Rocks and Stars

by Sam Ledel

  “All right?” I had asked as Callie groaned from somewhere near the corner of the room.

  Joey had stretched. “Just a few bumps and bruises. Don’t remember much of last night after that first shot at the bar.”

  I hoped then that she had forgotten all about what had happened on the dance floor. Admittedly, even I was starting to confuse the final few hours of that night with dreams. It was too hard to believe that Jax had been out on the dance floor with me. Her hands on my body were now only memories curling around the corners of my mind like smoke—too faint to hold for more than a moment.

  And she wasn’t giving anything away as the weeks rolled by. Fall played out like any other school semester. If I saw Jax on campus, she smiled slyly but continued on her way. Meanwhile, Joey and I chatted easily when we ran into each other in the dorm, but there were no more Spanish study sessions. By November, I was starting to feel as if the whole night might have been some crazy collective hallucination. Regardless of what happened that night, it certainly boded well for team chemistry. We ended the season 9–1 and now had a week off for Thanksgiving before playoffs. Coach Gandy gave us an encouraging end-of-season speech and sent us on our holiday with reminders to not eat too much turkey and to keep up our workout regimen.

  With the university only giving us three days for the break, I opted to stay in town. But while I’m sitting in my dorm, reading over some notes for geology, I decide to call home.

  “Hi, honey.” My mom’s voice sounds tired on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, Mom. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie. Uncle Will and Aunt Stacy will be here tomorrow. With the dogs, of course. I’m making a ranch chicken casserole. You sure you won’t be able to make it home?”

  I flip through the pages of my textbook mindlessly. “I’m sure. Coach has us meeting on Friday for a team bonding exercise. We have a playoff game next Tuesday. I guess she doesn’t want us to lose any momentum from the season.”

  There’s a rustling on her end of the line. Kevin’s voice sounds somewhere behind her.

  “Do you want to talk to your brother?”

  “In a second. How’s Dad?”

  “Oh, you know.” She sighs, and I’m not sure if it’s over the paperwork she’s probably going through that warrants it or my bringing up my dad. “He’s busy. Traveling a lot for his work. He’ll be in Austin next week.”

  “Maybe he can swing by and watch our game.” I consider mentioning he hasn’t returned the text message I sent three days ago with the same request, then decide against it.

  “Sure, honey. Maybe.” Her voice is distracted, and I know I’m reaching for straws when I ask about my dad. “Here’s your brother.”

  I change the phone over to my other ear.

  “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “We’re building a robot in Technology Club using old video game equipment.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah.” It’s quiet for another second. “How’s school?”

  I close my textbook and stare at the ceiling. “It’s going well. Soccer is fun.”

  “Is Emily making sure you don’t get kicked off the team?” he asks.

  I laugh. “I am a very dedicated athlete, thank you very much. Even with all of the team’s complications.”

  “Complications?”

  I scrunch up my face. “Did I say complications? Oh, you know. I just mean like fighting for starting positions and all of that.”

  “Oh.”

  I lay back against my pillow. I’m tempted to tell him. What could be so bad about letting Kevin know more? He already knows so much. Why not talk to him about the team? About Joey. Or whatever it is Jax is doing. He’s been so wonderful, not saying a word to Mom and Dad since I’ve been gone. Maybe he would even have some uncanny advice, being so oddly sage for a sixteen-year-old.

  Then, as if she knew I was thinking about her, there’s a knock on my door followed by Joey poking her head inside. “Hey, Taco Night in the caf. Move it or lose it, short stack.” She grins, then disappears back into the hallway.

  “Sounds tasty,” Kevin says from the other end of the line.

  I nod. “Yeah. I had better go. Don’t want to miss the good stuff.”

  “No problem. Well, see you at Christmas, then?”

  I smile. “Absolutely. I won’t leave you alone with Mom and Dad two holidays in a row.”

  “Better not.”

  After wishing him a happy Thanksgiving, I bounce off the bed and throw on my sandals. Then I race out of my dorm to catch up with Joey.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Will you pass the popcorn, Kyle?”

  With my eyes still on the screen, I hand the large bowl over to Emily. She takes it, adjusting her legs to slide underneath her on the couch cushion next to me. I rearrange a bit to give her room.

  “I’m so glad we don’t play football,” Sarah says from somewhere on the floor near the television. Half the room nods, and Joey says, “No kidding.”

  “It’s weird to think that all that racism existed only, like, fifty years ago,” Haley says through a mouthful of popcorn on the other side of the room. “I mean, I know racism still exists today, but this was so intense and was when our grandparents were our age. It’s wild to think about.”

  I grab a handful of popcorn by reaching over Emily to where she’d propped the bowl up on the arm of the couch.

  “I love this movie, though,” Callie chimes in from the La-Z-Boy to our left. “Such a sports classic. I’m glad Coach suggested we do this.”

  More heads bob in agreement throughout Emily’s dark living room. The team has gathered in her apartment for Coach’s “strongly encouraged” team bonding night the weekend after Thanksgiving. Our first playoff game is fast approaching. And her grand idea: movie night. Specifically, something sports related to get us motivated for the upcoming game. Emily has a fairly healthy collection of DVDs, and after a ten-minute debate about what to watch, we decided on Remember the Titans.

  We all watch in silence until the bathroom door opens off the side of the living room, filling the space by the TV with a momentary rectangle of light.

  “Sorry,” Jax mutters before clicking the light off, and stepping carefully through our teammates, she makes her way back to her seat. Which is on the couch. Next to me.

  I had to give myself a pat on the back, though. We are about half an hour into the movie, and I haven’t yet sweated profusely, turned an obnoxious shade of red, or said anything I’d regret. Since initiation night, I haven’t known how to act around her. She’s been like a book written in a language I don’t know, shrouded in mystery despite the letters screaming at me.

  Taking a breath, I try to get my body to maintain its composure as she settles into the couch. Like Emily, Jax folds her legs underneath her, but instead of leaning toward the arm of the couch, she leans toward me and rests her right arm on the back of the couch so that her forearm stretches behind me.

  There are more minutes of silence while we all watch the film. My throat is dry, so I reach forward and grab my Gatorade from the coffee table. When I lean back against the couch, I feel fingers brush the back of my neck. My eyes flicker over to Emily, but she is practically hugging the popcorn bowl, and her eyes are glossed over, lost in the movie.

  Jax’s fingers don’t move for a second, then it is as if a thousand pins prick every inch of my body. The tips of her fingers sweep lightly along my neck, moving down toward the line of my T-shirt, making soft circles on my skin.

  My breath quickens, and I don’t dare move to put my drink back after taking a quick sip from it. I look over at Jax, but her eyes are still on the TV, although her lips are curled up in the slightest of smiles.

  That’s how we spend the rest of the movie. Eventually (and thankfully) my body relaxes against her fingers, which never stop their movement on my neck. At times, she would move them up into my hair, massaging the top of my neck, and I couldn’t help but
enjoy the way her fingers weaved themselves in and out of the base of my ponytail. Occasionally, my neck rolled back involuntarily at Jax’s touch, and I swear I heard her snicker slightly at what she was doing to me.

  When the credits roll at ten o’clock, I practically leap on top of Emily when T. flicks on the lights.

  “Whoa,” Emily says, “you okay?”

  I look sideways at Jax, who has her head low to tug her shoes back on.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I mutter as everyone stands up, a few girls stretching and moving around to find their things.

  She clears her throat. “All right, everyone,” Emily says, looking from me to the packed room. “Big game next week. I hope this helped motivate you guys. See y’all at practice. Coach said no weights tomorrow morning, just a field day at four.”

  I walk past Jax and into the kitchen to toss my Gatorade bottle in Emily’s recycling bin. I hear some of the girls say their good-byes before they file out of the apartment.

  “Thanks for coming over,” Emily calls, her voice at that octave where I can tell she just got a huge rush from hosting a successful night.

  “Yeah, thanks for letting us crash,” Joey says from behind me in the doorway. Then she adds, “See you, short stack.” I walk back into the living room and give her a wave.

  “See you, Joey.”

  She smiles and her hands slide into her pockets. For a second, I think she’s about to say more, then she decides not to and turns to head out behind the others.

  “I’m gonna make sure they can get out the apartment gate,” Emily says, throwing on a jacket over her blouse before moving toward the door. “Be back in a few.”

  I pick some pillows up off the floor. “I’ll help clean up.”

  “Thanks,” she replies happily before closing the door behind her.

  I rearrange some of the couch cushions, punching out the indentions where we’d been sitting before bending over to pick up some of Emily’s bed pillows she’d let everyone borrow. A voice behind me makes me jump.

  “Hey.”

  I whip around, and Jax is walking out from the hallway. She holds her cell phone up. “Forgot this in the bathroom.” I nod as she moves toward me. I take a step back until my heels bump into the couch. She doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of me, in what most people would consider their personal bubble.

  She slides her phone into her back pocket and leaves her hand resting back there so that she’s posed like some casual-looking model in the window of a department store. “Did you enjoy the movie?”

  “Um, yeah,” I stammer, realizing I am close enough to see that her lips are glossed and that she has a cluster of freckles on her left shoulder next to the strap of her black tank.

  “Good,” she says, and I meet her eyes only to see them flicker down to my lips. “Me, too.” She takes another step forward (which I didn’t think was possible) and I smell her perfume—sweet, like cotton candy this time. She reaches out and brushes away some strands that have fallen loose from my ponytail.

  I think I stop breathing when she leans forward.

  “I swear, Katie really should have to do that driver’s test again. She about rammed the gate when—”

  Jax takes a big step away from me, and I turn to find a wide-eyed Emily standing in her entryway. “Um, sorry,” she says, her eyes going from me to Jax. “Did I interrupt…something?”

  “No, of course not,” Jax says so nonchalantly it makes me wonder if everything that just happened was just my extremely vivid imagination.

  I look at Emily, then back at Jax as she grabs her sweatshirt off the kitchen counter and moves past both of us.

  “Thanks for tonight. Was fun,” she says, then shoots me a smile over her shoulder. “See you, Kyle.” Then she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

  Emily stares at the door, then turns to me. “What the hell was that?”

  I blink a few times, my head still whirling. “I have no idea.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  I run a hand over my hair and down my ponytail. My hand lands briefly on the base of my neck, where Jax’s fingers had spent the better part of the evening. My stomach flutters at the thought of it.

  “Kyle?” Emily says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  “She’s just…so confusing!”

  “Who is?”

  “Jax.”

  Emily nods, crossing her arms. “I hear she has a knack for that.”

  I brush more hair from my face, agitated. “It’s just so hard to understand. And Joey—”

  “Joey?” Emily perks up. “She’s great. Did you see the video she and Sarah posted online the other day? The one where they call out the guys’ team because they said we wouldn’t make playoffs this year? I died laughing.”

  The video of Joey doing her original rap song did make me laugh. It came out four days ago, and I may have watched it several times since then. “She does know how to pull off a backward cap.”

  Emily winks at me. “So, what’s the big deal, then?”

  All I can do is shake my head, my thoughts too worked up. Yes, Joey and I have been in a really great place lately. After all the run-ins and almost kisses since the semester started, she and I are back on track. Things have calmed down after initiation night. The night Jax found me on the dance floor…

  “It’s just that…Jax is acting strange toward me,” I finally say, fidgeting next to the kitchen counter.

  “Who doesn’t Jax act weird with?” Emily replies, shrugging. “That girl is a mystery wrapped in an enigma.”

  “I wish she wasn’t.”

  Emily puts one hand on her hip. “What do you mean?”

  But I’m overwhelmed again. My face is hot and my head feels as if it’s stuck in a blender, whirring a mile a minute with no one around to unplug it. My breath comes too quickly and my eyes start to water.

  “Whoa, Kyle. Take a breath.” Emily reaches out, running her hands down my forearms.

  “Um…I’m good. Really. I’ll call you, okay?” I say quickly, hurrying toward the door. As I open it, Emily grabs my arm, making me pause.

  “Hey,” she says softly, her eyes meeting mine. “Don’t forget,” her grip turns gentle, “you can talk to me. School problems. Family problems. Girl…problems,” she adds. “Okay? It’s still you and me.”

  I smile, and my shoulders relax. “Thanks, Em.” Then I open the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  She pulls me in for a quick hug. “See you tomorrow.” Then she lets me go and closes her apartment door.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I finish the final practice response on my geology study worksheet, then lean back in my blue plastic library chair. Fluorescent lights give the impression it’s two p.m., not almost eleven at night. Now that the first week of December is here, it seems the entire student body has stopped sleeping and bathing and has taken up permanent residence in the campus library.

  I am one among many zombie-like students, having officially dived into my first foray of “Blackout Week” on campus—a time when there are no parties, no athletic events, just studying. I remember calling Emily around this time last year with a question about the soccer team’s schedule before I had signed on to play. I got her voice mail three times before finally she called me back at one a.m., four cups of coffee into an all-nighter with her mass communication class. How anyone survives their freshman year of college is pretty impressive, especially those who are student athletes. Between preseason and then actual season workouts and games, I’m not really sure how I’ve managed to juggle everything. Or where my first semester has gone. It seems to have turned into a blur of early morning runs, weekend buses to games, and unresolved hormonal confusion. Though that last part might just relate specifically to me.

  Things have, thankfully, been calm in regard to my constant need to avoid any and all feelings and emotions. The season helped, I think. With Coach Gandy’s strict schedule, there wasn’t much time to think about everything s
ince August. If I wasn’t in class, I was in the weight room. If I wasn’t in the weight room, I was on the field. If I wasn’t on the field, I was in the library. Now, though, with the season having just ended in a heartbreaking semifinal loss, here I am, ignoring my confused libido with two days left before winter finals. Just another ordinary member of the student body nestled between thick stacks of musty textbooks piled atop brown laminated tables, coffee cups, and energy drinks glistening under the bright lights.

  I started the evening with a few of my classmates from geology. We went over a review packet Professor Kaufman handed out last week. We each took a section, spending an hour poring over our semester notes for the answers. Eventually Roxanna, a girl who usually sat next to me in class, decided we should call it a night at around ten thirty. But I wasn’t ready to pack it up just yet. Mostly because Coach Gandy’s emphatic postseason emails about good grades and work ethics continue to echo in my mind.

  I rub my eyes, lean back again in my chair, and roll my neck to stretch it. My tired eyes rove over the rest of the students littered across the second floor of the library. Many sit scattered throughout the old brown tables, their plastic chairs occasionally dragging along the old blue carpet. Lines of computers glow softly to my left. To my right, ten rows of bookshelves stretch thirty yards toward the other end of the room, where large windows face out to the Student Union. Through the books, I spot the occasional browsing student meandering down the aisles. The sound of beanbags shifting on the floors can be heard from behind the shelves. This was a new idea from the university to stay modern and create “healthy, student friendly study spaces.” Of course, it’s mostly just led to couples reinforcing the tried-and-true tradition of making out in the stacks. I glance to the back wall a few feet behind me when another shifting sound draws my attention, and my eyes land on a familiar pair of tennis shoes.