Letters to Nowhere(25)

“I don’t know, but you should probably tell Bentley. He’ll be pissed if you don’t.”

She sighed, looking defeated. “I know.”

When Blair left to talk to Bentley, Ellen and Stevie joined me to stretch out. Ellen looked pale and was clutching her stomach. “I feel like I’m gonna barf.”

Ellen’s brown curls were clinging to her face and she looked even younger than usual.

“Try putting your head between your knees,” Stevie suggested.

“Maybe drink some water,” I added.

“Oh God,” Ellen groaned. Then she leapt up from the floor and ran over to a garbage can by the side door and puked in it, just in time, her fingers gripping the sides, holding her up.

Stevie and I both covered our eyes at the same time. “Poor thing,” Stevie said.

“She hasn’t been able to keep anything down all week. Blair’s shins are really bad. She went to tell Bentley.”

“Man,” Stevie mumbled. “I’d hate to be Coach Bentley right now. His team is a mess.”

We watched as Bentley left Blair mid–sentence and ran over to Ellen, who was still heaving into the garbage can. Nearly everyone in the gym had their attention on Ellen as we wrapped up the strength testing. Bentley helped her over to the bleachers and another coach brought her a tissue to wipe her mouth and face. Then I saw Bentley rest a hand on her forehead before calling the team doctor over.

Stevie and I finished our cool–down stretches quietly, listening in on the discussions around us. It was decided that Ellen, who was running a fever of a hundred and three, would be sent to bed with fluids and Tylenol. Then they spent several minutes deciding to put Ellen in her own room so she wouldn’t infect any of the others.

Blair was checked out by the team doctor next and restricted to only bars and beam—no tumbling, vault, or dismounts for the entire weekend. Needless to say, none of us were in good spirits by the time we headed to our rooms.

But I was pleasantly surprised to have a text from Jordan waiting for me on my cell phone. This led to a long exchange over the next several hours between dinner, showering, bringing Ellen my fuzzy slippers, and a team meeting.


JORDAN: Mrs. Garrett’s teeth are soaking in a glass on the kitchen counter…can you pls break your ankle or something and come home early?




ME: Omg! Ew. I’ll try to help you help out. Maybe I’ll throw a triple back on floor tomorrow




JORDAN: Thanks! How’s camp so far? Do they really have llamas there?




ME: Yep. There’s a llama and a few bulls and some chickens. I think it’s gonna be a rough weekend. Ellen’s sick. Blair might have a stress fracture…Stevie’s under way too much pressure




JORDAN: Stevie’s a pro. Don’t worry about her. She’ll come through. Besides, I thought we were feeling sorry for me right now. Not you. What do you think Mrs. Garrett wears to bed? It’s gonna be scary, isn’t it?




ME: Right. I apologize for not focusing 100% on Jordan Bentley’s problems




JORDAN: Apology accepted




ME: Can I ask you something?




JORDAN: Sure…




ME: You go to Catholic school, right? You have church or mass or religion class or whatever?




JORDAN: All of the above




ME: This is a stupid question, so don’t answer it if you don’t want to…but what do you believe? As far as afterlife goes? I know it’s stupid. You can ignore me.



My phone rang about thirty seconds after I sent the last text. I answered it with a pounding heart. I had gone too far this time. Jordan would probably tell me I needed professional help, though technically I was already getting help.

“Hey,” I said after the third ring.

“Hey,” Jordan said, and just the sound of his voice put butterflies in my stomach. “It’s not a stupid question, I just didn’t want to answer it by text.”

“I’m not pondering this twenty–four–seven or anything, it’s just…sometimes . . .”

“You think about it,” he finished for me.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, Karen.” He sighed. “I’m not sure what I believe. I want to think about my family in Heaven, but it’s so out there. So much fantasy and not enough reality. Hell seems more believable than pearly gates and angels floating around in clouds.”

“That’s my problem, too.” I slid under the covers and pulled the blanket up to my chin.

“Maybe I believe in ghosts…not that I have any evidence or proof, but it seems a lot more possible than Heaven or Hell.”

“Memories are like ghosts for me,” I said.

Silence fell over both of us for a long moment, then Jordan finally spoke again. “New subject?”

I laughed. “So…have you seen any more of Sara? Or had any other random make–out sessions lately? Or should I say study sessions?”

“I did mention there is currently a very old lady residing in my home, didn’t I?” he said. “Besides, we’re young. We’re supposed to kiss a lot people, figure out who’s superior. I’m sure someone like you can appreciate that. You probably give scores.”