Moving to my usual spot on the bleachers, I lie on the bench and scroll through my phone. Everything was restored from iCloud, but I almost wish it hadn’t been so the device would be empty.
I sign into Instagram and immediately see Everett smiling back at me with Kendall beside him. Her hand is across the number one on his chest (the same he’s worn since youth football) while she beams in her cheer outfit with the caption “Captains unite.”
In a perfect world, it’d be me in the photo with him. But I’m glad it’s not. Kendall is thrilled and excited to be there. And at least Everett’s happy too. That’s all I can wish for him. Because I know I wouldn’t be a good friend to have by his side.
There’s a throat clearing as someone steps up beside me. Shifting my phone to the side, I look up at Coach. “Is this your plan for the entire year, Ivy?”
“Pretty much.” Since the schedule change won’t come through.
“You’ll fail the class.”
“I’ll still have enough credits to graduate.”
Coach keeps a blunt tone. “It’ll kill your GPA.”
I look back at my phone. “I’ll survive.”
“You don’t have to compete, just attempt to participate a few times and you’ll receive a passing grade,” Coach explains, before he walks away with a disapproving expression.
Get in line, Coach.Disappointment is inevitable. I drop my phone to my stomach and stare at the ceiling. Fatigue is catching up with me. The last few nights the nightmares have gotten worse and played out even further. But still a jumbled, chaotic mess.
My phone vibrates on my chest as I ignore it until three more come through. I hear a girl in my class come up beside me. “Ivy, you’ve been holding out. This doesn’t even seem like you.”
When I look at my phone, I see a message from an unknown number. There’s a video attached. I don’t have to watch to know what it is. The highlight reel was posted on my old school’s social media after I captured the state title. And my mom was the one who ran up and congratulated me.
Even though I shouldn’t, I click to watch. It doesn’t feel like me either. The entire moment feels like a dream I’d imagined and now watch from the outside, like it never happened. Or it just happened so long ago the memory has faded. I watch my mom clapping and smiling before she runs over and wraps me in her arms. I barely acknowledge her, shrugging her off to resume the celebration with my teammates. But what really gets me iswhen they interview my mom and coach before I come back on the screen with my teammates.
Simone drops onto the bench beside me. “Remind me why you aren’t competing with us?”
Wait. What? I look over and see the video playing on her phone. And when I glance around the room, there’re a few others viewing their phones or looking at me. It’s not like that video wasn’t already public, but I don’t want to deal with the questions and explaining myself.
Grabbing my things, I head out of the natatorium straight for the parking lot. Once I round the corner, I spot Luca leaning against the wall near the exit.
I don’t acknowledge him and just keep walking until he says, “Looks like you knew a little about winning too. Mommy was so proud.”
Every muscle in my body tenses up as I stop in my tracks, my feet frozen in place. Slowly, I turn to look at his smug, triumphant gape.
“Did you send this?”
He doesn’t respond. At least not with words, but his face hasguiltywritten all over it.
“Why would you do it?”
“Just wanted to reminisce over Willowbrook High School’s former shining star.” I can hear the mockery in his voice. “Though it does make sense now why you’re so scared to jump back in. Good thing Mommy isn’t around to see how far you’ve fallen.”
Stepping closer to him, I keep my voice as controlled as I can manage so maybe he’ll actually comprehend the message. “I’m not scared. I’m just done with the bullshit, including yours.”
He remains a stone wall until I turn and walk away. I shouldn’t let him get to me. But he does. I’m still fuming when I walk into my house.
Out of all the times for Dad to be home, it’s now. He meets me at the door as he says, “I have a surprise for you.”
“I don’t want it.” I go to walk around, and he blocks my way.
“Are you sure? It’s a good one.” I don’t respond and he continues, “Just come and see it.”
He throws his hands in the air as he shouts, “Ta-da,” and I look over a brand-new BMW. “The sales guy said we couldn’t go wrong with an M5, so it’s all yours, Ivy Bear.”
“I don’t want it. My Corolla is fine.”
