Jordan goes on, “And you were in my art class last semester.”
I smile. “I liked the collage you made with pictures of Brett Favre and a bunch of monkeys.”
Grinning, Jordan pushes my shoulder. Ow! She’s strong. “Dad liked my collage a lot too. He put it up in his office.”
We sip our root beers.
“I liked that painting you did of heaven,” Jordan says. “The one with the sailboat?”
Jordan Woods noticed one of my paintings? That one won first place at the fair. “Thank you.”
“I would’ve told you at school, but I didn’t want to interrupt you during art. I could tell it was serious for you. Not like the shit goof-off time it was for me and Henry, you know? He made that papier-mâché sculpture of a dog peeing on a fire hydrant.” Jordan rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
“I wouldn’t have minded if you interrupted me,” I say quietly.
“I don’t like it when people bother me during weights or drills. I need to concentrate.”
I don’t need concentration, though. I like activity around me. It gives me ideas. Makes me think in dynamic ways. Makes the colors explode.
Jordan thought I didn’t want to be approached when I did.
What did I look like in high school? A girl who lived in Emily’s shadow, where it was safe. The only place I broke out of my shell was on the soccer field, and when that ended, I shrunk even further back into the shadow.
But Jordan saw me even when I thought I was invisible. And she’s strong and does what she feels is right. And besides all the sexist jerks out there, no one has a problem with her going after her goals and dreams of playing quarterback in college.
But can I still open myself up to new experiences and new people while doing what I feel is right? Especially if other people don’t necessarily believe what I believe?
Why is believing in football different than believing in God? Why is one more socially acceptable than the other?
I look up at Jordan. “Are you looking forward to college?”
“I’m officially moving up to Indiana next week. I’ve already been practicing with the team. And Henry’s shipped his stuff up to Michigan.” She gazes over at him and I can see the pain on her face.
“Are you guys gonna keep dating?”
“You’re like the only person who’s asked me that!”
“Really?”
“Yeah—everyone else is scared to ask, I think.” She gulps her root beer. “But I know we’ll be fine.”
“Michigan isn’t that far from Indiana, right?”
“Yup. It takes longer to drive across Tennessee than it does to drive from Michigan to Purdue. We’ll still see each other plenty.”
That’s when Sam Henry walks up and wraps his arms around her waist from behind. He sweeps her hair back and kisses her neck.
“Bedtime?” he asks, grinning at her.
“It’s like eight-thirty!” she replies, shaking her head.
“I know.” He stretches his arms and yawns a fake yawn, acting all dramatic. “It’s super late. I’m so sleepy,” he teases.
Jordan glances at his face, then focuses on me again. I see the want written on her face. I used to see it on Emily’s face when she was with Jacob. Is that the same look I wear when I want to be alone with Matt?
“Go ahead,” I say.
“Nice talking to you.”
“Thanks for what you said, about my painting,” I say to Jordan.
She nods. “Friend me on Facebook so I can see your other art.”
I watch as she and Sam Henry walk across the yard, ignoring everyone trying to talk to them—it’s like they are in their own little bubble—and go up the back steps into her house. A minute later I see a light flick on upstairs, and then it goes out again.
Jordan and Sam love each other, but they love their dreams too. They love each other enough that it’s okay to risk being apart. I rub my throat, thinking of Emily and her dream to play violin for the National Symphony. Like Jordan, she wanted that same balance with Jacob. And she lost that balance.
Matt and I are still figuring out our balance.
Holding hands, Parker and Will stride up to me. “Ready to get out of here?” she asks me.
“I’m fine to hang out if y’all want to stay longer. Well, except for this guy used the worst pick-up line ever on me.”
“Gross,” Parker says. “What did he say?”
I point out Jake Reynolds and tell her what he said. He sees us pointing and blows me a kiss.
“He is so hot,” Parker whispers to me.
“I know!”
“I can hear you,” Will says, shaking his head and grinning.
“But you’re eight times cuter than he is,” Parker says to Will.
“Only eight times?” he replies. “I’m at least ten times—”
“Do you guys need me to drive? Did you drink?” I interrupt. I wasn’t watching to see if they drank.
“We don’t drink,” Will replies, dragging a hand up and down Parker’s arm.
“I’m starving,” she says.
“I want a Monster burger,” he whines to her.
“You are such a baby.” She gets up on tiptoes and kisses his lips. “We’ll get you your burger.”
“You guys are making me ill,” I say.
Will squeezes my shoulder and laughs. “You and Matt are just as bad.”