Leaving Paradise (Leaving Paradise #1)

Leaving Paradise (Leaving Paradise #1) Page 19

Tennis was my saving grace, but even that didn't work. I deserved to be admired on the court, because I was worth something when I played. Not only was I part of the team, I was the one my teammates looked up to.

The more that other dads showed up to matches, the harder I would play. It was as if I wanted those dads to regret I wasn't their kid. No matter if my dad loved me or not, there would be other dads that would do anything to have me be their daughter. Having other dads congratulate me was worth more to me than the varsity trophy I earned my sophomore year. I might not be worthy of my dad's love, but I was worthy of that trophy.

A pain in my leg shoots up into my spine, a mocking reminder that I'll never be a champion again.

"Maggie?"

I turn toward my mom, who's now officially freaked out.

"I can't play tennis," I tell her.

"Dr. Gerrard wants you to try. You will try, won't you?" But I won't be good, and then my dad wont have anything to be proud of me for. He'll never want me to be part of his new family. "Can we go home? I want to go home."

Mom sighs. I hate feeling like I'm disappointing her. I know she tries so hard to support us emotionally, physically, and financially. She's like the little cheerleader of our family.

When we get in the car, I calm down. I look at my mom, driving the car with a sad look on her face. "Mom, what do you want out of life?"

She gives a little laugh. "Right now, money."

"Besides money."

She cocks her head to the side, thinking. When we reach a red light, she turns to me. "I guess I'd like a partner to share my life with."

"Do you miss Dad?"

"Sometimes. I miss the companionship, I miss going out as a couple. I don't miss the fights."

The light turns green and we accelerate, our car passing a woman and man holding hands with their daughter. "Will he ever want me to visit him?"

"One day," she says, but I can tell she's not so sure.

"Do you want to date Mr. Reynolds?" I ask.

Her eyes go wide. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Because you were dancing with him at the Fall Festival. He doesn't have kids. I think he came to be with you."

Mom laughs, this big laugh that fills the car, and the people in the next car could probably hear her, too.

"Auntie Mae's Diner was a sponsor of the event, Maggie. That's why Lou was there."

"Well," I say defensively, "you two were looking pretty chummy."

"He was just being nice."

I shake my head. "I don't think so."

"Hmm ..."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Just go back to being a kid, will ya?"

We sit in silence the rest of the way home. When we walk inside the house, I ignore the lump in my throat as I say, "For the record ... if you want to invite Mr. Reynolds over for dinner one night, I wouldn't mind," and head upstairs to my room.

In my room, I want to take my words back. I only said them because I know how miserable Mom has been lately.

But the truth is I miss my dad every day, too. More than anything. And I know he has another wife and another life. What if Mom and Mr. Reynolds start dating or, even worse, get married. Will they want to start a new life without me, too?

I lock my door and open my closet. In the back, in the darkest shadows, is my racquet. I know it's there although it's hidden behind clothes. I feel its presence when I'm in my room, kind of like kryptonite for Superman. Desperation washes over me.

I reach out and grab the handle, the weight of the racquet foreign but, at the same time, familiar.

"Maggie, open the door." Panic. "Just a second."

I toss the racquet in the closet and unlock my door. Mom is staring at me strangely.

I brush the hair from my face, hoping she can't see right through me and realize I've always known where my lost racquet is. "Mom, what's up?"

"I was thinking. About Lou, my boss. Were you serious when you said I should invite him for dinner?"

TWENTY-SEVEN

Caleb

I asked Brian to meet me at the park for some one-on-one. I'm practicing free throws when he drives up in his Yukon.

"You look like a middle-aged man in that thing," I say. He gives a fake-insulted huff. "It's better than the car you drive."

"I don't drive one."

"Exactly."

We stand facing each other. I say what needs to be said. "Listen, about you and Kendra. How about we call a truce."

"Fair enough."

I pass him the ball. He dribbles the ball too far away from his body, so I knock it and grab it away from him.

"B-ball's still not your game, is it?" I say as I dribble down the court.

Brian's shuffling backwards, following my every move. When I stop, his hands are up and ready to block my shot. "Get me on a wrestling mat and I'll kick your ass."

I take a shot. It bounces off the rim and Brian gets the rebound.

Brian is an anxious player. He runs down the court and shoots too quickly, missing the basket by a mile. The ball lands in the grass. I take the ball inbounds. "You're a lightweight, Bri," I say. "I'd pin you in less than ten seconds."

"Put your money where your mouth is, big guy, tomorrow after school."

I move around Brian and make an easy lay-up. "I have to work."

He holds the ball. "You say that, but you never say where. Rumor has it you're a homo and meet up with your lover after school. Is he the one who gave you the bruise on your face?"

My muscles start to tense up. "Don't give me shit."

Brian starts dribbling down the court, his eye on the basket. "Why? You gonna threaten me like you threatened Drew?"

Brian shoots and the ball goes right in. This time I hold the ball under my arm, stopping the game. "He was trying to piss me off and you know it." My old friend crosses his arms on his chest. "You've changed, Caleb. I don't even know you anymore. And this has nothing to do with Kendra."

"Bullshit. I'm the same person."

He laughs. "You've got a chip on your shoulder. Everybody knows it but you. That's the scary part."

No, the scary part is that people don't realize how much they've changed. "So everyone else is the same except me?

"No, dude. Everybody's changed, nobody is the same. You're the only one who can't accept it. You're not a sophomore anymore, you're not dating Kendra, you're not the wrestling stud. You're a bad-ass, brooding ex-con."

I'll show him a brooding ex-con. I dribble the ball down the court, and when Brian gets in my face I push him down before I take the shot.

"Foul!" Brian calls out.

"You said to accept my bad-ass ex-con self. I'm only taking your suggestion."

I hold out a hand. He looks at me suspiciously, then grabs my wrist as I pull him up. I get three more baskets and recover two of Brian's rebounds.

"You know what you need?" Brian says as he wipes sweat from his brow.

"A new best friend?" I suggest.

"No. You need a girlfriend. Name a chick you think is hot. Just throw out a name."

"Maggie Armstrong."

"No, seriously. Name a chick."

"I am serious."

"Dude, that's sick. You went to jail because of her."

"I'm well aware of that."

"You're telling me you have the hots for the Maggie Armstrong? Your next-door neighbor? The girl who walks weird because you ran over her leg with your car?"

"Brian, you're starting to act like Drew."

Brian looks confused as he's trying to comprehend what I just admitted to him. Then he bursts out laughing. He can't stop and falls to the ground in hysterics, holding his stomach. "That's ... hilarious!" he yells when he can catch his breath. "Oh my God, it can't be true ..." he says, then goes back to laughing hysterically again.

I'm seriously considering kicking his ass right now. But this isn't Vic or Drew, this is Brian. I take the ball and head back home, but not before telling Brian to go to hell.

Nobody is home; I have the house all to myself. I want to yell at the top of my lungs, but just as I'm about to do it the doorbell rings. Brian is an idiot if he's stupid enough to come here to laugh in my face again. Maybe, after all, I will use his head as my punching bag.

But I open the door and my ex-best friend isn't standing in front of me. It's Kendra, my ex-girlfriend. Shiny lips and all. "Hi," she says.

"Hi."

"Are your parents home?"

"Nope." She already knew they weren't.

"Can I come in?"

I open the door wider. She heads straight upstairs to my room. I watch her back and my eyes focus on her thong underwear sticking out of the top of her shorts before I follow.

Closing my door like I always do when we're about to fool around, I lean back against the door and watch her. But this time we're not going to fool around. I know it. She doesn't, obviously, I can tell by what she's wearing. A ridiculously low-cut shirt, I swear her nipples are millimeters below the ruffled collar. And her shorts reveal way more than I'd ever want any girlfriend of mine to reveal. But she's not my girlfriend, she's Brian's.

Kendra wanders around my bedroom, fingering my desk, my dresser, and my bookshelves. When she picks up my lightsaber and turns it on, I'm tempted to tell her not to touch it.

"When are you going to get rid of these toys?" she asks, waving it in the air. I don't answer.

Sighing, she says, "I know Brian told you about him and me. But I still love you, you know." She closes the distance between us, close enough that I can smell her cherry lips. She licks them and leans in for a kiss.

I turn my head away. "What? One boyfriend isn't enough for you?"

"I want you both."

"It's over, Kend. Way over."

"It's not and you know it. Because--and I know this sounds selfish, but it's true--I don't want anyone else to have you."

"Break up with Brian. The guy wants to marry you."

She chuckles. "My parents think he's good for me, so I'm playing along. Besides, I need a boyfriend I can hang with in public. But you can be my private boyfriend, CB."

"Never gonna happen."

"Wanna bet?" She steps back, points the tip of the saber at me, and pushes the blunt tip against my throat. A wicked grin crosses her mouth. "You can be my little secret. You like keeping secrets, don't you Caleb?"

My pulse quickens, and the mood in the room changes instantly. One thought burns in my brain ... she knows.

"What do you want?" I say evenly.

"CB, don't look so sad. I just want you," she says, then lowers the saber and goes in for another kiss.

This time I don't turn away.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Maggie

It took a week for Mom to invite Mr. Reynolds over for dinner. She asked me about twenty more times if it was okay with me. I didn't have the heart to say no.

Mr. Reynolds comes in the house wearing a grey three-piece suit and red tie, as if he's going to court for a traffic violation. In his hands are a dozen purple tulips for my mom and a box of Frango chocolates for me.

"Thanks," I say awkwardly as he hands me the box. Do I open it now, or wait until later ... or tomorrow?