and I are such long-legged mamas, they put us on the high jump and hurdle squads. Running fast and then jumping over scary metal obstacles sounds way too complicated, but I'm willing to give it a shot, I guess.

I'm pretty excited about making the team and get even more excited when the coaches call Keeta's name, too. Because she's a fast runner and strong, she's going to be on the relay and hurdle teams and do shot put. But if she doesn't show up in the next five minutes, she's going to be cut from the team altogether.

I'm determined not to let that happen. I run over to the coaches and tell a whopper of a lie about Keeta feeling really sick and going home early, so the coaches said if she really wanted to be on the team they'd give her until four to get back to campus before they cut her. I'm out of cell minutes, but Keeta doesn't always answer her phone anyway.

I run to Jenn's car after we're all dismissed from practice. “Hey Jenn, can I get a ride to Keeta's?”

“Well, I don't really think I should help you earn your Girl Scout badge of sluttery, but maybe if you give me five dollars.”

I look at Kate. “Do you have five bucks I can borrow?”

“God, I'm just kidding,” Jenn says and honks her horn. “Get in, dumbass.”

“Thanks, Jenn.” I climb in the backseat and sit sideways to fit.

After Jenn and Kate drop me off, I run up to Keeta's door and knock my special knock: three taps, then a pause, then another three.

No one answers.

It's a Friday, which means her grandma is volunteering at church all day, so I don't feel bad about knocking obnoxiously again. Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap, tap.

When there's no answer, my imagination gets the best of me. Maybe Keeta is inside and hurt. Maybe she's passed out on the floor bleeding to death. Or maybe she's with that stupid punk girl, Osiris. I knock loudly this time, abandoning the usual taps.

Finally, I hear movement inside, and then the door cracks open a few inches.

“Hey,” Keeta says through the small opening. Her braided hair is messed up and frizzy, like she just rolled out of bed. “What's up, Abbey?”

“Didn't you hear me knocking? Are you sick or something?” I ask stupidly.

“No, just, uh, tired. What's up?”

I ignore her unaffectionate greeting and tell her the good news. “You made the track team, but you have to get down there, like, right now or you're going to be cut.”

She yawns. “Cool, but I don't think I'm going to join.”

“But I talked to the coaches for you. They're waiting,” I say and wonder if her behavior has something to do with me and Mia again. Or maybe she's sick of being around me. Maybe I did something wrong.

“Well, I'm sort of”—she looks over her shoulder and closes the door a little more—“busy right now.”

Kate's words pop into my head.
She's such a player, Abs. Everyone knows it but you.
“Oh.” I don't know what else to say. “Sorry.”

“No, it's cool. Maybe I'll go back to school. Thanks for coming by and telling me.” She starts to close the door but, borrowing my mom's move, I jam my foot in its path. I don't know what I'm doing or why, but I know I'm over being shocked and sad. Now I'm just plain pissed.

“Can I at least have some water?”

Before she has a chance to react, I push my way in.

“Abbey, wait.” Keeta tries to grab my arm, but I dodge her hand.

I look down her hall toward her bedroom, and that's when I see all I need to see.

Just outside Keeta's closed bedroom door is a backpack. But it definitely doesn't belong to Osiris, whose backpack I have recently learned to hate. And it isn't a backpack that I ever expected to see in Keeta's house today. It's a green messenger bag with an upside down rainbow triangle patch and a stupid button that reads
I'm not gay, but my girlfriend is
.

“Garrett?” I say to myself. Then I turn to look at Keeta, but now words have left me.

For the first time ever, I hate being in Keeta's tiny apartment. I feel the stares of the saints on my back, and I know they're laughing at me for being so naïve and for thinking I matter more to Keeta than anyone else.

Keeta reaches for my hand. “Abbey, I…”

“Don't touch me. How could you do this to me?”

“It just happened. I don't know why.”

“How does something like this
just happen
?” I shout. “How do you accidentally screw around with Garrett?” My hands start to shake, along with my voice, and I know I have to get out of there before I fall apart. I push past her and head for the door, but she grabs hold of my wrist and yanks me back to her. “Let me go, Keeta.” I struggle to free myself, but her grip is like an inescapable handcuff.

“Abbey, listen, we were just hanging out and drinking a little and it happened. It doesn't mean anything to me or to her.”

“Then why would you do it?” I don't know when I started crying, but tears are flooding my face. “Why, Keeta? Why?”

“I didn't plan this. I swear. It meant nothing.”

“That's your problem. Nothing means
anything
to you. You just use everyone to get what you want. You don't even care who gets hurt.” I try to pull away from her again, but she's too strong. “Let me go!”

“Amara…” She looks like she might cry, but my special name now makes me sick to my stomach.

“Go to hell! I mean it!” I yank my arm free.

She looks at me one last time and tries to bring me in with her amber eyes, but my icy glare deflects her attempt.

Finally she steps back and leans against the open door. “You're right, Amara. You're right.
Lo siento, corazón
. I really am sorry.”

I steady my hands just enough to unlatch my necklace. “Everyone was right about you, Keeta.”

I put the necklace on the windowsill and leave her apartment for what better be the last time.

*

When I get home, I borrow the side mirror on my neighbor's car to see how bad I look before I step inside my house.

My mom is sitting at the dining-room table playing another quiet game of Scrabble with herself. “Hi, honey,” she says as she lays down e-x-c-i-t-e on the board. “How was your day?”

My first obstacle is to speak without sounding congested from crying. “Fine. I've gotta call Kate.”

“She just called. Isn't your cell phone on?”

“No.” I don't admit I ran out of minutes in the first week of the month.

My mom digs her hand into the letter bag. “And someone else called.” She moves her letters around on their wooden tray. “I can't believe I'm forgetting her name.”

“Garrett?”

“Yep, that's it,” she says and finally looks up.

I've been doing an A+ job of holding back the tears up until that point, but now I'm two seconds away from becoming the blubbering zombie that I was as I walked home from Keeta's.