Bending Under Pressure (22 page)

W
hen I sneak out at midnight sharp, Keelan is leaning against the driver’s door. At first, I’m confused. He’s obviously on the wrong side. Then he grins and opens the door.

“Might as well drive us there, Hales.”

A squeal manages to escape from my throat and I throw my arms around him. “Thanks.”

We get into his car, and I almost do a happy dance in my seat when I have no issues getting out of my driveway and onto the road. I should celebrate that victory because I know my biggest obstacle yet is ahead of me. I have to be able to take off fast without killing the engine, and be able to shift higher and higher.

I turn onto Dead Man’s Curve, coming to a stop where Keelan usually does, but on the right side of the road.

“This is pretty much trial and error. Remember how you do it, but try to do it faster. Eventually, it’ll come easier,” Keelan tells me.

Nodding, I take a deep breath. What happens over the next half hour is epically embarrassing. I release the clutch just as he taught me. I push down on the gas at the same time. However, I guess it’s not at the same time because I kill the engine. Keelan starts wincing after the fifth time. We idle for a minute before I try again. I’m so excited that we’re moving, that the engine revs for me to shift again. So excited that I forget completely about the clutch.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough. Stop the car,” Keelan orders.

“One more time.” He tilts his head, his lips part to say no. “Please?” I add.

With much reluctance, he nods. I run over the steps in my head. I remind myself that I can do this.

“Stop thinking about it so much, Hales.” He touches my left thigh. “Use the clutch.” His fingers brush over the hand on the steering wheel. “Feel what the engine is trying to tell you.” He rests his hand over mine on the gearshift. “Shift like you’re a pro.” Keelan leans over and presses a kiss to my head. “Stop thinking. Drive the rest of the way like normal and then circle back.”

My lungs shiver with a shaky breath, and I nod. I experience zero issues as I drive my way around to where we began. I stop briefly, not wanting to overthink it, and then press the gas. The car lurches forward. The steering wheel hums as the engine roars, surely waking up the neighborhood if they were close enough to hear it. I shift into second, then third, then fourth, and then fifth. My stomach falls endlessly as we fly over the hills.

“Oh my god! I did it!” I shout once it hits me.

Keelan laughs. “Good job, Hales.”

I see the sign for the curve and begin to slow. My heart is stuttering in my chest, the blood rushing throughout my body as fast as we were just going. I wish I could speed all the time. Never before have I disobeyed speed limits by more than nine miles over. Yet, here I am, reaching ninety on this stretch of road where the speed limit is only forty-five. There’s nothing I’ve experienced quite as thrilling as zooming down the road like that.

Well, except for kissing Keelan. I want to stop to kiss him now, but he speaks before I can do such a thing.

“Go again,” Keelan tells me.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You can’t do it just once.”

He could’ve told me he loved me for as much as I’m smiling. I begin to circle around once more. My hands are trembling slightly, so I grip tighter. There’s that much adrenaline coursing through me. Keelan lets me run it three more times. Each time, I get better and more fluid like he is. I’m oddly tired when I park in my driveway, unable to stop my yawn.

“I’d much rather watch you than Cam drive my car,” Keelan says, making me giggle.

“Do I get a reward for eventually doing so well?”

I barely finish my question before Keelan has hooked his hand around my neck to pull me closer to his lips. I don’t know what it is about that one little action, but it melts me every time. But I must be more tired than I thought because when I part my mouth, it turns into a yawn.

“Sorry,” I laugh sheepishly. Ugh. How embarrassing is that?

“It’s okay.” He’s still smiling, so that’s a good sign. Keelan gets out, walks around, and opens my door for me.

“Thanks for tonight.”

“Thank you for today.” He leans down to kiss me once one last time. “Go sleep, Hales. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

M
onday comes and Cameron and Jess have not made up yet. She apologized to me, which is a plus. However, it makes lunch extremely awkward. They both keep sneaking glances at each other. They look miserable, though I’m surprised it’s Cameron who is doing his best to
not
look miserable. Jess has barely spoken a word all day. However, Cameron has been talking to everyone but Jess.

In another matter, I’ve been a nervous wreck all day. Will Dad show at my game today? Will he be too busy? What if he does? Will he want to go to dinner afterward? Or will he leave? What if he tries to push me to meet his new family again? Will he be proud if I win my matches? Or disappointed if I lose them?

“Haley.” Hearing Keelan say my name snaps me out of my thoughts as I turn in my seat to face him. “Stop worrying.”

“I can’t.” Today is one of those days where I wish he didn’t have football practice. He can’t come to my match as support. With Jess giving everyone the silent treatment, I don’t exactly have her. I told Mom and Walter not to make this one since Dad is supposed to come.

“If practice lets out in time, I’ll drive by to see if you’re still playing,” he offers. Considering we’re playing our rivals this Friday, I doubt they will get out early.

“Thanks.”

The rest of the day flies by with my stomach in knots. As players begin to arrive at the courts, so do some parents. Tennis isn’t huge like football, so we don’t get crowds, but parents try to come watch if they can. We’re warming up when I see Octavia and John taking a seat on the bench Cameron and Keelan usually take.

I quickly jog over with a forced smile because Dad still hasn’t arrived. “What are y’all doing here?”

“I hope you don’t mind that we decided to come watch you. We were told you could use a little support today.”

Keelan.

I can’t wait until I can give him the biggest hug ever.

“Thank you.”

“Quit yapping, Haley, and warm up!” Coach Spell yells.

So, I do.

When it comes time for my first match, I glance around once more. Dad isn’t here. He’s stood me up.
Again
. Smiles from Octavia and John make me feel a little better. I can’t feel too much better. My dad has let me down.
Again
.

That’s it.

I’m done with him.

He’s stomped all over his last chance and ruined it. I won’t give him another one. I’ll go home, avoid Mom and Walter for as long as possible so I don’t have to tell them, and then let the tears I’m dying to cry fall.

My heart isn’t in it as I spin my racquet, my opponent calling ‘d’ over ‘p’. It falls, showing a ‘d’ at the bottom of the handle. The brand of my racquet starts with a P, but it being lower case, allows us to call either. Since she called it, she gets to serve first. All I want to do is go home. However, I can’t. With a deep breath, I rock on my feet left and right as I bend my knees to prepare for her serve.

The thing I love about tennis is that, as with the books I read, I can lose myself in it. My mind shuts out my problems, my disappointment, my hurt, and my anger. I can shift that focus toward my game. The girl I’m playing today isn’t that good. Not to be mean or conceited, but sometimes, we get matches where it’s not evenly matched. I’ve been the girl deemed ‘not that good’ based on whoever was standing on the other side of the net.

Because of this, our match is quick. She messes up on her serves, the balls landing outside of the lines, or she misses the returns. If she does make the return, they don’t stay in play when she hits it back to me. We only truly rally once throughout our match. Jess and I should have no problem taking her and the number two seed in doubles.

I halt mid-step when I turn to wait for Jess’s match to finish. There, standing on the other side of the fence, is my dad.

He showed.

He was late.

But he came.

I rush off the courts and around to where he is.

“Dad!” I throw my arms around him, feeling his torso shake with his laugh.

“Hey. I’m sorry I was late.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.” I hug him tighter, finding it hard to believe he’s here. He feels like he always did. He smells the same, like Old Spice. Right now, it’s hard to think that this person who looks, smells, and feels the same has acted differently from the person I loved.

“Me too, Haley.” He drops his arms from around me and I’m forced to let go as well. “You played well, though you weren’t playing someone with your skills. Your play at the net has improved.”

I grin. “Thanks. Coach Spell has been working my volleys hard.” Taking a deep breath, I hesitate asking my next question. What if he disappoints me again? “Are you staying after my game? We can go eat at Elsie’s.”

“It’s a long drive back, Haley.”

He’s right. It’s a two-hour drive. I nod. “Okay.”

“Haley!” Coach Spell yells. “Come here.”

Jess has finished her match, so we’ll be starting our doubles in a few minutes. Dad won’t be staying for dinner, but I can’t be too upset over it. He did show up. That’s the least I could ask for. Maybe there’s hope that we can go back to the way things used to be.

I sure hope so.

T
hursday night, I’m sitting at home, relaxing in my room, and texting Haley. Her impatience and eagerness for another race makes me smile. However, Cameron usually sets them up; with him still on the outs with Jess, he hasn’t felt like it. The only reason they aren’t talking is that neither of them is willing to make the move first. Cam has told me to leave him alone about it, so I have.

I kind of wish he would go ahead and do something though. He refuses to tell Mom or Dad what’s going on, only that he and Jess had an argument. Dad is even more worried since Cam was willing to talk to him before it happened, but not afterward. I get why he doesn’t want to, but I also hate seeing them worry.

My phone vibrates and I pick it up, expecting a text from Haley.

Nope.

It’s not from her.

Natalie: Hey. I was wondering if you’d like to drive over to meet your aunt and spend Saturday with us?

I guess it is time.

Keelan: Sure. I’ll double check with my parents. Text me the address, so I’ll know where to go; I know Mom will want it, too.

Part of me is making sure I say ‘my parents’ and ‘Mom’ because I want to remind her who raised me. Remind her that she doesn’t have any leverage over me. However, part of it is simply because what else am I supposed to call them? They are my parents: my mom and dad.

When she texts me the address, I go down to the living room where Mom and Dad are sitting next to one another on the couch. Mom is resting her head on Dad’s shoulder and they look happy. Cam and I are adopted and everyone knows we are, and I’ve always thought it was cool that our skin is different colors just like our parents. If someone didn’t know, they could assume my complexion came from Mom while Cam’s from Dad. It’s always made me feel as if we were even more of a family.

“Did you come to watch the show with us?” Mom asks as I take a seat in the recliner, popping up the footrest to get comfortable.

“Kinda. Natalie wants me to drive out there to meet her sister and hang out with them on Saturday.” I pull up the address in the GPS on my phone, knowing what her next question will be.

“How far away would you have to drive?”

“A little over an hour.”

Mom glances to Dad. They don’t really like me driving more than the forty-five minutes to some of the surrounding towns that actually have places to go. I’m surprised when Mom nods and says, “Just be careful and be home before dark.”

I bet that if I wanted to go that far with Haley or Cameron, she’d say no in a heartbeat. But because it’s my birth mom, she’s saying yes. Hopefully, things will go okay. I talk to Keira more than Natalie because she texts me a lot. There’s always a handful of texts, or one long text, waiting for me when I finish at football practice where Keira is telling me about her day and asking about mine.