by Nicole Nwosu
The smile on Jasmine’s mom’s face when she opened the door was similar to the one she used to wear, even in the absence of Jasmine’s dad.
“Macy, come in.” She ushered me in and my hands stayed in my pockets. “Why do you look uncomfortable?”
“Jas and I had a little falling out a while ago. Is she here?”
Her mom’s expression softened. “She’s in her room.”
I stood outside Jasmine’s door and was about to knock when the door flew open. Jasmine walked to her bed, stopping the music playing from her speakers. I shut the door behind me and took a seat on her desk chair. “Did you just get back?”
“Came straight here,” I said.
“Congrats on the win. Drew told me about the scholarship. When do you have to go to your first practice?”
“Late August. Look, can we cut to chase here?” Her silence gave me the answer I needed as I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. “I should’ve been more understanding and shouldn’t have forced you to tell me what was on your mind. What Beatrice does to me compared to what she says to you—it’s not the same thing. I hate that she makes you feel like you don’t belong at our school, because you do. You’re the most involved person at school. When you’re not there, I bug Andrew the whole time about how much I miss you—”
Jasmine let out a soft laugh. “And you tell him, ‘Don’t tell her I said that.’”
“I’m sorry she and other people do this and that I’m not as aware of it as I should be. She’s a racist, plain and simple, and you shouldn’t have to put up with that. You have our support—me, the guys, Stevie, and all your other friends. We’re definitely here for you no matter what, and I will be there for you even more in the future. People like Beatrice, they’re not even worth it. We can’t let what she says get into our heads.”
“I know that,” she agreed. “You’ve got to remember that too.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ve let her get into my head for a long time. I even had to deal with a mini version of her over the break.” Jasmine looked confused. “I’ll tell you about it later, but I’ve learned that I am who I am and you are who you are. If people don’t like that, they can fuck off.”
Jasmine’s eyes went wide and we burst into laughter. “You swore.”
“I did.”
Jasmine frowned. “I didn’t mean to try to change you, especially since you have a boyfriend. Putting you in clothes you don’t like wearing? I shouldn’t have done that. There isn’t anything to change. If you weren’t you, you wouldn’t be my best friend.”
“Can I hug you?”
Jasmine made a weird face at my sudden need for affection but I was already out of my chair and tackling her into a hug that she was quick to reciprocate as we fell onto the bed.
“This is weird,” she mumbled.
“I really am sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have exploded on you about opening up.”
“I didn’t know how to handle my parents separating even after I told you and Drew,” she said. “I still don’t. And when Dad left, wrecking our family for a completely different life—I didn’t know how to feel.”
“It’s okay to not know.”
Jasmine let go and rolled onto her back. “It’s one thing for your parents to divorce because they’re unhappy; it’s another to realize your dad cheated on your mom and knocked someone up. I didn’t want to talk about it because, look”—the laugh that left her mouth was pitiful—“I just fit into one of Beatrice’s little stereotypes again. My dad left.”
Her dejected tone made me frown and I grabbed her hand. “Jasmine, these things happen. Don’t see it as fulfilling a stereotype. You don’t fit into a box and neither does anyone else in your family. Don’t pay any attention to Beatrice. What matters is how you view yourself. You’re going to be okay. And your mom? She seems happier.”
There was a hint of a smile on my best friend’s face at that. “She does, doesn’t she?” As I hugged her once again, she cringed. “Yeah, this is going to take some getting used to. I initiate hugs here. Anyway, how was your break?”
I told her everything. When I finished, the look on Jasmine’s face mirrored what Andrew’s had been, making my stomach queasy. “Have you spoken to Sam?”
“Not since the win.”
“I know he, like you, didn’t want it to happen like this,” she said. “It may seem like he and Cedric have issues but he still cares for his cousin. I’m sure he has as much, if not more, guilt as you do.” Jasmine’s attention went to her beeping phone and she read the text message. “Brandon and Jacob are throwing a party tomorrow night. When’s Cedric coming back? I didn’t see him at school.”
“Tomorrow evening.” My stomach twisted at all the possibilities of how this could go.
“You’ll do it then?”
“I have to talk to him face to face. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to go to the party—I’ll have to find a way to speak to him alone.”
“It’ll be okay,” she reassured me, finally initiating a much-needed hug.
Saturday night, Stevie drove me to Jacob and Brandon’s home. When we entered, red cups littered the ground, music blared in my ears, and the house smelled like alcohol and sweat. Jon Ming flipped through his phone, changing the song that blasted through the speakers in the living room. Austin waved at us from the couch as we passed by, and Andrew and Jasmine approached us.
“You showed up,” Andrew said.
I pointed at his foot. “You showed up. “
Stevie’s hand left mine as she was pulled into conversation with someone else. “Have you seen Cedric?” I asked Jasmine.
“He got here a while ago.”
“I need to find him.” My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text message from Cedric. “Got to go.” Jasmine flashed me her crossed fingers as I headed to the basement where Cedric was.
Cedric stopped midconversation with one of his classmates and walked over to me. “Hey, Mace! Congrats again on the tourney,” he exclaimed, pulling me into a hug I immediately reciprocated.
My hand fiddled around with my camera bag. “Thanks, listen, can we talk?”
“I’ll get you a drink first, okay?” Cedric was gone, heading up the stairs before I could respond.
A familiar head of curly hair was in the corner of the room—and he wasn’t alone. Sam’s green eyes were bright and there was a smirk on his face. The girl in front of him was Beatrice.
Of all people in the school, in all of Port Meadow, it had to be Beatrice.
“Here you go.” Cedric stood in front of me and handed me a drink, not completely blocking my view of the two.
I took the cup from him. “What’s in here?”
Cedric raised his eyebrows. “Do you really think I would spike your drink?”
“I don’t know.” I flashed him a fake smile. “I barely saw you these past two weeks, maybe you’ve changed.”
He nudged me and over Cedric’s shoulder, I could see Sam’s focus on me as Beatrice talked to him. My heart dropped as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, his hand curling around her waist as she listened. It was the familiar way he was looking at her, with affection, acting similar to how he had when we were in Redmond. Even worse, he leaned in once again and . . . and then liquid splashed on my flats and I realized I’d dropped my drink.
Almost kicking my cup, I bolted up the stairs, not making it to the front door when a hand pulled me back. “Macy, what’s going on?” Cedric looked confused, his eyes wide at the sight of my flushed face.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I told him, wiping my eyes.
The guilt washed over me in waves at the sight of his confused expression.
“What do you mean?”
My hands went over my face and I sucked in a deep breath. “There’s, there’s someone else—”
“Someone else? What are y
ou talking about? Who else?”
“I’m sorry, I—I’m breaking up with you.” I sprinted out of the house, passing the people vaping on the front lawn. Passing the people about to enter the party. My heart squeezed in my chest as I ran, my legs taking me in the direction of a nearby park. When I slowed down to a walk as I approached the park, no one was nearby. I sat down on one of the benches, my fingers tapping against my phone screen.
A couple of minutes later, a hand tapped my shoulder. Andrew pulled me off the bench, his blue eyes dim. “Let’s go. Jas’s waiting in the car,” he murmured.
The car ride was silent. When Jasmine parked by the side of my house, I unbuckled my seat belt. “Thanks for the ride home. I’ll see you both at school.”
I ignored Andrew’s protests as I got out of the car. I trudged up the front steps, using my key to enter the house. My dad was the first to see me as I took off my shoes. He walked over to me instantly, wrapping his arms around me. “Honey, you look like your favorite soccer player died.”
I sniffed, cracking a smile. “Great analogy.”
“I’m cheering you up already.”
“I need a moment to myself.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Call me if you need anything.”
I went upstairs to my room, furiously changing into comfortable sweats and a sports bra. Then I went down to the kitchen, grabbed a carton of ice cream from the freezer, and made my way to the basement to put on a video game. I was in the middle of a good game when footsteps came from the stairs. Andrew hobbled down the stairs behind Jasmine.
“Macy—”
I interrupted Jasmine by handing her a controller. “Can we just play?”
She grabbed my hand, then took another controller to pass to Andrew, who took a seat next to me. I spent that night with them distracted, neither mentioning Sam.
I’d never had a week this awkward in my eighteen years of life.
Before spring break, I had a routine with the two Cahill boys. In the mornings, Cedric would usually meet me at my locker. Or we’d talk before lunch ended about plans to hang out after school or on the weekend. But now he avoided me at all costs, and I didn’t blame him.
With Sam, I would usually see him at lunch, at practice, or after school just hanging out. But now I could barely look at him and he knew that, apparently spending his lunch period catching up on work at the library.
Yet I couldn’t avoid him when, on Monday at school, I heard him under the railing of the staircase, annoyed. He was talking to Beatrice, whose face mirrored Sam’s.
“Why not?” she pestered.
“Because I don’t want to. I need to get to class.” His tone made it clear he did not want to talk to her again.
“Since when do you care about school?” She moved back, crossing her arms.
“Since when do you care about my business?” He tried to push past her, but she stopped him with her hand. His glare was strong enough to make me still. “Nothing happened between us on Saturday. I told you before, I wasn’t looking for anything you were expecting from me.”
Making my way upstairs, I ran over to class. Just my luck, the first person I had to pass on the way to class was Cedric. He locked eyes with me for a second before acting as if I wasn’t in front of him and moved past me wordlessly.
When I got home later that day, I scrolled through my messages, sighing at the memory of Cedric’s face. What was I honestly expecting? Of course he was going to look shattered; to him, the breakup came out of nowhere.
As I read over a text message from one of the boys, a hard knock came from the front door. Although I was in a sour mood, Austin looked pretty happy. His tanned skin seemed as if it was glowing. “You look very gloomy. You’ve been like this all day, especially at practice.”
“Thanks for noticing,” I muttered as we reached the basement, jumping back on the couch and putting my blanket over me.
He sat down next to me, getting under the blanket with me. “I know what happened at the party. Talk to me.”
“I’m upset that Sam was with Beatrice.” My throat tightened and I almost cursed myself over the idea of crying over a guy, but it wasn’t just him. “I’m upset that I broke up with Cedric.”
“You wanted to.”
“I did,” I admitted. “It’s the way I did it that bothers me. I ended it and walked away, giving him no opportunity to discuss it with me or ask questions. I cheated on him with his cousin. I’m upset that I did that—I wish I’d done everything differently.” I remembered Austin’s cheery mood when he had entered the house. “Why are you so happy by the way?”
Austin stretched his legs in front of him, his bright-blue socks peeking out. “I had some good pizza and Jon Ming sent me new music he made. More importantly, at that party, I . . . kind of got together with someone.”
“I’m assuming romantically.”
“You’re assuming correctly,” he said. “The guy I was texting weeks ago? It was him. Look, I know you don’t like romance stuff but Jasmine’s with Andrew, Stevie doesn’t know I’m gay, and I figured I needed to check in on you. You’re the one finding out first.”
“That’s great, Austin. I’m really happy for you.” I wanted him to feel like I had at one point—the good feeling of having someone be on your mind constantly, the awareness you got when they were close. He deserved that. “Are you ever going to tell other people about . . .”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t told my parents, and honestly having you guys know is enough. I don’t think I’m ready yet. Besides, we graduate in a couple of months. I think I can wait.”
“You’re scared.”
“I don’t know what could happen.”
I reached for his hand. “Whatever you decide to do, we have your back. No matter what happens, you’re still my friend—even as annoying as you are.”
That earned me a light punch on my arm. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
28
Memory
Boom! Boom!
Justin came out of our front door and spotted me in the driveway, kicking the ball against the garage door. “Are you okay?”
I stopped the ball with my foot. “I’m great.” No, I’m not.
This past weekend gave me more time to think. My volunteering days at the rec center were on hold due to the end of the winter house league season, allowing me to throw myself into school.
I needed to talk to Cedric, to explain things to him, but he was still avoiding me. Seeing Sam didn’t help, either, because even while I was avoiding him, he was still part of the team. He distracted me without knowing it during practice. When Coach ran a drill on Monday, I messed up—my attention on Sam, who was working on shots with Brandon—and causing the rest of the team to run laps until everyone’s legs burned.
The bristling memory of him with Beatrice the night of the party flashed through my mind every time I saw him, and I had scornfully pushed it away until today. Today, I allowed myself to be angry, not just at Sam with Beatrice, but at myself for making horrible choices. Kicking the ball felt like the best thing to do.
Justin stood in front of the wall. “Macy.”
“Move, Justin.”
“Stop being angry, you’re acting exactly like—” I kicked the ball toward him, aiming it to hit the wall right beside him. Justin yelped.
“I’m acting like what?”
“Like when Mom died.”
My hair had fallen out of my ponytail, the elastic band somewhere in the grass. “You were six when it happened.”
“I get it. Sam made you really mad.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I snapped, rearing my leg back to kick the ball.
When I did kick it, Justin had his hands out and reached over his head, catching the ball in his hands. “Holy shit, that hurt.”
“Give me my ba
ll.”
“You realize with the way you kick you could break a window, right?”
“Leave me alone,” I said, snatching the ball from his grasp.
Dad poked his head through the front door. “What is going on?”
Justin pointed at me. “She’s going crazy.”
“I’m not going crazy.”
“You could’ve killed me with that soccer ball.”
“The maximum damage that could’ve happened was you whining like a baby on the ground for a couple of minutes. It’s not that big a deal.”
“I don’t know what to do with her,” Justin said. “Your turn.”
Dad walked over to me. “Sit.”
As I seated myself on the grass, Justin was quick to grab the ball.
“What happened?” Dad asked.
“Do you really want to hear about my guy problems?”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “I always thought this would be your mother’s department.”
“How would she have gone about it, then?” I asked.
Dad crouched in front of me, reaching forward to ruffle my hair. I laughed, pushing his hand away. “She’d do something like that to make you laugh first. She used to tickle you whenever you were upset.”
“What would she say?” Justin sat next to me.
“She’d probably ask what was going on in the first place. And you would tell her everything because she’d want you to be able to come to her for anything.”
“Like how we do with you,” Justin said, and I bit my lip, knowing that I hadn’t done that with my dad for a while.
“Something happened during the break between me and Sam.” My gaze fell to the ground to avoid my dad’s concerned look.
“What had happened with Cedric?”
“I was still with Cedric at the time.” My stomach twisted at saying that out loud.
Dad was silent, probably processing the information. “Have you spoken to Cedric recently?”