Perfectly Messy (5 page)

“Lucy?” Mom walks over, scratching her cheek and leaving a smudge. “As much as I understand the draw to examine dirt, we need five more pots planted and loaded in the trailer for my fall exhibit this afternoon.” She hands me her gardening rag, always tied to the back end of her garden tool-belt. I’m pretty sure it’s the only belt she owns.

“Right, got it,” I say, rubbing the mud off my hands before draining the extra water from the soil.

She hands me another scoop of potting soil. “To replace what was lost.”

“Thanks.”

Mom sits down on the steps of the deck. “So, what were Justin’s parents like?”

“Nice,” I say as I debate how much to share with her. I’m not really in the mood for advice.

She takes out a mini hoe from her belt and uses the end to scrape the dirt from under her nails. “Well, that’s pretty boring,” she says with a grin that’s tilted up in the corner, so much like Eric’s when he’s playing Batman. With that smile, I know it’s safe to share. She’s not in over-drive Mom mode. She’s just curious.

“No, they aren’t boring. Just different than you and Dad.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope they are different. I’d hate to be a cookie-cutter mold.”

I roll my eyes. She knows she strives to be the non-generic parent. I study her, wondering if she’ll expand. I dare not say anything until she does. I’m more careful with my words now, still trying to be more considerate than my instincts guide. Old habits have been hard to break. Just because we have a relationship now, doesn’t make it easy. We still fight, but when we’re not in the heat of it, I try to remember she’s a person too.

“Truthfully,” she continues, “dealing with the differences of your significant other’s family is part of the process. Your Grandma Jane and I didn’t initially see eye-to-eye. You know that.”

I laugh; Grandma Jane has always been a well-ironed business woman with a heart of gold. Dad introduced her to Mom during their hippie phase. I can’t imagine how horrible that introduction went. At least my introduction was more like a non-introduction. I mean, yeah, we shook hands, but it didn’t feel that real at all.

“So, how are they different from us?” Mom pats the step next to her.

“Well,” I slide up on the step, knee to knee with her. Smart, Mom. It’s much easier to spill when you don’t have to look each other in the eye. She hands me the garden hoe, my turn to pick beneath my nails. “I don’t really know. We met at this political fundraiser event ... For a moment, everything felt fine. His grandma is really cute, his mom tried to put me at ease, and his sister even gave me a hug. But the moment I met his dad and some big exec dragged himself into the conversation, the tone shifted. Suddenly, it wasn’t about meeting the family. It was some weird political exchange.”

“Were you uncomfortable?”

I thought about it. “No, not really. Justin never left my side and included me as much as he could.”

“Did his family introduce you to others?”

My stomach dropped. “Kind of. I was introduced as Justin’s ‘special friend.’”

Mom shifts in her spot and sucks in one of her therapeutic breaths. Uh oh, here comes the Mom advice, whether I want it or not. I find myself taking in a similar breath, just less noisy.

“It’s hard for parents to acknowledge their kids’ relationships as serious,” Mom begins, “but here’s the thing. They are. They shape them and whether or not they agree with the relationship, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It’s important to them. I made that mistake with you and Zach.” I cringe, remembering how Zach cheated on me with my best friend Marissa. Mom pats my knee before she continues. “Yeah, he was a jerk. But if I would have acknowledged that you liked him, I may have been able to be there more when everything…”

“Went to hell?” I offer.

“Exactly.”

I nod as Mom continues. “But don’t interpret that ‘special friend’ moment as them not acknowledging or liking you. With trying to slide into the governor’s seat, they have to be extra careful in everything they say. Who knows what’s next for them, maybe a presidential run?”

“Yeah, that’s what I told Justin. I can deal with it. It makes sense, especially when the guy who barged into the conversation is the one giving Mr. Marshall money in hopes he can snag Justin for a reality college bachelor show.”

Mom laughs. “Reality TV? Justin!? No, no, no. He’s too
real
to do reality TV. His dad isn’t forcing him, is he?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Mom nods. “Okay, well, why don’t we have Justin’s family over for dinner? A way for us all to get to know one another.”

I squirm in my seat. Heck, I don’t even know them. There’s no way I’m ready to introduce his parents to my own.

“Okay, I get it. Take a month. Get to know them before we all meet, all right?”

“Sounds good.”

She bends over, readjusting the mums I’d planted so they look right. I bite my tongue as she messes with my work. It’s hard not to be insulted when I’m helping her, but really, it’s her exhibit. This is not her over-correcting me, or picking me apart to shape perfection. No, it’s business. I’ll survive the sting.

“So, have you thought about basketball?”

I nod, surprised that the question doesn’t bother me. “I’m thinking about it.”

“When are tryouts?”

“Next week.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I support you. Just make this decision based off of you, no one else.” She nods to the lined-up plants and empty pots. “Okay, let’s get these done. I’m hoping to snag a shower before I have to leave.”

I thrust my hands back in the dirt to plant while Mom arranges some sort of straw hay garland, but it’s basketball that’s bouncing around in my head. What would playing mean for me this year? I’d have to deal with Coach T, that horrible man who knowingly let the seniors keep bullying me as long as we won. I’d be putting myself out there to scouts and the media again. They didn’t ignore my first season, and they definitely wouldn’t ignore my return. The pressure would be high.

But, in the evening when I shoot hoops, I have this sense of freedom and invincibility; there’s no other feeling like it in my life.

Then there’s the Justin factor. Being on the basketball team would mean less time with him. Practices after school, games in the evenings, tournaments on the weekends. It’d basically demolish our time together, which would totally suck.

My stomach nags at me. It’s not like that time with Justin will be there anyway. He’s captain of the boys’ varsity team. He’ll be at practice and games just as often as me. If I don’t play, at least I’d be around when he’s available.

But that reasoning makes me nauseous. I pour the last scoop of soil into the last teal pot. No. I can’t base my choice on that. If I chose not to play for that reason, I’d only be gaining an extra hour with Justin a week, sneaking it in before his practice. Saying no to basketball would be a sacrifice that defines me through him. Waiting on him. My heart deflates with the thought. Justin’s a part of me. It scares me how much my heart is entwined with his. But I can’t be that girl waiting all the time. Especially when Justin isn’t waiting for me. It’s not like he mentioned quitting ball so we could go on more dates or anything like that.

God, if he did, I’d smack him. That’d be ridiculous.

No, my decision to play basketball or not can’t rest on my time spent with Justin.

It has to be about me and the ball.

My heart thumps against my ribcage and I know. With that feeling, my choice is made. I pull out my phone and call him. Adrenaline floods my system; suddenly I’m ready to run five miles.

“Hey, Lady,” he greets me and my stomach flutters. God, I love his smooth, husky voice.

“Hey, what are you up to?”

“Studying. You?”

“Well, I was wondering if you could call Alex and head over?”

“Why?”

“It’s time to show Coach T that I don’t give up.”

Justin

“Gawd, why are you so nervous? You know she’ll make it.” Lucy’s friend Laura tosses me the gym towel from my bag. I’m still sweating, despite the fact guys’ tryouts ended an hour ago. “What’s with the pacing? I’ve never seen you like this before. Wait, you’re not worried about your own spot, are you?”

There’s no need to be conceited, so I pretend she didn’t ask. She knows I owned tryouts. “It’s not that. It’s just,” I gaze back at the East Gym’s door, knowing Lucy’s in there with Coach T, a total ass, waiting to find out if he’ll give her a second chance. Honestly, he should be the one begging her to return. Lucy told me how he looked the other way her freshman year, but only after I swore not to tell my coach. Every time I see his fat face, it takes all my restraint to not throw a punch.

Thankfully, I know Lucy has the balls to shove her skills in his face. But, does she have the strength? Just talking about the man made her hands shake. And the memories that gym must hold? Crap. She’s in there dealing with all that while I’m stuck out here, just waiting.

“She’ll be fine, Justin. Really. Sit down.” She yanks my arm, dragging me over to the lunch table to rejoin Luke, Alex, and Jake. Laura wraps her arms around Luke, giving him a hug while we wait for the boys’ list to be posted. Luke pats her arm. He didn’t have the greatest tryout—chickened on the chance for an easy drive—but he made every outside shot. With that in his pocket, plus his attitude and grades, he’s golden.

“Don’t worry man, you’re good.”

“Yeah, you’re good, Luke,” Alex repeats. He’s pacing back and forth. The kid cannot keep still when he’s nervous. Then again, I’m already to the other end of the table, I guess neither can I. I haven’t been this nervous in a long time.

Alex meets me at the end of the table. “How’d I do?” he says under his breath. “I mean, really, Justin. Do I have hope here?”

He beams up at me and I know what he sees. I’m totally his older brother, way more than a cousin. I’m his Jackson. I imagine what Jackson would have said to me and say just that. “You killed it.” I clap him on the shoulder, watching the relief flood his face.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a lie. Alex is actually better at ball than I was at his age. Way better. Hell, I bet they will start him on junior varsity as a freshman. At that point, I’d only made the sophomore team. But there’s no way I’m telling him that. He’s got to learn how the process feels.

“Thanks.” Alex clasps my hand, pulling me in for a quick man-hug. Jake’s sitting down, head between his palms. He never does well under pressure and this tryout was no exception. I made sure to show the coaches my belief in Jake’s potential. When I fed him, he bit and the ball would swish. But anyone else, even Alex, would leave him throwing up bricks. Too many bricks.

I bite my tongue. Dear God, let him at least make the freshman team. He and Alex are best friends. The wedge that’d create would royally suck. Jake knows Alex is better, that doesn’t seem to matter to him. But to not be part of the team? That’d hurt a ton.

A banging on the lockers bordering the cafeteria is the signal our roster is up. Alex’s face drains and Jake doesn’t move. Luke sighs, pulling himself off the bench and walking toward the South Gym’s door, where four pieces of paper hang.

A huddle forms in front of him; he’s forced to wait. He’s not super patient though, straining on his tiptoes for a view.

I clasp Alex on the shoulder. “Ready to go look?”

“No way, I can’t. Can you check for me?”

“Do you really think that’s going to work on me?” I yank him up by the back of his t-shirt. “Be a man, go see.”

Alex huffs, dragging himself toward the huddled group of guys. Jake still hasn’t lifted his head. “You too, Jake. Up you go.”

“I sucked. Don’t make me look.”

“It’s part of the deal, dude. Get up. I’ve got to look too.” He reluctantly stands, already looking defeated. I probably should be nice and do it for him. But sitting down and taking the news from me, whether good or bad, is just going to make him feel like a wimp. He’s got to own it and do it himself.

I walk next to him though. He doesn’t have to do it alone.

Luke pumps his fist in the air. Solid. I’ve got my forward.

Alex stands a few guys ahead of us in line, not even attempting to peek. Wow. Never knew he had such restraint. A few moments pass and it’s finally his turn. He glances up, reading the freshman list and I see his shoulders slump.
Come on, don’t be an idiot. Read the other lists too.
Finally, his shoulders straighten and that dorky grin plasters his face. Good.

I push Jake in front of me; together we scan the list. There, smack in the middle, he lands the freshman team. He breathes a huge sigh of relief as I check out who the coach took this year. Alex’s name is at the bottom of JV. Sweet! I glance at the varsity list, my name listed on top with a star. Captain again, like last year.

I feign excitement because the freshmen are watching. Really, all I care about is what’s going on with Lucy on the other side of that wall. Then I hear it, the high-pitched squeals as the East Gym’s door opens. Girls flood out, some smiling and others with swollen, red eyes. I’ve never NOT made the team. That’s seriously got to suck.