Gimme Everything You Got - Iva-Marie Palmer Page 0,79
over the receiver instead. And he sounded like nothing had ever happened between us. Technically, nothing had, but I’d resigned myself to not hearing from him again. I’d even told myself it was for the best, because the choice was kissing Joe and having things fizzle out when he started kissing someone else, or ceasing our soccer-lesson friendship because the kiss hadn’t happened. Either path led to the same result, and the second version was a lot less messy.
Still, his question, asked with his usual eagerness, shot a happy jolt through my chest. Maybe there was a third path.
“If you’re up for it,” I said. Then, because thinking about it had called up the awkward feelings from back on the blanket, I added, “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did the other day. I mean, I still think it’s better if we stay friends. But I could have handled it better.” It had felt good apologizing to Tina, and bringing up the other night with Joe got it out of the way, so it wouldn’t hang unspoken between us.
“No need to apologize. We did the right thing, by not . . . you know,” Joe said. His voice was plain for once, like he’d peeled off the joking layer. “I’ll pick you up in an hour?”
“Okay,” I said, grateful that he wasn’t making me explain, and that he had said “we.”
Mom came into the kitchen as I hung up the phone. “Are you practicing today?” she asked. I couldn’t read her tone, but she didn’t sound too mad.
I nodded. “Yeah, I figure it can’t hurt.”
She didn’t say anything else and went to pour some coffee into her Powell Park Title Co. mug.
“Mom,” I began. She looked up. “I’m sorry. I know you and Dad are trying to be good parents, and you care about me and all that. I took out my disappointment about the game on you.” Another apology. Normally, I said sorry automatically, for stuff that wasn’t even my fault, like when someone bumped into me. The apologies I needed to make, like this one, didn’t exit my mouth as easily. As my pile of sorries mounted, they made me think of the one Bobby deserved, and how it would be even more difficult to deliver.
She set down the cup, crossed the kitchen, and wrapped me in the hug I’d needed since yesterday. “It’s all hard,” Mom said. “I can’t expect you to be perfect if I’m not. I’m glad you’re practicing today.”
“Me too,” I said. It wasn’t the ideal truce. It still nagged me that Mom thought the soccer team and my place on it had come too easily.
“I can’t tell you what to do with your opportunities, but I worry that I haven’t taught you how to make most of them.” The hug melted some of the frost. After how I’d treated her, at least I’d be able to look my mom in the eye. “Just promise me you’ll think about what you want?”
I wanted lots of things—another game, a win, a pair of Jordaches, a paper on Great Expectations to materialize, already written. In the big, life-changing sense, all I could think of really and certainly wanting was so cosmically huge: to meet Bobby on another plane of existence where we weren’t student and coach.
But I knew Mom was talking about the big stuff I wanted in this dimension. And that seemed much harder to figure out.
“I will,” I said. “Don’t worry about me.”
When Joe showed up, I didn’t wait for him to honk, and I also didn’t wait until we got to the field to tell him about the game. “We lost,” I said, the second I plopped into the car. I sank into the comfortable contours of the Nova’s passenger seat, checking Joe for signs that what had happened meant our friendship wasn’t going to work, but he pulled away from the curb with his same loose grip on the steering wheel and I relaxed.
“And . . . ,” Joe said, looking over. “I’m waiting for the part where you tell me how the team lost but you did something fucking amazing.”
I cringed and picked at a hangnail. “I had a fucking amazing hangover,” I said. “We kind of had a motel room party the night before.”
“Really?” Joe said, glancing over at me. “What were you thinking?”
I banged my fist on my knee. “I don’t know! I’m so stupid. I thought I could keep the team in check, but wave some peach