Digging Deep

by Elena Delle Donne

  “Silver Elle,” Amanda sang, “silver Elle! It’s Christmas time in the park. . . .”

  “Stop it!” I cried, giggling.

  “I can’t help it!” she said. “My family’s been singing Christmas carols for the last three hours. That’s what happens when your dad plays the piano.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I said.

  “So, Merry Christmas,” she said. “Taking a Zobe break?”

  I nodded. “There’s no such thing as a day off when you have a Great Dane.”

  “That goes for any dog, I think,” she said.

  Freckles was sniffing Zobe’s legs while Zobe patiently stood there.

  “Good dog, Zobe,” I said.

  “He is a good dog,” Amanda said. “I’m glad you got him, so we have dogs to walk together.”

  “Yeah, it’s cool,” I agreed.

  “I should go back home,” Amanda said. “Dad needs a soprano for ‘O Holy Night.’ ”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that, but I wanted to find out.

  “Cool,” I said. “Let’s definitely set up an official doggy date before the break is over.”

  She smiled. “Sure. I’ll text you later. Bye, Silver Elle!”

  “Bye,” I said, and I smiled all the way home.

  Running into Amanda was a pretty nice present on Christmas Day, I thought. Even nicer than fancy basketball shoes!

  9

  Awkward!

  Adventure League II! 7 p.m. tomorrow at the mall. Who’s in?

  The text popped up on my phone, and I saw it was a group text from Caroline to our lunch table crew, and Amanda.

  So in!! Avery replied.

  Me too! I chimed in. The first Adventure League movie had been awesome, about a group of female professional athletes who searched for treasure in dangerous places when they were in the off-season. I knew I was going to love the second one.

  Amanda replied next. Sorry, I gotta go to my aunt’s.

  Then Patrice. Mom says I can go!

  Finally, Natalie and Hannah weighed in.

  Can’t make it! Natalie texted.

  Me neither, Hannah added.

  I thought it was cool that Caroline was organizing a movie for all of us, and except for being sorry that Amanda couldn’t make it, I didn’t really notice exactly who was going and who wasn’t. It was still holiday break, and I knew a lot of people weren’t around.

  The morning of the movie Caroline sent a text saying we were going to the movie theater in town instead of the one at the mall. No big deal. But it led to kind of a big problem.

  When Mom dropped me off at the theater, I found Caroline and Patrice right away.

  It’s awesome that Patrice is here, I thought. I think this is the first time she’s ever gone out with any of us, except that time she came to my house for dinner!

  Avery arrived at the same time as I did.

  “Are we waiting for anybody else?” she asked.

  “Just us,” Caroline said. “Come on, let’s get tickets.”

  We got our tickets and then headed into the crowded theater lobby.

  “Snack bar!” Avery called out. “I can’t watch a movie without popcorn.”

  “Even after dinner?” Patrice asked.

  “I saved room,” Avery said. “I’ll get a big one and we can share it.”

  “Thanks, Avery,” Caroline said. “I’ll share my candy with you.”

  I bought a bottle of water and the four of us followed Avery over to the stand where you butter your popcorn. We passed by the soda dispensing machines, and I spotted a head of pink hair from the corner of my eye.

  Natalie, Hannah, and Bianca were all filling up cups of soda and laughing. That’s when it registered: Natalie and Hannah had said they couldn’t come to the movies with us. And here they were with Bianca.

  Behind me, Avery spoke up. “Hey, guys. Thought you couldn’t go to the movies with us?”

  Hannah froze and looked at Natalie. Then it dawned on me: They’d thought we would be at the mall theater. Had they come to the one in town just to avoid us?

  “Well, our plans changed,” Natalie said. “Anyway, we’re not even going to see Adventure League II. We thought the first one was kind of lame.”

  “You should have told us,” Avery pressed them. “We would have picked another movie.”

  Natalie shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Enjoy your movie!” Bianca called out cheerfully. But boy, was the air thick with awkwardness!

  “Come on, our movie’s starting,” I said, and I, Avery, Caroline, and Patrice walked away.

  Avery was furious. “You know, I told those two they needed to get over it, Elle, or you’d never come back!”

  I stopped. “What do you mean?”

  “I just mean they’ve both had an attitude since you left the team,” Avery said. “You said so yourself. So I talked to them and said they should be nicer to you, or you’d never come back to the team.”

  “They were never the real problem,” I reminded her. “It was Coach. And Bianca. And what made you think I would even come back?”

  “Well, you said so yourself that volleyball is only temporary,” Avery said. “I guess I thought maybe you’d think about rejoining the team. There’s still time before the season ends.”

  My mind was spinning. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when Lauren’s wrist gets better,” I said. “I might just go back to having extra free time. I might stick with the volleyball team. I mean, I don’t even know if I’ll ever play basketball again.”

  A worried look crossed Avery’s face. “I know,” she said. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about this now. Let’s go see the movie.”

  I was freaking out a little bit inside. It seemed like Hannah and Natalie didn’t even want to be my friends anymore. And it was so weird that they were hanging out with Bianca. I didn’t even think they really liked her!

  But what freaked me out even more was Avery’s remark that she thought I would come back to the basketball team. I mean, I’d never said I was giving up on basketball forever. But she seemed to think I would go back to it right away, and that’s not something I was sure I wanted to do.

  Luckily, I stopped freaking out when the movie started. It was just as awesome as I hoped it would be. My favorite character had always been Athena, the professional basketball player, but when I watched the film this time, I paid attention to Julie, the Olympic volleyball player. She was pretty cool and had some awesome volleyball skills that I wished I had too. I made a note to watch the US women’s team from the last Olympics if I could find it on the Internet when I got home.

  It was almost 9:30 when the movie ended and the credits rolled. We all got up—except for Patrice. I looked down and saw that she was sleeping!

  I gently nudged her. “Patrice! You okay?”

  She woke up and yawned. “Oh yeah, sorry. Just really tired.”

  “Is it part of what you told me?” I asked quietly. “Headaches, feeling tired, hurting knees, stuff like that?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you tell your mom?” Avery asked.

  Patrice shook her head. “Not yet. I’m still worried she’s just going to think I’m faking.”

  It bugged me that Patrice hadn’t told her mom. So when my mom picked me up from the mall, I decided to tell her.

  “How was the movie?” Mom asked.

  “Really good,” I replied. “It was a little weird in the beginning, though, because Hannah and Natalie came to see another movie, after they told us they couldn’t come with us. I think they’re avoiding me.”

  Mom sighed. “Friendships can be difficult at your age, Elle. You and your friends are still figuring out who you are and the kind of people you want to be with.”

  “They think I ditched them as friends for my volleyball friends,” I said. “But that’s not true. They’ll always be my friends, no matter what team I’m on.”

  “Have you told them that?” Mom asked.

&
nbsp; I had to think about that. “No, not exactly. Avery talked to them.”

  “Maybe you should be the one to do that,” Mom said.

  I nodded. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I said. Then I brought up Patrice. “So, Patrice hasn’t been feeling well. But she doesn’t want to tell her mom, because she thinks her mom will think she’s faking it to get out of basketball.”

  Mom raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure Coach Ramirez would want to know if something is wrong with her daughter. How is Patrice feeling?”

  “She gets headaches a lot,” I reported. “And she feels tired all the time. She even fell asleep during the movie.”

  “My goodness!” Mom said.

  “Oh, and she says stuff hurts her, like her knees and elbows,” I said.

  Mom frowned. “This sounds an awful lot like Lyme disease.”

  “I’ve heard of that,” I said. “You get it from ticks, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it’s caused by bacteria transmitted through the bite of a tick,” she said. “It can be serious, but it’s manageable. I’m going to give Coach Ramirez a call and talk to her about it.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I was getting worried about her.”

  “I hope you’ll always come to me when you’re worried about something,” Mom said, and I reached over and squeezed her arm. How cool was it to have a Mom I could talk to about stuff? I don’t think I’d ever been too scared to talk to her about anything—and only now did I realize how lucky I was.

  “Love you,” I said.

  “Love you too, Elle.”

  10

  A Fresh Start

  Happy New Year!” Avery greeted us at the front door.

  “Thanks, Avery,” Dad said. “Only four hours and forty-seven minutes left to go!”

  Mom, Dad, and I walked inside Avery’s house, which was filled with her neighbors. Grown-ups gathered around the dining room table, which was piled with food, and little kids chased one another around the living room. On the TV, people wearing coats, scarves, and hats gathered outside in New York City to watch musicians perform and a giant glittery ball drop in Times Square.

  Avery hugged me. “I’m so glad you made it!”

  “Me too,” I replied. Avery’s family had invited us to their New Year’s party every year, but we usually stayed home with Beth. Beth always fell asleep before midnight, so we did too.

  This year Beth’s babysitter offered to stay with her, so we ordered in Chinese food and all had dinner together. Then Jim and his girlfriend Alyssa headed out to a party and we drove to Pine Creek, where Avery’s family lives. (That was one of the things about going to a private school in Wilmington. The students there lived in all different towns. Sometimes I wished Avery lived next door, like Blake did!)

  “My goodness, Avery, you look lovely!” Mom said.

  Avery’s dark brown hair flowed down her back in loose curls, and she wore a silvery dress with silver ballet flats to match. I had gotten dressed for the party in my nicest jeans and the WNBA T-shirt Dad had given me for Christmas.

  “Thanks,” Avery said, and then she grabbed my arm. “Come on, Elle, you’ve got to try Dad’s brownies before they’re all gone.”

  Avery’s house is usually very peaceful and calm, because Avery is an only child, but also because her mom is the chillest person I’ve ever met. But tonight the house was bananas. Avery and I had to push our way to the food table. It was loaded with food that her parents had made and her neighbors had brought: grapes, cheese, hummus, mini pizzas, cookies, brownies, tiny hot dogs, and more. If my belly hadn’t been full of pork lo mein and dumplings I would have tasted everything. But I did have room for one of Mr. Morgan’s brownies.

  We grabbed the brownies and made our way to a corner of the room. Avery’s mom approached us, holding a metal bowl with little pieces of paper and pencils in it.

  “Elle! Happy New Year!” she said, giving me a hug. She looked as festive as Avery, but in a different way. She wore a purple flowy dress and a bunch of colorful beaded necklaces. She had the same friendly brown eyes that Avery did.

  She handed me paper and a pencil.

  “What’s this for?” I asked.

  “Some people make resolutions on New Year’s Eve,” she replied. “But in this house we also get rid of what we don’t want in our lives any more. Write down something you want to get rid of and throw it in the firepit outside when you’re done.”

  Somebody called her name then, and she left. I looked at Avery. “I’m not sure what to write.”

  “Let’s go where it’s quiet,” she said, and she led me to a small room off the dining room—the Morgans’ meditation room—where we sat down on some cushions on the floor.

  I felt myself let out a breath. “I love it in here,” I said.

  “It’s a good place to think,” Avery agreed.

  “So, what did you write?” I asked her.

  “Well . . . ,” she began slowly. “I wrote that I wanted to stop being insecure about the way I look.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “But Avery, you’re gorgeous! What are you talking about?”

  “I am not social media gorgeous,” she shot back. “I have super bushy eyebrows and I’m starting to break out all the time.”

  “All those people on social media are using filters,” I argued. “Nobody looks like that in real life.”

  Avery sighed. “I know,” she said. “But it doesn’t feel like that, most of the time. That’s why I added it to the firepit. See how that works?”

  I nodded. “I get it,” I said. I quickly wrote down: Stop feeling bad about my height.

  That wasn’t going to be easy, I knew. But it was getting easier. Adopting Zobe had helped.

  “Can I see?” she asked, and I nodded. She looked over my shoulder and I showed her. “Good one,” she said. “Anything else?”

  I closed my eyes and thought. Then I opened them and wrote: Stop feeling guilty about quitting basketball.

  “You still feel guilty?” Avery asked.

  “I do,” I said. “Like at the movies the other day, when you said you were still hoping I’d come back to the team.”

  “Well, I’m allowed to hope that,” Avery said. “But just because I do doesn’t mean you have to feel guilty. Does that make sense?”

  I nodded. “I guess so.”

  “So, do you think you might come back?” she asked.

  “I honestly don’t know!” I replied. “Every time I think about it, I remember how miserable I was all the time.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t realize you were miserable. That’s pretty serious.”

  “Well, I was,” I said. “There was so much pressure! I don’t feel that kind of pressure on the volleyball team. It’s a lot more fun.”

  “Maybe there’s not as much pressure because you’re only filling in for Lauren,” Avery suggested.

  I nodded. “That could be. But also, Coach Patel is a lot nicer than Coach Ramirez. And nobody calls me names or gives me a hard time, like Bianca does.”

  “That’s fair,” Avery agreed. “But didn’t you have any fun at all playing basketball?”

  I thought about it. “I guess I did,” I said. “I mean, I love all my friends on the team. But then the bad stuff got worse than the good stuff.”

  “When you said you might never play basketball again, that kind of freaked me out,” Avery told me. “I mean, that’s a big thing to say.”

  I sighed. “I know. I don’t think I meant it. I do think about playing again someday. But just not now.”

  I wrote again on my paper. Stop being so indecisive!

  “Anything else you want to write down?” Avery asked.

  I thought about it. “I want to fix things with Hannah and Natalie. I still haven’t done that.”

  “So maybe say something like, ‘No more problems with Hannah and Natalie,’ ” Avery suggested.

  “That sounds good,” I agreed, and I added one last statement to my paper.

  Avery jumped to he
r feet. “To the fire!” she said.

  “To the fire!” I echoed.

  We headed out to her backyard, where a bunch of people were gathered around the firepit, including both our dads. I folded my paper in half and then in half again, so nobody would see what was written on it.

  “Do I have to say anything?” I asked Avery.

  She shook her head. “Nope. Unless you want to.”

  I tossed the paper into the flames. Good-bye! I thought.

  This may sound weird, but as I watched the paper burn, I felt better. Lighter, somehow. And excited for the new year to start.

  Avery looked at her phone. “Three and a half hours until midnight,” she said with a sigh. “It always seems to take forever for midnight to come, every year. What should we do?”

  I glanced over at the basketball hoop hanging from her garage and wiggled my eyebrows. Avery grinned.

  “Let me change into my sneakers!”

  “And let’s put jackets on,” I added. “It’s chilly out!”

  A few minutes later we were shooting hoops in the driveway. As we played, more people came to join us: my dad, some of Avery’s neighbors, and a couple of kids. Soon we had a decent game of pickup going.

  Before we knew it, Avery’s mom called to everybody outside.

  “Come on in, everyone! It’s almost midnight!”

  Avery and I looked at each other. I knew I had sweat stains under my armpits. Avery’s hair was plastered against her face. We laughed.

  I realized that I’d had more fun playing basketball that night than I had in a long time. That meant something. It meant I could have fun playing basketball. And that I still liked it.

  We went inside to watch the giant ball drop. We drank sparkling apple cider from plastic champagne glasses, and Dad made Avery and me each eat twelve grapes at midnight, because that’s supposed to be good luck in Italy. Then it was time to go, and Avery and I hugged.

  “Best New Year’s ever?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Definitely,” I agreed.

  I couldn’t wait to see what the new year would bring . . . and if basketball would be a part of it.

  11

  Cheers to Friendship