Four
Four
The hours spent with Alex put me in a good mood; I’ve always thought he was serotonin in human form. I’m walking through hallways packed with students toward my next class when I hear my best friend’s voice chirping behind me: “Carol’s throwing a mega first semester kick-off party at her house, Friday after the game. We have to be there!”
“We have to?” I challenge, trying to remember who Carol is.
“Of course.” Tiff moves her hand between me and herself. “We’re mandatory.” The sullen look I give her should be enough to indicate my lack of interest, but she runs around to block me anyway. “Nessy, you need to have some fun.”
I snort a laugh. “You and I have very different understandings of the word ‘fun.’ Besides, I don’t even know this Carol person.”
Tiffany furrows her brow and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t remember her? She’s in Criminology with me, and she was a regular at all of Matthew’s frat parties last year. Tall, blond, dresses kinda weird.”
Carol. Tall, blond, weird. Not ringing any bells. Must be because I went to maybe three of those frat parties last year and never stayed very long. “I really don’t know her, Tiff.”
By now, we’ve almost made it to our sociology class, one of the few that Tiff and I have in common, and we climb the steps, dodging the other students coming up and down.
“So then it’s time to get to know her!” Tiff enthuses.
I roll my eyes. “I can’t just invite myself to a stranger’s house.”
We spot two empty seats in the third row and grab them. Once seated, Tiffany moves her hair behind her shoulders with a graceful gesture. “First of all, you’re not inviting yourself anywhere, you’re my plus-one. Secondly, who cares? Do you think I know all the people who are going?”
I consider her words, tracing small circles on the counter with my fingertip, lost in thought. “I don’t know, Tiff, the semester just started. I don’t want to fall behind.”
“The semester just started today, Vanessa. We literally haven’t covered enough material for you to fall behind.”
“But by Friday we will have! And then Saturday morning I have the first meeting with my reading group. I don’t want to miss that,” I counter.
“Yes, and I’m sure by Friday you’ll already be chapters ahead, like always. As for the reading group, you’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re going to party until dawn. C’mon, live a little!” She wriggles in the chair, begging me with clasped hands. I mull it over for a few seconds, uncertain, but in the end I decide to go. It’s what kids my age do, right? They go to parties, they have fun, they don’t hole up in their rooms with only books, Netflix, and the occasional bestie for company.
“Okay, okay, I’ll give it a shot.” I grimace, as though I’m agreeing to try a particularly unappetizing food.
“Yay!” she screeches, clapping her hands. Here’s the secret to keeping Tiffany Baker happy in one simple move: indulge her.
***
The rest of the day passes quickly between classes in English, creative writing, and French literature. On my lunch break, I decide to take some solo time and read in the student union. I have no desire to see Travis again, and I’m going to meet up with him at practice anyway. Thinking of practice, I check the clock, which reads four fifteen. I have forty-five minutes before I need to get to the gym, and I muse about what to do with that time. It occurs to me that Book Bin, a small new and used bookstore I love, is just ten minutes from campus. I text my friends immediately to see if they’d like to come. Alex has his photography class, but Tiffany agrees to meet me in front of the bookstore.
She rushes to the mystery section as soon as we arrive, while I walk slowly through the aisles, letting intuition guide me. As I wander through the old wooden shelves, I reach out and brush my fingers over the books, feeling for a little spark of something. I’ve always loved bookstores, with their stillness and the silence that hovers. It’s probably my favorite music.
In the mood for something a little different, I browse the fantasy section until I find something that strikes me: it’s about a clumsy girl who has the power to travel through mirrors and is given in marriage to a nobleman from a distant planet. Hmm, that doesn’t sound bad at all; if I weren’t so broke, I would buy it, which reminds me that I could really use a part-time job. I promise myself I’ll print out some résumés and start canvassing the town. Or maybe I can find something suitable on campus.
After the bookstore, we head for the Dixon Recreation Center, which is already teeming with students in basketball or football uniforms. Before entering the gym, we sit down at the Dixon Café for a snack. Tiffany gets frozen yogurt, I go for the pistachio gelato with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, my go-to choice.
We chat as we devour our treats, and I tell her about the way Thomas delighted in ruining my first class of the year. Tiffany doesn’t seem surprised; after all, his reputation precedes him. I sigh loudly when I look up at the clock to see that it is now five o’clock. We make our way toward the campus gym and I ask Tiff if she wants to come with me. Fingers crossed she’ll say yes, but unfortunately, she declines.
“If I see another basketball, I’m gonna scream,” she says. It’s enough for her to have to listen to Travis’s constant play-by-plays at home. It’s only when we are at the gym’s door, about to say goodbye, that I muster the courage to update her on my talk with her brother and our tentative new arrangement. The disappointment shows on her face.
“I just don’t understand how you can forgive him so easily.”
“It’s…complicated.” I shrug. There is a part of me, buried under layers of disappointment and resignation, that really hopes this time will be the last time. That Travis has realized his mistakes and will go back to being the sweet, sincere boy I fell for in the early days.
Tiff shakes her head. “You already know how I feel. He’s my brother, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see him clearly. You have to make him understand that you deserve more respect and that he can’t keep taking you for granted.”
“I swear, this is the last chance he’s going to get.” I know as I’m saying it that she doesn’t believe me, probably because I’ve said the same exact thing countless times before, but something about this time feels different. I feel like this really is the last one. I refuse to allow myself to keep being treated like garbage by someone who is supposed to love me. Heck, I’d be happy to receive half the care and consideration he lavishes upon his high school basketball trophies!
“Promise?” Tiff demands, extending her left pinky toward me. I entwine it with my own.
“Promise,” I say.
“Oh!” she says, rummaging in her bag. “Before you go, I got a little present for you.”
I don’t believe it. It’s the book I was leafing through in the bookstore. I turn it over in my hands, touched.
“I saw the way you were looking at it, and you deserve a little treat.” She smiles, her face nothing but sweetness.
“Thank you, Tiff, but you didn’t have to do that.” I’m moved by her thoughtful gesture, and a little mortified as well. She must have realized I couldn’t pay for the book, and that’s not a great feeling.
“It’s no big deal.” She shrugs. “Now I gotta run. See you tomorrow, gorgeous.” She gives me a big hug, and I reciprocate, squeezing her a little tighter than usual. I know she hates it, but I can’t help bugging her just a bit.
The gym is still mostly empty, but in the corner opposite the entrance I can see a girl sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall. She’s intent on a small journal in her lap, scribbling something urgently. I cross the gym and sit down next to her; who knows, maybe we can be friends. I’m usually all alone at these practices.
When she notices my presence, the girl tears her gaze from the diary and gives me a shy smile.
“Do you think they’ll give us an attendance award at the end of the year? We deserve it,” I quip.
“I doubt it,” she replies, rubbing the back of her head.
“Damn!” I snap my fingers in mock disappointment. “I was really hoping for that.”
She laughs, covering her face with hands chock-full of rings. Most of them are thin steel ones, resting at different heights on her fingers. Her laugh is gentle, pleasant to listen to. Her black hair is cut to just above her shoulders, she wears purple lipstick and large earrings in the shape of rhombuses. But it’s her eyes that really win me over: they’re green and magnetic, and I could swear I’ve seen them somewhere before.
“I am Vanessa, but everyone calls me Nessy,” I tell her, holding out my hand.
“Leila. Nice to meet you!”
“Are you new here? I’ve never seen you on campus.”
“Yes, it’s my first day of college. I’m in the Arts and Literature department,” she answers, a little awkward.
“Oh, a freshman! And we’re in the same department! How’s it been?”
“Not bad, but it’s only the first day.”
“I’m sure you’ll do well. The important thing is to meet the right people, and lucky for you, you have one right here,” I say pointing at myself and laughing.
“And here I was preparing myself for complete social isolation, at least for the first semester.” She gives me a wry grin. “Human relations are not my strong suit.”
“Welcome to the club, sister! Speaking of clubs, have you already signed up for any extracurricular activities? It helps a lot with making connections.”
“Actually, I was thinking about the French club, maybe the campus newspaper.”
“The newspaper is really popular. Probably the most in-demand extracurricular after theater and choir. I’d advise you not to waste time if you really want to join, because space is limited. I was interested too, but right now I have too many courses. Maybe second semester I’ll give it a try.”
“Thanks for the advice. I still have to get my class schedule sorted out.”
“Of course. But now tell me: Who is forcing you to come to these boring practices?” I ask her conspiratorially.
“No one, really. My brother plays on the team, and I… Well, let’s just say I like to keep an eye on him.” She smiles.
“What year is he in?” I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
“He’s a sophomore. He took a long break after the accident, and he just started training again this summer. Since he insists on getting back on the team, I’m here to make sure he doesn’t push himself too hard. He refuses to believe he has any limitations at all, and he needs someone to remind him.”
“Oh, an accident? I hope it wasn’t too bad.”
“A motorcycle accident a few years ago. It was the worst time of my life.” As she speaks, her voice cracks, and I regret my question immediately.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Leila clears her throat. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m sorry I’m killing the mood with all my tragedies. When he healed from his injuries, we decided to leave Portland. I did my last year of high school at Riverside, and now I’m here.” She hunches into herself, as if her entire life has been encapsulated in these few sentences, but the bitterness that lurks inside her eyes suggests to me that there is so much more to tell.
I stroke her arm, as if to give her some comfort and apologize once again. I want to slap myself for making her remember such a painful moment. Maybe my mother’s right, and I do talk too much.
“You know, new beginnings are always the hardest. But I’m sure you’ll be fine here,” I encourage her.
“Baker and Collins, this is your last warning. I see that again, and you’re benched.” We wince as we hear the coach’s voice thunder through the locker room door, followed by the rumble of heavy footsteps announcing the arrival of the boys. Leila and I exchange worried looks. When I turn toward the court, I see Travis heading to the side hoop with his head bowed, shoulders tense and breathing labored. Behind him is Thomas, his face dark with anger as he reaches the hoop on the opposite side of the court, his back to us. He runs a hand through his damp hair and from the insistent way he loosens the black bandana he keeps twisted around his wrist, I can tell that he’s agitated. The fiery glares that Travis keeps sending Thomas’s way can’t be helping.
I really hope my boyfriend hasn’t let Thomas provoke him. If the coach were to kick him off the team, his father would never forgive him. When he notices me, I smile sweetly at him, hoping to assuage some of his bad mood, but somehow that only seems to make him scowl harder. What’s the problem now? He wanted me here, and here I am, and now he’s mad? He’s never happy.
Travis and Thomas are joined by their teammates, Matthew and Finn. Matthew is extremely tall, with brown hair shaved on the sides and eyes the color of dark chocolate. He’s the only one of Travis’s friends that I really like. Finn, on the other hand, is a womanizer convinced that he can win over anyone with his alleged charm. He has an eyebrow ring, very short bleached blond hair and greenish-blue eyes. He is a handsome boy, sure, but there’s nothing else to him. Matt is famous for throwing crazy parties at his fraternity, Finn for being the one who makes them crazy.
The sound of the coach’s whistle brings everyone back to attention, and under his direction, the boys begin practicing runs, dribbles, and counterattacks. After a botched pass, however, the ball rolls over to Leila, who retrieves it and passes it gently to that jerk Thomas. In response, he gives her a wink. I can’t help but roll my eyes. My God, this guy really hits on everyone.
For a moment, I’m afraid I said that aloud, because Thomas inclines his head and allows his gaze to linger on me, lifting one corner of his mouth in a half smile. I answer with a scowl, hoping to snuff out that glint of amusement in his green eyes. But, in the end, I look away first.
“Collins! Move your ass! Back to your post!” the coach calls him back.
“What about you? Are you here of your own free will or did someone force you?” asks Leila, bringing me back to reality.
“My boyfriend plays basketball, ergo I am forced to come.” I snort.
“Oh God, it’s almost worse than having a brother on the team. I’m here for you.” She pats my shoulder, and I give her small hand a theatrical squeeze. “And who’s the lucky guy?”
“Travis. Travis Baker, number nineteen.”
Leila immediately spots Travis and, for a moment, seems disoriented. She squints her eyes, as if trying to focus on a blurry image, and then something strange happens. Her expression changes and becomes inexplicably more somber, and her face pales.
“He-he’s your boyfriend?” She points at him with the pen she was using earlier, blinking hard.
“Apparently,” I answer with some hesitation.
“How long have you guys been together?” She asks, her voice much calmer.
“Two years, give or take. Do you know him?”
“No. Sorry, I didn’t mean to get into your business.” She tucks her hair nervously behind her ears, stretches her legs over the gym floor, and lays the diary on top of her thighs.
“It’s okay, you didn’t,” I assure her.
Well, that was weird. Why did she react that way? Does she know him? Maybe.
Leila was at the party on Friday! She might have seen something more than “just a dance”? This is going to drive me crazy.
“So, who is your brother, then?” I ask, trying to dispel some of the strange awkwardness that has arisen between us.
“Number twelve,” she replies dryly, staring at the diary on her knees.
Are you kidding me? “Thomas—your brother is Thomas?” I stammer incredulously.
“Do you know him?” She looks stunned. Apparently now the roles have been reversed.
“No, not really. We have a class together.”
“Ah. Well, I feel sorry for you. My brother can be a real pain in the ass when he wants to be.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed that.”
“He’s difficult, but he’s not a bad person. He’s just…”
“An asshole?” It escapes my lips before I can stop myself. She looks at me, and I can tell she’s looking for a cute way to refute me, but then she gives up.
“Yeah, he’s an asshole.”
We laugh together, and as our laughter fades, I let my gaze wander to him. I had no idea that he had been forced to stop playing because of an accident. A bad one, apparently. In spite of myself, I feel a slight twinge of pity.