She Drives Me Crazy(61)
Because before you can worry about who’s in your passenger seat, you have to learn to drive yourself.
17
I never anticipated how mundane the healing process would be. My next few weeks are filled with helping Mom in the garden, learning knitting with Daphne, and bussing tables for Thora at The Chimney. I wash dishes, practice free throws, and rank my favorite films on a list that my sisters argue over later. I help Danielle return Christmas presents and talk about my feelings without her prompting me. There is nothing glamorous about any of it, but I tell myself to keep going.
School becomes an absolute hellhole. Word has gotten around about Charlotte’s accusation in the gym, and while no one has seen the picture she showed Irene, everyone has put the pieces together about us “breaking up” because I hung out with Tally. People are either giving me a wide berth or tossing me dirty looks in the hallways. My own teammates refuse to pass me the ball in practice. Only the Cleveland triplets are willing to hover nearby, but that’s because they want quotes for the paper. It’s a very sober, clarifying experience, to see how quickly people can go from adoring you to abhorring you.
Irene herself is cordial but distant, and I take my cues from her. We smile politely to each other in the hallways but otherwise keep to ourselves. Charlotte, of course, is happy to fuel the rumors about what went wrong between us. She plants more seeds about Irene’s “fake” sexuality, but Irene stays above it all. I don’t know whether that’s because she doesn’t care, or because she’s extra focused on SAOY now that we’re getting closer to nominations. I pray I haven’t ruined her chances.
Danielle and the boys are unfailingly loyal. We sit in my car one afternoon and I tell them everything. Danielle already knows, of course, but it’s a relief to finally explain myself to Gunther and Kevin. I confess the whole truth about the last few months, even though I’m still ashamed. I’ve told this story so many times now, but it doesn’t get any easier. “I’m sorry for lying to you,” I say, forcing myself to keep eye contact. “I’m sorry for getting so caught up in my ex. I feel like it took away from our senior year experience.” I dab at my eyes. Danielle passes me a napkin from the glove compartment. “You guys are my best friends. I wanna make the most of our last semester.”
Kevin leans forward and threads his fingers together. “None of us is perfect, Scottie. Well … except Danielle.” He grins earnestly; she narrows her eyes playfully. “Thanks for telling us the truth. I’m sorry you were hurting so bad. I love you and I want you to be happy.”
“Yeah, what he said,” Gunther chimes in. “Besides, I got to know Honey-Belle through this whole thing, so how can I be mad?”
Danielle swats at him, and the laughter that follows is exactly what I need.
The four of us spend every Saturday at the Chuck Munny. On the night we plan to see Love & Basketball, Gunther brings Honey-Belle along and kisses her in the concession line. I turn to Danielle and Kevin to exchange glances, but they’re not paying attention; they’re laughing at something on Kevin’s phone. When Danielle reaches forward to hit his arm with a flirtatious little punch, Kevin’s eyes light up. I pretend not to notice when he insists on buying Danielle’s root beer. I’m okay with being a fifth wheel tonight.
When we’re off from school in honor of MLK Day, I sit cross-legged on my bedroom floor and read every letter Tally ever gave me. Some of them make me cry. I let the tears come and tell myself it’s okay that my heart is hurting. Once I’ve gone through them all, Thora and Daphne help me burn them in the backyard. I breathe in, breathe out, and watch the sparks of them drift away.
* * *
Spring sports begin near the end of January, because apparently January qualifies as spring. Each evening as I leave practice, I watch the soccer girls sprinting down the field, their lungs surely burning in the cold. The start of their season signals the closing of mine, which is hard to believe. It means we’re nearing the end of my high school sports career. It also means we’re only weeks away from the district championship, and based on Grandma Earl’s winning record, it looks like we’ll definitely be playing in it—and that Candlehawk, who remain undefeated except for their loss to us in the Christmas Classic, will be our opponent.
Danielle and I stay late after practice one night, passing the ball around while she works through a new play she wants to try with our team. We haven’t seen Coach Fernandez in two weeks; Danielle has been leading the charge entirely on her own. Tonight she alternates between consulting the play on her phone, directing me through the steps, and disappearing behind Danielle Vision. I watch her with new eyes, in awe of the way her brain works.
“Did you ever finish your Common App essay?” I ask when we’re walking to the parking lot. It’s freezing cold outside; my breath clouds the air when I speak.
“Yeah, it’s finished, but I haven’t submitted it yet. Why?”
“What did you end up writing about?”
“This anecdote about my family visiting the Museum of Bad Art and how Teddy went off on the tour guide about this octopus painting—what? What’s that look?”
“Danielle, you have to write about coaching our team.”
“I told you, I don’t wanna brag. I don’t wanna be all me-me-me.”