“You okay, Magpie?”
“I’m fine. Some jerk cut me off.”
He sweeps a hand up and down my spine to calm me. “You’re gonna be okay.” His voice is calm, but his arms are trembling.
“I’m never driving again.”
“You did the right thing. You got out of the way of the bad driver and didn’t crash into any other cars. I’m proud of you. You’re a great driver.”
“How do you know?”
“I was behind you. I saw the whole thing happen. I can’t believe that asshole didn’t even stop to make sure you’re okay.” His hand cradles the side of my head as he checks my eyes. “You feel all right? Does anything hurt?”
My forehead hurt a little at first and my arms feel like they were jarred, but I’m okay. “Can you drive me home?”
“Of course.”
He collects my bag out of the car and leads me to his truck, where he opens the passenger side door and helps me inside. He even calls my dad to tell him we left the car on the other side of Franklin. Dad panics, of course, and says he’ll meet me at home, but he’s over in the next town, and it’ll take a little while for him to drive back.
Once Levi and I are on the road, he lets out a long breath and reaches over to squeeze my hand. “You scared me, Magpie.”
“I’m okay.”
“If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t be.” At the next stoplight, he rubs his eyes, then looks over at me. “You sure you’re okay? Should we go to the hospital?”
I pat my body again. “I’m fine, I think, but I’ll let you know.”
Back at my house, he leads me to my room. He doesn’t even complain about the mess as he tucks me in under the covers. He makes me take Tylenol and sip some water, and after calling the school, he lies down next to me, breathing deeply. Staring at my face, he rests a hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry, Mags. For everything.”
“I know.”
The air is thick with silence.
“The Rock, the pope, and Queen Elizabeth,” Levi finally says. “Who’s going overboard?”
Our relationship doesn’t feel normal again, but this at least gives me hope we can figure out a way to be friends.
? ? ?
Coach Woods asks me to stay after health class one day.
I’m sure she wants to question me about my homework. Our class had to develop individual meal plans for a week, focusing on calories and grams of fat and carbs. Basically my menu consisted of protein bars, pasta, chocolate milk, and really anything I can get my hands on in Chef’s kitchen. If I come into contact with a food, I generally will eat it unless it’s something like frog legs. That’s what I wrote on my report: I will eat anything but frog legs.
“Is this about my meal plan? I’m sorry I didn’t follow the instructions to stay within specific fat grams but—”
“Your plan looked a lot like mine when I was your age,” Coach Woods replies. “I ate all the time. Especially at Joe’s All-You-Can-Eat Pasta Shack.”
“Oooh. I love that place.”
“I still love it, even though I shouldn’t be eating like that since I don’t practice every day anymore,” she admits. Then she asks, “Your parents run a catering company, right?” I nod. “My fiancé and I are getting married this summer, and he’s dead set on our friend Carter catering the wedding out of his taco restaurant.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“Right? But we can’t only have tacos and tortilla chips.”
“You can’t?” I joke.
“Well, I need to find a groom’s cake, for one. And I want to do some different appetizers. Like chicken fingers and pigs in a blanket.”
“My dad loves catering ‘Americana,’” I say, making finger quotes. “He’s all about the classics.”
“Me too,” she says. “But we haven’t done a very good job of planning for a tent…or silverware or plates… Really all we have planned are Carter’s tacos, and Sam’s sister is going to play guitar when we walk down the aisle.”
I write down Dad’s phone number on a piece of paper and give it to her. “You can call my dad if you want. He’s really into creating themes, so if you want something special for your wedding, he can pull it off. Last summer he did a Disney-themed wedding. This summer he’s doing a Harry Potter one. They’re serving butterbeer.”
Her eyes grow wide with excitement. “I could do a football-themed wedding?!”
“Sure, yeah, I guess,” I say. “The table names could be football teams. And the signature cocktail could be an Old Fashioned Football.”
“Ooh. How’d you come up with that?”
“I grew up with my parents,” I say, and she laughs.
“By the way, congrats on winning at state,” she says. “The principal was telling me we’ve never had anyone win a state swim meet until you and Levi.”
“Thank you.” I adjust my backpack on my shoulder.
I must sound a little deflated because she asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Did you ever have a rival?”
Coach Woods laughs into her fist. “You won’t believe it. My senior year, when I was quarterback of Hundred Oaks, this new guy, Ty, showed up wanting to join the team, and he played quarterback too.”
“Oh my god.”
“And he was better than me.”
I gasp. “What did you do?”
“I played harder than I ever had in my life and showed him who was boss. I let him get some playing time too because I was captain and needed to give other kids opportunities, but I made sure he knew it was my team.”
“That worked?”
She picks up the football from her desk and tosses it to herself. “I wanted to play. I wouldn’t let anyone stand in my way.”
“That guy, Ty, what happened with him? Was he upset he didn’t get to play much?”
Coach Woods smirks a little. “We dated for a while. So, yeah, he was mad, but not that mad. And now he plays quarterback for the Arizona Cardinals. I’d say he’s doing okay.”
“Uh, wow.”
“Why’d you ask about a rival?”
“This one girl always gets in my head. I lose to her more often than I should.”
“You need to be racing yourself, not her.”
“That’s what Coach Josh says.”
“So what’s the issue?”
“I dunno…she humiliates me. She flirted with Levi—my best friend—right in front of me. She brags online that she’s better than I am. She says mean things to me in person.”
“Sounds like she’s trying to prove she’s better than you…but she’s not doing it in the pool.”
“She beat me at state, though.”
“Were you at your best during that race?”
I shake my head. I’d been crying over a boy. I was nowhere near my best.
Coach Woods sets her football down on her desk. “Are you one of the best swimmers in Tennessee?”
I don’t hesitate to say “Yes.”
“You have a coach who gets up early every morning before dawn to practice with you, right?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He believes in me.”