The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

I heard my door open, light footsteps sounding. I was working on a lab report for my chemistry class, too engrossed in it to turn around; besides, I already knew it was my mom. 

      “Hey,” I said casually, continuing to type up the analysis I was working on.

      “Marcus is dead,” she said gravely. I spun around in my chair to face her, and saw her expression was somber and serious. Her face had droplets of black running down it, leading me to the conclusion that she had been crying. 

      “W-what do you mean?” I asked shakily, not comprehending the statement she had made.

      “He was in a car accident, and it just happened! Marcus is dead!” she sobbed. 

      “Marcus-Marcus Bianchi?” I questioned. She nodded, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the side of her hand. I took a deep breath, recognition filling my mind.

       My entire world froze. All I felt was numbness. The world around was on hold as I processed the three words that my mother had uttered: Marcus is dead. Three simple words that changed everything about my normal Tuesday night. Suddenly, the small, trivial notions in my life no longer mattered. Marcus was dead.     

      Marcus Bianchi was one of my friends back in Boston. We had known each other since pre-school, and my mom had been close with his parents. The two of us were never overly close, but we were still friends. He played basketball, and we had been on the same team at least three times. While some of the other guys I hung out with had their occasional doubts that I wasn’t “good” enough to chill with them because I was girl, Marcus assured them that I was as badass, if not more, than them. He was a good kid- not the best student academic wise, but still a good kid. 

      “The funeral’s on Saturday,” she informed me.

      “Saturday? Isn’t that the same day-”

      “As the Fall Formal. Yes, I know. I’m sorry sweetie; it’s out of our control. We have to be there to support the Bianchis,” she said apologetically.

      “You know what, screw the dance- I didn’t even want to go,” I said, unsure to whom I was lying. “Besides, you’re right, we need to be there for the Bianchis.”

      “I’m glad you understand. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to be in a position like that… He was your age, Liz! Just a kid, and some moron didn’t step on their brakes in time, and-and k-killed him!” she cried, breaking back down into a steady flow of tears. Though tears would be appropriate in a time like this, I couldn’t bring myself to cry. I had to be strong for my mom. 

      “Sh… I know, mom,” I said, getting up from my chair to offer her a hug. She gladly accepted, and enveloped me tightly, weeping.

      After my mom had finally stopped crying, she left to put herself back together in a presentable state. I sighed, and picked up my phone, scrolling through contacts until I found the one that I wanted. I pressed call, and put it on speaker, not wanting to hold the small device up to my ear with my unsteady hands.

      “Hello?” a male voice answered.

      “Hi, E-Eric, umm... I don’t know h-how to tell you this,” I started.

      “Oh! Hey, Liz! You can tell me anything!” he assured me.

      “I-I can’t go with you to the F-Fall Formal,” I said unevenly, the news I had received setting my mind. Marcus died. Marcus was dead. Marcus Bianchi was no longer living and breathing on this earth.