Authors: Kiki Hamilton
The Last Dance (7 page)
Mr. Decker glanced up at me. “Do you play?”
I shook my head, trying to ignore the headache that was working its way up from the base of my skull. Though I had taken four years of piano lessons when I was younger, I hadn’t played since I was fourteen. I wasn’t even remotely interested in playing music now, unless it was the tequila song they played at the football games.
But Dr. Murdoch had insisted there was new research that suggested playing the piano not only helped the brain generate new synapses to replace those damaged by the injury, but also helped with finger and hand dexterity. That was all it took for my parents to sign me up. It didn’t matter what I thought.
There was a hesitant knock before the door to Mr. Decker’s office pushed open. A face peeked around the corner, her long dark hair swinging off her shoulder.
“Mr. Decker? You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, Miss Ly—” the principal motioned with his hand for her to enter the room— “thank you for coming so promptly.” He retreated from his perch on the side of the desk and sat in his big wooden chair. “As I mentioned in my email to you, I’ve had a request for a tutor and I think you fit all the requirements quite admirably. Let me introduce you to Kellen Peterson.”
I lifted my left hand in her direction, not even trying to smile. Instead, I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. I used to be Kellen Peterson, star quarterback of the Griffin Eagles. Had she known who I was? And even if she did—who was I now?
Mr. Decker swung his hand back toward the girl— “and Miss Ivy Ly.”
I’d definitely seen her before. She was small-boned and pretty. Really pretty. She had dark—almost black—hair and tan skin. Her eyes were equally dark and alive with intelligence. I could almost feel it crackling as she swept me over in one flick of a glance. She couldn’t hide her surprise either. It was obvious she hadn’t known what she’d signed on for.
Mr. Decker glanced down at the page again. “Miss Ly has completed a number of the classes you’re in—math, science and fourth year French—so she can assist you in getting back up to speed on the content you’ve missed. Additionally, she’ll accompany you to your other classes for the next few weeks. Luckily, you both have sixth period study hall.”
Luckily. I looked at my new tutor again. She was very petite and wore skinny leg jeans that just emphasized how small she was. She stood ramrod straight with her hands folded in front of her like she was lined up for inspection. Her face was expressionless as she stared at Mr. Decker and I wondered what she was really thinking.
Mr. Decker looked up from the paper. “Ivy has also generously agreed to stay after school if you need extra assistance on homework, if necessary.” He smiled at both of us. “Sound okay?”
I just nodded. It was too much to try and tell them I wouldn’t need her—I had physical therapy after school every day. They probably wouldn’t be able to understand me anyway.
I glanced at Ivy out of the corners of my eyes again. She didn’t look any happier about the situation then I did. Basically, she was there to wipe my butt because I was too messed up to do it myself. I got the feeling she’d summed me up and filed me away before I’d even had a chance to open my mouth and slur my words. God—what did I do to deserve this?
G
od, what did I do to deserve this? When Mr. Decker emailed me and said he wanted to talk to me about a community service project that would look good on my college applications I’d been pleased he’d picked me. Honored, really. He’d mentioned it involved tutoring but teach a stroke victim? Or whatever Q was? Are you kidding?
I was shocked by how thin he was. Kellen Peterson had always been big. Big shoulders, muscular arms, tall, athletic and good-looking—and he knew it. He’d always strutted down the hall like he owned the school. The kid I was looking at now was too thin, his cheekbones pronounced, his clothes hanging on him. There was something defeated in his eyes.
The Q that Mira had babbled on about had kept his hair shorter, like all the jocks, but this guy’s hair was long and shaggy, like Tank Bergstrom’s. It swept across his forehead and shadowed his eyes—almost like he was hiding behind it. Don’t get me wrong—he was still good-looking—but in a very different way from how I remembered our star quarterback.
“So, now that you both have your new assignments—” Mr. Decker got up and opened the door— “might as well get to it.” He gave us a big smile. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Q barely acknowledged me when we left Decker’s office.
He mumbled something I couldn’t quite understand.
“What?” I leaned forward to hear better, but I couldn’t understand him the second time either. I didn’t dare ask him to repeat it a third time but I thought he said, ‘Sorry to get you involved.”
My sympathy didn’t last long. When we got to our first class, everybody—and I mean
everybody
—in that room seemed to know him and wanted to welcome him back. He slouched into a chair and tried to wave people off but it was like the serfs paying homage to the returning king. Sickening, really.
I just stood there like I was invisible.
And he just ignored me.
Brilliant.
AT LUNCH TIME he went to sit with all his jock friends. I was so relieved to be rid of him I practically ran to find Mira. Once we were through the lunch line I pulled her outside to tell her the news. I didn’t want to take the chance that we would be overheard by anyone.
I set my brown lunch tray on the outdoor table and plopped down on the cold wooden seat, pulling my black pea coat tighter across my chest. “Don’t freak, okay?”
“Why are we out here?” Mira looked at me like I’d lost it. She was in electric blue skinny pants with knee-high black boots today and a black and white striped t-shirt underneath a black jacket. She looked like some freakish rock star. In a fashionable sort of way.
“It’s like 40 degrees,” she said. “And in case you haven’t heard, Kellen Peterson is back at school. I want to go stare at him while we have the chance.” She glanced toward the windows of the cafeteria as she spoke. “Have you seen him? He’s so thin.”
“I need to tell you something.” I gave her my piercing ‘this is important’ stare that any true friend would instantly recognize. Mira, however, ignored me.
“Do you think he’s been sick too? Maybe that’s why he’s so thin.”
“Listen.” I growled.
She frowned and her eyebrows became slashes across her forehead. “What?”
I tugged at her arm. “Sit down. I don’t want you to faint when I tell you.”
Her butt hit the wooden bench like it’d been pulled down by a giant magnet. “I don’t like the sound of that. Tell me what?”
I held up my hands to placate her. “Don’t panic. This actually might be your golden opportunity.”
“Now, you’re starting to make me nervous. Just spit it out—whatever
it
is.”
I cleared my throat and spread out a napkin. I’d known Mira since first grade. We were closer than sisters because we never fought. Potentially until now, that is.
“Decker called me into his office this morning.” I picked up my bagel and concentrated on spreading some cream cheese on one side.
“Oh.” Her voice got lighter. “Are you getting an award for your grades?” Mira didn’t have the same pressure at home to get good grades. Nor was she driven enough to seek them on her own. She always said she liked to live vicariously through me.
“No. I’m not getting an award.” I thought about what I did get and it seemed more like a punishment than anything. “I have to tutor somebody—go to their classes for five periods then work with them during study hall. And maybe after school occasionally,” I added in a rush.
“Whoa.” Mira jerked her head back in surprise. “What’s Decker going to do—give you a time-turner?” Mira was a complete Potterhead. She quoted Harry Potter like it was the gospel.
I snorted and dropped my bagel back on to the plastic wrap. I’d lost my appetite just thinking about it. “He said something about the teachers agreeing to make an exception and letting me do my homework on an extended schedule. It should only be for a few weeks,” I added hurriedly. I had a feeling that would be a crucial bit of information for her to know.
Mira’s face twisted into a mask of confusion. “Who needs a tutor for that much of the day? Are they a foreign exchange student or something?” All of a sudden she put two and two together. Her mouth sagged open. “Wait a minute.”
She grabbed my wrist and gave me the ‘this is important’ stare—which I, of course, immediately picked up on. See—I wasn’t such a bad friend. Was I?
“You’re not.”
I gave a little mouse-squeak of a nod. Then I talked as fast as I could. “I have to tutor Kellen Peterson until he gets caught up in his classes.” It was ridiculous that I felt guilty. I tried to shove the emotion away like I’d shoved my bagel away, but the mess was still there in front of me – in both instances.
Mira spoke in a shocked whisper, a smile of delight twisting the edges of her mouth. “You’re going to tutor Q?”
“Decker said it would look good on my college applications. Like a community service project or something.”
“You’re going to tutor Q five periods a day?” She dropped my wrist and her smile faded.
I nodded. “I guess I’ve taken all of the classes he needs help with but this will be a great way for you to get to know him, too. I was thinking, since you have sixth period study hall too—you could join us. Didn’t you say you had a class together?”
“Yes, French.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together.
My stomach clenched at her changed expression. I didn’t want her to be mad at me. She was my best friend. It wasn’t my fault.
“Mira, it wasn’t like I asked to be stuck with the guy,” I said. “It’s going to be a nightmare. He doesn’t want me there anymore than I want to be there. I’m not sure why—”
“Stop.” Mira pressed her fingers against my lips and raised her chin. “Don’t tell me anymore. It’s happened for a reason.” She gave me a Holy Mary look. “We’re meant to save him, Ivy.”
“K
ellen?” Mom called up the stairs. “Kellen? Are you up there? It’s time to go to therapy, honey.”
I was on my back, stretched across my bed. I had a pounding headache and I was so tired I didn’t think I could move. I didn’t want to move. I heard her footsteps coming up the stairs and I ran the back of my hand across my eyes to make sure they were dry.
I sat up as she entered my room. “I don’t think I can do it today, mom.”
The look of sympathy that crossed her face was almost more than I could stand. She sat down on the bed next to me and put her arm around my shoulders. “I thought you said school went okay.” She was silent for a minute. “Harder than you expected?”
“No.” I couldn’t stop the anger that crept into my voice. “It was
exactly
what I expected. A freakin’ nightmare.” I shoved away from the bed and stood up. I had gotten to where I could balance on my good leg now since my right foot still dragged. “I used to be the quarterback. Now I’m the cripple. You think
everybody
doesn’t stare?” I wanted to slam my fist into the wall.
“Kellen.” Her voice sounded as pained as I felt. “It was your first day back. You know it will take some time. You’ll get back to normal. Dr. Murdoch is very optimistic. It’s only been a few weeks since you got out of the hospital. Just allow yourself the time to heal. Everyone will understand.”
“And in the meantime—” I knew my words were garbled. When I got emotional I was even harder to understand— “I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked for my whole life.”
“You’re not going to lose it, Kellen.” Her voice was soft and understanding.
“Yes, I am,” I snarled. “I won’t be able to play football the rest of the season. I can’t see any way that I’ll be able to play basketball either.” My voice broke. “I may never play any sport again the rest of my life.”
My mom stood up and walked over to me. At 6’3 I was almost a foot taller than her, yet I’d never really noticed the height difference before. She was always just mom. She was always the boss—the one who knew what to do to get things done. For the first time in my life it occurred to me that there were some things she couldn’t fix.
She rubbed my back. ‘If you make up your mind to play a sport—you will. If you make up your mind, Kellen—” she put her hand on my cheek and forced me to look at her— “anything is possible. You just might have to go about it a little differently than you originally planned.” Her tone changed. “Now, the only way that will happen is to do your physical therapy.” She patted my back. “Come on. We don’t want to be late for your appointment.”
IN THE END she was right. Even though I was exhausted, it felt good to work out my frustration on the exercise bike. Michael, the therapist, knew how hard to push me and when to back off. He seemed to understand my mood today and let me ride the bike longer than usual. I was grateful that he wasn’t quite as tough on the stretching exercises afterwards, though I was sure I would pay another day.
It was dark as we drove home.
“Did you meet your tutor?” Mom asked.
I looked out the window into the black night and against my will imagined Ivy Ly. We hadn’t talked much as she followed me around from class to class. She couldn’t make it to sixth period study hall today because of some ‘previous commitment’ so we were going to start tomorrow. Whatever. I didn’t have a clue what was going on in any of my classes, anyway. I’m sure she felt as uncomfortable as I did.
During the day my football buddies and a lot of my friends had come up to welcome me back. After they hugged me or high-fived or whatever, they would glance from me to her, trying to figure out why she was standing there. For some reason, I didn’t introduce her to anybody. I just ignored her. I knew she felt uncomfortable, but I guess that’s how I wanted her to feel.
I let out a long sigh and let my head fall back against the headrest. When had I become such an asshole?
“Yeah, I met her.”
My mom glanced over at me. “Was she nice?”