by Lee Wardlow
“Don’t you have to get home?”
“Nah,” he said. “I can pretty much do what I want.”
“I guess. I can always ask.”
“Great. See you in gym class.”
He left me at my door and headed to his class down the hall. I watched, mesmerized by the breadth of his shoulders. I was fifteen, almost sixteen. Not much experience with boys. The only kiss I had ever experienced was a quickie in the closet in eighth grade with Bradley Walkin over a game of truth or dare. I lost. I had to take the dare and kiss Bradley. It wasn’t that exciting.
As I stood there gazing at Cal, I realized I didn’t know his last name. Most importantly, I wanted to know what it would be like to kiss Cal and not in a closet, rushed by nerves that somebody’s mom would catch us. Bradley was as nervous as me. It was sloppy, gross and when he tried to stick his tongue in my mouth, I shoved him away.
A throat cleared and I turned to the door. Mr. Martin was standing there waiting on me to come into class. “Are you joining us Miss Gardener or standing there ogling Mr. Cooper all day?” He glanced down the hall where Cal was turning into his classroom.
I knew Cal’s last name now and my face was as red as Mr. Martin’s sweater. “Coming in now,” I replied.
“Good idea,” he agreed giving me a nod for emphasis that I had made the right choice.
Algebra. I hated Algebra, even more so now that Mr. Martin had embarrassed me.
The door shut behind me and I made my way to the back of the classroom. The middle seats were taken. I had to sit behind Aiden, Cal’s friend. He glanced over his shoulder at me then he shook his head and faced front. I wondered about that but wouldn’t have asked anyway even if Mr. Martin hadn’t started class.
Chapter 5
I changed for gym class and met Cal on the gym floor. I don’t know why but I didn’t want to sit in the bleachers and do nothing. Cal handed me a softball glove and a ball. I pushed my glasses up and looked up at him.
“You do realize I don’t know what to do with this,” I informed him.
He shook his head at me. “Did he take all the athletic genes in the womb?” He asked glancing over his shoulder at Tyson.
“He did,” I replied.
Cal tucked his glove under his arm and showed me how to cup the ball in the glove so that it wouldn’t fall out. “Okay,” I said. “I still have to catch it though.”
He smiled at me. “Abby my girl, just keep your eye on the ball.”
“Lucky for me it is big, bright and neon yellow.”
Cal shook his head as he walked away, leaving me standing where I was in the middle of the gym while others either played basketball or ran laps around us. He had walked about ten feet.
“That’s too far.” I was terrified.
“It isn’t,” he promised. “Watch the ball,” he said. He was too far away.
He gently tossed the ball in my direction. I stuck the glove out hoping that the ball would land in the glove. It did not. It hit me in the stomach and bounced to the gymnasium floor. Better than in the face.
“Abby, are you all right?” Cal chased down the ball as he called out to me.
“I’m fine,” I croaked.
“Girl, you have to keep your eyes open,” he informed me.
“I was afraid it would hit me.” Closing my eyes was instinctual.
“It will if you close your eyes silly girl,” Cal declared.
I nodded. Determined to keep my eyes open this time. I spread my legs a little. Stuck the glove out and my butt too leaning over just a little. I waited for Cal to throw the ball.
“What are you doing?” I turned and saw my brother Tyson standing behind me.
“Waiting for the ball,” I said.
He rolled his eyes at me. Then he kicked my foot, so my feet were closer together. “Abs you don’t need to stand like that. You aren’t batting. You’re catching. Keep your eye on the ball. Does he know you can’t catch for shit?”
I glared at my brother. Of course, he had years of experience tossing pitch after pitch that I chased. His arm got strong while I got winded.
“Throw me the ball, Cal,” I shouted.
He nodded. “That’s my girl,” he said smiling at me.
I stuck my glove out as the ball came at me. I was determined to catch it. I missed by a foot. I didn’t close my eyes this time though. It rolled to Tyson. He picked it up and threw it back to Cal with a smirk at me.
“Throw it again, Cal.” I was determined to show Tyson that I could do this.
He nodded. “Don’t be afraid Abby. Just watch the ball,” he encouraged me.
I nodded at him. I was catching this damn ball before the end of gym class if it killed me. The next ball hit me in the shoulder. I heard Cal gasp. “You all right?” He asked.
I was going to be covered in bruises before the class was over. “Just fine.” I beat Tyson to the ball because it didn’t roll far. I threw it back to Cal. It dropped a foot in front of him which made Tyson laugh. “Shut up,” I said without looking at him. “I was close.” That only made him laugh harder.
“Ready?” Cal shouted at me.
I nodded. I was determined to catch the ball. I watched it float through the air, coming directly at me. I held the glove up. It smacked me in the forehead. I felt dizzy. I took a step backwards and went flat on my back. I didn’t pass out or anything. I just was a little dizzy.
I heard Cal’s footsteps. He squatted beside me. “No more catch for you.”
“Probably a good idea,” I replied.
“Can you sit?”
“Gardener, you’re a liability,” Mr. Hill snapped as he too squatted beside me. Then I realized that Tyson was standing beside me still. He hadn’t run away this time. He didn’t ignore me, but he hadn’t moved either.
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
Cal extended his hand to me and pulled me to my feet. We both glanced at Tyson who turned and went to a basketball game at center court. The teacher touched my shoulders and turned me around. “Go to the nurse and get ice for your forehead,” he informed me. “Maybe you won’t have a goose egg in the middle of your face.”
He shook his head and walked away. “I’ll see you after practice?” Cal asked.
I shrugged. Not angry at him, just confused as to why he would want to be seen with me after this. Possible goose egg on my forehead. Boot on my foot. White bandage on my chin.
**
In the library, I sat in one of the comfy chairs and studied for an exam I had in History tomorrow. Who had exams the first week? Mr. Barker, that’s who. He called it, starting off the year right.
Football practice lasted three hours so I had plenty of time to kill. Plenty of time to study. The boot was killing my leg, so I took it for a while, letting my leg breathe. It rested on the floor by the legs of the chair. I moved my ankle around. It felt so much better.
My forehead was frozen from the ice pack and was bruising but at least the swelling had gone down. Miss Hilliard joined me in the reading area which was a surprise. I glanced to my left when she plopped in the chair beside me.
“Hi.” I closed my history book and let it rest on my lap.
“Am I interrupting your studying?” She asked me.
Miss Hillard was young. I didn’t imagine that she had been teaching long so maybe she still understood what it was like being a teenager.
She smiled at me, revealing her perfect, white teeth unlike mine that had two slightly crooked teeth on the bottom. I touched my teeth self-consciously.
“I wore braces for four years,” Miss Hillard said noticing my reaction to my own insecurities.
“Mom wanted me to get braces.”
“But you didn’t want them,” she declared.
“I didn’t not for just two teeth.” I lowered my eyes and looked at my history book.
“I was shy like you too,” she noted.
I smiled at her. “When I was younger, Tyson would sometimes have to speak for me because I was s
o shy.”
I found Miss Hillard easy to talk to. I was telling her things that I didn’t often tell anyone.
“I had a brother like that. His name was Eric.”
Was? I was afraid to ask her why she referred to him in the past tense. As bad as things were between me and Ty, I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
“Tyson and I were close,” I finally said.
“What happened?” Miss Hillard asked.
I shrugged. It was so stupid. “Ty took our hometown seventh and eighth graders two years in a row to state and won. Suddenly people weren’t saying to him why can’t you be more like Abby. He had his own identity. He liked it.”
Miss Hillard reached across the space separating us and patted my hand. She smiled at me. “Abby, I read some of your first assignment. I hope you don’t mind?” I shook my head no.
“Abby, I’m sure what you are thinking about your parents isn’t quite right. I’m sure you aren’t a disappointment to them. I’ve seen your academic records. You’re an amazing student.”
I leaned on my hand and smiled shyly at her. “My mom played tennis in high school and college. My dad played football in high school. In Tyson they connect in ways I can’t or don’t know how.”
“Not good at sports?”
I shrugged. Then I pointed to my forehead. “Cal was trying to teach me to catch today in gym class. He doesn’t know about the years of Tyson trying the very same thing and failing.”
She laughed at me. “Not everyone can be good at sports. You have your talents just like Tyson does.”
“I guess.”
“So, you feel like Tyson did three years ago,” she suggested. “You’re now walking in your brother’s shadow?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. I wasn’t being compared to Tyson. I just felt overshadowed by him or ignored. “You’re right.”
“I know,” she teased. “Been there and done that. My brother was All-American four years in a row in high school. He led the team to two State Championships. He got a full ride to a prestigious Division I college where he played quarterback just like the path Tyson seems to be heading down.”
“Eric?” I asked.
“Yes,” Miss Hillard replied. “I have two brothers. Eric the All-American and Lindon the motorcycle building, tattooed brother who drinks too much or did. My parents could never accept that he wouldn’t go to college the way that Eric and I had, like they had. My father is a principal and my mother is a music teacher. The one thing that Lindon got from her is his musical abilities. He’s a talented guitar player.”
I knew something bad had happened.
“Go ahead and ask. I know you want to.” Was I that obvious?
I glanced at Miss Hillard uncomfortably. “Something happened to Eric. Something bad?”
“Just like you and Tyson, Eric and Lindon were twins. They were constantly compared to each other or rather Lindon was told why can’t you be more like Eric? Eric died just after college graduation.” She didn’t go into detail and I could see that it still hurt her, so I didn’t ask any questions.
Miss Hillard rose and took a step away from me. “I do understand how you feel. Both of you. I watched my brothers experience this their entire lives. You are both unique, Abby. Remember that. Write something for me tonight.”
“What?” I asked.
“Write a story about a boy who walks in his sister’s shadow,” she said. “I’ll be interested in reading that tomorrow.”
I groaned. She chuckled. “Don’t worry, I gave Tyson the same assignment in his English class.”
I rolled my eyes at her retreating back. Then opened my history book to study. I bet Tyson loved that assignment. He hated writing.
**
At six when practice was over, Cal looked for me not Tyson. He stuck his head around the corner of the bookcase and smiled. “You don’t make it easy,” he declared.
“I love these chairs,” I told him. “We didn’t have anything like this in my old school.”
“Come on, practice is over.”
I packed my books into my backpack and Cal took it from me. He brushed his fingers across my face moving my bangs so he could see the damage. He shook his head at me.
“I’m really sorry Abby.”
I lowered my eyes so he wouldn’t see how his touch affected me. “It’s okay Cal. You didn’t know how useless I am when it comes to sports.”
He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed gently. “I wouldn’t go so far as useless.”
“I would. As kids, Tyson used me to improve his throwing arm for baseball and accuracy for football.”
Cal chuckled. “He told me. You couldn’t catch a beachball.”
“That ass,” I grumbled.
That made Cal laugh. I noticed that he didn’t remove his arm as we walked to the front of the school. “Want to go out for pizza?”
I wanted to but I was afraid. “I can’t tonight. History test tomorrow. Miss Hillard came to the library and gave me an assignment for tomorrow too.” I was a coward. I had plenty of time to do this assignment. I had studied for my history exam already.
Cal frowned at me. “What kind of assignment?”
We had the same English class so I could understand his confusion. I explained the assignment that she gave both Tyson and me.
“Oh man, that sucks.” He whistled between his teeth.
“I’m sure that Tyson is thrilled,” I declared.
Cal had to release me, and I can honestly say that I missed his arm around my shoulders. He held the door open while I walked through then he walked me to Mom’s SUV waiting at the sidewalk.
He opened the back door and laid my backpack on the seat. I could see my mother waiting for an introduction. Inwardly, I was cringing at her eagerness.. This was that awkward moment when I wanted to just close the door and pretend, she and Ty weren’t there. I never knew what Mom would say if I introduced them. I also knew what she would say if I didn’t introduce them. Abby, how rude.
“Mom, this is Cal Cooper,” I finally said.
“Nice to meet you Mrs. Gardener,” he said to her so politely.
“Oh please, call me Kat.” She practically purred at him.
I rolled my eyes behind Cal where she couldn’t see me. He had leaned in to shake Mom’s hand. Then he turned to me and gave me that grin that showed his dimples. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I could only nod. I had no voice. I lost it in his brown eyes and dimples. I slid in the back seat and Cal shut the door for me.
“Such a nice kid,” Mom said.
“Isn’t he?” Tyson smarted off from the front seat then he glanced over his shoulder at me with a glare.
He and Mom talked about the big game Friday night while I stared out the window. I went straight to my room while Tyson stayed in the kitchen with Mom.
I laid my backpack on the bed and changed my clothes. Then I sat in the middle with my writing journal and tried to put myself in Tyson’s shoes. How he had felt all those years walking in my shadow.
I decided to give us different names. Different characteristics other than the female was shy and intelligent while the male was still smart like his sister, but athletics was more important to him.
I stared at my bedroom door. I knew Ty was just as smart as me. Was that the problem, sports was always more important to him? He ate and slept dreaming of football and baseball.
If he didn’t have homework, he was studying plays for football. Always going over them with Dad until he had them memorized. Tyson did enough to just get by when it came to schoolwork. He was happy being a B student, I realized but hated being compared to me a straight A student. That’s where I started. Our differences.
We were twins. As different as two twins could be. We might have occupied the same space for nine months but after that we were unique, and I liked it, but others couldn’t see it that way.
While my sister, Monique was a nerdy girl who liked books and getting A’s. I was a soli
d B student who preferred the sweat and grime of the football field. The intensity of hitting and tackling. The thrill of victory. That got my adrenaline going.
Monique’s academic achievements overshadowed my own. It wasn’t like I was failing. It wasn’t like I turned in mediocre work. I did what I had to do to play sports. Monique did what she had to do to overachieve. Anything below an A gave her hives.
Maybe that wasn’t fair, but I often thought that Tyson saw me that way. The overachiever. The book nerd or just nerd period if he even addressed me at all.
A knock on my door startled me. “Come in,” I called out.
Ty came through my door. He walked to the bed and sat down peeking at the notebook that I had laid between us when I saw it was him. “You have to write what it’s like to walk in your sister’s shadow from my perspective?” He rolled his eyes.
“Do you think I haven’t experienced what you have over the last three years since you went to state and became the hometown hero? Everyone wept at your feet because Dad took that job and we were leaving town.”
Tyson snorted. Again, I rolled my eyes at him.
“Ty, even Mom and Dad have shushed me to pay attention to you. Believe it or not I do understand how you have been feeling about having your own identity,” I said to him.
He blew air through his lips, like he was frustrated. Guess what buddy? I am frustrated too. “I don’t know where to start. You’re the writer I was hoping you could help me.”
I growled at him. “Like you helped me this afternoon? Smirking at me when I missed the ball. Laughing when I couldn’t throw it back to Cal,” I snapped.
“I’m sorry. I did help you with your stance,” he defended himself.
“Thanks for that.” I shook my head at him. “Where’s your notebook?”
“I’ll get it,” he said. “Be right back.”
While he was gone, I contemplated how this would go. Me helping him write a story about a girl who walked in her brother’s shadow. He had to understand how I felt. I had lost him. I missed him. I thought maybe that’s why Miss Hillard had us write this assignment. She wanted us to see each other’s story and possibly mend our relationship.