The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Twenty-One

      “Ms. Turner!” someone called from behind me. “Running away so soon?” My head spun around to face to the owner voice, and a smirk played on my lips through tears that had snuck down my face. Justin.

      Though I hadn’t seen him in close to four years, his appearance hadn’t altered substantially. His height had increased considerably, and his jet-black hair had lengthened so it brushed just above his eyes. His eyes- the deep gray shades that I once knew so well now glimmered, as they looked into my own. He smiled at me- a genuine smile, and I noticed that the braces that had once clung to his teeth were gone. Seeing him reminded me of how much I had missed this place… and him.

      “No,” I said starkly, “I don’t like funerals.”

      “From the looks of it, you don’t like sweats and T-shirts either,” he humored, though I wondered how one could joke at such a glum time as this.

      “As I’ve learnt over the years, looks can be deceiving,” I said. That phrase could be my motto; it described my entire life so well.

      “Well, you’ve certainly changed,” he commented, approaching me.

      “Don’t worry, I can still kick your ass in a game of one-on-one,” I assured him, adding a smile.

      “Want to bet?” he challenged.

      “No; right now I kind of want to hug you, if you’re down with that,” I admitted, opening my arms.

      “Fine,” he sighed, rushing me into a hug. He wrapped his arms around me, and picked me up, spinning me around in a circle. I hugged him back tightly, not wanting to ever let go.

      Justin and I were best friends. We were inseparable. He was the one I would go to for advice, and I was the one he was able to let off steam by talking to. He was a good match for me when it came to playing basketball, too. Some days, I wanted to burst because of how I was treated, but, somehow, Justin was always able to make me feel better.

      Towards the end of the year in eighth grade, there was a dance. Middle school dances had the notorious reputation for sucking, and this particular one was no different. My mom had forced me to go, and I wasn’t exactly what one would call “Thrilled”.

      I was leaning against a wall of the gym, the location the dance was being held, talking to a group of guys about some of the new players on the Celtics, when a slow song came on. The DJ instructed the boys to go pick a girl to dance with. The guys I had been speaking with quickly dispersed, leaving me alone.

      I felt a tap on my shoulder, and looked up. It was Justin. He asked if I wanted to dance, and I said no. Disregarding my response, he then dragged me onto the middle of the gym floor, and made me dance with him. Though I objected at the time, the simple gesture was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me. Justin always made a point to include me, and made me feel as though I belonged.

      “I missed you,” I whispered in his ear, as we continued to hold each other tautly.

      “I missed you too, Turner,” he said, as we finally released each other. “Now, how ‘bout that game of one-on-one?”

      “You are fucking insane! We’re a freaking funeral, you dummy!” I pointed out, though his offer did sound quite enticing considering the chaste basketball period I was going through.

      “There’s a park just around the corner, c’mon,” he continued.

      “Firstly, I’m wearing a dress, and, secondly, as I said before, we’re a funeral! A funeral for a friend at that matter!” I exclaimed, finding his behavior rather insensitive.