Changing With Autumn

Chapter 12

The next month seemed to fly by. Me and Erika still weren’t completely ok right now. I had finally given in and texted her back 3 days after the party. My main motivation being the fact that I had received about a hundred text messages and I couldn’t take it anymore so I caved. The anger of all of it was now completely gone and I was calmer than I was the day all hell broke loose. I had moved past hurt and angry, but the annoyance of it all was still bubbling under the surface. She continued her begging for forgiveness and telling me how stupid she was and it was all because she was drinking. I told her that I understood that everything spiraled out of control because she was drinking and I had forgiven her for the most part, but I also told her that until she grew a spine and got rid of Aaron for good, myself and my friendship would stay on the back burner. 

I told her that she was my sister and our love for each other was forever. I would always be there for her when she was ready to throw out her garbage, but until then I would be the friend she texts and that loves her from afar. The ultimatum was harsh but necessary. It was tough love and honestly, she needed to be hit hard with the reality that this i***t was not good for her. He was the reason that she always found herself in these negative situations. He was selfish and from the very beginning I knew that he didn’t have her best interest at heart. 

The fact that it has been a month since I’ve seen Erika is a pretty big hint into what she chose to do with that tough love. We texted every few days but it was that short and cold basic small talk. The kind that was obnoxious enough that conversations ended quickly and one of us would get left on read for awhile after a simple “Lol” came through. Things were obviously tense and distant, and I dreaded the day when she found out about how imperfect he was the hard way. It was ok though, I had to make up for the past month or so and spend time with my parents before they lost it on me completely. So my days and nights were spent at home doing “family time,” which usually consisted of movies and popcorn on the couch after dinner and weekends full of family fun adventures. 

I know I sound like I’m complaining, but I’m really not. I love my family and I have really good parents that dote on me. They work hard to provide for me and I’m taken care of in any way I need. I know how much they love me and for the most part I did enjoy spending time with them. I just feel like sometimes they look at me and wish that one day I’ll turn into the kid they always wanted me to be. It’s like they are looking at me and seeing all of their hopes and dreams for their poster child being flushed down the drain. Being the black sheep of the family takes a mental toll on you whether you are loved and doted on or not. 

Ironically, the little happy moments I’ve had in my dull and dreary routine have been the times I’m talking to Jake. I know, shocking right? At first I was dreading talking to him. He would text me and I would literally make up some excuse not to text him back, saying I was swamped with homework or chores or basically anything I could grasp at in the moment. Not as bad as the iconic “I have to wash my hair line,” but pretty close at times. 

I have to give it to him though, the boy is persistent. It wasn’t long before he had started to grow on me and I had found myself looking forward to him texting me everyday. We talked a lot, and I mean a lot. At times it had even bloomed into hour long phone calls instead of messaging back and forth. I got to know him more than I thought I would have wanted to in the last couple of weeks and we actually had a lot in common.

I found out the bad boy rumors were definitely not true, which I called right from the start. He really did live here before he had to transfer districts though. He started out at my high school, and we went to school together for a year before he had to move when his dad started a new job two hours away. We don’t remember having any classes together though. I didn’t remember seeing him around and he said he would remember me if we did. *Insert head shake and eye roll here* I thought.

 I was also able to confirm that our coincidental musical interest on our drive wasn’t just a coincidence and that we actually had the same taste in music. He plays guitar and drums which I was super envious of, and he even offered to teach me. Although I’m sure he was just trying to weasel his way into a future meeting plan. It really was ironic how similar we were both in interests and personality. We were both introverted, smart, and the black sheep in our families. He said he was an outcast at school too, but I highly doubted that after all the ogling he got at the party.

Even more ironically than all of that though is when he had told me he would be coming back into town soon I was kinda looking forward to it. He hadn’t given me any details on when he was coming through and I wasn’t going to ask. I didn’t want to sound like a giddy school girl with a crush, but inevitably I was becoming just that. I wasn’t going to be the first one to bring up his offer of getting together but I knew if he did, I wouldn’t take myself on my previous plan to execute an easy peasy, clean break. Stupid teenage hormones. 

I was pretty sure he would be coming to town this weekend because the schools had a three day weekend which meant the heavenly bliss of Friday, Saturday and Sunday left everyone making plans and impatiently waiting for the final Thursday bell. As more days passed and the closer we got to the weekend without him saying anything more about it I started thinking that maybe I was wrong. Either I was wrong about the timeline, or he had lost interest in seeing me again when he came back. 

The fact that we had similar personalities didn’t change the fact that we were in completely different leagues. I couldn’t help the twinge of self consciousness when thinking back to all of the girls that were after him in comparison to the very opposite and very un-barbie version of myself. Then there was the disbelief of this even becoming a thing and I still didn’t understand why he wanted to start this whatever it is with me at all in the first place. So the thought of the last option was more realistic, but I won’t lie and say that it didn’t sting a little to think about. Stupid, stupid teenage hormones.

We had all finally made it to Thursday and for now, I was trying not to dwell on it too much. Today was game day and it was a big one. The way high school sports goes is pretty much the same way as professional sports work. You play the same team twice, once at home and once away and your rank within the league goes based on those results each win or lose. As you get closer to the end of the season the higher ranked teams battle it out to win the league title and then the division title and from there you move on to state and blah, blah, blah. 

Well today’s match would be the second time we played our town rival and it would also put us at 2nd place in our league if we get the win. To say the last week of class and practice was brutal would be a major understatement. I’m talking about the kind of pushing yourself until you’re out on the grass and puking out your organs kind of brutal. Coach worked us so hard that most of the tennis princesses started crying to their parents and the complaints started pouring in. Not that it helped any, the drill sergeant just used that as fuel for her sick enjoyment and pushed us even harder. I wasn’t sure if the excitement for the match today was due to the anticipation of the win or the anticipation of not having to kill myself at practice anymore. 

Either way the pressure of winning the match today was a good distraction from the unease of my current obnoxious crushing on Jake. So when the bell rang signalling the end of the school day and I made my way to the girl’s locker room thoughts of Jake were pushed aside temporarily and my head was completely focused on the game. Getting dressed in my horrendous uniform and grabbing my racket I made my way down to the courts and pumped myself up to let out the tennis beast and take my frustrations from the last couple of weeks on some poor, unsuspecting girl.

We had just completed the first set of matches and overall everything was going great. Our team was killing the other school and even if we were to completely screw up the second set of overall matches as long as half of our girls won their individual matches we would clench that 2nd place title. The excitement in the air on the courts coming from our girls was tangible, and the silent sound of panic coming from the other team was like music to our ears.

The very obviously divided crowds gathering around to watch were perfectly imitating the team they were spectating for. Our team’s crowd was very evidently pumped up and loudly cheering for their players regardless of the coach’s disapproving looks and shhh’s. While each play was in motion everything was silent, but as soon as a point was made the eruption of noise began again. The other team’s crowd were shooting dagger filled glances and lemon puckered sour faces at our players and our overly excited chanters.  

I was playing my second match and the victory was so close that it was almost sad. I couldn’t help the smirk that crossed my lips each point I made against the poor girl matched against me. I also couldn’t help the cocky sway of my hips in my stance while I prepared for her every move. She was so obvious in her actions that she was way too easy to read and she was weak in her backhand. My backhand was my strongest ability and she just couldn’t keep up with it. That was her downfall, and that’s what made it so easy to play against her. 

My points were coming faster and faster against her and although I knew that I didn’t have anyone there to cheer for me exclusively it was pretty awesome to hear the applause each time I scored. Even over all of the noise of the audience I couldn’t help but notice the whistling each time I scored that rose above the noise of everyone else. I kept looking to see where it was coming from, but to no avail. The crowd was too thick. Normally there aren’t this many people at a game, but as it started getting closer and closer to the finals, more and more people felt the need to come watch and “support” their children and friends. I mean let’s be real, tennis isn’t football, there’s a lot less excitement on the tennis court than there is on the testosterone fueled football field.

My match winning point was epic. It was one of those sick points that you know hurt her deep down in her soul. She hit it deep into the back of the court and I returned it easily with my backhand off to the side and forced her to run to catch it in time. She almost didn’t make it which I knew meant that she was going to hit too high and lob it towards the net. She knew the fatality of her hit as soon as she made it and I had already begun to make my way up the court just as it was coming down from way too high up and before she could upright herself enough to run to the other side of the court I spiked it hard in the opposite back corner. Her head dropped low and my smile stretched across my face. The crowd behind me clapped and cheered and then that whistle began again followed by a voice that rang out above all the rest causing me to momentarily freeze in mid-good game handshake.

“Woo! Get it Willow. That’s how it’s done people. Basic and boring my ass.”