Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ALLIE
Between school, practice, and spending time with Margie, the week practically flies by. Margie comes with me to Friday’s after-school practice. She claims it’s because she wants to see her siblings, but I know she also wants to see Jordan.
I leave her sitting on the bleachers before calling the girls into a huddle. “How are you ladies feeling today?” I ask.
My point guard, Peyton, announces, “The boys don’t seem to be getting better. I’m pretty sure we’ll beat them again in today’s scrimmage.” She sounds bored like she needs more of a challenge.
“We might not win,” Leah announces. “We need to be tougher on defense.”
“Speak for yourself,” Klea practically growls.
Leah turns toward her teammate so quickly I half expect her to lunge at her. “I am, Klea. But just because I’m the post doesn’t mean I’m on defense alone. You have to help.”
Before full blown hostility breaks out, I tell them, “You’re a team.
You all have to do your best at both offense and defense.
Leah, you need to jump to get the rebounds before the other team gets them.
” Then I address Klea. “And you need to help keep the path clear so Leah can get the layup without obstacles.”
Shelby, another point guard, adds, “I can’t wait to play a real game against other girls. I’m sick of the boys.”
Noah blows his whistle, signaling the scrimmage is about to start. I point to my first string and watch them run out onto the court before joining my co-captain on the sidelines.
Noah and I have done our best to act like nothing happened between us after we ate dinner together the other night. I’m talking about our kiss. My knees still tremble when I think about it.
While we’re doing an okay job pretending everything is normal, there’s still an underlying current of tension that makes it clear we’re both aware our dynamic has shifted.
“I see Margie’s here,” he says as I reach his side.
“She’s decided to ask Jordan if he wants to come to her first doctor’s appointment.” Then I ask, “Has Jordan talked to you any more?”
Noah shakes his head. “He’s trying very hard to pretend everything is normal.”
“Lucky him,” I say with more than a hint of bitterness. After all, Jordan isn’t the one who had to move out of his house or deal with all the stares. Even though I’m sure people gossip about him, too, Margie is the one taking the brunt of things.
Either Noah doesn’t catch my tone, or he agrees with me. Whichever it is, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he asks, “Want to have supper with me tonight?” His hands are in his pants pockets and he’s doing his best to look nonchalant.
“Tonight?” I ask like I have seven other offers on the table that I’m considering.
“We could grab a pizza or something.”
I should say no but I don’t want to. Even though I know nothing can come of it, I like spending time with Noah. I’m just afraid we’ll get into trouble if we go alone. “Maybe we could ask Margie and Jordan to join us.”
“Why?” Noah blows his whistle and calls a foul on one of the guys.
As the girls position themselves around the free throw lane, I answer, “To help them get on the same page.”
“They’ve got to do that on their own, Allie. We’re capped out on our ability to help them in that area.”
“I guess …”
“So, I’ll pick you up at seven?” he asks.
Picking me up instead of going straight from practice makes this feel like more a date than a friendly supper. But I don’t complain. Instead, I tell him, “Sure.”
My eyes are on Noah for the rest of training. He doesn’t seem nervous about the evening ahead, so maybe I’m making too much out of this. Maybe he really is just asking me out as a friend.
After practice ends, Margie approaches Jordan. He’s been side-eying her during the entire scrimmage and it’s obvious he’s not pleased.
Even though I can’t hear what’s being said, their body language speaks volumes.
Margie’s posture is squared off like a dock worker heading out to the picket line.
Not only does she look determined, she looks dangerous.
Meanwhile, Jordan, who stands several inches above his ex, looks sheepish and uncomfortable.
More words are exchanged before Margie turns around and marches straight out of the gym. Uh-oh.
Catching up to her, I ask, “Did you tell him about the doctor’s appointment?”
“Oh, I told him.” She starts to pace back and forth aggressively. Three strides in one direction and then three back. I stop her on her fourth loop.
“And?”
“He says he has a test to study for during lunch that day.”
“Can’t he study over the weekend or, say, Monday night?” I want to know. Anger is bubbling up inside of me.
“Apparently he’s going to be too busy. He’s going to look at colleges with his parents this weekend.”
I wonder if that means Jordan’s parents are coming around to the idea of helping the kids out in some way. Putting my arm around Margie, I tell her, “I’m sorry. I really am. I know this doesn’t seem fair.”
“Jordan still waltzes around school like nothing big is happening in his life and I’m … I’m …” she hiccups loudly before saying, “thinking about changing my name to Hester and sewing a scarlet letter on all of my clothes.”
I wrap my arms around Margie and hold onto her for a minute. Then I tell her, “I’m going out for dinner tonight. Why don’t you ask Leah and Decan if they want to have supper with you at my place. I’ll order a pizza for you.”
She sniffles. “I’d really like that, thank you. I miss them so much.”
“I know you do, honey. Life is strange for you right now. Have you talked to your parents at all?” I know she hasn’t when I’ve been around, but she goes for a walk every night. I figure she might do it then.
“No.” Stepping out of my embrace, she tells me, “I know where they stand. Plus, the ball is in their court. They are the parents, after all.”
I wish there were something I could do to help Margie mend her relationship with her mom and dad. But she’s right, future contact is really up to them. “Do you want to go back into the gym and ask Leah and Decan about tonight?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll text them. I don’t want to run into Jordan again. I’m afraid I might beat him up.”
Once we’re in the car, Margie texts her siblings. They’re both going to postpone previous plans to come over, but they’re not going to tell their parents. I cannot imagine the amount of tension in their house right now.
Once we get into the car, I put on my autumn playlist for background noise, so Allie doesn’t feel like she has to say anything.
As I turn onto Main Street, I look for my usual parking space.
I nearly run off the road as I pass Happy Snaps.
What is wrong with my parents? I can’t believe they’ve given Finley permission to use another picture of them.
And this time it’s even racier than the last.
I hurry to park, before telling Margie, “Go on up. I have a quick stop to make.”
As soon as she enters the building, I run back to Happy Snaps. Chimes ring as I walk through the door, and a disembodied voice calls, “I’m sorry, I thought I locked up. We’re closed.”
“Finley, it’s me, Allie!” I call back.
When she comes out of the backroom, she’s not alone.
My parents are with her. My mouth hangs wide open when I see what they’re wearing.
My dad is shirtless with what appears to be a thick layer of baby oil spread across his bare skin.
Meanwhile, my mom is in a dress that looks like she’s some kind of bar wench from a past era.
Finley greets, “Allie, hey! How are you? I’ve been meaning to call and set up another coffee, but it’s been a crazy week.”
“I can see that.” Gesturing between my mom and dad, I demand, “What’s going on here?”
“Allie,” my mom says while my dad tries to hide behind her like he’s been caught doing something untoward. Which—if you ask me—he has.
“Mom.”
“Dad and I are starting a new project,” she explains.
“Porn for senior citizens?” I want to know.
“We’re not naked!” my dad shouts, still hiding behind my mother.
“What’s your new project called?”
Finley fields that question. “I’ve started offering simulated romance novel covers. Isn’t that cool?”
I look at her like she’s lost her mind. “No.” Gesticulating wildly between my parents, I declare, “These are upstanding members of the community! My mother is in charge of the Christmas Bazaar at the church, for Pete’s sake.”
“What does one thing have to do with the other?” my mom wants to know.
“That new picture of you two out front sends a completely different message of what you two are about,” I tell her. “You look like a couple of swingers or something.”
“Now listen here, Allie.” My dad finally gathers the courage to step out from behind my mom. “Your mother and I have been happily married for thirty-five years. We are not swingers!”
“Although,” my mom feels the need to add, “we have discussed …”
“Stop right there!” I shout. Nothing good can come from hearing whatever she’s about to share. Worst case scenario, I spontaneously combust. Best case? I drop dead from the shock.
Just when I think this situation couldn’t possibly get any more awkward, the bell over the door rings again and Margie walks in. “Margie, what are you doing here?”
She looks from me toward the scantily clad fifty-somethings who call themselves my parents before answering, “I wanted to tell you that you had a delivery.” Why is that something she needed to follow me down the street to share? I would have seen whatever it was when I got home.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I’ll be home soon.”
“Who is this?” my mom wants to know.
Crap. I knew I’d eventually have to tell my parents about Margie. I just didn’t see it happening like this.
“Mom, Dad,” I say. “This is Margie Flynn. She’s staying with me for a while.”
“Are you Nathan and Holly’s daughter?” my dad asks. Before she can answer, he says, “I play golf with Nathan.”
“I am their daughter,” Margie replies.