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Chapter 52
It's eerily quiet.
No one makes a sound, says a word while we anxiously wait for Audra to respond. Her pale grey eyes flick back and forth between the ring in Matt's hand and his face.
I can't tell if she already knows the answer and she's afraid to say it, or if she's still deciding.
I just wish she'd say something to lessen the tension rippling through the room.
Maybe that's not entirely true.
Because, with a sinking feeling in my chest, I really hope her answer is 'no'.
That doesn't make me sound jealous, does it?
Sophomore year of high school, Matt started hanging out with this kid named Michael from the JV boys basketball team. He was a foot shorter than Matt and had dirty blond hair gelled into a mohawk on top of his oddly shaped head. All he wanted to do was talk about basketball. How he could improve, what he needed to do to get on the varsity team next year, how he could be more like Matt.
He annoyed me to death. Anytime I'd try to have a conversation with Matt, Michael would butt in, steer everything back to him and his obsession with Matt's unprecedented talent. Suck-up. That's what he was. Always sucking up to Matt, hoping it would help him get on the team.
I didn't mind it too much until Matt invited Michael to play basketball with us one Saturday afternoon. We were in the middle of shooting hoops, debating whether we thought Diane would take us to get ice cream when we were finished. In waltzed Michael and his stupid mohawk, his bag slung over his short frame.
"Wazzup, Matty boy," he greeted Matt with a bro-hug. They clasped hands, hit their shoulders together before high fiving. "You ready for a little one-on-one?"
I crossed my arms over my chest, glared at Matt, who shot me an apologetic look. "Jen's gonna play with us, too."
Michael raised his eyebrows at me, "Sorry, I don't play with girls."
"That's fine with me," I shot back. "I don't play with midgets."
Matt stepped in front of me, shielding Michael from my wrath. "Jen," he said quietly, his hands resting on my furious shoulders. "He just wants to get better so he can get on the varsity team next year."
"I don't care, Matt," I truthfully told him. "This is our thing. Not his."
"I know," he nodded his dark head. "We'll take turns subbing out."
I knew what that meant. It meant I'd be benched all afternoon while Michael asked Matt hundreds of questions about technique and drills and his after-game rituals. He would keep Matt so busy he'd forget about me. It happened almost every day at lunch.
My skin felt itchy and hot as I waited for over an hour to get subbed in. But my skin didn't start boiling until I noticed Matt seemed to be having a better time with Michael than he ever did with me.
It stung.
Hot tears formed in my eyes as I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and slipped out of the gym unnoticed.
"Can you come pick me up?" I asked Dad when he answered my phone call. "Matt invited someone else to play and I'm done for the day."
Dad said he was on his way before we hung up.
I sat outside, waiting on the curb while I let the cool breeze dry the tears on my face. I guess Matt noticed I had left because he came running out the gym doors in search of me a few minutes later.
"What are you doing?" he had asked, winded.
"Waiting for my dad to pick me up," I tersely replied.
"Come on, Jen," he scoffed, "Michael just wants to get better."
"Then why are you out here?" I scrunched my forehead, wrapping my arms around my knees. "Shouldn't you be in there? Helping him?"
"I thought we could play after he and I were done." Matt placed his hands on his hips, totally clueless. He had no idea how jealous I was that he had found a new friend, someone he connected better with than he did me.
