“Hey, see ya for tutoring Sunday? Test Monday, bruh,” Jake says, holding up a palm as I inch away from his group of friends.
“Sounds good, yeah,” I say, relieved when I’m finally free to wander by myself. I toss my empty drink cup into a trash in the middle of the lot then wait at the curb until most of the lot clears out, minus the cars belonging to players, band members, and cheerleaders.
Eleanor’s car is in the very center, and if I had her keys, I’d pull around and pick her up so she doesn’t have to walk far. Instead, I sit on the parking stop in front of her car, my back resting on her bumper. It takes about ten minutes for players to file out through the locker room doors. The ladies’ side is on the opposite end of the building, so I keep my eyes focused on the yellow-lit walkway where Eleanor should appear soon. After a few more minutes, she comes into view, the first one out, her best friend nowhere in sight.
She’s practically marching toward me, her hand working her keys into position, her pompoms clutched to her side along with a gym bag that I guess contains her uniform. She’s taken out the ribbons that had pulled her hair up tight at the top of her head. Everything about her movements teems with anger. I stand before she gets to me, and I mentally run through the talking points I spent the entire second half preparing. I’ll congratulate her for taking the first step. I’ll soothe her when she tells me what happened, and encourage her to fight to earn back her spot. I’ll offer to buy her a puppy just to make her laugh.
My mouth hangs open as she approaches, though, and by the time she reaches me, I realize that nothing I say will penetrate the walls she’s put up over the last hour.
“It’s all fucking bullshit. Let’s go,” she says, pulling her door open and throwing her things into the back of her car.
“You ready?” She lifts her head and meets my gaze, her eyes glowing with rage. I’m not sure what’s better for her at this point, to be angry or to cry, which is what I know she really wants to do.
“I—” My mouth still hangs open, not sure where to go from there. I haven’t moved a step. I’m still balancing on the parking stopper and she’s ready to hop into the driver’s seat and peel out of this place.
“Do you want me to drive?” I don’t know why I think this is the best way to go.
“I’m fine, Jonah. This was a stupid idea, is all. Just, let’s go home.” Her brow is pulled so tight that I fear it might leave a permanent line in her forehead. Her nostrils flare as she stares at me. This is one of those moments I am destined to stand out from everyone else in her life. She’ll either hate me for it or—
“This was not a stupid idea, Elle.” I use her nickname, and I can tell immediately she thinks I’m using it as a weapon to soften her. Maybe I am.
“You know they replaced me, right? I saw you. You heard everything. They had to ‘move on without me.’” She makes air quotes when she repeats what her coach said, but her phone is still in her hand as she does this, and her grip slips, sending her device end over end toward the ground.
“Shit!” she shouts, her voice echoing and drawing attention from the few people in the lot.
I rush over to help her retrieve her phone but she brushes me off when I get close. On her knees, gravel digs into her skin, piercing holes in her leggings. She cradles her phone in her palms and stares at the cracked screen.
“I know a guy who replaces those things—”
“Just don’t, okay?” Her voice comes out stern, like Morgan’s, and the bite in her tone makes me back up a step or two. My hands find home in my pockets as I do, and I move back to the front of her car, giving her the space she wants even if I don’t think it’s what she needs.
She fusses with her screen for several minutes, and I’m left to watch her try to make various functions work. She swears every time she realizes something else is broken, and eventually she tosses it with a hard thrust along the ground, busting off pieces as it bounces several spots away.
Gemma is on her way to her car and pivots to us, but I wave her off silently, begging with my hands for her to let me have this one. Gemma isn’t stuck on the sidelines. She will pretend to understand how this feels, but she can never really understand.
After a few minutes, the parking lot gets quiet again. There are a few cars left, but for the most part we’re alone. Nobody is parked close enough to give a damn about a girl trying her hardest not to cry.
I scan the parking spots around us and retrieve the various parts of Eleanor’s phone. The sim card actually came out, which is not easy to do. I usually have to use a paperclip to get that sucker to pop out. I put all of the pieces in my front pocket and move closer to Eleanor, who has given in to gravity and is now sitting on the ground with her knees bent while she inspects the holes in her pants and the bleeding skin underneath.
I know better than
