“Do you want to see the hovel they’ve got the volleyball queens of this university staying in?”
“Sure, I’m down.”
From that moment forward, the two of us became friends and kindred spirits. We would grab lunch often and go to each other’s games for support. We’d often sit on campus and talk about our favorite classes or our least favorite professors. We were an unlikely pair; sort of like The Odd Couple. He was quiet and focused, and I was bubbly and all over the place. He came from a solid two parent family and I was from an emotionally unavailable single mom. He seemed to ace his classes with little effort, and I had to study throughout the night just to pass a chapter quiz. He held people at a distance and I always gave people too much credit, but something about our friendship works.
People have never understood it, but I’m smart enough to know that you don’t meet many people like Rush in a lifetime which is why I have always valued our friendship and definitely depend on it. And while I’d never say this out loud, because I know it would make him feel guilty, it makes me nervous that Rush won’t be at one of the most important games of my career.
He’s my good luck charm.
When Rush comes to our games, I know there will be lots of loud claps and cheers for us because when anyone from the football team attends our matches; the groupies are sure to follow. That means we’ll have a large crowd of spectators, which is always fuel for an athlete’s motivation. More importantly though, Rush is my biggest fan. If he’s not going to be there tomorrow, it will feel like an essential part of the team will be missing.
I grab a bottle of 100% cranberry juice out of the cooler of beer and hand it to him.
“You thirsty?”
“Wow, I thought, there’d only be beer here. You volleyball chicks are drunks.”
“You know I wouldn’t forget that you’re the mostdisciplinedfootball player in the entire university, so I bought you some juice.”
He knows that using disciplined is my code word for describing how regrettably predictable he is. Throughout our years here on campus, he’s been known to be the fun police. He’s pulled me away from more frat parties than I care to remember and away from school clubs that in his words “were nothing but a distraction”.
“Only the disciplined players get into the pros, Bird.”
“I know, I know, but you only live once and if I want to drink a beer before the game, I’m going to have one. It ain’t going to kill me,” I retort. “I’m sure plenty of Olympians drink a beer or two.”
“Why do you call her Bird?” Pearl asks Rush with the goofiest grin across her face. I forgot she was even there for a moment.
“She sings all the damn time,” he tells her.
“Just like a bird,” I say, imitating one by flapping my arms as if they were wings.
One of my other teammates changes the song on the portable bluetooth speaker and it’s a Black Eyed Peas classic. I can’t help myself and start dancing around the bonfire like a possessed woman.
“You can’t possibly be drunk yet,” Pearl comments, laughing at my dance.
“She’s not,” Rush tells her. “That’s her totally sober.”
“I drink beer because I genuinely enjoy the taste and not because of any way it may alter my state. A girl like me is drunk on life.”
Everything I said was true. Regardless of my crappy home life, I’m just a genuinely cheerful person. I was born that way.
I stop in front of Rush and try mimicking a dance I saw a little boy doing in a viral video. I do it because he thought the video was just as hysterical as I did.
“Seriously?” He cracks a smile and slides his hand through his thick mane of chestnut-colored hair. “You look like a zombie in a hip hop dance class.”
“This song reminds me of the sixth grade,” I say as I continue to exuberantly dance. “My Grandmom bought me the album and didn’t pay attention to the parental warnings. She just assumed they were a squeaky clean group.”
“Rookie Grandmom mistake.”
“Yep, it was awesome!”
I pump my fists to the rhythmic beat ofBoom Boom Powas Rush sinks down to the Florida sand and watches me in complete wonder.
“You’re going to be completely wiped for the game if you keep this up.”
“Never!” I say, panting. “Remember, Bacchetti, I won our last two mile race.”
“I gave you a head start.”
