Better Off Friends (20 page)
Read Better Off Friends Online
Authors: Elizabeth Eulberg
Tags: #Young Adult, #Contemporary, #Romance
Tim got up and sat down on the mat next to me while I did leg lifts.
“Let me show you how it’s done.” Keith laid down on the bench press and started easily pumping the weight up and down.
“Yeah, you only weigh fifty pounds more than me, dude,” Tim reminded him.
“Dude, I can’t help it if I make everything look good.”
I stayed quiet as I worked on strengthening my lower body. Tim started stretching, and asked, “You want to go run some suicides on the court?”
The weather had gotten even colder as Christmas approached, so we’d taken to staying inside to work out. We’d hit the weight room above the gymnasium after Tim was done with basketball practice.
“Yeah, man, sounds good.” I got up and grabbed my gym towel.
“That’s right, you skinny boys can’t handle the pressure, so get out of the kitchen,” Keith grunted as he finished his last set.
“That didn’t even make any sense.” Tim laughed.
“Hey, I’m pumping a lot here. Gotta save everything for the game.”
“Nice excuse,” I snarked at him.
“What’s your problem, California?” Keith got up and came toward me. “You’ve been acting all weird lately.”
I hadn’t been acting “all weird.” I’d just stopped laughing at Keith’s jokes when they weren’t funny.
Keith continued. “It’s like you get a taste of the good life and then can’t handle it anymore. But don’t worry, this year will fly by and then we’ll be back on the field. Senior year’s gonna be awesome. You’ll for sure start and we will own this place. No question.”
I shrugged. That sounded nice, but I didn’t know what price I’d have to pay for it. For the first time, I wasn’t so sure it would be worth it.
“I’m telling you” — Keith threw me my water bottle — “track is gonna be a shock to your system. You went from playing in front of hundreds screaming your name, to, like, what? Five people on the benches for a track meet?”
Yeah, but all the important people in my life showed up for that.
It was then I realized that maybe Macallan wouldn’t be showing up this year. I wouldn’t really blame her. But I’d gotten used to having her there, cheering me on.
She was always there for me when I needed her. I only wished I could say the same for myself.
“I think I know what this is about.” Keith sat down and motioned me to join him on the opposite bench. I obliged because that was what I did. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened with your chick friend.”
“Macallan,” I corrected him.
“Macallan.”
He sighed when he said her name. “I’ve apologized to her, which I’m pretty sure she didn’t believe even though I was being serious. I practically begged Boockmeier to not suspend her. I snapped — I realize that. I don’t know what it is about that girl, but she just gets to you. It’s like she doesn’t care what anybody thinks about her.”
No
, I thought,
she just doesn’t care what
you
think of her
.
“I don’t know.” Keith looked thoughtful for a second, then slapped his hands against his knees. “Girls, you know?”
No, I didn’t know. Clearly, I had no idea.
But I didn’t say any of that. I sat there silently until we headed down to the gym and started running suicide drills.
Tim and I lined up at baseline under the basket. Keith had his stopwatch out and yelled for us to start. I sprinted to the free throw line, then back to the baseline, then to the middle of the court, back to the baseline, to the opposite free throw line, back to the base. I couldn’t wait to sprint the full length of the court. That was when I excelled. Tim was only a few paces behind me, but I would make it a greater distance in the long stretches.
I couldn’t hear what Keith was yelling or anything. I focused on my next goal, the next place I was to touch down, pivot, and start over again.
I knew I had Tim beat heading toward the opposite baseline. All I needed to do was pivot and run back. I bent down to touch the baseline, but when I pivoted, my lower leg stuck and my upper leg turned. I felt a pop, and before I could process what was going on, I buckled under my own weight and collapsed on the court. An excruciating pain from my knee jolted through my entire body. I grabbed my knee and screamed.
I rocked back and forth, holding my leg.
“Stay still, Levi!” Keith was on his knees next to me. “Just try to relax. Tim went to get Coach.”
I couldn’t stay still. It hurt too much to lie there. My entire body started to shake.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
What is it about guys and having to out-bench-press or outrun one another? Why does everything have to be a competition?
I don’t know — testosterone?
That’s your excuse for everything.
It is? Well, does it at least work?
No.
Okay, what about you girls?
What about us, the clearly superior gender?
Yeah, you’re not biased.
Of course I’m not. We women are a rational, nonjudgmental breed.
Are you even being serious right now?
What do you think?
You know I sometimes don’t know if you’re being serious or not.
It’s one of the flaws of your kind.
Yes, because girls
never give out mixed signals
.
You are one hundred percent correct. That’s got to be a first.
I sometimes don’t even know why I bother.
See, guys give up on stuff so quickly.
We do not.
Oh, really, do I need to remind you of why we’re even talking right now? Who was the bigger person?
Ugh. You’re right.
I know.
Girls.
Yes, we are made of awesome.
I
had finally come face-to-face with my nemesis. And this time I was determined to be the victor.
I gently took the ramekin out of the oven. The soufflé was properly puffed up and looked to be the right consistency. I cradled it in my hand as I cautiously stepped to where my dad was sitting.
“It looks perfect,” he remarked once I set it down.
“Taste it,” I ordered. This was the fourth soufflé I’d attempted to make. My first two tries hadn’t risen since I hadn’t beaten the egg whites enough. The third time, I’d taken it out of the oven too soon and it had collapsed before I could even place it on the counter.
Dad smiled as he dived in. I leaned in as he took his first bite.
My phone began to ring. I let it go to voice mail.
“So good,” Dad said with a full mouth. He took another gigantic bite.
His phone rang and we both stared at it.
“Who is it?” I asked, afraid something was wrong with Uncle Adam. I snapped up my phone and saw it was Levi’s mom right as Dad said it was her.
“Hello?” Dad answered. His face immediately went into a frown. “Oh no — what happened?”
My stomach fell. I tried to decipher what was going on by Dad’s expression and his “oh no” and “of course” interjections. Finally he said, “We’ll be right over.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Levi tore his ACL during his workout.” Dad shook his head. “They just got back from the hospital and he’s pretty upset. Poor guy. We need to go over there now.”
“Oh.” Levi was always so careful about warming up and not overworking himself. I couldn’t believe he’d hurt himself. And that was the kind of injury that takes a really long time to heal. “Doesn’t he need rest?”
“Yes, but he was asking for you.” Dad got up and grabbed his keys.
“He was?”
Dad turned around to look at me. “Of course, Macallan. You’re his best friend.” He shook his head like I was being silly. He was already in the garage before I got my senses about me. I quickly pulled out a bag of brownies from the freezer to bring. Mom always said it was polite to bring something over to someone’s house. I hadn’t been at Levi’s house for so long, I almost felt like I was a guest.
So much for being the best friend.
Levi’s dad looked so tired when he answered the door.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” He gave me a tight embrace. “You’re the first person he asked for.”
I almost said “thanks” but realized that maybe it wasn’t the right response. So I decided to ask how Levi was doing.
Dr. Rodgers sighed, the worry openly displayed on his face. “He’s obviously upset. We’re going to reevaluate it in a week, but he’ll most likely need surgery. The tear in his anterior cruciate —” He stopped himself. “Sorry, it’s hard to not be a doctor in these instances. Basically, he’ll be laid up for a while. The physical therapy alone takes months. He won’t be back to normal for at least six months after surgery.”
I started to do the math in my head. He would miss track in the spring. Football next year was questionable. So much of his identity rode on his being on a team. At least he should be okay for his last year of track.
We walked into the kitchen and saw Mrs. Rodgers sitting with Keith and Tim at the table. Keith smiled at me, then froze when he saw my dad.
“Hey, guys,” I said to relieve the tension.
Dad stood silently next to me. “It’s okay,” I whispered to him. It was already pretty obvious that I knew how to handle myself around Keith. If anybody should be worried, it should be him.
Keith stood up uncomfortably. “It was pretty bad,” he said. Tim nodded in agreement. “And I swear, Macallan, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Why would I think it was your fault?” I said. Although the thought
had
crossed my mind.
He let out a slight grunt. “Um, it’s pretty clear you don’t like me.”
“Whatever would’ve given you that impression?” I asked dryly.
“Macallan,” Levi’s dad interrupted. “He’s upstairs and ready to see you.”
I walked up the stairs slowly, unsure of what was waiting for me in Levi’s room. Even though the door was open, I knocked on it anyway.
He was sitting up in bed, his right leg wrapped up, elevated, and with a pack of ice on it.
“How you feeling?” I asked, even though his face gave away his misery.
“I can’t believe how much I messed this up.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
“It’s going to be okay.” I grabbed his desk chair and brought it over to his bedside. “You’ll get stronger from this.”
“Six months. At least.” His voice revealed that he could hardly believe it himself. His eyes darted to my side. “What is that?” He gestured at the bag of brownies I had forgotten all about. I was gripping it as if my life depended on it.
“Oh, um, do you want some brownies? They still need to thaw.” I had never felt like a bigger idiot in my life.
He laughed. “It’s good to know that some things never change.” He winced slightly and I bolted up.
“Are you okay? Do you need something?” I was so worried that he was going to break on my watch.
“No.” He looked down at his leg. “Well, I do need a lot. You wouldn’t happen to have a spare ACL lying around, by any chance?”
I was relieved he was making a joke. Not that I found any of this funny, but it was nice he wasn’t so far gone that his sense of humor had disappeared.
We both sat in silence for a few minutes. I really didn’t know what to say to him. To be honest, I’d been waiting for him to apologize to me for months. And I almost told him right then and there that all he needed to do was say he was sorry and mean it. But I knew it wasn’t the right time.
I saw it was getting late, and more as an excuse to break the silence, I got up. “I figure you need some —”
He grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry, Macallan.”
In my head, I’d planned to list all the reasons he should be sorry and remind him of all the times I had been there for him. Of how hurtful his actions and words had been. Of how much pain he’d caused me. But I didn’t need to say any of that.
Because he already knew.
Instead, I said what we both needed to hear.
“It’s okay.” I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.
“It’s not,” he said. “What I did —”
I stopped him. “I know, and you’ve apologized. And I’m sorry, too. What I think we both need is to get back to where we used to be.”