Big Chicas Don't Cry(33)

Shame weaved through my heart.

Dear God, am I purposely avoiding Tony? Is it that noticeable? Am I a horrible person for turning in the opposite direction whenever I see him walking toward me?

I realized then that God didn’t have to answer. He’d sent Sister Patricia instead.

“Perhaps I should make a better effort of being friendly with him?”

She raised her chin as if to motion behind me. “Here’s your chance. He’s walking over here right now.”

My body froze as my mind played out different scenarios in my head. Should I turn to face him? Should I wait for him to come up to me? What would I say?

Even without looking, I sensed when he was standing behind me.

“Oops,” I heard him tell Sister Patricia. “Guess I got my traffic-duty day wrong again. I’m happy to stay if you need my help, though.”

She glanced at me before answering. I lowered my eyes. “We’re fine. Thank you. I believe you are on duty tomorrow.”

“Okay then. Have a good rest of your afternoon, ladies.”

I mumbled a quick “Thank you” before leading the next group across the busy lot.

This time I stayed on the other side of the sidewalk until enough people had gathered again at the curb. When I got back to my spot, Tony was long gone.

And Sister Patricia was as smug as ever.

An hour later, I was back outside and headed home. The sky had turned a dark gray, and the threat of rain loomed. The air smelled damp, yet the parking lot asphalt was as dry as it had been that morning.

Still, it felt like a storm was on its way.

I unlocked my trunk and dropped my backpack inside. It was already after four in the afternoon, and I still needed to get home and help my mom with dinner. She had texted me twice to remind me to stop and pick up milk for the mashed potatoes. But tutoring had run a little late, thanks to one fifth grader who’d accidentally deleted everything he’d completed on the laptop—including his homework for the next day.

The trill of a whistle and hands clapping diverted my attention from the trunk to the basketball courts on the other side of the parking lot at St. Christopher’s. I knew from the schedule posted in the teachers’ lounge that our eighth-grade boys’ team was playing the team from the middle school down the street. That meant Tony was there.

I thought about what Sister Patricia had said earlier and the look of excitement on Sister Catherine’s face.

The nuns had backed me into a corner. It was time to get it over with.

I pulled my backpack out again, slung it over my shoulder, and strolled to the basketball courts.

Dear God, please don’t let me make a fool of myself in front of him again. Just once, I want him to see that I’m perfectly capable of holding a professional conversation. He’s just another teacher, correct? There is no reason at all for me to be nervous. Okay? Thank you, God. Amen.

The bleachers were half-full, and I found a seat four rows up. I noticed Tony standing courtside and yelling to different players as they dribbled the ball back and forth. I pulled my folder and a pen out of the backpack. I had no interest in watching the game, so I figured that while I waited for Tony, I could get some work done.

“Hot damn. His ass looks good in those jeans today.”

My head shot up to see who was talking and about whom they were talking. It was the blonde in front of me, and she was staring at Tony.

“Today? Every day,” said the woman sitting next to her.

They both giggled like schoolgirls, and I rolled my eyes.

The blonde leaned over to her friend and said in a low, but not low enough, voice, “I’ve been trying to get him to come by on a Saturday to run some drills with Sean, but he’s been busy.”

“He does that?”

“Yep. He went over to Monica’s after school one day last week to practice with Timothy. Then after she invited him to stay for dinner, he said he already had plans with his girlfriend.”

I couldn’t help but lean forward a little. Tony had a girlfriend?

“He has a girlfriend?” Apparently, the friend was just as surprised as I was.

“That’s what he said, but I think he just said that so he wouldn’t hurt Monica’s feelings. I mean, come on. You’ve seen the way he flirts with all of us. And if he really does have a girlfriend, then he’s obviously not happy with her.”

I hated that I was eavesdropping like this. It was wrong. It wasn’t my business to know if Tony had a girlfriend or if he was going to cheat on her with one of the moms from the team.

I also hated how bothered I felt about it all.

A whistle blew, and the game was over. So was any urge I’d had to talk to him about the committee meeting. I would come up with my own ideas and bring those to Sister Catherine. Tony could do whatever he wanted.

The moms who had been sitting in front of me headed down to the court. The blonde gave a high-five to one of the boys, and I assumed he must have been her son. Then she and her friend joined the circle of parents—mainly moms, I noticed—surrounding Tony.

That was enough for me. I shoved everything into my backpack and climbed down. Without even a glance in their direction, I walked quickly past the fan club gathering.

“Gracie! Hey, Gracie! Wait up!”

I didn’t wait, though. Tony’s calls just made me walk faster. But he had longer legs and caught up to me. “Hey there!”