Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,33

was her favorite sport Bee-Dub.” When CJ looked confused, Wyatt elaborated. “Bee-Dub. Before wheelchair.”

“Is that an expression?”

“No. I’ve literally never said it in my life. But I like it. I might use it again. Anyway, I figure we’ll give tennis a shot today.”

The gym doors clicked open and Wyatt angled his head. “She’s here.”

CJ turned and saw Dakota for the first time. Her hair was bright red, and you could see the freckles that dotted her nose even from across the court. Her mom also had red hair but in a deeper and more intense shade. She was a Sansa Stark to her daughter’s Anne of Green Gables.

Mother and daughter both saw CJ and started to come over. One came willingly, the other had to be pushed.

“Clarke?” said Dakota’s mom.

“CJ, actually. And you must be Mrs. Gorman. Hi.”

“You can call me Margaret.” She seemed nervous.

“I’m so excited to work with Dakota today,” said CJ.

“Well, she’ll see to it that that feeling doesn’t last.” Dakota gave her mom the kind of withering look that belonged on the face of a teenager, not an eleven-year-old. Her mom sighed. “Sweetheart, please try to have a good attitude today. Wyatt switched to tennis just for you. And CJ is here to make sure you have a good time.”

“Good time?” CJ said. “Oh, we’re not going to have a good time. We’re going to have a GREAT time.”

Dakota rolled her eyes and looked at her mom. “Is she serious? She cannot be serious.”

Margaret gave CJ an apologetic shrug before turning back to her daughter. “I’ll pick you up right at five.” She gave Dakota a big kiss and then mouthed two words to CJ, Good luck.

As soon as Margaret left, CJ knelt down so she was eye level with Dakota. “So, you ready to have some fun? Let’s go pick out the best racket. I saw a really cool purple one in the pile. You like purple?”

Dakota pulled on the two levers that unlocked her wheelchair brakes. She rolled to the sideline and parked herself there. CJ looked at Wyatt. “It’s not you,” he said. “Don’t take it personally.”

CJ smiled her best camp-counselor smile. “Not at all. She just needs a pep talk. I give great pep talks.”

While the boys huddled around Wyatt and selected their rackets, CJ sidled up to Dakota. “Can I tell you a secret?” CJ asked. When Dakota didn’t say anything, she kept going. “I used to get really nervous about playing sports. I thought that the only reason to play was to win. But the best time I ever had was when I lost a race. We’re just here to have fun today. Doesn’t that look like fun?”

She motioned to the court. Wyatt was being goofy and hilarious as he showed the kids how to hold their rackets. Everyone was laughing.

“It doesn’t seem fun to me,” Dakota mumbled.

“You won’t know until you try. How about you give it just five minutes. I’ll even set a timer so we don’t go a second over.”

Dakota twisted her fingers together and looked up at CJ. She didn’t seem angry or sullen anymore. Just sad. “Please don’t make me play. Please.”

Her voice was edged with tears, and CJ felt completely out of her depth. She responded in the only way that seemed right. “Okay,” she said.

CHAPTER NINE

“DO YOU think that Danglehoffner guy is coming again today?”

“Huh?” Martha said. She was leaning on the concession-stand counter, staring at her phone while Victoria absentmindedly cleaned around her.

“Danglehuffer. Darfenderfner. No. That’s not right. What’s that guy’s name? The cute movie buff?”

“Dinglehopper,” said Martha. Then she went back to her phone. She was reading the latest issue of the McKinley Blaze online.

“Dinglehopper? Like the fork the Little Mermaid uses as a hairbrush?”

“Yep,” said Martha. Jordan had decided to hold off on publishing the park article, and there wasn’t anything terribly exciting in the issue.

“Diffenderfer.”

Martha looked up.

“It’s Diffenderfer, right? Logan Diffenderfer. That’s his name?”

After Martha had handed Victoria the quarter, they’d ended up sitting in the back of the theater and watching the weird French film. Only the movie wasn’t weird at all. It was beautiful. Sad and lonely and yet somehow deeply hopeful. At one point, Martha was so overcome with emotion that she’d had to rush out of the theater. She barely made it to the bathroom before a huge brimming sob erupted from her chest. Martha wasn’t a fan of crying, and she certainly wasn’t a fan of crying in front of other people. When she