Abi and the Boy She Loves

by Kelsie Stelting

  “Are you okay?” I asked low. Anika and Kyle could probably hear, but I meant it just for him.

  “I’m fine,” he said just as loud as before. Like he wanted them to know he wasn’t suffering. “Now, focus on you. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Can’t help it,” I admitted.

  “Look, Abs,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. “Don’t waste it, okay?”

  I nodded and stood up to leave. The fact was Jon had been the one in love with running and competing. I was just fine making the loop around our neighborhood in the morning. If college track wasn’t paying for my degree, I would happily trade the early mornings and extra travel for more study time or a nap here and there.

  But this was my situation, and I promised I’d make the most of it for Jon. I went back to my room, changed into my uniform, and walked to the training center where the team was meeting for warm-up.

  Since it was a home meet, we got the advantage of preparing for the day here instead of a different field the hosting university offered.

  I took a seat on the ground beside Nikki and started stretching.

  “How’s Jon doing?” she asked.

  I shrugged, trying not to show how upset I was for him. It almost would have been better if he’d cried or broken down or done anything except put on the act that he had. At least then I’d have some idea of what to do to help him.

  She nodded. “I couldn’t imagine not running.”

  That was the problem. I could. “I’d do anything to trade places with him.”

  I knew it was wishful thinking, and that didn’t get me anywhere good. Nikki must have known that because she simply stayed beside me, preparing for the meet, showing me I wasn’t alone.

  Coach Cadence called the group together, and when we’d circled her, she began. “Ladies, we’ve been working hard. We’re getting closer and closer to the indoor nationals, and I want you to run every single race like it’s for the national title. Do you understand?”

  We nodded. She’d been running us in practices like the gold depended on it. Because it did. I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere near the platform, but the other girls were competitive, especially Nikki and Mollie.

  We left the training center and went about the meet as usual. Except this time, I couldn’t watch Jon race, couldn’t see his confidence and attempt to absorb it. Instead, as I stood at the starting line about to begin my race, I looked to the stands, searching for him. For some hint everything was okay.

  Jon was walking away from the track, up the bleacher stairs.

  The starting gun went off, and I jumped, unprepared.

  I heard Coach Cadence yell, “GET YOUR HEAD IN THE RACE, JOHNSON.”

  And I did, more out of survival than anything. Jon, my rock, was walking away. It was too painful for him to see me running. So as I put one foot in front of the other, trying to maintain my middle-of-the-pack status, the love of my life was suffering alone.

  I ran a terrible race, securing my worst time of the season. Coach Cadence barely hid her disappointment in the firm set of her lips, saying she’d talk to me at practice Monday.

  Refusing to make eye contact with my teammates, I went to the locker room to shower up and meet my family.

  They waited for me where I’d seen them in the stands, Anika and Kyle included, but I didn’t see the one person I really wanted to.

  Grandma answered the question in my eyes. “Jon said his leg was hurting, hon. Went to the dorms to lie down.”

  Anika came forward and gave me a big hug. “That was amazing, Abi. I had no idea you could run like that!”

  My lips twitched, not quite able to form a smile. “Thanks, girl.”

  As she stepped back, Kyle came forward, his hand in the air for a high-five.

  After I slapped his hand, he said, “We better get going, but good job today!”

  I smiled, thanked him, and went to Grandma, who wrapped her arm around me. I rested my head on her thin shoulder. She reached up and patted my cheek with her hand. The Scollers watched our exchange, at a loss.

  What could they say? Jon was their son. The situation sucked all around. There was no other word for how much it sucked.

  “Do you want to get dinner?” Grandma asked.

  I wiped at my eyes. “I actually have a headache. Would you be upset if I just went back to the dorms?”

  Her eyes told me she saw right through me, but still, she said, “Not at all, sweetie. Take care of yourself.” A reminder.

  I nodded. “I will.”

  Marta and Glen said goodbye, gave me long hugs each, and then they left. They’d offered me a ride to the dorm, but I wanted to walk. Clear my head. Maybe this frigid January air would do me some good.

  Plus, I knew what I was going to face when I found Jon would be harder than walking in below-freezing temperatures. I needed time to prepare for what would come next.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  I pushed open the door to Jon’s room, and he let out an exaggerated, fake yawn. If he thought he was fooling me, he was wrong. I knew his real yawns—had fallen asleep beside him and woken up in the same place enough to tell.

  “What happened back there?” I asked, standing at his bed, almost at eye level.

  His eyes were sharp, just more proof he’d been awake. “My leg was hurting so bad. I came back to get some medicine and take a nap.”

  “Are you feeling better? Emotionally?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  I tilted my head, pressing my lips together. “It was probably hard going to the track meet. I know that.”

  “It wasn’t.” He flung back his comforter, still fully dressed, and sat up, rubbing his hair. “My leg was hurting because a ski pole lodged itself in my thigh while I was trying to teach you to snowboard, if you don’t remember.”

  I recoiled from the slap of his words. “Of course I remember. I sat by you in the hospital for a week!”

  “Then I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m not hurt.” He carefully climbed down the ladder and then went to his desk, beginning the steps to strap on his brace.

  “I’m not,” I said. “I just...” I looked over my shoulder, out the dorm window. At all the people with normal, happy lives passing below. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be.” His eyes stayed trained on the straps of his brace. “Actually, I’m so fine, and the medicine helped so much, that I wanted to ask you to a party. Some guys from my lit class are having one at their house tonight.”

  I eyed him. “A house party?” He’d steered so clear of those our first semester, they might as well have been marked with caution, active contagion, people-named-Jon-don’t-come-near-here tape.

  “Yep.” He popped the p. “You game?”

  I couldn’t believe this. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He nodded, forcing a smile. “If I was any more okay, I’d have to change my name to Oscar Kangaroo. Get it? O. K.?”

  “What about CK? Crazy Kangaroo?”

  He shrugged. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  I rolled my eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Four.”

  “No, I meant the party?”

  “Oh, whenever. Thought we could head over around ten?”

  “Sure.” I rubbed my arm. “I guess...I’ll see you then?”

  “You don’t want to stay and hang out?”

  I shook my head, and at his fallen features, I said, “I mean, I do, but I need a nap and to get some studying in.”

  As he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and nodded, he looked completely lost. The problem was, I didn’t think I was the one who could help him find his way.

  Around nine, my phone started ringing. I dug it from under my blankets and saw Stormy’s name on the screen, requesting a video call. “Hello?”

  She grinned at me from her car, the overhead lights patchily illuminating her face. “You are a beast!”

  I leaned back against the wall, my eyebrows cre
ased. “What?”

  “I streamed your race before my shift! I got to see you run!”

  Heat immediately found my face. Of all my track meets so far, this was the last one I would have wanted her to see.

  “What?” she asked, buckling up. “Did you freeze?”

  “I’m here,” I said. “I can’t believe you watched it.”

  “I had to do something. I was so bored.” She groaned. “I’ve been having Braxton Hicks, and whenever Frank’s home, he puts me on bed rest!”

  “Braxton Hicks? Is that a band?”

  She laughed. “No, it’s like, fake contractions.”

  “You still have two months ‘til your due date, though.” I sat up, on edge. “Why’re you having contractions? Are you okay?”

  “God, you’re just as bad as Frank.” She rolled her head to the side, leaning against the window. “They’re normal. And a pain in the ass.”

  I shook my head, smiling. Pregnancy definitely hadn’t changed Stormy’s spirit.

  “How’d Jon do?” she asked.

  I frowned.

  “That bad?”

  “Let’s just say he left before my race even started.”

  She cringed. “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. And then he got all defensive when I asked him about it.”

  “Guys.” She rolled her eyes. “Anytime I even mention Frank might be a little scared about being a dad, he loses it.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  She shrugged. “I mean, good. Doting.” She smiled. “Terrified, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.”

  “If he’s going to be in the delivery room with you, he should be.”

  “You’re so lucky I’m not there. I totally would have hit you.” She laughed. “But, really, there was something I wanted to ask.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Will you be there with me? When I have the baby?”

  My mouth fell open. Then closed.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she rushed out.

  “No!” I said, shaking my head too fast. “No, it’s not that, it’s just, are you sure?”

  With her lips in a tight smile, she nodded. “I can have two people. One will be Frank, and the other spot is yours... If you want it.”

  “Of course. I’ll be there,” I promised.

  Chapter Forty

  Jon knocked on my door at half past nine. When I opened it, he stepped in, looking at Anika’s noticeably empty and made bed. “Where’d she go?”

  “To visit one of her friends,” I said. “She’s gone ’til Monday.”

  Jon tilted his head. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I sat back at my desk and continued applying mascara.

  He stepped behind me, swept my hair aside, and placed a kiss on the back of my neck.

  My hand froze on the mascara wand as shivers spread down my spine. “You’re going to make me smudge.”

  He reached over and grabbed my makeup, dropping it on the desk. “I don’t care.”

  My stomach swooped at the heat in his eyes, at the way he bit his bottom lip. “Oh really?” It came out all breathy, but Jon didn’t seem to notice.

  His mouth was on mine. Hard, desperate, hungry.

  I leaned into the kiss, talking with my body, pouring every second of stress and worry and guilt into the spots where our lips touched. I needed him to know how I felt about him, how much I cared for him, and words weren’t working anymore.

  But when we finished kissing, the glazed look had returned to his eyes. He stood up and straightened out his clothes, and I did the same.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  No. But I just said, “Let’s go.”

  Cars lined the streets so tightly around the party that traffic could only go in one direction. We drove around for nearly an hour looking for a parking spot and only managed to find one because someone was leaving. It took me fifteen minutes to parallel park in the spot barely big enough for a Vespa, and we were still three blocks away.

  By the third time Jon nearly got knocked over on the sidewalk, I was over the night and ready to go home.

  I glanced over at him, at his even expression that hid everything going on under the surface. I wanted to tell him about Stormy and Braxton Hicks and labor and all the emotions swirling inside, but I couldn’t. They wouldn’t reach him anyway with his mind a million miles from me.

  When we finally got to the house, there were drunk people hanging on the porch. One of them made a comment about Jon being a cripple.

  I sent him a glare that could singe ash.

  We walked into the crowded house, and someone immediately called out to Jon. “Hey, man, we’re playing pong in the garage! Come out!”

  Jon nodded. “For sure.”

  “You wanna drink?” the guy asked.

  “Yeah,” Jon answered. “A beer?”

  I did a double take. Was I even here with the right guy? As his friend went off to get Jon a beer, I asked. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting a drink.”

  “Why?”

  He looked over his shoulder, toward the other party goers. “It’s not like I have to worry about getting kicked off the track team anymore.”

  I stared at him, at a loss. “You’ve never even drunk anything before.”

  “Guess it’s time to start,” Jon said like my words didn’t matter at all.

  His friend came back with a beer, then seeming to realize Jon was on crutches, said, “Follow me. You can have it when we get out to the garage.”

  We followed the guy down a few cement stairs to a garage that was only slightly less crowded. But when you factored in the lawn-care equipment and giant kennel with a pit bull inside, it felt just as bad.

  “Look who came!” the guy called to the others.

  “Finally!” another one yelled. “I call him for my team.”

  Another friend looked me over. “Then I get her.”

  Jon said, “She’s mine. But you can borrow her.”

  Who even was my boyfriend? I’d never heard him say anything like that before. He definitely didn’t talk about me like I wasn’t there. Like I was a possession to be passed around.

  His friend, who looked like a taller, beefier version of Frank, walked over to me. “You any good?”

  “No,” I deadpanned. I didn’t want to be here, much less be buddy-buddy and drink with a stranger who was “borrowing” me for a game. Jon and I’d have a lot to talk about when we got home.

  But for now, I was getting handed sticky ping-pong balls and being told to throw it at a cup or else I’d have to drink.

  When I missed the first throw, the guy handed me a beer, but I shook my head. “I drove.”

  “Come on, one won’t kill you.”

  “I drove,” I repeated.

  “Give her a pop,” Jon said dismissively like he was tired of the argument.

  With a groan, the guy disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a root beer. I didn’t want to add any sugary calories, but I wasn’t about to belabor the point. I just wanted this night to be over.

  My partner and I won three out of five, and he tried to rope me into a second round, but I refused.

  “That’s okay,” Jon slurred. “She can sit by me over here.”

  He dropped onto the dog crate and patted the spot beside him. Thank god the dog was way less vicious than it looked.

  I just shook my head and folded my arms over my chest before going to Jon and whispering, “What are we doing here, Jon?”

  He drained the rest of his drink. “Partying, Abi. Having fun. For once in my life.”

  I couldn’t help the hurt that sparked in my chest at his words. “We’ve never had fun?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  He reached out for my arm, and I begrudgingly let him hold my hand.

  “Aw, Abi,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I love you. Like more than anything. You’re seriously the best girl in the world. Check out the girls
in this room? You’re the best. In the state? You’re the best. In the world? No contest.”

  I rolled my eyes, stifling a smile. “Well, I think you’re pretty great too.” Most of the time. “And drunk.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged my stomach. “I love you so much.”

  I patted his head while making a mental checklist to get him a cold shower and a long night’s sleep. “I love you too.”

  “Let’s get out of here?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  When we got out the front door and back into the cold air, I asked, “Where do you want to go?”

  He shrugged. “I think there’s a park nearby.”

  “We can drive there?”

  “No, let’s walk.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with him. Maybe walking it off in the chilly weather would do him good. I tucked my hands deeper into my coat pockets and walked alongside him, quiet. Thinking.

  “Drinking is weird,” Jon said.

  I snorted. “Seeing you drinking is weird.”

  “I’ve missed out on so much trying to be a track star,” Jon said.

  My heart went out to him. “You would have won nationals, and you’re only a freshman. You were a track star, Jon.”

  “Exactly. Past tense.” His jaw tightened, and his lips formed a heavy, regretful line. “And for what?”

  “A chance,” I said. “No one promised you it would work out the way you wanted or planned. If it wasn’t a ski pole, it could have been a car hitting you in the road, a pothole on the corn run, a—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  The coldness in his words made me recoil, but then he softened and added, “I want to talk about the good things in my life.” He nodded toward the park coming into view ahead of us. “The fact that there are two adult swings up there.” He glanced up. “And I can see the moon. You.”

  A corner of my lips lifted. “I see where I rank.”

  He laughed. “It wasn’t listed in order of importance.”

  “I can’t believe you can say importance four beers deep.”