Holding On (17 page)

I stood there confused for a minute before I realized that I
looked like an idiot and turned toward the stairs. I reached my locker in
record time.
I
wanted
to
be
able
to
hit
some
balls
before
I
went
home,
and with the warming weather this week, even though it was still
January,
I thought
I
might
have
to
fight
for
a
spot
on
a
court.
By
the
time
I
reached the courts after changing, I realized that I was wrong. The parking
lot was
almost
completely
empty
from
what
I
could
see
of
it,
and
the
courts were
desolate.
Then
I
realized
that
no
one
but
me
would
stay
after
school
on a Friday by
choice.

When
my
phone
rang
at
seven
o’clock
Sunday
morning,
I
knew
it had to be Brad. The early hour told me that he was probably
excited and
his
parents
probably
said
yes.
I
knew
how
the
conversation
was
going to go, but I picked up my phone anyway and mumble
something
that was supposed to sound like hello into the
receiver.

“You
bitch! I cannot believe you!” A female voice screamed into my
ear.

I
was
wide
awake
now
and
was
staring
at
the
number
on
my
phone. I didn’t recognize it, but it has a Michigan area
code.

Someone from
home?

“Excuse me? Who is this?” I tried to sound unaffected by the
rude awakening
I
just
received,
but
there
was
a
hint
of
anger
in
my
voice
that I could not seem to
hide.

“Claire, you bitch! How could you do this to me?
He’s
leaving
me for you, you home wrecker!” she shouted at the top of her
lungs.

Really? She made it sound like I broke up their marriage when
I’m thousands
of
miles
away
and
had
nothing
to
do
with
it.
Well,
almost nothing.

“I knew this was going to happen. All those times you two
would
hang
out
as
‘just
friends’
when
really
you
were
seeing
each
other
behind my back. I knew it!” Claire
continued.

“Claire,
it’s
7:00 a.m. here, and you just woke me up.” She tried to interrupt
me,
but
I
continued
before
she
could.
“I
did
not
steal
him
away from you, and I do not believe he is leaving you for me.
He’s
my best
friend
, and we were never seeing each other behind your back. Now
do not
call
me
this
early
ever
again,
and
unless
you
want
to
apologize,
I
am hanging
up.”

I could hear her breathing heavy with anger on the other end of
the line,
but
she
never
spoke.
I
gave
her
no
more
than
ten
seconds,
and
I hung
up
on
her.
I
was
wide
awake
and
pissed
off.
Either
Brad
told
her
it was because of me—and it really is because of me—or he told her
that as an easy way out. Either
way,
he was going to get a very large
piece of my mind after I down a cup of coffee and beat the crap out of
some
tennis
balls.

I
threw
on
my
clothes
and
pulled
my
hair
up
high
on
my
head.
After
washing my face, brushing my teeth, and putting on some deodorant,
I was
in
my
car
and
on
my
way
to
grab
some
coffee.
My
phone
rang,
and I didn’t even bother to see who it was before I sent them to
voicemail. Whoever
wanted
to
talk
to
me
this
early
was
going
to
have
to
wait.
I needed
to
blow
off
some
steam
before
I
can
even
imagine
being
civil
to anyone.

I stepped onto the court, and for the first time since waking up
this morning, I felt a little more relaxed. There was a slight breeze
blowing my
ponytail,
and
I
closed
my
eyes
to
enjoy
the
sun
on
my
face
for
a minute. Before I opened them, I heard the squeak of the gate door,
and my stomach dropped. I smelled him before I saw him. It was a
familiar smell,
something
I
think
my
dad
used
to
wear,
but
somehow
different
in the best way
possible.

“You’re
here
early,”
he
said.

I
was
not
planning
on
seeing
anyone,
and
I
know
that
I
looked completely
disheveled.
I
kept
facing
forward,
hoping
to
hide
most
of myself from
him.

“Yeah,
just needed to blow off some steam this morning. What
are you
doing
here?”
I
did
not
want
to
talk
about
me.
“I
figured
you
were
the kind of guy to sleep until noon on a Sunday after staying out all
night.”

“Nope.”

That
was
all
he
gave
me.
A
single
word
with
not
so
much
as
a
small explanation attached to it.

Fine,
I
won’t
make
small
talk
if
he
was
not
interested
in
making
small
talk. I was willing to talk to him Friday in the hall, and he
disappeared. He
lost
his
chance.
I
came
here
to
be
alone
anyway,
and
now
I
really
felt the need to beat the crap out of some
balls.

I removed my sweatshirt and started to stretch. My shoulder
had been feeling pretty good, but I planned on working it hard for the
next hour or so.
Hopefully,
a good stretch beforehand would help keep
some
of
the
pain
at
bay.
When
I
glanced
over
at
Ethan,
he
was
two
courts
over, stretching
as
well.
He
was
wearing
a
fitted
white
t-shirt
and
running pants,   the kind that snap up to the side and with one quick tug I
could pull
off
him
completely.
No!
I
won’t
go
down
that
path
with
my
thoughts. I
grabbed
my
racket
and
a
couple
of
balls.
I
warmed
up
my
shoulder, and then I couldn’t wait any longer. I tossed the ball and struck it
hard. It
hit
on
the
line,
but
close
to
where
I
was
aiming.
My
shoulder
was
getting
better
every
time
I
worked
with
it.
A
small
grin
formed
from
the satisfaction it gave me, knowing that I may be able to compete
again, despite what the doctor and therapist said, even if just in high
school.