The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

      “Liz! Over here!” Tara called, flailing her hands about in an exaggerated way to be sure that I saw her.

       “Excuse me,” I said, politely shoving past a group of individuals, deep in discussion. They obliged, making way for me to get through. After civilly nudging through, I reached the center of the stands where the three girls had marked as their territory.

      “Hey, Turner!” a boy I recognized as one of Eric’s friends greeted upon my arrival.

      “Uh, hi,” I said, completely blanking on his name. The boy placed a muscular arm around Tara, causing her cheeks to redden and a smile to form at her lips. “Oh, are you two dating?”

      “N-” Tara began though was cut off by the boy beside her.

      “Yes, yes we are,” he said firmly.

      “But, Brendon, we’re not,” Tara objected perplexedly, unintentionally cluing me in on his name. Brendon. It fit him.

      “Well then, we should,” he said as Tara’s eyes grew bigger than the ridged balls used in the World’s Most Boring Sport Televised: golf.

      “Wait, what?”

      “Tara, will you be my girlfriend?” Brendon asked, removing his arm from her shoulder so that he could fully look into her eyes.

      “For real?” he nodded, confirming that his proposal wasn’t “for fake”. Without another word, Tara’s hands flew to Brendon’s cheeks, and she smashed her lips into his.

      “Get a room!” Lauren choked, as they both pulled away, Tara’s cheeks an even rosier shade than before, if possible.

      “Liz, guess what!” Tara said excitedly, like a child after they had had their first exposure to Pixy Stix.

      “What?” I sighed as standard response.

      “I’m dating Brendon!” she screamed happily.

      “Congrats,” I said flatly. “I think I’m going to go get a water or some sugary equivalent.”

      “I’ll come with!” Alice chimed in.

      “I can go by myself,” I said slowly, praying that I would be able to make the short trip alone.

      “I’m aware of that but I really don’t feel like being alone with these three at the moment,” she said pointedly.

      “Fine,” I reluctantly agreed.

      “What? No! Don’t leave me here with the two of them!” Lauren cried melodramatically. I rolled my eyes as Tara said something, and awkwardly excused myself with Alice following closely behind.

      “So, how long are these football games normally?” I inquired as we jogged down the steps of the bleachers.

      “About an hour and a half, sometimes longer,” she estimated. “They can get pretty boring. Well, I mean except for last year. A few parents got into a heated debate and some of the players got into a fight. Now that was exciting!”

      “I bet,” I snorted, having a time in my memory when Monica Turner acted as one of those less than stable parents that was merely “Standing up for her baby”. I was playing on a boy’s baseball team and the ref made a bad call. Basically, my mom got pissed and played the sexist card. Thinking back to it, it was a little intense on her part.