by Angel Lawson
“What’s going on here?” I ask, my voice low.
“They offered—no, informed me that they were driving me to the training camp. So yeah, sorry, I figured someone would have told you.”
“Nope, once again, I’m the last one to hear.” I give him a tight grin. “Typical.”
He opens his mouth to speak but I’m not in the mood for it. He’s had his chances. Dozens of them. Just because he’s trapped in the car with me doesn’t mean I’m not still angry and hurt. All I want is the truth. Maybe an apology, and until he’s ready to do that, I’m not faking it for Mom and LeeLee.
I grab my bag and push past him, walking to the car. I toss my luggage in the back and slide in the backseat. A moment later he comes in the opposite door, bringing in his warm, drug-like scent. I face the window and hold my breath.
My mother gets behind the wheel and adjusts her rearview mirror until our eyes meet. She gives me a smile. “Everyone ready?”
Nope. Not in the slightest.
The trip is five hours long—but the first part is cutting through Yosemite, which provides amazing views and a reason to keep quiet. It also brings a flood of memories—Jake and I spent a lot of time here together or with the guys. We pass Mirror Lake, where we spent homecoming night, making s'mores by a fire and kissing in the dark. The two of us hiked the trails and he showed me places of quiet beauty on rocks or sitting by the clear streams. With every second I feel the air evaporating from the car and when I glance over Jake’s jaw is tight—his shoulders stiff. His hands rest by his side, balled and tense. So, it’s not just me having a problem driving through memory lane.
“It’s hard to believe I ever left this place,” Mom says from the front. “It really is gorgeous territory.”
“What’s it like in North Carolina?” Jake asks suddenly.
“Green,” Mom replies. “Big leafy trees, soft grass. Bushes that flower in the spring and summer. It’s different than here, where everything is brown and the mountains feel close but they’re always far away. There’s so much sky here. Unlike back home where the trees provide shade and cover. Spring is the best time of the year—although the fall leaves are pretty.”
Jake thoughtfully considers this. “I’d like to see it sometime.”
“Maybe you’ll get a chance if Starlee goes to school back east.” She smiles back at the two of us in the mirror.
From then on, I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to give my mother a chance to bring up school again or future travel with the boy next to me that has made it clear he’s moved on. I oblige when she pulls over and forces us into a variety of poses, all with the glory of the mountains behind us. And I definitely don’t react when she instructs Jake to put his arm around me to pull me into the frame, his strong hand grazing my lower back, reminding me of how much of an effect he still has on me.
After winding through the park, we exit the west gate and LeeLee reminds Mom to stop at the little shop on the side of the road. A sign declares, “Best Blueberry Cobbler in the West“.
“Dexter told me to stop and order a few to go. I’m supposed to send them back so he can taste test.” Mom looks oddly into this idea. Mailing dessert. “He has an idea for something called, Cain’s Cobbler, whatever that means.”
I start to follow her and LeeLee into the store but a strong hand pulls me back. My heart quickens, not surprised that a confrontation of some kind is coming…it’s been building, and the two of us in the car together has been like sitting on a powder keg.
I turn and face Jake, hating how handsome he is and how much my stomach hurts looking at him. “What?”
“Can we talk?”
“Now?” I glance toward the store. They won’t be in there long. “You’ve had plenty of chances to talk to me over the last few weeks and have made no effort.”
He rubs the back of his neck and stares at his sneakers. “I want to thank you for helping me with the test. I never would have passed it without you.”
“I don’t know if that’s true,” I say, “but I’m glad you did well. I never lost faith.”
“I know.” He looks pained. “I know you didn’t and I’m such an idiot for acting like that.”
“Stop calling yourself dumb. You’re not stupid, Jake.”
His blue eyes hold mine. “With you, I am. I’ve never met someone like you before—someone that challenges me yet supports me in everything I do. You’re so good, Starlee. So amazing.” He swallows, shoving his hands in his pocket. “You deserve someone better.”
I blink, pieces of a puzzle falling into place. “Is that what you think? That you’re not good enough for me?”
He shrugs and looks to the ground. “I thought if I got through the test, I’d feel better. More confident. That if I made the team, got the scholarship, I’d be worthy, but I’ve done both of those things and then I realized that the fact I let you go like that was weak—so weak.” He rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The door of the shop creaks open and Jake turns and walks off, heading around the corner of the store. LeeLee and Mom carry two boxes of sweet-smelling cobbler.
“Where’s Jake?” Mom asks, looking around.
“I think he just went to stretch his legs,” I say, keeping my voice even. I’m rattled. I knew Jake suffered with insecurities about his learning disability. I just never knew how far-reaching the pain went. How deep the roots had burrowed.
I sit in the car with my clueless mother and grandmother, eating but not really tasting the sugary dessert. When he gets back in the car, his temperament is even again—a show for my family—maybe for me. As we make the trek west, I feel a different kind of pain in my chest. Not the loss and heartbreak from before. But sorrow for this boy that I love. That struggles so badly beneath the façade of a handsome face and perfect muscles.
I hate that I didn’t help him when I thought I had.
I hate that he’s pushed me away, making it impossible for me to help him anymore.
26
Starlee
Jake and I don’t share another look or word until we roll off the highway in Palo Alto and onto the Stanford campus. I’d only seen it in pictures and on the glossy brochure Mrs. Addison, my counselor, had given me before I applied, but the photos don’t do it justice. Narrow rows of palm trees meet us as we drive down the main entrance, headed toward a magnificent building. Spanish-style buildings, terra-cotta roofs, and surprisingly green grass spread out around the flat campus.
“Your great-grandfather went to Stanford,” LeeLee says suddenly. “Graduated from the engineering school. Did you know his graduating class plotted the football stadium?”
Mom nods, she’s heard this story before, but I haven’t. “He’d always tell us these silly stories like how he was one of the only students on campus to own a car—there were three or something. I think he owned it just to figure out how it worked.” She glances back at Jake—proud. “It’s good to have someone in the family attend again.”
He gives my grandmother a sweet smile.
My heart may just implode if these two don’t stop.
We follow the map to the athletic center where Jake is supposed to check in. Mom parks the car and we all get out, falling in step with the other families and athletes.
While Jake, LeeLee, and Mom make sure he’s checked in, I see the football stadium in the distance. The gates are open and visitors are coming in and out. I step through the stone pillars and out toward a landing, getting a good view of the oval stadium, thousands of red seats filling the stands and a giant painted “S” in the middle of the field. That’s when I realize the enormity of the last few months, the test, the scholarship…everything.
Jake wasn’t just fighting to graduate and go to college. He was fighting to come here. Be a part of this school, this culture and experience. I rest my hands on the railing and take it all in. He’s going to look magnificent on that field.
A shadow blocks the warm sun—a boy so big he can take the light away. I look up and say, �
�Everything settled?”
His eyes scan the stadium. “Yeah. Those two are a force to be reckoned with when it comes to organization. Thank goodness. I’d be lost, you know?”
“You’re going to do great here,” I tell him. “In school. On the field. You’ve trained and prepped and done everything right.”
His eyebrow raises. “You think so?”
I lay my hand over his, feeling the familiar current of electricity that runs between us. I squeeze tight and stare out at his future. “I know so.”
From the green of the South, to the brown mountains of the Sierras, San Francisco is a different sort of landscape. Houses and buildings cover every inch, each attached or nestled so close there’s no room to breathe. We hit the tourist spots, the parks, the Presidio, the Wharf. LeeLee asks to go to the Japanese tea garden and on the day we try on our dresses, we eat dumplings in Chinatown.
“Well,” I say, walking out of the dressing room. The dress is a pale yellow with tiny flowers stitched onto the bodice—the skirt full and flow-y—almost to my knees.
My mother’s eyes sweep over me, hands clasped at her chest. “Oh, Starlee, it’s perfect.”
She’s wearing her own yellow dress, same fabric but a little more mature. I stand next to her in front of the full-length mirror. Our red hair flames against the shade, our eyes bright. LeeLee smiles at us both, pleased. Yellow is her favorite color.
“I love it,” my grandmother says. “You both look wonderful.”
We shop next for shoes and accessories and I feel a little bit like a princess. I think it’s the fact we’re doing this as a family, which isn’t usual for us. I sense the wounds between my mother and grandmother healing—the same ones between me and my mom. Who knew me running away would bring my family closer?
Maybe it’s that feeling that allows me to let down my guard. We celebrate the successful day with dinner at a sushi place, one that overlooks the bay. I take a deep breath and announce, “I have some news to share.”
My mother lowers her chopsticks. “Oh, really?”
LeeLee nods encouragingly.
I reach into my bag. “I got two acceptances to college.”
My mother freezes.
I pull out the envelopes and lay them on the table. The stamps from Berkeley and Stanford in the upper corner. LeeLee grins. “Oh sweetie! That’s wonderful news! Such a big decision to make.”
I smile, very aware that my mother hasn’t moved an inch. If she’s waiting for another envelope, it’s not going to come. “I know, and I’m really not sure which one to pick, but seeing Stanford today was an eye opener. Although Berkeley is also a good option.” I keep talking although my heart is pounding hard. “I’ve been researching social work programs and Stanford has one.”
That information breaks my mother’s façade. “Social work?”
“Yes.” My hands twist the napkin in my lap. “That’s what I’m considering majoring in.”
She blinks, lifts her glass of wine and takes a slow, large drink, before saying, “And what about Emory? Public health?”
“I didn’t apply,” I confess. “It’s not where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do.”
“Since when?” Her voice rises to a cry.
“I guess since always, Mom. I know that’s what you thought I wanted to do but it’s not—it never was. I don’t want to work in a lab.”
“But social work? That’s not a profitable career.”
“It’s something I’m interested in.”
Her lips form a thin line. “Because of the boys.”
“Because I like helping people. It’s something I’ve learned about myself this year.”
“Star, she has shown an affinity for the service project group at school,” LeeLee interjects. “And honestly, even I was compelled to get involved after understanding more about the foster care system.”
“Mother, you and I both know this isn’t about helping people.” LeeLee frowns but my mother continues. “I tried to be lenient. Let you figure out your own path and not interfere with your relationship with those boys. I like them. I do, but you can’t throw your life away based on people you’ve known for less than a year.”
My grandmother and I make eye contact, the irony and hypocrisy of her statement too much to bear. “Aren’t you the one that took off with a van full of hippies after they drove up to the lodge one summer? Aren’t you the one that left your family, started a new life across the country, including having me?”
“That’s my point. I don’t want you following a boy trying to seek happiness.” Her jaw sets. “Taking off like that with your father was one of the most impulsive, stupid things I could have done. I was looking for freedom and ended up with a—”
Her mouth snaps shut.
“A what?” I ask in a low voice. We all know the answer. She doesn’t say it, so I do. “A baby? Me?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
But of course, it is. Of course, I was the thing that took away her freedom and when I fell apart I did it again, forcing her to teach me at home, be my constant companion. I stare at my mother with the same green eyes, red hair, and pale skin, and realize that I’d trapped her the same way she’d trapped me.
I stand, pushing my chair back. The water in my glass jostles and my mother calls my name as I bolt from the restaurant, tears burning at my eyes. The street is cold, wind blowing off the street. The tall buildings feel claustrophobic and a few moment later I’m already blocks from the sushi place. I open my phone and pull up the app that I’d only put on because Dexter made me. The car with the lit-up sign in the window shows up immediately, like it had been waiting for my call. I see the female driver—her skin brown and her smile nice.
“You sure about the location? It’s going to be pricey.”
I have money in the bank. LeeLee pays me every two weeks. I brush a tear off my cheek. “It’s fine. I have someone I need to see whether he wants to see me or not.”
27
Jake
The first three days are killer—the coaches obviously looking to see who’s too weak to make the cut. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this chance and I have no intention of letting a few aching muscles hold me back.
I step into the gym hot tub—the other players are either back in their rooms or in the dining hall, carb-loading, or off at one of the other activities set up by the program. The gym is quiet—most everyone tired of working out. I’ve been tense for days—weeks—and as much as working out helps, nothing is taking my mind off Starlee.
I’m glad I got to see her face when she saw the field for the first time. It’s an amazing sight. Red and beautiful. I owe her more than the weak apology I gave her by the side of the road. I owe her everything and I have no idea how to say it—if she’ll ever listen to me again. Dexter told me I was being stupid. I shouldn’t have pushed him off. God, I tried to fight him.
I sink under the bubbles, submerging my head, wanting the rush of thoughts and pain to subside.
Drying off, I change into sweats and slip on my shoes. The gym is not far from the hotel. The dormitories are still filled with students—it’s just spring break. The program set us up in the hotel nearby and besides practice, we have access to academic assistance where we sign up for classes, work on our schedules, and set up a path for success. It was a huge relief when the counselor I met made it clear she’s well aware of my dyslexia and the school is going to assist me with that. Everything’s lining up like I hoped.
Well, everything but one.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head across campus, passing the athletic center and the stadium. Walking past the dormitories and the edge of fraternity row, I settle into the feeling that this will be my home in just a few months. I feel good here, comfortable, even though it’s so different from Lee Vines.
I wait for the light to change at the intersection that separates the campus from the town. Cars zip by, lights glaring as they go. I push my hands into my hoodie, my body finall
y cooling off from the day of hard work. The light changes and I’m about to step off the sidewalk when a car stops abruptly in front of me, inches from taking me out. I throw up my hands in reaction.
“Watch where you’re going!” I shout, blood boiling. One thing’s for certain—I’m not used to traffic like this.
The door opens and I hear my name, “Jake?”
My heart stutters. “Starlee?”
She steps out of the backseat and the car pulls away from the curb, leaving Starlee standing in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, completely confused. “Where’s your mom and Mrs. Nye? Is everything okay?”
“No,” she says. I see the red ring around her eyes. “Well, they’re okay. I just…I have to ask you something.”
“Anything.” I desperately want to reach for her.
“Am I a burden to you? Any of you? Is that why you pushed me away?”
I frown. “A burden?”
“A mistake. Did I crash into your life and screw it up?” Her voice is strong. “Tell me the truth.”
I look around me, gaining my bearings. Lights from restaurants and bars brighten the road across the street. Students mill around, heading to and from the dorm. Lee Vines closes at dusk. Not this place. It’s filled with life and vibrancy. I spot a bench under a cluster of palm trees. Without hesitation, I take Starlee’s hand and lead her over, then sit next to her.
“The truth is that it’s hard for me to explain what you mean to me. A burden? Never. A force that I don’t always understand? Definitely. My life was so small before you came into it, Star. I kept on a tough face trying to pretend like not being able to read wasn’t a big deal—no one else seemed to think it was. I acted like not having a family didn’t bother me. That being abandoned was fine. I had football. I had this face,” I smile, knowing it’s cocky but there’s truth. “No one, not even Sierra or the guys, see the real me the way you do. You speak to me like I’m smart. Like I have something to offer.”