“Oh, okay,” I said. I didn’t even look back at Grace. I just walked away, to the other side of the room.
There were no completely empty tables, but there was a mostly empty one, so I sat there. At the other end, a few guys had staked their spots. A set of twins. A black kid. A really blond kid. And then a guy with red hair. He was the one who looked over—even sitting I could see he was tall and gangly, clearly a freshman like me, with ears that stuck out like they were too large for his head. I could tell he wanted to talk to me or something, to try and be friendly or whatever. But I looked down at my food. He finally ignored me and carried on with his conversation with his friends—stupid boy stuff, which I mostly tuned out. For the rest of the lunch period I ate in silence and waited for the bell to ring.
The redheaded guy was Donal Murphy, and he was in my next class—biology. He was Irish—like, really Irish, with the accent and all. What the hell was he doing in Tuscaloosa, I wondered. Turned out his father was an econ professor at the University, but I found that out later. All through class I tried not to look at him, although I knew he kept stealing looks at me.
Finally, when that first day of school ended, I grabbed my things from my locker and waited for Earl by the parking lot near the soccer field. Off behind me, I saw the soccer teams practicing. Or maybe it was tryouts, I didn’t know. I’d never played except when they made us in gym. Sam had played soccer from a young age. He’d been a star player, and I’d usually gone to his games.
Suddenly a ball rolled past me, headed toward the parking lot. I raced toward it and caught it with my foot before it could enter. I turned and dribbled the ball a little, looking for who it belonged to. Up ahead, some girl was running toward me. When she got closer she slowed down and stopped, giving me the once-over.
I kicked the ball to her. “Hey. You trying out?” She had black hair, cut short like a boy’s, and olive skin. She wore crimson-colored knee-high socks, matching knee pads, white shorts, and a Central Falcons Soccer T-shirt. And on her wrist was a rainbow bracelet that looked homemade.
“Nope,” I said.
“Maybe you should,” she said. “Those were some good moves.”
“Yeah, right,” I said.
“They were. You should see some of those girls trying out,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But for real. This week we have open tryouts. I’m helping Coach Bailey with the drills and stuff. Coach Bailey loves me—I’ve got some pull. Come.”
“My brother played,” I said, dodging her.
“He on the boys’ team?”
“No,” I said. I almost added, he’s too young. But I stopped myself. This girl had no idea who I was, I realized. I liked that.
“I’m Conchita, but everyone calls me Chita,” she said.
“Beth,” I said.
“Well, Beth, I still think you should try out.”
I had some trouble imagining that my mom would let me leave the house for anything other than school. “I can’t today.”
“Tomorrow then.”
“Maybe.”
She just stood there, sort of smiling at me. I saw she had dirt on her cheek, like she’d rolled around on the ground. But she didn’t seem to care. “I’ve never seen you before,” I said.
“I used to go to Holy Spirit. But their team sucks. I wanted to play on a good team—well, a better team, anyway. A team that has a chance at State.” She picked the ball up and bounced it on her head a few times, while crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out.
I let out a little laugh. My first laugh in weeks, probably. Earl’s truck pulled up and I saw him wave. “Well, my ride’s here,” I said, with a stab of regret. This was the first real conversation—the first conversation not centered on Sam—I’d had with anyone in weeks.
“Come by tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you. Right here.”
“We’ll see,” I said, smiling.
That afternoon, after Earl went back to the construction site and while Mom was still at work, I went into Sam’s room and paused, feeling like I was in some sacred space that shouldn’t be disturbed. I wanted to be out of there, so I quickly found his soccer ball in his closet and left. I went to the backyard and kicked the ball into the fence like I was trying to score a goal, dribbled the ball till I was tired and sweaty. I wasn’t so bad at it, I realized. After, I went back in the house and put the soccer ball in my closet. It wasn’t like Sam was here to use it.
The next day, after the bell rang, I changed into my gym clothes in one of the bathroom stalls, avoiding the locker rooms so I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone. Then I walked to where I’d waited yesterday. I’d told Earl I had to stay late for a Yearbook staff meeting. But on my way to the field, my stomach started feeling knotted. I thought I might chicken out. Hadn’t some of these girls played competitively for years? Despite what Chita said, how did I know if I was any good? I might fall on my face and risk humiliation. The idea seemed crazier and crazier.
But Chita was waiting for me, like she promised. “I knew you’d come,” she said, sounding triumphant.
I kept a stone face. “Listen. Will this take up a lot of time after school?” I didn’t tell her it was because I hated being home.
Chita smiled. “This will keep you plenty busy. I can promise you that.”
“Then let’s go,” I said, walking toward where the coach stood.
Chita trotted alongside me, and when I glanced over at one point I could see her grinning a mile wide. Darla was there that day, too, the only black girl in the whole group, and Ainsley, with streaks of blue in her hair, so tall that she seemed more like a basketball player. Across the way, the boys’ soccer players had gathered for their tryouts. And I saw some of the guys from lunch, including Donal, sitting in the grass stretching. He saw me and waved like a spaz. I’d sat at his lunch table again earlier that day, and ignored all of them, and then ignored Donal in biology class, too. I could have ignored him again right there, but I waved back. The sun was on my skin, and the breeze blew my hair around. I felt excited and hopeful again. For the first time in weeks, I was happy.
===
When I enter the cafeteria for lunch, Grace Cutler comes right up to me, like she was camped out waiting. “Beth!” she says, beaming, like she’s still my best girlfriend, three years later.
“Oh, hi,” I say.
It’s not like we haven’t seen each other since freshman year. Since she went her way—cheerleading and all that—and I went mine, we have had plenty of classes together. But usually we both acted like strangers.
“I just want to tell you how happy I am for you—for your family. It’s just so amazing,” she says.