The Game Changer (3 page)

"
JJ, Deanna!" he yells.

"We're right here
," I answer, sounding annoyed as I stand right behind him.

"Look
at this.” He holds out the tray of food. “How nice. Let's take a break, we haven't eaten all day."

As this Luke kid sidesteps me and makes his way to the kitchen, following my dad, I steal another look. It is almost impossible not to. His dark brown eyes seem as if they are looking right through me. He is wearing dark colored jeans and a tight fitting grey t-shirt that shows off his body. His perfect face and muscular arms are nicely tanned. He smells good, too. He must have just showered because his dark hair is pushed back off his face and
curls just at the base of his neck where it’s still damp.

I have to admit
; I checked out his sister earlier and made the same assessment: great body, dark brown eyes, long, straight, black hair and a beautiful face. Okay, so they’re both ridiculously good looking.

Deanna
and I sit at the table, while my dad and this Luke kid sit at the counter. They were babbling on about sports as they dig into the sandwiches, like they had been lifelong friends. Deanna fills me in about the town and the places they hang out.

She look
s over to her brother. "Luke, are you going to the inlet tonight?"

"
Yeah, Mikey should be back any minute."

“Where’d he go?” she asks curiously.

“I think to pick up Janelle.”

She looks at me and sticks out her tongue as if she were gagging.
"Can me and JJ come with you?" she asks, looking back at him.

Okay, where is she inviting us?
I think to myself and there goes that 'JJ' thing again. I don't correct her this time because, for one, I don’t want to make an issue of it in front of the brother and two; I’m too focused on what his answer will be.

"
Sure, but, just to warn you, Alexa is coming with us."

Deanna
rolls her eyes at me. "Never mind."

He laugh
s and takes another bite of his sandwich. "Awe, don't be like that; she's not that bad."

"Whatever
," she replies sarcastically. Again, she looks at me and rolls her eyes.

I have no idea what this is about, but, whatever it is, Deanna doesn’t seem happy about it. W
ithin seconds, his phone buzzes and he begins to text.

"That's Mikey
, I have to go. See ya, David and thanks,” he says as he stands up from the counter. He invites us to come with him, once again, but Deanna quickly declines his offer.

Deanna and I continue unpacking once we have finished eating. She hands the contents of boxes to me to place around. Several of the boxes contain pictures of my family, before the accident. I notice her observing the pictures, yet, she doesn’t ask questions.

Finally I get the courage to ask about the exchange between her and her brother. For some reason, I’m curious to know. Deanna informs me that her and Alexa were friends before she started dating Luke. Or, at least, that’s what Deanna thought before she realized she was being used so Alexa could get closer to him. She says they hardly speak anymore. She’s hurt, being used by someone she thought was her friend.

Her brother seems like a jerk to me; although, I get the impression that his sister doesn’t share my feelings. Actually, whenever she talks about him and his friend, she acts as if they are the two greatest guys in the world, which somehow leads to a conversation about baseball.

She laughs as she tells me, "It’s kind of a big thing around here. Everyone has been interested in them since they entered high school. Senior year is going to be huge for them. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it. We just won our second state championship in a row last week."

"Really
? That’s cool." I really don’t know much about baseball, but she seems impressed, just like my dad.

She opens another box filled with pictures and holds a picture of me, my mom and my dad. It was taken at a party at Aunt Kathy’s house about a month before the accident. It is the last picture of the three of us t
ogether. My eyes begin to fill, thinking back to that time, just a little more than a year ago. I feel her glance over at me. She carefully places the picture on the table next to the couch.

“That’s my mom.” I blurt out.

"I know. She's beautiful
," she says as she takes another picture from the box and carefully unwraps it.

"Yeah, she was
," I answer, staring off in the direction of the picture. Then, I realize what she said. "How did you know it’s my mom?"

She looks at me sadly and says quietly,
"I know, because you look exactly like her."

My eyes
fill even more.

"I'm sorry
JJ; I didn't mean to upset you."

I explained to her how everyone has been telling me that lately. She asks if they were divorced. She figures it was the reason for the move.

“Given my options, I would have hoped for a divorce,” I tell her. At least I’d still be able to see her. It’s the first time I’ve ever spoken of it out loud to anyone other than my therapist. I tell her about the accident. Her eyes fill with tears, too, as she reaches out for my hand.

We are interrupted by the sound of my dad’s footsteps coming down the stairs. I quickly wipe away the tears, not wanting to upset him. She reads my mind and does the same.

My dad is impressed with our progress, but thinks we need to quit for the night and relax. Deanna invites me to go with her to meet her friends at the boardwalk. I really like her, but I’m feeling a little overwhelmed and I’m not up to meeting any more people today.

Of course, my dad is waiting to hear what I think as soon as I get back from walking her out.
Surprisingly, she seems really nice and is easy to talk to. My dad feels the same way about both of them.

“It’s not too often that you see teenagers that are comfortable sitting around and talking with someone’s parents,” he states.

My dad worked all day on fixing up his room, he’s anxious for me to see how it turned out. When I enter, the first thing I notice is how his furniture is set up exactly the way it had been in our old home. I didn’t expect him to move my mom’s things with him. I figured it would have been a good opportunity to box up and donate her things, but, to my surprise, he has brought all of her belongings with him. I feel sorry for him. I always forget how hard this is for him, too. He actually packed up her things and brought them with him, only to unpack them again.

I don’t want to make a big deal out of it and I kind of get the feeling he knows I noticed. He tries to make light of it, saying, he thinks maybe I can use some of her things. I give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him he did a great job.

Actually, my mom did have great taste in clothes and she always looked so good. For some reason, I didn’t inherit that skill. Whenever she would pick out something for me that was a little out of my comfort zone, I would always shoot it down and go for the t-shirts and sneakers. Like I said, I was a bit of a late bloomer, which now leaves me way out of my league. Especially, if everyone in this town looks like the three people I met today.

I climb into bed, exhausted, but for some reason, I can’t fall asleep. My mind is racing, thinking about everything that happened today. I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time; excitement.

I must have finally dozed off because suddenly I’m awoken by the sound of a car outside my window. I glance at the clock on my nightstand; it’s after one in the morning. I jump up to peek out my window. I have a clear shot of Deanna’s house. A car idles in front of the Georgian Colonial across from mine. After a few minutes, the door opens and when the light in the car goes on, I can see that it is Luke. A girl is in the driver’s seat. I wonder if it is his girlfriend. I watch him as he coolly walks up his driveway and enters the house, I climb back in bed. I have a hard time falling back asleep because I can’t help thinking about who he was with in the car. Why do I even care?

(Jesse)

Hardly an ounce of light comes through my blinds before I jump out of bed and throw on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, hoping to beat the sun before it has a chance to rise. Racing into the bathroom, I splash some water on my face and brush my teeth. It’s the first time in a long time that I have the urge to draw. I know the perfect spot and want to get there before the sun has a chance to rise above the water.  I grab my sketch pad and scribble a note for my dad, letting him know where I’ll be.

I walk to the end of the pier and sit on a worn, wooden bench facing the water. It is so quiet and calm. In the distance I can see a few fishing boats bobbing up and down in the water. I open my sketchpad and start to draw.  The scenery is beautiful as I begin to sketch the sun rising above the water, through the clouds. Looking down, I begin to sketch my mom’s face.

This place reminds me of my dream that I had of my mom. That dream was a turning point for me in my recovery. I promised her I would do everything possible to try and move forward. I was
afraid I wouldn’t remember the details of her face, but as my hand glides smoothly back and forth along the page, her face suddenly appears just as clearly as if I had seen her yesterday.

I am so engrossed in my work I don’t hear the footsteps behind me.

“JJ?” The voice questions in a loud whisper.

I jump, and then freeze. I recognize the voice. Quickly, I close my sketchpad. I glance up and smile, “Hi, Luke.”

“What are you doing up so early?” he asks, smiling in return. 

“Drawing...What are you doing here?” I ask nervously.

“I run in the morning and I usually end up hanging out here for a while... awesome, isn’t it?” he says, looking out at the calmness of the golden-magenta sky meeting the blue-green colored water.

“Yeah, it is,” I agree as I take a deep breath to fill my lungs with the fresh scent of the ocean breeze.

“You like that, too?” He asks as he cocks his head slightly to the side with his big, dark eyes looking at me curiously.

“Huh?”

“You just took a breath; do you like that, too... the smell of the air?”

Perceptive. I wasn’t expecting that from him. “I love it. It was the first thing I noticed when we came to look at the house. Every time I step out, I take it in, but sitting here...”

“I know… the smell of the wooden docks, mixed with the salty ocean air, it’s awesome here. I can’t get enough. I can’t believe you do the same thing. I thought I was the only crazy one that noticed.”

“Nope, I noticed, too,” I answer shyly.

He sits down next to me on the bench, confidently, and stretches out his long legs. “There are a few spots around here that are just as good as this. Maybe, I’ll let you in on them some time,” he teases while flashing his beautiful smile. “Can I see what you’re drawing?”

He makes me nervous because he’s a little intimidating and definitely nosey, but he seems okay, I guess, considering the fact that he knows he’s nice looking. He smiles a lot.

I hesitantly hand over my book. He slowly opens the first page and starts to look through it. I watch him intently as he studies each page, taking his time.  All of the pictures have been done previously; except for the one I’m sketching today.

“These are really good,” he says as he turns to face me. “I mean, exceptionally good.” When he gets to the page I am currently working on, he looks at the picture, then out to the water, then up to the clouds. “Who’s this?” He shows me the page and points to the image of the woman peering down from the clouds.

“It’s my mom. She passed away,” I blurt out. I figure I’d just say it. This way, he won’t ask any more questions about it, but from what I have seen so far, I doubt it will work.

He is silent for a second. “Oh... I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he says quietly as he lowers his head until his eyes meet mine.

He throws me off with his sincerity and the way he is looking at me so intensely. My nerves get the best of me and I jump off the bench. “Thanks… Well, I guess I’m gonna get going. Sorry if I invaded your space.”

“You don’t have to go. I don’t mind sharing.”

“Oh, no. It’s not that. I don’t want my dad to wake up and be worried because I’m not home.” I call out as I rush off.

I must look like a complete idiot for running away from him
, I think as I get closer to home.

As I enter my house I have this strange, nervous feeling in my stomach. My dad is sitting at the table having his coffee and reading the paper when I get in. “Good morning. How did the sketching go?

“It was great; it felt good to start drawing again,” I answer breathlessly, feeling flustered for some reason.

“You okay?”

“Luke was there.” I’m not sure why, but I feel the need to blurt that out. “He said he runs in the morning and then sits out by the dock for a while. I sort of felt bad that I invaded his spot. He said he didn’t mind.” I wait to see what his reply will be.

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” he answers as he goes back to reading the paper.