like that. How you want to keep reliving one small fraction of time when you felt invincible.
My dad has this friend who always makes him tell this story about a baseball game from back in high school. Every time the guy’s over, he tel s it. And we sit there like we haven’t heard it a mil ion times before. I thought it was pathetic, how you could look back on something so insignificant as one game, one play, and think that was the greatest moment in your life.
But then I total y got it.
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I was THE MAN. The hero. The MVP. And all I had to do was
catch a bal . One that Jacob threw with precision. Did he get the credit he deserved? Not as much as I did.
There I was on a total ego high when Macal an had to come in
and crash the party.
And what did THE MAN, the hero, the MVP do? He stood there
terrified and did nothing.
NOTHING.
I had to recount what happened not only to the principal, but to Macal an’s dad. He looked so upset when he arrived at school, then had to listen to me tell him how brave his daughter had been.
While I’d just stood there.
I had to tell him all the awful things Keith had said.
While I’d just stood there.
I’d never felt more like a loser in my life.
Before I real y knew where I was running to, I ended up at Riverside Park. I’d been running so hard, I could see my breath come out in short spurts. I walked a bit to cool down, even though the cold
weather was already helping with that.
I normal y didn’t run that hard when it was early winter, but I
needed to get some distance from what had happened the day
before.
I’d begun to walk forward to the swings when I noticed someone
stretching, out over by the picnic tables. I abruptly stopped when I realized it was Macal an. She had her right leg up on the table and was bending over to stretch out her hamstrings.
Confusion swirled around whether I should approach her or walk
away before she saw me.
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I stepped forward. It was about time I started acting like the stud I’d been pretending to be for the past week. Or more accurately, past few months.
“Hey!” I cal ed out to her.
She spun around quickly. “Oh, hey.” She paused for a second
before continuing to stretch.
“You just starting?”
“Nope, I’m done.”
I knew that. I knew her routine. She was happy running for herself.
To help clear her head. She didn’t need the justification of a team or a crowd to do something.
I had no idea what to do. I wanted to make things right between
us, but I wasn’t sure at what cost. So I would start with what I should’ve done months ago: apologize.
“Macallan, about —”
She cut me off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“He’s a jerk,” I offered.
Her lip curled slightly. “He’s your best friend.”
I wanted to say No, he’s not. You are. But I hadn’t been acting like a friend to her, let alone a best friend.
I opened my mouth, trying to think of something to say to mend
this tension between us. The words that came out were: “See you at Thanksgiving.”
See you at Thanksgiving? I should’ve asked her to punch me right then and there. Maybe she would’ve knocked some sense into me.
“Yeah.” She began to walk away.
“Hey, Macal an,” I cal ed after her. “Is it okay that we’re still coming?”
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She hesitated briefly. “Of course.”
While that pause was only a couple seconds, it was long enough
for me to know I’d done some real damage.
My parents let me drive my new car to Thanksgiving. I should’ve
been excited for this rather adult responsibility, but I was nervous.
For the first time since I’ve known the Dietzes, I wasn’t sure how to act. This needed to be a great Thanksgiving for Macal an. I didn’t want to do anything or say anything that would upset her.
What I did want was for us to figure some way to get back
to normal. To pre-Levi-being-an-idiot. To pre-Ireland. Maybe even to pre-Emily.
Adam opened the door with a giant smile. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
Guilt stabbed me as I thought about what Keith had said.
We all exchanged holiday greetings and unloaded our winter
coats and gifts. We’d brought the centerpiece, pumpkin pie, shrimp for an appetizer, and some adult beverages for the grown-ups.
The amazing smell of the holidays greeted us as we stepped into
the living room.
Mom set out the shrimp cocktail on the coffee table next to
Macal an’s offerings: spiced pecans, bacon rol -ups, and, I was
beyond thril ed to see, her cheese bal .
“Yes!” I sat down and grabbed a cracker.
“Get your own!” Adam gently shoved me as we both started helping ourselves to the food. If only Thanksgiving happened in the
summer, I would never have had a problem putting on weight for
footbal season.
“Macal an!” Mom greeted Macal an with a giant hug as she
entered the room. “This all looks wonderful. What can I help you with?”
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