I pull her away from where anyone can hear.
“Because … Joe was like a dad to me when I was a kid.”
She softens a little, but I can see her eyes darting around, looking for Evan. Did she see me trying to talk to him outside? Surely she can understand that I at least need to pay my respects?
“You’ve said your goodbyes. It’s time to move on.” She tucks my hair behind my ear and strokes my cheek. The same way Theresa did. Why does it feel so different? How can I tell her, now I’m here, I don’t want to move on? That seeing Evan took all the breath from my lungs and I need, somehow, to make it right? It was easy to ignore how hard Evan had it while I wasn’t around to witness it. But now I’m here, seeing it with my own eyes, I can’t ignore it anymore.
“All the same,” I say, working hard to keep my voice level. “I’ll make my own way back. There are some things I need to take care of at school anyway.”
“Fine.” She juts her chin. “I’ll see you soon.” She looks around at everything like it scares her. “Just don’t hang around too long.”
I make my way upstairs, a few steps creaking underfoot, and hesitate outside the closed bedroom door I know is Evan’s. I listen for a second. There’s no noise coming from the other side.
I knock, waiting for a reply. When none comes, I ball my fist up and get ready to try again, but a small voice at my back stops me.
“Nate?”
I turn, blinking at the kid standing in front of me. “Hey Stace, you okay?”
She comes closer and puts her arms around me. She’s so big now. The last time I saw her, she was tiny. Hopping across a hopscotch board in the front yard withher friend. Now she’s an actual teenager. Dressed much older, in a stiff black dress and pantyhose.
“You’re gonna stay, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean … ” She looks up at me. “You’re not gonna leave again, are you?”
Fuck.My heart plummets. I wonder if Evan’s listening behind the door.
“Sure.”
“I’d leave him be for now,” Stacie says, gesturing to the door. “He’s less of a grump if you give him space.”
“Thanks.” I try a smile. “Good to know.”
She heads down the stairs and I’m in limbo again, not knowing what the fuck to do. I want to go in there and comfort Evan, but too much time has passed to just jump right back in where we left off. He’s made it obvious we can’t go back to being friends as easily as all that.
I take Stacie’s advice and leave him be. For now.
We hostPenn for the first match of the Ivy. Priestley has been on edge for the past 24-hours. Making everyone go to bed early and drink green juice the second we woke up this morning.
While he’s off complaining about something, we have a few moments in the locker room to actually have fun. We’re laughing and someone’s playing music when he gets back. Priestley turns it off, turning to all of us.
“Before you all bitch at me for ruining your fun, I just wanted to remind you all that we’re a team out there, and that we’ve got this.”
There’s an awkward pause before I realize we’resupposed to cheer. As Priestley’s right-hand man, I jump in and start us off, the rest of the guys following suit. Priestley turns to his locker to change and silence spreads over the locker room.
At least the courts look beautiful under the mid-morning sun. There are even a few spectators in the stands. I squint to see if I can find a familiar face, not knowing if I actually want to see my mom there in one of her try-hard designer dresses and her big, bug-eye sunglasses. Instead, I see Bryce, chatting with some serious-looking businessman in a light suit and aviators. Bryce sees me walk out onto the court and raises his hand in greeting.
Princeton is Bryce’s alma mater. He got me into competitive tennis after he married my mom, made sure I had access to great coaches. He pulled strings to secure my place. I had to get excellent grades, of course, but I’m not naïve enough to think I’d have ever ended up here without him. Seeing him in the stands makes me even more competitive. Makes me want to show him that his investment paid off.
Priestley and I start play for the doubles point. I didn’t particularly want to play doubles with Priestley, I much prefer playing with Ben. But Priestleyisthe better player, and despite how stressful it is being his partner, terrified I’ll miss a return or mess up my serve, we win the doubles point and start strong.
Priestley plays the first singles match against Penn’s star player. While we watch, I try not to think about Bryce in the stands behind me. We don’t get a lot of spectators. College tennis isn’t college football or hockey. We’re not necessarily a training system for future stars, though there have been pros to come out of the college tennis system. Tennis courts in colleges tend to be crowded together—we’renot playing Centre Court at Wimbledon here. On the plus side, low attendance at matches gets rid of some of that pressure having a live crowd can bring. On the negative side, we’ll never get to experience the glory that college football players get to enjoy. And there isn’t much of a home crowd advantage, either.
Priestley wipes the floor with Penn’s star player and I’m up next.
There’s a lot to block out. Not just my nerves at facing an opponent across the net, but Priestley’s eyes on me. Bryce up in the stands. The pressure of not letting the team down. And even though I know I shouldn’t let the thought distract me, as I step out onto the court, my promise to Evan’s mom is running through my mind.
