The Last Dance (17 page)
Authors: Kiki Hamilton
O
f course Mira had to walk in on me and Q kissing. She’d never
once
come to the music room before study hall before—
ever
. But that day, that minute—she had to show up. I ran after her, through the hallways packed with kids, trying to ignore the stares.
“Mira, stop.” I pleaded as we reached the parking lot. “Can’t we just talk?” Mira just slammed her way out to Jefferson and then jerked the car out of the parking lot. God, why couldn’t she drive?
She sent me a text about fifteen minutes later.
‘Ur a slut.’
I couldn’t think of an answer to that.
I went back in, got my stuff out of my locker and sent Brandon a text breaking up with him.
What a total loser I’d become.
I walked home and cried the whole way.
WE HAD TO leave at three a.m. to make our six o’clock departing flight. I didn’t sleep for one second that night. Everything that had happened—with Mira, with Q, with Brandon— just circled around my head relentlessly like horrible vultures wanting to pick at the remains of my brain. Or maybe it was my soul. It was actually a relief to get up in the darkness and take a shower to get ready to go. At least I had tasks I could focus on rather than the intangible demons of guilt and longing.
CHRISTMAS IN NEW YORK can actually be very beautiful. My aunt and uncle lived in a spacious condo not far from Columbia University that overlooked Central Park.
“See Ivy.” My mother nudged me as we sat in their elegant living room with lofted ceilings and expensive antique furniture. “Being a doctor has its privileges along with its responsibilities.”
“Yes, Ma.”
IT BEGAN TO snow the day before Christmas. I love snow. There is something so magical about it. Within a few hours the city was covered in a sparkling white blanket. It continued to snow over night, grinding traffic to a snarled mess. At mid-day on Christmas, my brother and I put our scarves and mittens on and walked through Central Park.
We followed the path along the lake, beautiful white flakes drifting down from the sky filling the air around us, like magical feathers. The world was soft and beautiful—full of endless possibilities. Well, not endless. Some things weren’t possible.
Tuan’s hands were shoved into his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cool air. He had black hair like mine and was lean, taller than my father. Maybe living in America your entire life did that to you, made you taller somehow. He was also very intelligent, working on his medical degree with the intent of being an oncologist, which was a reflection of his kind, sensitive personality. We’d always had a special friendship.
We’d only been walking for a few minutes when he spoke. “What’s up, Ivy?”
I didn’t look at him. It felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest, crushing me. I didn’t know if I could admit the truth to him without being trampled under the weight of my own emotions.
“Is it the pressure of school?” He reached out and pushed my shoulder. “There’s obviously something wrong, little sister. You look like you just lost your best friend.”
Of course, then the whole story came pouring out. I told him everything. Every last little bit, from Brandon to Mira, right down to Q kissing me—which I had hardly even allowed myself to think about—and how Q told me he wanted to go out with me. Even as I told my brother a thrill of wonder shot through me at the idea. Why would Q want to go out with
me
?
Tuan was quiet for a long time as we walked, but for the first time in days I felt a sense of peace. It had helped to tell someone else, to let it all out. Finally.
When Tuan spoke, his words were gentle. “It sounds like a tough time, Ivy. I’m sorry you’ve had to go through it alone. You know you can call me anytime, right?” He tilted his head so he could look at me. His breath came out in puffs of white. “I may be on the other side of the country but we have phones here too.”
I laughed and wiped my eyes. When did I start crying? “It just got so messed up so fast,” I sighed. “I thought I had it under control. I thought I could stop my feelings for him. I never dreamed it could become so tangled.”
Tuan nodded and kicked a snowball that someone had left on the pathway. It exploded in a puff of white. Overhead the trees stretched their arms over us like a protective umbrella, covered in white icing.
“Is he worth it, Ivy?” Tuan’s words were quiet, thoughtful. “You’ll be done with high school in a few months. Then you’ll be off to college where this Kellen fellow won’t be attending.” He stopped and looked at me, his face etched with pain – for me. “Wouldn’t it be better to just stop tutoring him and let him live his life and you live yours? You two come from different worlds: He’s a football player – you’ll be on to medical school. You have no common interests. What’s the probability that you’d date beyond the summer anyway?”
His face became more animated as he talked. Tuan was passionate about his studies. He always had been. But he was the eldest son. That position came with an inescapable expectation in an Asian family.
“It’s just by freak chance that you got to know him at all, right?” Tuan started walking and I fell in alongside him, the world suddenly feeling heavy again. “Let your friend Mira have him and you return your focus to your studies and music.” He glanced sideways at me. “You’re so talented, Ivy. The future can be anything you choose to make it.”
My heart felt like it was breaking all over again. Of course he was right. Stop the insanity and get my focus back. Just as I’d always done. Excel, excel, excel – make your family proud, Ivy.
I nodded and pressed my lips together to stop them from wobbling. Against my will, I pictured Q’s face as he’d stared into mine, telling me he wanted me. I wondered what he was doing for Christmas.
I
waited until the day after Christmas to ask my mom WTF. It was obvious that the family had been talking about me behind my back. There were so many things in my life to be pissed off about right now that I didn’t even know where to start.
“So Jane,” I asked my mom, “what’d you think of Ronnie’s comment at dinner yesterday?” I was sitting at the kitchen bar eating a turkey sandwich for lunch. I’d been waiting for the right time to bring it up, but there was never a right time and I couldn’t wait any longer.
She jerked her head up from the mail that she was sorting to look at me. I never called my mom Jane. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean, Mom. About not playing football.” I sounded pissed. I
felt
pissed. “I got the distinct impression last night that everyone else in the room had an opinion on the subject that they hadn’t bothered to share with me.” I took another bite of sandwich, chewing slowly, trying to remain calm. “Now I want to know what you think.”
She dropped the envelopes to the counter. “Kellen, we don’t need to discuss this right now. You’re just finally starting to feel good again. Let’s focus on the positive steps you’re making.”
I set my sandwich down, an unfamiliar dread twisting my stomach. “No, Mom. I think we do need to talk about it right now.” I looked straight at her. “Are you saying that you don’t think I should play football again?” My voice echoed with disbelief.
She sighed. “Honey, it’s practically a miracle that you’ve recovered like you have.” She sounded like she was pleading.
“Doofus, why would you even consider it?” Julie walked into the kitchen right then. She punched me in the shoulder as she walked by. “God, Kell. Don’t be so stupid.”
“Julie.” My mom gave my sister a look. “I don’t think you’re helping right now.”
“Mom!” My sister wheeled around. “Somebody’s got to tell him. It’d be crazy to—”
“Wait a minute.” I pushed myself off the stool and stood up. I towered over both of them but suddenly I felt like I was twelve years old again. I had the most terrible urge to cry. “You can’t be serious.” I looked from one to the other. “After all the years of work I’ve put into footba—”
“Kellen.” My mom interrupted me. She held her hands out. “Calm down. We don’t have to make any decisions today. There’s lots of time—”
“There’s NOT lots of time,” I cried, slamming my hand down on the counter. “National Signing Day is the first Wednesday in February. That’s barely a month away. You
know
that. Why do you think I’ve been working so hard? So I can show those colleges who’ve offered that I’m FINE.”
“Kellen, bleeding brains and paralyzed limbs are not
fine
,” my sister snapped.
“Shut up, Julie,” I shouted.
“You shut up.” She yelled at me like only a sister can. “What is
wrong
with you? You don’t need football, Kellen—”
“Stop it, both of you.” My mom was definitely pleading now. “Let’s wait until your father gets home and—”
“Yes I do!” I shouted at Julie. “What else would I do?”
I was surprised at the surprise on her face. Her mouth dropped open and honest-to-God, for a minute it was like she couldn’t get any words out of her mouth. That would’ve been a first. But of course, she recovered.
“Jesus Christ, Kellen. Are you
serious
?”
“Julie—” now my mom snapped— “watch your language.”
“You can do anything.” Now Julie was shouting. “I’ve worked my ass off all my life to make the grade.
Everything
comes easy to you. You’re smart, you’re athletic, you’re good-looking, you have lots of friends.” She flung her hands out. “Has there ever been
anything
you’ve ever wanted that you didn’t get?”
Ivy, I thought.
“Both of you.” Now my mom was shouting. “Stop it, this instant.”
“I’ve worked for everything I’ve gotten,” I said, glaring at my sister.
“Well, then work at staying
alive
, you dumbshit.” Julie slammed a cupboard door. For a second she looked like she was going to cry. “I know.” Her eyes narrowed and her tone changed to pure sarcasm. “You used to want to be a doctor. Why don’t you work on being an orthopaedic surgeon so you can save all the
stupid
football players who aren’t as lucky as you and have to spend the rest of their lives in a wheelchair using a feeding tube?” She stormed out of the kitchen before I could think of a reply. What the—
I swung around to face my mom.
“Take a walk, Kellen.” Her tone was non-negotiable. Coach Branson had nothin’ on my mother. “We can talk more when you’ve calmed down.” Then she left the room too.
THE LAST TIME I cried was when Laurel broke up with me. Which wasn’t that long ago. I hoped this wasn’t becoming a pattern. I walked for a long time. Darkness comes early in Washington in December. Today, I was glad. I could hide in the darkness.
Somehow I ended up at the high school football field. I climbed the steps in the stadium up to the very top and stared down at the dark field. There were a lot of good memories associated with this place. They rolled through my head like a Powerpoint display.
I wanted to talk to Ivy so bad I ached. Somehow I knew she could make sense of my confusion. Ivy, better than anyone, understood the pressure I felt to succeed. I tried to imagine the sound of her voice, but instead, the image of her tipped over in the back of Mira’s orange VW giggling her head off interrupted my thoughts.
I tried to remember what she’d said to me in the music room, the last time I’d seen her. Right before she’d kissed me. But the memory of her lips against mine and the sweet smell of plumeria filled my head instead. I wondered if things had improved between her and Mira.
I pulled out my phone and punched in her number. The telephone pad on the screen of my iphone glowed green with her numbers highlighted at the top. Would she pick up if I called? I wanted to talk to her so badly. My heart gave a nervous thump in my chest. Only one way to find out. I jabbed the ‘call’ button and put the phone to my ear. I slid my other hand into my pocket, and stamped my feet to get warm, my breath puffing out in a frosty cloud.
“Please pick up, Ivy,” I whispered. “
Please.”
I
stared at the phone as it buzzed in my hand. There was one letter in the contact name area: Q. My fingers tightened on the edges. He was so close. It was like I could touch him through the phone. My heart pounded. How I wanted to hear his voice. To ask him what was happening between us?
But I sent the call to voicemail and turned my phone off.
I was awake for a long time thinking about what Tuan had said.
O
n New Year’s Eve Ollie and CJ picked me up and insisted that I had to go to a party that Jake Bellarmine was having. I really wasn’t in the mood, but I wasn’t in the mood to stay home either.
There’d been no further discussion of me playing college football. By the time I came home that night of the fight I was too exhausted to think about it anymore and had just gone to my room. Ivy never responded to my call.
“DO YOU GUYS ever think about what you’d do if you didn’t play ball?” I asked. We were in Ollie’s truck headed for the party. They were passing shots from a Cuervo bottle ‘hidden’ inside a brown paper bag. Like that’d fool the cops if we got pulled over.
“Not play ball?” CJ glanced at me with a confused look. “Why in the
hell,
would we ever think about that?” He nudged Olli’s arm. “Life is all about playing ball, if you get my meaning.”
Ollie laughed and raised the brown bag. “Amen, brother.”
I felt like saying ‘and look where that got you,’ but I didn’t. I leaned forward so I could see both of them at once. “No, I’m serious. Are you loading all your bets up on that one thing and just letting it ride?” I thumped back against the seat, and rested my elbow on the window frame. “What if you get cut? What if you get injured? Don’t you think you should have a plan B?”
I wasn’t sure why I was asking because I knew both Ollie and CJ didn’t have a plan B. They’d been all about football forever. Just like me.
“We just got to make it to the big dance, baby, and we’ve got it made,” CJ said. “The good life is waitin’ for us.”
