Rumors (11 page)

The
rumors from last weekend’s hot tub bust came to an end. Everyone
finally stopped spreading the stories and lies. In its place, the
truth spread like wildfire.

“
Allie quit.”

For the first time in my life, I gave up the title of being a
winner. Instead, I was branded with the taboo label for any
athlete—a
quitter.

“
I still don’t understand why you did it,” Taylor said a
couple of days later, scraping butter onto her toast. Each
irritated, harsh spread of her knife left a growing pile of crisp
crumbs on her plate. Taylor, like most people, assumed I’d come to
my senses by now and “un-quit.”

“
I’m not asking you to understand,” I said, glancing at the
clock. “But I
would
like your support.” I grabbed the car keys. “Hurry, we’re
going to be late for school.”

“
My support? Allie, you’re
killing
our dream! It’s supposed to
be Leah, you, and me out there on that court! It’s everything we
talked about all summer!” She paused, looking at her feet, and then
mumbling, “At least before Maddie died.”

My
emotions reared. “How could you possibly even care about basketball
this much?” My voice faltered, but I pushed through. “You were at
her funeral, too! How has your perspective not changed? How is
basketball still so important to you?”

Taylor’s
voice elevated to match mine. “How can you just give it all up?”
she countered. “Maddie admired you for your talent. She wanted to
grow up and be just like you—a confident, star-athlete. And you’re
just throwing it all away! You’re not honoring her by acting like
nothing else matters!”

Her
words cut deep, making me question my decision for the first time.
Was she right? Was it important that I keep playing, even if my
heart wasn’t in it? We stared at each other, the impasse growing
between us.

“
I found my book! We can go—” Leah stopped short, eying the
two of us. Her intuitive nature seemed to sense the heat between
Taylor and me the moment she turned the corner into the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” she asked, the smile dropping from her
expression.

Nobody
spoke for a few moments, the tension building between us like an
invisible wall. Finally, the sharp edge of the car keys digging
into my palm made me break the silence.

“
We’re late. Let’s just go.”

***

My day
progressed with a sense of awkwardness about it, like watching a
horse limp around the track. The everyday interactions with my
teachers and friends had to go on, but if I’d been a spectator of
my own life, it would have been uncomfortable to watch. At times,
it was like ignoring “the elephant in the room.” (Although, my
personal life seemed to have become one fat, overgrown elephant
since school began, so it wasn’t all that new, really.)

I sat
with my group at lunch, all of us trying to talk about anything but
sports, even though we’d normally be discussing next week’s
tournament. Shane pulled me aside as the bell rang.

“
Hey, are you going to be ok?” he asked.

I
shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. It’d help if everyone else was ok with
my decision, instead of treating me like the black sheep of the
group.”

“
No one’s doing that,” he tried to say, though we both caught
Tara’s glare as she passed by. She was still not talking to me.
“Ok, maybe some are… I think—” He stopped short.

“
What?”

“
Nothing.”

I could
tell he had something to say. “Whatever it is, just say it.
Please.”

“
I think people are mad and confused about your decision
because they don’t know where you’re coming from. If this has
something to do with your cousin… maybe you could
explain—”

“
I don’t have to explain anything,” I said, my defenses
rising. We were about to breach uncharted territory, and I wasn’t
about to have that part of my personal life roaming around school
unsupervised. “I don’t want to talk about Maddie. No one will
understand.”

“
Have you even tried?” Shane’s irritation flashed in his brown
eyes, meeting the sharpness of my own.

“
It’s no one’s business!”

“
Well, maybe that’s why you’re standing alone in your
decisions, Allie. If you feel like you’re not supported right now,
it’s because you haven’t given anyone a chance.” For the first
time, Shane’s conversation with me took on truth and meaning.
Still, I took a step back, my obstinate nature kicking
in.

Shane
seemed to sense that I was about to flee. He softened his voice as
he took my hand. “Allie, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
Bringing his lips to my cheek, he added, “Just know that I’m here
for you—and I love you.”

My hand
slipped from his. My feet stepped backwards once more, widening our
gap. “Wait, what?” I couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that
escaped my mouth.

Shane’s
expression fell. “That’s not quite how I imagined you’d
react.”

My words
faltered as I struggled for words. Finally, “Well, what do you want
me to say? I mean, Shane—” I looked to the floor, shaking my head.
“How can you say you love me? We barely know each other. This whole
thing has just been—” I let out a sigh, shaking my head. How could
I explain to him that everything about this school year felt like
one pressure after another? It was one thing to be dating him, but
I couldn’t pretend beyond that. “Shane, I haven’t been fair to you.
Look, you’re a nice guy,” I began.

Shane
clenched his jaw, his eyebrows pulling together. Now he was the one
stepping backwards. He put up his hands as he retreated. “Don’t
worry about it. I got the message.”

***

It felt
so strange hearing the bell ring at the end of the school day and
know I had nowhere to be. Out of years of habit, my feet took me a
few steps towards the gym before I stopped myself. I stood for a
moment, watching the athletes gather up their gym bag, the artists
juggle their oversized portraits and canvases, and the drama crew
waltzing their way to the auditorium for play rehearsal. Countless
others linked arms with one another, moving with purpose. Everyone
had a place to be, it seemed. However, I felt directionless. No
basketball, no boyfriend, and I wasn’t even sure about my friends…
How had I turned my life upside down so fast? I fumbled for the
keys in my purse, stalling with indecision, as I had the last
couple of days since quitting basketball.

“
Ms. Collins,” a familiar voice spoke beside me. I turned my
head, finding Mr. Nordell at my side. His gentle eyes seemed to
understand my stationary position. He glanced in the direction of
the gym and then at my keys. “I hear you have some extra time on
your hands.”

“
You heard about that, huh?” With a weak smile, I said, “You
know, for a biology teacher who seems to keep to himself, you
always know what’s happening around this school.”

His
quiet chuckle highlighted the crow’s feet around his eyes. “Well,
staying out of the attention doesn’t mean not being involved or
caring.”

His
words reminded me of the yearbook Tara’s dad had shown us. I
hesitated while he watched me, as if he knew something else was on
my mind. “Can—can I ask you something?” I asked.

“
Of course.”

“
It’s about your life before Cynthia passed away.”

Mr.
Nordell nodded, not saying a word for a few moments. “Ok, but how
about I buy you a cup of hot chocolate? I wouldn’t mind warming up
before braving that chilly weather outside.” Perhaps he could sense
that my question would not be a simple “yes or no”
answer.

“
Sure, thanks.” We walked to the student-run café, its
location close to the gym.

Seated
at a small table with warm Styrofoam cups in our hands, Mr. Nordell
prompted our discussion. “So, what is it you’d like to ask
me?”

“
I’ve been thinking about our last conversation when we talked
about Yosemite and allowing change to run its course.” My decision
to quit basketball and my argument with Taylor this morning still
weighed on my mind. I was trying to let that natural change happen
by letting go of things that didn’t seem to fit in my life
anymore—including Shane, as bad as I felt about that—but what if my
choices were wrong?

“
Go on…”

“
Well, not all change is good, right? What if life experiences
change us in a bad way?”

“
Ah,” Mr. Nordell said with a raise of his finger, as if I had
said something wise and profound. (That was highly doubtful, but
Mr. Nordell seemed inspired to share his thoughts, at least). “Your
question seems to suggest that you have no control over that
change—that life will twist and turn you according to nature’s will
alone. As foolish as it would be to say life doesn’t change us, it
would be equally foolish to believe that we don’t have at least
some say in how that change happens.”

I
wondered if he would mind the personal question forming in my mind.
I took a risk. “I came across a yearbook from twenty years ago—the
year before your wife passed away.”

Mr.
Nordell’s expression shifted slightly, but he waited for me to
continue, prompting with a mild, “And?”

“
And… you seemed different than you are now. Like you were
more outgoing—like you laughed a lot more. The pictures made it
seem like you were really social and involved in everything. You
were all over the yearbook.” I had looked away shyly when I was
offering my description of him. It was just an assumption. Now I
returned my gaze to his, waiting for his confirmation.

Mr. Nordell nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that was a long time
ago. You are right, of course. I was quite caught up with all the
school events and loved knowing so many students.” He paused, a
small smile on his face as though reliving some of the memories.
“Times have certainly changed.
I
changed,” he emphasized. “But being less outgoing
doesn’t mean I’ve changed in a bad way. I made a
choice.”

“
What choice was that?”

“
I chose quality over quantity. I decided to focus on
individuals rather than the large group as a whole. I used to be
friends with all the students and teachers—yes, even with my
bowties back then, too,” he joked. I smiled, noting the blue and
grey bowtie he sported today and thinking that at least this one
wasn’t as hideous as some of his others. I was afraid to picture
what they looked like twenty years ago.

Mr.
Nordell continued after taking a sip of his drink. “It’s very hard
to get personal with a crowd. Looking back, I have to admit there
was a lot of superficial popularity behind it.”

I nodded
my head in thought, though I was content to listen.

“
After my wife died, I knew my path had changed. I decided my
limited energy was better spent connecting deeper with a
few
people, rather than
trying to befriend the entire school. It’s what still works for me,
ever since my sweet Cynthia died. What’s really on your mind,
Allie?”

This man
seemed to know me well, somehow. There was something about him that
I respected and admired every time we spoke. Maybe I could trust
him—soon. I didn’t want to go into details today, but I settled
for, “I don’t feel confident in my decisions. Maybe quitting
basketball is giving into my grief, rather than fighting
it.”

Mr.
Nordell took my hand in both of his with a tender squeeze. “My
dear, grief isn’t a battle you fight. You must embrace it! It is a
part of you now—it’s Yosemite forming inside you. Give it time. As
for basketball, I can’t tell you what’s right or wrong. That is a
personal decision. You’ll feel it in your heart what you need to
do. Perhaps you already did.”

News spread quickly about my break up with Shane. Hopeful,
young girls everywhere flocked to comfort him. Needless to say, I
stopped hanging out with that group of friends, avoiding the
awkwardness. My friendship with Tara maintained at a cordial level,
though I hardly saw her anymore. She continued to spend most of her
time with Austin and basketball. As the weeks passed, my extended
time in the spotlight began to dim. My peers’ conversations moved
on to more enticing “breaking news,” until my life was all but
forgotten headlines. In my fight to maintain my old life, I seemed
to have lost it all in one swoop. However, there was a sense of
freedom in the manner that I’d given it up. The choices were
mine
.