11. Gabby
There’s nothing quite as energizing as hearing all the feet stomping up the bleachers before today’s qualifying meet. It’s not a real meet against another school. The athletes from each weight class have to wrestle with one another to see who will take the number one spot. They’ve all been amped up about it all day today.
The stands are nearly full, which is odd for a qualifying match. Then the door opens, and the room goes quiet. Five big, blond men walk into the sports center. A murmur replaces the silence as the Reed brothers—every last one of them—walk into the area where the bleachers are. They climb up, their feet stomping against the treads, just like everyone else. As they take their seats, the chatter starts to get louder. They have arrived, and everyone knows it. What’s funny, though, is that they look absolutely clueless about their celebrity status. They look like five brothers who are there to watch a meet. They don’t posture or acknowledge the crowd. They just sit and whisper amongst themselves. I see Paul grab Sam in a soft headlock and give him a noogie, and it makes me laugh.
“They’re always like that,” a voice says from right behind me. Seth laughs. “One of them is always grabbing another one. It’s usually because one of them said something fucked up. But still.”
“It’s really great that they came,” I say. “They must love you a lot.”
He shrugs and looks uncomfortable, so I drop it.
Seth is wearing sweatpants over a singlet made in the school’s colors. I can see the straps at his shoulder where his open hoodie has shifted. He has on wrestling shoes, and headgear hangs from his fingertips.
“Hey, Seth,” someone calls out.
“Yeah?” he answers.
“Can I use your shoes after you’re done?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
The guy gives him a thumbs-up.
“Why does he need your shoes?” I ask.
He shrugs. “He doesn’t have any wrestling shoes.”
“Why doesn’t he have shoes?”
“Wrestling shoes are expensive, and he’s on a scholarship that pays for housing and not much else.” He shrugs again, looking slightly uncomfortable. “He wore my shoes for every match last year.”
The door behind us opens, and Sky walks into the room. She bustles straight over to us, kisses Seth on the cheek, and says, “Long time no see, Gabby.” She grins at me. “Sorry, I’m late, Seth. I got those things you asked me for.” She hands him a shopping bag from a sports store.
He opens it and looks inside. He motions for the guy who asked for his shoes to follow him to the bathroom. They both walk out of the open area.
“He doesn’t like to do good deeds in public,” Sky says quietly. “None of them do.” She shakes her head.
“What good deed?” I look toward the door they walked through.
But then Seth walks back in, and the other guy follows. The bag is gone, and they both have shoes on and headgear dangling from their fingertips.
“I bought the shoes for Seth, but they didn’t fit quite right,” she says with a wink. She jerks a thumb toward the bleachers. “I’m going to join the guys. See you later, Gabby.”
“See you later,” I say.
Seth walks back over to me.
“Your shoes didn’t fit, huh?” I ask.
“What?” he replies absently.
“Sky says she got you shoes, but they didn’t fit.”
“Mm-hmm,” he says.
I stare at him. “They weren’t even for you, were they?” I ask quietly.
He shakes his head and puts a finger to his lips, like he wants me to keep a secret. “Aunt Sky got them for me, but they didn’t quite fit right, and I had already scuffed the edge, so she couldn’t return them. It seemed a shame to let them go to waste. I mean, I couldn’t wear them. They were too tight on my toes.” He pauses for a moment. “That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”
There’s an art to giving without demoralizing the recipient of a gift, Pop says. You have to figure out how to allow them to accept it with dignity.
“It’s a shame that they didn’t fit you. And it’s a bigger shame that you scuffed them.” I make a tsking sound with my teeth.
“Aunt Sky told me next time I scuff a pair, I have to pay for them.” He winks at me.
“Sounds fair,” I chirp. I think my heart just grew two sizes. All because of a stupid pair of shoes, but they’re not a silly pair of shoes. They’re really not.
“Careful, or I’ll start to think you like me,” he teases as he reaches up and tugs one of the braids I still haven’t taken down.
I do like him. I like him very much. And that, in a nutshell, is a problem.
I don’t want to like him, mainly because I’m not sure I could trust him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Do you want to get something to eat after the meet?” he asks.
I shake my head again. “I can’t.”
His eyes narrow. “Can’t? Or won’t?” he asks.
“I have homework to do,” I explain.
“Want to do it at my apartment? We are in the same class. Same homework.” He nudges my shoulder with his.
“Maybe,” I say, my voice tiny.
He nods, and then the coach calls his name. He jogs over to his teammates.
I look up and find all five brothers waving at me, their faces open, their grins almost infectious. Heat creeps up my cheeks. I walk over to them and trudge up the bleachers.
“Hey, Gabby,” Matt says.
“Are you keeping our boy in line?” Paul asks as he leans to look around me toward the mat. The guys are running circles and dropping to one knee, then popping back up and doing it all over again. It’s called a penetration step, and it’s part of their warm-up.
“I don’t even try,” I admit.
Sam taps his temple. “That’s smart.”
“Are you guys planning to come back to the lake any time soon?” I ask. They came and brought their whole family over Christmas.
“We’re already planning it with your pop,” Paul says. “Sometime before the holiday, but after the campground closes. We want to do it before it gets cold so the kids can swim.”
“Something after Labor Day,” I say. The campground closes after Labor Day. We still have a few families that come after that, but not nearly as many. The water is cooler, but not so cold you can’t swim.
“That’s what your pop said.” Paul looks over my shoulder and grimaces as a camera flashes. “The paps are here,” he mutters.
“Where?” Sam says. They all look around.
Paul just tilts his head in the direction of the man with the camera and says nothing more. I look over and see a man with a big camera on the other side of the gym. It has a long lens, which he is taking advantage of.
“Sorry, Gabby,” Paul says. “If you find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow, don’t blame Seth.”
“I could think of worse things that could happen,” I reply with a shrug.
Someone from behind Paul leans forward and says something quietly to him. Paul shakes his head, but the man and three of his buddies get up, walk around the gym floor, and trudge up the bleachers on the other side. They stand in front of the guy with the camera. When the man leans, they lean. And when he tries to stand up and move, they move, too.
“Are they with you?” I ask.
“Just some guys we know from the neighborhood,” Paul says.
The guy with the camera gets frustrated and leaves, and the guys come back to sit behind the Reeds. Paul shakes hands with them.
It must be hard to live your life under a microscope.
A buzzer sounds, and I see the officials getting in place. “Got to go,” I say.
Paul sticks out a fist, so I bump it with mine. He is already concentrating on the upcoming match, though.
I walk to the end of the row of chairs that’s set up along the edge of the mat and take a seat. I look over and find G.L. Stanton next to me.
“You’re looking brilliant and empathetic today, Gabby,” he says. He nods like he’s chewing the words in his brain before he spits them out. “Those braids look very useful for keeping your hair out of your face. And that polo with the school logo makes your brain look quite large.”
A grin tugs at the corners of my lips. “You’re looking quite non-misogynistic yourself, G.L.,” I reply.
He grins. “Thank you. That’s totally the look I was going for.”
I bark out a laugh that I can’t hold back. G.L.’s smile broadens. Seth leans forward in his seat to look over at us, and G.L. immediately sobers. “Don’t get me in trouble, Gabby,” G.L. says playfully out of the corner of his mouth.
I concentrate on the match, even though I can feel Seth’s eyes on me the whole time.