I want to stay mad, but it’s nearly impossible when my dad is looking at me like he feels absolutely horrible. What did he do wrong, really? I don’t regret what happened out on the lake because of him. And as much as I want to, I can’t wish away everything that came after it. I don’t think I want to.
When I get back to my room, Ellie has music blasting out of her laptop, and there are two glasses and a few bottles sitting on her desk.
“Um, where’d you get that?” I pick up the orange bottle and smell it. Who knew something could smell sweet and also burn your nostrils at the same time?
“Corrie bought it for me. We’re meeting up with everyone in an hour to celebrate.” She points to my closet and then hands me a glass. “Get ready.”
Aside from the juniors—like Corrie—and seniors, everyone on the team is underage. None of the upperclassmen are going to risk getting arrested—and kicked off of the team—for serving minors in their own apartments. And campus security turns a blind eye to anything in the dorms, but there are way too many of us to fit in anyone’s room. So instead, we’ve all been drinking and getting dressed, and now we’re converging in the middle of campus for my rite of passage as an Oakwood athlete. I stare at the silver contraption in front of me, and the giant pit of sand below it; this is where big moments are celebrated.
I’ve heard about this before—I’ve seen the photo of my mom doing it—but even when I threatened to break her record, I never fully believed it would happen, because I am 100 percent unprepared for this.
“It’s tradition,” Ellie says, pushing me toward the pit of sand. “Get on it already.” She smacks my butt and I jump.
It’s not that I’m scared—my head is a little too fuzzy to be scared—I’m just not sure how exactly I’m supposed to mount this… thing. In front of me hangs a giant silver ball. It’s several feet across, and it dangles like a pendulum over a giant pit of sand. As it moves, the pointed tip below it cuts designs. Miley’s song might have made this a hot spot for students, but the Oakwood sports teams made it a tradition way before Miley made wrecking balls cool.
“There’s a sign,” I say, nodding at the plaques every three feet around the rectangular pit of sand.
“Those don’t apply to us,” someone shouts from behind me. “We’re here to celebrate.” In what starts out softly and slowlygrows louder, my name rolls off of my drunken teammates’ lips in a constant cadence.Sid-ney. Sid-ney. Sid-ney.
I stand next to the ball and reach my hands up, but I can barely reach the top, let alone get enough leverage to pull myself up.
Ryan steps forward, lacing his fingers in front of him so I can step up. With a hand on his shoulders I propel myself up, grabbing onto the cord as Ryan continues to push my foot up. Once I’m standing, the ball wavers under me. I wrap one leg around the cord to steady myself, and prepare for what I know is about to happen.
Two more guys join Ryan, and with hands pressed against the silver ball they push forward through the sand. A little squeak escapes me as they step out of the way and I’m flying through the air. Music plays out from someone’s phone and cheers erupt. I don’t care about the signs anymore. This night issoclose to perfect—just one person away from perfect, actually—and I could stay up here forever.
I ride the ball standing up, and sitting, and at one point Ellie jumps on with me, before dismounting because it makes her dizzy. I’m standing on the giant silver ball, one leg raised behind me like a ballerina, when a voice cuts through the air. “You could get arrested for that, you know.” My foot wobbles a little when I realize whose voice it is. “Or fall and break something.” I look to where our team is huddled to one side of me. His hands are shoved in his pockets. “Twist an ankle maybe.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t jump this time,” I say.
Asher climbs over the fence until he’s a foot away from the ball. “Jump.”
I stare at him, at his arms stretched out for me.
“Do you trust me?”
I don’t say anything, just let myself fall off of the giant silver ball, until I’m safely in his arms, my feet barely hitting the sand.
He looks at me like I just fell off of a ten-story building.
“You came.”
“First record-break of the season.” He smiles and looks at me conspiratorially. “Of course I came.”
Maybe it’s the way Ellie’s drink is making my skin prickle and my head slowly detach from my shoulders like a balloon on a string, but instead of pulling away like I know I should, I wrap my arms around Asher. His body stiffens against me, and he doesn’t move for a second, but then his hands rest on my back, and he’s squeezing me. Suddenly, this night feels complete. And that’s scary, because the one thing I can’t guarantee in my life right now is Asher Marin.
73 DAYS AFTER
Asher
The cafeteria food is questionable sometimes. Like just now, I ate a “fried vegetable.” As if they couldn’t be bothered with identifying which vegetable it was when there are a million out there. Spoiler: it was a pickle. I nearly puked in the middle of the cafeteria, and it’s possible that Ryan will never come here with me again. Is a pickle even a vegetable? Is it legal to vaguely label food like that?
On the table my phone buzzes, and my mom’s face appears in the middle of the screen.
“Hi, sweetie. Could you do me a favor?”
I’m expecting her to tell me not to go to parties, or to remember to take my laundry out of the machines so no one steals my clothes, but she surprises me when she says, “Can you run up to the lake house?” She lets out a sigh. “There was a big storm last night. Dad’s worried one of those limbs could have come down. The trees along the house are in rough shape. We should have had those limbs all cut at the end of the season.” I didn’t notice anything about the state of the trees this summer, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention. I had other things on my mind. “Kris and Tom are out of town and you’re closer than us.”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
