Losing Grip

Chapter 13➷ I'll Be an Old Man by the Time I Get Out of Here

"Do you think he'll like it?" Riley had asked, contemplating the jewel case of the DVD.

The excitement to see his reaction threatened to burst out of her and she giggled with glee, proud of her hard work.

"He'd better. I've missed nights of sleep listening to you stress about it."

She smiled sheepishly and wiped away the pearls of sweat running down her neck. "Sorry about that. It's just that he gives the best of gifts and mine pale in comparison. So, I really wanted to give him something better, this year."

Only Riley and Avan could manage to turn something as simple as giving gifts into a competition.

"I doubt he cares what you give him. He probably just wants to spend the day with you, Riley."

"You're right, of course. Man, I hate it when you're right." Stretching her arms over her head, she massaged her shoulder and winced. "I need to go out," she said, walking out of our room after carefully ranging the gift in her drawers.

"She did care a lot about gifts," Avan said and the yearning was so evident in his voice.

"She cared a lot about everything," I pointed out with a sigh.

Riley was never one to do things halfway. She was always all in. She either didn't care or cared too much and there weren't many things she didn't care about.

Avan and I continued to exchange snippets of memories of her; it never occurred to us to hush and pay attention to the lecture until Mr. Scott sat back down at his desk and said the dreaded sentence, "These are probably the topics that will be covered on the quiz, next class."

Avan glanced at me and chuckled. I couldn't help but respond with a smile at his cheery expression that I only saw when he talked about my sister.

"So how do you feel about doing senior year over again?" he asked, mocking me.

"Ecstatic," I replied.

I hoped he caught the irony in my tone because I knew that I most likely wouldn't survive starting the year over.

"You are a danger to my grades, Avery Taylor," he said, nodding thoughtfully to himself.

I scoffed at the ridiculous statement. "How am I the problem? I could fail too."

"You always have next year." He laughed, amused. "If I don't graduate this year, I'll be an old man by the time I get out of here."

"Have you repeated a school year before?"

"Something like that," he mumbled with a sudden change in his expression.

I sensed that it was a touchy topic for him but that made me even more curious to know. Riley had never mentioned anything about this.

"It's a long story," he added, as if sensing my desire to ask more questions.

I chewed on my lip to keep myself from prying. I knew a thing or two about difficult topics and I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

"Are you staying for the game later today?" I asked to change the subject because paying attention to the lecture was just out of the question for me, apparently.

"I can't, unfortunately." He shook his head. "Besides, from what I saw in practice yesterday, the bleachers are an unsafe place to be."

I self-consciously brought my hand to the fading bump on my forehead.

The bell rang and I considered staying behind to ask for the quiz information but I didn't know whether Mr. Scott would admonish me for being distracted.

I stood up, packed the notebooks I didn't use back into my bag, and waved goodbye at Avan.

Heading down the hallways leading to the cafeteria, I bumped into Jacob. His earplugs hung around his neck and his short hair stuck to his forehead, glued with sweat despite the air conditioning, as if walking around was already too much exercise. Haitian Creole words were scribbled on the black shirt he wore.

I brushed his arm to stop him as he was passing by me.

"Were you going to ignore me, Jake?" I asked with a smile.

"I kind of assumed you would," he explained with a shrug.

He was right, of course. We hadn't had a real conversation for so long and it was entirely my fault.

"I'm sorry."

"I know," he said. "I understood you. But you know, I missed Riley too."

I had almost forgotten about all the weekends the three of us spent at the park and the long afternoons at the library when Dad worked late.

"And I missed you, Celery." He patted my head and I swatted his hand away.

I winced at the nickname. Who knew my middle school days would come back to haunt me?

He never allowed me to forget about this nickname ever since a guy in fifth grade read a poem he wrote about me to the class. Out of all the words that possibly rhymed with Avery, he chose celery.

"Never mind, now I know the real reason we stopped being friends," I said and he laughed.

He walked by my side as we joined Arson to a table on the far corner of the room.

Arson drummed his fingers on the table, staring down at the worn-out green table. The reusable cup of coffee on the table danced around, threatening to spill if he carried on.

"What's up with you?" I asked him, sitting down next to Jacob.

"The Charters are really good," he mumbled without looking up, as if this was a reasonable explanation for his behavior.

"Are you intimidated?"

He glanced up suddenly, gaping at the idea. "Of course not! I'm just excited to see how good they've gotten since last year."

I nodded even though I didn't believe him and by the looks of it, he didn't believe himself either.

"No worries," Jacob said. "You play really well. I wanted to play a sport before graduating."

"You still have time. I think tryouts for the spring sports just started," Arson replied, patting Jacob on the shoulder.

"Time is not the issue." Jacob laughed, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "I have no coordination and I've always been the worst at sports."

"You don't need to be that good. You just have to try them all, I'm sure you'd be good at one of them."

I watched as Arson's mood changed completely as he listed the available spring sports for Jacob. He was indeed at his best when helping others.

"The trick for running is to remember to breathe. It requires more effort so if you expect your lungs to do their job as usual, you'll faint. You need to breathe intentionally." Arson sipped from his cup before adding, "We could meet up sometime and I could give you some pointers. Oh, I'm Arson, by the way. Are you Avery's friend?"

"I'm Jacob. I went to middle school with Celery," he said, pointing to me.

I closed my eyes and wished that not being able to see them would mean they wouldn't see me either.

Arson rubbed his hands together dramatically, excited to get more dirt on me. "There's a story behind this and I want to know it."

I would never live this down.

A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Comment if you have any thoughts or if there's anything confusing I should fix.

I dropped a major hint in this chapter. I hope you'll keep some of the scenes in the back of your mind since something may resurface soon!

So thankful for all the support!

-D.T. ➷