Chapter Thirty-Two
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Derek
Next day, the final bell rings. People run out of doors like bulls at a rodeo. I’m not in such a hurry. I change into my soccer jersey. Head to Mrs. Aldana’s classroom.
When I walk in, her eyebrows shoot up and her face brightens. A book is open on the desk in front of her, and she closes it firmly, giving me her full attention.
“Derek! What a beautiful surprise on a Wednesday afternoon. Don’t be shy. Come in! It’s just you and me and the Muses. What can I do for you?”
I shift my backpack and slowly step in. “Can I talk to you?”
“Please do!”
She sits down in one of the student desks in the front row and pulls one close beside her. I slide into the seat, trying to avoid her intense gaze.
“I can’t come to the club anymore,” I say, giving her a quick sideways glance. “I know I’m supposed to ’cause I got into trouble. But I got into even bigger trouble and I gotta quit.”
She leans back slowly. “Quit? Can you tell me what happened?”
I don’t think any talking I’ve done in the past week has helped any. If anything, it gives me a false sense of comfort, of resolution. “No. Not really,” I answer.
“Would you feel better if you did?”
I pause. “I mean …”
She nods like she’s coaxing a scared kitten to a bowl of milk. The stakes are low here, I guess. The worst has already happened.
“Jae’s uncle thinks I’m a piece of shit,” I say, “wants her to stay away from me. He did find me in her room, in my boxers, at night, when he wasn’t home. But he thought it was more than it was.”
Mrs. Aldana takes a deep breath, and for the first time ever, I think she’s out of words. “Okay,” she sighs out, and leans in slightly. “And there’s more? Tell me.”
“More? Yeah. Lots more.” Hot anger and frustration rise.
I press my fingers into my palms, somehow feeling less helpless with my hands balled up.
“Maybe if I still lived in a nice house and I had two parents at home and I didn’t fucking smoke and …
if my life weren’t so messed up. But that’s how things are, you know.
” And then, holy shit, I’m crying because Mrs. Aldana is rubbing my back like I wish Mom would do.
“Things are just …” My voice catches. “It’s not even my fault!
I wish it were. I wish it were my fault.
’Cause then I’d deserve this. But I don’t. And it’s not fair.”
“My,” Mrs. Aldana says. She squeezes my shoulder. “Oh my. Derek.”
“And Mrs. Aldana, this poetry stuff isn’t half bad.
It’s actually fun, if I’m being honest. And those nerds are all right.
I might actually miss them. But I can’t go anymore.
If I stay, Jae has to go. And she needs this.
It’s her special place. I don’t wanna take that from her.
I’m not just making excuses to quit, for real. I’m actually … It’s …” I choke up.
“Okay,” she says quietly. She takes a deep breath in and out, as if she’s meditating, looking for answers. “You like Jae, but her uncle does not like you because of your home situation?”
I nod.
“That’s a lot for anyone to hear. That you aren’t good enough for the love you want.”
My face glows fire hot and she gives me a knowing look. “You know that’s not true. Those external things don’t make you good enough or not good enough.”
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“It matters most what you think.” She pauses. “Do you want to tell me more about home? How is your mother doing?”
I turn away, look at the bulletin board covered with student reports. “Just ready to get the hell out of there.” I laugh, but it sounds hollow.
“If you ever need a place to go, our door is open. But you already know that.” She winks. “My husband won’t mind. You can use the backyard whenever you want, Derek, even if we’re not home.”
“You mean I can just come over? For real?”
“For real. I know how much you loved that house.” She pauses. “And about quitting the club. You don’t have to come to the meetings, but I still want you to write your poems and submit them to me every week.”
“That’s it?”
“And of course, you’ll be there for the open mic,” she says.
I inhale deeply and let out a long sigh.
Everything is shot to hell. But still, there’s a tiny fire somewhere in the deepest, darkest part of me that refuses to be trampled out.
You’ll be there. Those words are like oxygen bringing the fire to life.
I’ll be there, even if I can’t talk to Jae or touch her or hold her.
She’ll be in my orbit again, at least for that one night.
“Okay,” I say. “And Mrs. Aldana? Since I can’t work with Jae on the planning—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “We’ll take care of it.”
The locker room is empty when I get there.
I hear the shrill whistle outside and Coach’s voice shouting orders.
A part of me is itching to race onto the field and let go of everything.
Dribble the ball from foot to foot and let my lungs ache.
I want to smell the grass, feel the sweat dripping down my face.
Anything to tell me I’m still Derek, the star player, and I’m going to be okay.
But I can’t move. I sit on the bench in front of the lockers. Open my backpack and pull out my history book. I flip open to the inside cover, to the picture of us on the yacht. Jae in that yellow dress. Me, laughing.
I lick my bottom lip, which doesn’t hurt anymore. I know that’s how it’s supposed to work. You get hurt and then the pain goes away. I won’t always feel like this when I think about Jae, like there’s a knife sticking into my chest. But I wonder how long it’ll take to feel normal again.
The locker room door swings open and Henry strides in, already pulling his jersey up over his head. I snap the history book shut and stuff it into my bag.
He turns on the light switch. “What are you doing, man? Missing practice again? You realize you’re sitting in the dark, right?” He walks past me. His Mohawk is still perfectly spiked up and I’m convinced he mixes his gel with concrete.
He opens his locker, which has a smiling poop emoji on the door. “You okay, man?” he asks, pulling out a towel and wiping his sweaty face.
“I’m good,” I say. “Leaving early?”
He wipes the towel over the rest of his body and throws it back in the locker. “My mom called. Grandpa’s in the hospital.” He steps out of his cleats and his shorts and grabs clean clothes.
“Sorry to hear that. Text me later. Let me know how he’s doing,” I say.
Henry’s hand pauses on the way to grabbing his bag. “Really?”
I shrug. “Sure.” I take off my hat and run my fingers through my hair. “Don’t act so surprised.”
Henry grabs his bag and slams the locker shut. “Well. We’ve always been, you know. Just cool with each other. Nothing more.”
“I know.”
“But why?” He leans against the locker.
My face feels warm. Maybe a part of me wanted him to notice my distance. Now that he’s pointing it out, I want to crawl away. But it’s been a day full of confessions, so why stop now?
I take a breath. “When my dad died, I thought I could deal with it ’cause at least I had my best friend. And then all of a sudden … I didn’t.”
Henry’s face falls. “Man.”
“It’s not your fault,” I add quickly. “It’s just what it is. You were the cool new friend without issues, you know?”
Henry nods. He reaches into his pocket and passes me his vape. It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, a shiny silver with a glowing blue light at the bottom.
“Berry-gasmic Explosion?” I ask, turning it over in my hands.
“Huh?”
“The flavor.”
“No, dude, it’s like cherry or something.”
I hand it back to him. “No thanks.”
Henry stuffs it into his pocket and shakes his head. “Everybody’s got issues, Derek. My mom smothers me.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket and sighs. “Gotta go.” He stops halfway out the door. “You sure you’re okay?”
I nod.
He nods.
The door shuts behind him and the locker room is quiet again except for the steady drip from a leaky faucet.