The Fastest Way to Fall(10)

“Most of the little music, art, and P.E. funding we still had,” Aaron said. “It’s a mess. We had this peer health education program in the works, but that’s not going to happen now. Shame, too. It was a good idea.”

“Yeah,” I said, more to myself than anyone else, as Aaron got us organized into teams.



* * *





WHEN WE WALKED off the court and I checked my phone, I had a missed call I ignored, a text from Kelsey, and a FitMi notification. I paused for a second, thumb hovering over the preview.

The notification from the FitMi app read Bmoney34 logged three meals. It had been so long since I’d used the app as a coach, I’d forgotten to turn off the notifications, but I was glad she was jumping in. The other new client had been hit-or-miss, but I tapped the icon to send B a “good work” message. A text remained on my screen, and not the one I’d been hoping for.


Kelsey: I know you’re ignoring me out of spite. This is important, though.



“Haven’t seen you much. Work okay?” Jake’s voice cut into my thoughts, and I hit delete before tucking my phone in my pocket.

“Yeah. All great. Busy.” I’d missed the last few games. “How’s the new place?”

“Not so new—we’ve been there over a year, but come over some night for dinner or cards or something.”

Wow. Almost a year. I’d spent a lot of time with them for a while, and then I just kind of . . . stopped. Maybe there’s more going on with me than just it being February.

Aaron joined us, waving to a few of the other guys. “Wes, don’t let him sucker you in. What he lacks in basketball skill, he makes up for in poker. He’ll take all your money.”

“I barely have any left after playing with Felicia last time,” I said.

“Who do you think taught me?” Jake’s phone buzzed in his hand, and he apologized for needing to take it, heading for the exit.

I walked with Aaron while the squeak of shoes and the thud, thud, thud of basketballs hitting the courts sounded all around us. The entire game, I’d been thinking about Aaron’s program. I knew nothing about kids, but I’d wanted to be a teacher at one point, wanted to be like my coach. “That program that was cut at your school. How much would you need to save it?”

“The actual cost for the program isn’t much, but the bigger issue is the staff time. We lost someone we’re not going to replace, and the two people who were going to run it and train the peer leaders now have to be doing other things.”

Despite the coat I’d pulled on, the frigid February air hit me like a brick to the chest, a brick made of ice that exploded on impact. Next to me, Aaron swore under his breath.

“Gotcha,” I said. “So, it’s human resources you need.”

“People and time are harder to come by,” he said, pulling his keys from his pocket.

“Maybe we can help.”

“Your company?”

“Maybe,” I said, wheels already spinning. “Can you send me more information and I’ll look into it?”

When I climbed into my own car, waiting for the window to defrost and the heat to kick in, my phone pinged. Bmoney34 liked your message. I smiled, sitting in the freezing car and thinking about some new possibilities for getting back to what I enjoyed.





7





A FEW DAYS after my initial conversation with Wes, I added the contents of my lunch to my food journal on the app.


Salad with light ranch dressing, cheese, and croutons


Cheeseburger with ketchup, mustard


Onion rings and sauce (note: no idea what it is. Probably just fat mixed with magic)


Diet Coke



“What are you doing?”

I glanced up from my phone to see RJ’s cocked eyebrow.

“It’s that app I’m reviewing,” I said, popping an onion ring into my mouth. “I signed up over the weekend, and I have to keep a log of what I eat this week.”

“I get that.” My friend took a forkful of her own salad. “But don’t you have to eat a certain way? Like, shouldn’t you be insisting that I take some of your onion rings?”

“I’m supposed to set my baseline and pay attention to what I eat now.” When I took a bite of my salad, ranch dressing dripped off my fork into a little puddle on the table. “I’m starting here,” I said, motioning to my onion rings and then to her plate. “And you’re the one who said you wanted to eat more vegetables this year.”

“Maybe I should have set a baseline first, though.” RJ stretched her long arm across the table and plucked an onion ring from my plate.

“Anyway, the whole reason I pitched the story in the first place was because of you.”

“Me? Why?” She reached for another onion ring, but I swatted her hand away.

Sometimes it was hard to reconcile the RJ I knew in college with the suit-clad, badass attorney in front of me. We and our college roommates, Kat and Del, had been inseparable and were always getting into something spontaneous. Now RJ was a lawyer, Kat was a teacher and a mom, and Del—well, it seemed he’d be in school forever, but someday he’d have letters after his name. “Remember? We tried to get your cousin to go to the gym with us for the dance class.” RJ had originally talked me into trying Zumba, but we got the rooms mixed up, and the sixty-plus dancers had welcomed us in. I watched RJ’s gears turn. “She said she was embarrassed to go to the gym, like thin people would judge her and fat people would think she didn’t like herself? It got me thinking about how I’d felt that way, too. I wondered how many other people probably do as well. Like, if you’re fat, exercise has to be this big statement instead of something you do like everyone else.”