It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,45
bury my face in it, covering my nose. If my nose is warm, the rest of me is, too.
The intercom springs to life. “Everybody off the ice.”
There’s the sounds of skates zooming in then stopping, and a familiar voice says, “We did it, Jenna. We did it!”
I lift my head from the blanket and come face-to-face with Julian. His eyes are shining, and his smile is stretched wide. “I’m so glad you were here.”
“Me too. You were amazing. Three goals!”
He nods. Happy. So alive. And so, so close to me. In that single moment, I feel like what Julian and I have now is enough. And I am as happy as I’ve ever been. Until I see him reach into his pocket and check his cell.
No matter how close I feel to him, Julian is elsewhere, with a version of myself that I’ll never be.
* * *
8:06 P.M.
Did you see me?
Were you there?
Tell me you saw.
Yes!
You were amazing!
I’m so glad I’m back here.
Me too.
So now, that I am a conquering hero, haven’t I earned something special?
Like what???
Tell me something about you that will help me figure out who you are.
Oh. Smiley face. We go to the same school.
Cool. That narrows it down to like 2,499 people.
I’m a girl.
Ok 1,754.
See? You’re getting warmer.
Slightly annoyed emoji.
Crying while laughing emoji.
I’ll figure it out one day. Just you wait.
Thumbs-up emoji.
Smiley face. Tonight nothing can get me down. Not even not knowing the identity of the girl who inspired me to score three times!
I inspired you to do that?
It was for you.
Heart emoji.
Same.
Sixteen
I rest my head against the car window during the drive home. The heat is pouring out of the vent straight onto me, and I’m starting to feel less frozen. The sounds of the fans roaring still fills my head, but a small sadness I can’t really name plants itself in my heart. In some weird way, I feel like Julian’s cheating on one of me. With me.
When we get inside, Mom wraps me up, tight. “I left some pills on your dresser. Thought you might need something.”
I nod.
Dad helps me to my room. “Maybe you should take tomorrow off from school? Let the other kids catch up.” His favorite Chitty Chitty Bang Bang quote.
I’m too tired to argue. “Maybe.”
I don’t even get changed, just hit the toilet, then throw myself into bed. I reach over and take the Advil Mom’s left for me, ignoring the prescription pain pill and muscle relaxer. My head feels weighed down and like it’s filled with cotton. The room feels farther and farther away, and soon I’m falling asleep, floating and flying free.
And then there’s a weird knocking trying to pull me back to earth.
“Jenna. Jenna.”
It’s not my Jennifer voice. It’s familiar, but my head soup doesn’t process it.
“Jenna. Wake up.”
And then someone shakes my shoulders.
“Jenna,” Rena says.
And I bolt awake. “What? Are you okay?”
She laughs. “Shh.” She moves over to my window and opens it.
My brow furrows. “What’s going on?”
Rena whirls and puts her fingers over her lips. “Shh,” she says again.
My eyes work hard to adjust to the darkness, to make sense of the shapes around me. The night-light I always have on throws enough light that I can see Rena helping someone into my room. I grab my covers and pull them up, then remember I’m still fully dressed.
“Hey, Jenna,” Chip says. I want to die. What do I look like? Was I snoring? Is there sleep drool all over me?
Rena comes back to me. I grab her hands. “What the hell is going on?” I whisper.
“Wait one second. And quiet down, Mom and Dad are just on the other side of the house.”
“What are we doing?”
Rena grins conspiratorially. “Sibling field trip!”
“Where’s our other sibling then?”
“In command central—so his bedroom, obviously,” she says, as if that’s a ridiculous question.
“Of course.”
She turns to Chip. “You better wait outside.”
“Gotcha. See ya in a few, Jenna,” he says, climbing back out the window.
I salute him.
“What the hell was that?” I whisper as Rena helps me out of bed.
“Shh. It’s cool. How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Sore. Fabulous.” I do jazz hands to help sell the sizzle, as Ben always says.
“Come on, it’ll be totally worth it.” She drags me toward the bathroom, where I brush my teeth while she brushes my hair and pulls it up in a ponytail. She walks me back to my bed and hands me a sweatshirt.
“Hands up,” she says, prompting, and on goes my sweatshirt. “Hold on. We probably need these.” Rena puts