Ellie
I’m going back into battle. And by “battle,” I mean I have another tennis tournament, and no, I’m not talking about the actual matches. Did the gladiators of old get driven to the Colosseum in their mommas’ minivans? I’m gonna go with no. Though my tennis skirt does have enough pleats that it looks kind of like one of those armor things with the leather strips. If they came in lavender.
I’m going to ignore them all. Keep my head high. I’m already steeling myself for it. And then I think about what Scarlett said. About the girls who didn’t look so bad. I pull out my phone and do something I promised I wouldn’t do (again). I open Discord and read everything from that night.
There’s more of it now, even though the General channel moved on to other stuff weeks ago. After I closed Discord that night, the replies kept going. And going. A lot of them are the same. Hateful, terrible things from Macy/Autumn/Stephanie/Riley/Emily Rae. But I’m not interested in what Emily Rae has to say anymore. I focus on the two likes on my apology—from Sadia and Heather—and I search to see if they’ve posted. I scroll down down down. They definitely don’t seem to be part of the dragging. Yet. And then there it is, Sadia’s profile picture. I wince as I read.
Sadia: Hey guys, I’d like everyone to keep in mind that those were Ellie’s private thoughts, and that she probably would have worded them differently in a group setting. I’d also like to remind everyone that Ellie is in a vulnerable position, calling out potential cheating by someone who has a lot of power on this team. Please think of the difference in privilege here. I don’t think Ellie should be dragged for having her honest feelings revealed.
Ohmygosh, she stuck up for me. It gives me a warmth that spreads to my toes. There’s only one like on the post, Heather’s, but just the fact that I’m not alone means everything right now. I rush to hit the like button too. Crap, this reply was weeks ago. She probably thinks I don’t even care.
I scroll further, knowing instantly that the next set of posts are the inevitable backlash, holding my breath as I read. It’s everything bad you might imagine. And then a post from Heather.
Heather: I really have to agree with Sadia here. Ganging up on Ellie is not cool, for the reasons she mentions and others.
These girls are amazing—Sky would love them. They don’t take any shit from anyone either. How am I not friends with them?
A reply from Emily Rae is next: Ohmygosh, I’m not dragging her. Just because I’m defending myself. I’m allowed to do that.
Right. That’s how. I was so busy trying to get Emily Rae to like me that I missed out on making friends with some really great girls.
Sadia: Thanks for the support, Heather
I wonder if I’m too late.
Momma pulls into the parking lot of the tennis academy that’s hosting this weekend. A bunch of girls are already warming up. Two in particular are stretching by the bleachers.
There’s only one way to find out.
“Hi,” I say.
They stop stretching to look at me. Not the way Emily Rae and her crew do—like I have tentacles sprouting out of my face. More like they’re surprised. I guess I can’t blame them.
“I’m sorry I ran off after the last tourney.” I fidget with my ponytail. “There was . . . kind of a lot going on. And I’m also sorry for not replying back on your replies on that Discord thread, the awful one? I stopped reading it after the first few hours, and I only just read everything today. It was really cool of you to stick up for me.” I hesitate, trying to find the right words, the ones that will tell them I wish I was their friend and I’m sorry for probably seeming stuck-up and oh, man, how do I say this without seeming weird? “I’m sorry I didn’t notice before. I should have noticed.”
I try to pack all of my feelings into that last sentence so they’ll know what I’m trying to say.
“Well, yeah. It’s important for us to stick up for each other,” says Sadia, and I can’t help but wonder how many opportunities I’ve had to stick up for her but didn’t.
“Yeah, Emily Rae had it coming. She’s Prince Joffrey without any of the redeeming qualities.” Heather grabs the bleachers with one hand and pulls her leg back in a quad stretch.
I laugh. “Um, well, cool.” And then there’s one of those awkward pauses. “So, uh, I guess I’m gonna go warm-up. I’ll see you guys.”
I give a little wave and walk away, but before I can get more than a couple of steps, Sadia calls out, “Hey, Ellie. You want to stretch with us?”
“Yeah.” I grin. “Yeah, that would be awesome.”
I glance across the court at Emily Rae, who happens to be glaring daggers at me. But you know what? It doesn’t sting the way it used to.
Skyler
Bennett throws the softball to me, and I catch it and toss it back. I’m capable of throwing it twice that fast, maybe three times that fast. But today, I don’t throw it like a pitcher. Just like a kid having fun.
I’m learning to listen to my body instead of fight it. Playing when I can and resting when I can’t. I go swimming with Ellie most days because it’s low impact. I don’t know if the meds are working yet—it’s too early to tell. And I’m still not sure if I can be a varsity pitcher again, but right now, playing catch with Bennett by the lake feels pretty great.
The moms are sitting in lounge chairs on the dock. After the initial meeting and mortifying exclamations over how adorable he is, they mostly don’t watch us.
I hear a car pull up out front, but I don’t really think about it. Then I realize that my dad is walking toward me with the biggest grin on his face. I forgot he was coming today.
“Hey!” He runs over and gives me a hug. “Well, this is great! Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug.
“Wow, I can’t believe it. You’re back. You wanna throw the ball with me? I can’t wait to call your coach.”
I clench the ball tight in my fist.
“Um.” You can do this. “Look, this isn’t going to be like how it was before. I need to be in charge of this myself, because otherwise, I get all worried about what you’re going to think and I try to push myself too hard.”
His goofy frat-boy face goes serious. Bennett pretends to be very interested in the horizon. “Hey, I’m just so excited you can play again. I don’t mean to push.”
“I appreciate that. I may try to play again this season. But you can’t just walk in here and play softball with me like everything’s fine. I need to be able to be honest with you about how I’m doing health-wise.”
“Okay.” He rubs my shoulder. “Hey, Skyler, I’m sorry. All I want is what’s best for you.”
I nod. “Good. And I need to be able to talk to you about how I feel about the affair.”
His eyes go wide. “Whoa, hey, are you sure that’s something we need to talk about?”
“Yes.” I glance over at Bennett and blush. “I mean, not right now, obviously, but someday. If you want to be in my life, I have to be able to be honest with you.”
“Well, okay. That’s what we’ll do.”
He claps me on the shoulder awkwardly. The silence is so uncomfortable, he finds a reason to go into the house, stat. (Apparently, “sweet tea emergencies” are a thing.)
Mama watches him walk up the stairs to the porch. Then she comes over and squeezes my arm, eyes soft and intense at the same time. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
Which is weird, because that’s usually a question she asks Scarlett.
I smile. “I’m good.”
This time, it’s the truth.
Scarlett
I actually hug my dad. Well, I let him hug me and I don’t flip him the bird or anything. I still don’t know if she’s going to take him back (neither does she—it changes weekly, if not daily). But I’ve learned to accept that whatever is going on between him and Mama is their own mystery. I don’t stick around while he finishes his sweet tea though. My newfound clarity only takes me so far.
Amelia Grace is in the carriage hou
se getting her stuff together—sunglasses, towel, sunscreen—like she’s about to go down to the dock, but she stops when she sees me.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
We smile at each other in that awkward way where you try to contain your joy because it’s too embarrassing to show it all on the surface. Just when I think the sheer force of our dorky smiles may explode through the windows, Amelia Grace asks, “Do you want to go ride Jet Skis?”
Thank. Goodness. “Yes!” I say.
I realize the carriage house is unusually quiet. “Is Ellie here?”
“No.”
It is a heavy no, the kind that contains a message: We are alone. And like every other time we’ve found ourselves alone the past couple weeks, we end up winding toward each other. She stands in front of me. I grab her hand.
We both let out humongous sighs of relief.
Look, there are only so many covert glances you can exchange before you start to feel like a walking taser.
“How are you doing?” I ask. She knows I’m asking about her mom without me saying it.
“Okay.” She looks at our clasped hands and smiles. “Better.”
“Thank you for staying.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“I know. And I know it wasn’t just for me, it’s about you too, but I’m so glad you’re here, and I’m sorry I keep—”
She presses her lips against mine, and the words and the worry disappear, and there is only us and this moment and no matter what happens next, we’ll be fine. Every time I try to apologize, she kisses me. It’s probably my 376th favorite thing about her.
The door opens, and we jump apart. Skyler bounces up the stairs. Amelia Grace’s cheeks are so red, you could melt a popsicle on them.
“Think I’m gonna go Jet Skiing,” she announces loudly and with absolutely zero stealth. She looks back at me.
“I’ll meet you down there,” I say.
Skyler watches Amelia Grace walk away. She raises her eyebrows at me.
“Can we talk?” I ask in my gentlest voice. I gesture toward the couch.
My sister looks shocked. Probably because she was expecting a sarcastic remark and not an invitation to share our feelings.
“Yeah, totally.” She sits down, and I sit next to her, stiffly, like I’m not sure how we do this.
“So, how are things with Daddy?” I ask.
“Oh. Um, they’re good. It went okay.” She frowns at me. “Is—is that what you wanted to talk about?”
“Not exactly.”
I clench and unclench my hands on top of my legs. Skyler will be totally cool with this. She will be happy for me, I know it, and there’s a 200 percent chance she will hug me. So why is this so hard?
“Do you remember when you asked me if I liked Amelia Grace?” I finally ask.
“Yes.” Her grin is bordering on a smirk.
“Well, you don’t have to look so cocky about it.”
She laughs. “I’m sorry! I’m not! Yes, I remember asking you that.”
She is no longer smirking (on the outside).
“I do like her.” I say it to my cutoff shorts. “She and I are . . . together.”
She doesn’t reply, and I hazard a glance at her face, and her eyes are positively beaming out joy, but she’s trying to keep it contained.
I smile, I can’t help it. Apparently, that’s the straw that breaks her because she emits a high-pitched squeal and practically jumps into my lap, hugging me.
“I am so excited for you! And her! And you! Aw, I’m so excited for both of y’all because you’re both so wonderful and you deserve to have that wonderfulness back tenfold, and I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” She disentangles herself.
“It’s fine,” I say. It actually feels really good, but I’m not telling her that.
“Does anyone else know?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I’m going to tell Mama and Daddy. Eventually. And I’m also going to tell them that I’m bi.”
Skyler gives me another big smile, but she keeps her hands clasped in her lap this time. I appreciate that she does that.
“Well, whenever you’re ready to tell them, I’ll come with you. I mean, if you want.”
I think about how support doesn’t have to feel like some embarrassing thing you need because you aren’t equipped to do things by yourself. Because I could. Tell my parents myself, I mean. I’m strong enough to handle it. But I want my sister with me.
“I’d like that.”
Amelia Grace
“Hi. Hi there,” I say.
Baby Isa looks up at me so serious. I can feel the warmth of her tiny body against my chest. I’m snuggled up with her on a couch at the big house so Val and Heidi can have a second to eat lunch. Heidi sits at the kitchen table, and Val brings her a plate, and it’s such a small thing, but there is. So. Much. Love.
“You have the best family in the world,” I whisper to baby Isa. “I hope you know that. Your moms and your aunts and me and Scarlett and Ellie and Skyler.”
I sniff the top of her little head. She smells like magic.
The moment only lasts a few more minutes before she starts making a grumpy face and tries to eat my shirt.
“Um. Heidi?”
Heidi turns. “Yep. Bring her here. It’s time for her to nurse. I’ll just try to eat the rest of this sandwich without dropping any tomatoes on her head.”
I get up, but I am clearly not moving fast enough because baby Isa goes into full-on rage crying. I pass her to Heidi.
“Hey,” says Heidi, pulling down her shirt on one side and popping Isa on with precision. “It’s okay. You’re okay. So hungry today. I know.”
Isa stops crying.
“I feel the same way when I’m hungry,” says Heidi.
Ellie comes in and plops down beside me on the couch. “Mom says I have to start packing soon.”
I wrinkle my nose, and she makes a sad puppy face. It’s hard to believe there won’t be many more days like this. In a week, I’ll be starting senior year at a new school. But I’ll be starting it with Scarlett.
“Thanks again for all your help with the new school paperwork.”
She smiles. “Anytime.”
There’s a knock at the front door, and Aunt Adeline goes to get it.
“Hey!” she says, and I can’t hear what the other person says back, but I do hear footsteps, and then there is Aunt Adeline in front of me, and she is not alone.
“Mom?”
It’s really her. Standing in the living room in khaki shorts and a ponytail and looking like there are a million things she wants to tell me. Everyone else is as speechless as I am, even the aunts, and I wait, and for a couple seconds, we just look at each other. And then she finally finds the words.
“I thought we could look for an apartment tomorrow. It’d have to be something small, but—”
Her voice breaks off mid-sentence, and everyone is watching me, and her eyes, they’re scared. She’s afraid I won’t forgive her.
I almost cry. Almost say “I love you.” Almost everything. We’ve been through something so terrible that I didn’t think we’d ever make it through to the other side, and now we just might. But she chose him over me, so many times and for so many years, and I don’t know where to begin or if it’s possible to find enough forgiveness for someone who hurt you so much.
But somewhere in the shapes of her face, I can find the woman who used to read Nancy Drew books to me when I was sick and who works magic with newborn babies and who could do so many great and unimaginable things now that she’s out from under his shadow.
I smile. “I’ll go pack my stuff.”
Amelia Grace
We play poker until the stars come out and the frogs and owls and crickets sound like they’re right outside our little window. Ellie makes us take a photo of all four of us lying against the floor of the loft, chins in hands, legs kicked up behind us. She already enlarged the one of our moms, frame
d it, and hung it in the carriage house. She’s going to add ours right next to it. Then Skyler has us all sign a letter she wrote to whichever girls come after us, and Scarlett declares it’s time to give our final updates because Ellie is leaving tomorrow. Scarlett holds a candle in front of her and speaks in a solemn voice.
“I need to know. Did you accomplish the impossible before the end of the summer?”
I start to answer, but she cuts me off.
“First. Rule number two.”
We glance around at each other. What is she talking about?
She wiggles a small glass bottle out of her purse and plunks it on the crate in front of us. Southern Comfort. Ohhhh.
She pours some of the amber liquid into the mason jars from the first night and adds Diet Coke. Except for the last glass. She only puts Diet Coke in that one and passes it to Ellie. Ellie smiles and passes pearls to each of us.
“I’ll go first!” says Skyler. “My impossible thing was to play softball by the end of the summer.” She can’t even stop grinning, she’s so excited about it. “And I definitely played catch with Bennett this week in the backyard AND I feel like I actually know when to take it easy now AND I told Daddy to stay the heck out of my softball business, so.” She brushes imaginary dirt off her shoulders.
We clink our glasses together over the crate, and Ellie yells, “Woo-hoo!”
“I still have no idea about varsity, but I feel like finding my voice was so much more important. And”—Skyler hesitates—“I realized it’s okay to need help and to not always be okay, and that was mostly because of you guys, so thank you,” she finishes quietly.
Ellie squeezes her hand, and Scarlett messes up her hair.
“I’ll go next,” Scarlett says. “This summer, I was supposed to figure out how to be in a healthy, grown-up relationship with my loser ex-boyfriend. And you know what? You can cross that off the list, because he’s not worth it. And you know what else? I don’t really give a damn.” Day-um.
Skyler snickers.
Scarlett pretend-glares at her.
“What? You say it just like Mama.”
The Summer of Impossibilities Page 27