Page 4 of End Game

Barrett and I have known each other since we were eight years old, when we met at the Chinese cultural summer camp we attended in the Adirondacks. He had a broken ankle, I had a fractured wrist, and we were both stuck on the sidelines all session long while the other kids got to run and swim and play.

We kept in touch through the years on social media and video chats, texting once we both got phones. Our friendship has only grown stronger with the distance, which is unusual as far as friendships tend to go. I have talked to him nearly every day, we texted and called each other constantly, and until the last few months, we rarely went more than 48 hours without chatting. I spent hours laying on my bed and talking to him as he lived his life and I lived mine.

With an hour and a half drive between us growing up, we saw each other as often as we could, which was definitely not as often as either of us would have liked. He made the drive out to Amherst for all of my homecoming dances and winter formals, and he came with me to my junior and senior proms. I went to all of his stuffy birthday parties and as many of his football games as I could.

And now we’re finally going to the same school. We’re finally going to live in the same city.

I have to admit, knowing Barrett will be here doesn’t hurt. As much as I didn’t want to give up USC, I know in my heart it was the right call. Having my best friend nearby makes it that much easier. I have a safety net here, however much I don’t want to rely on it.

Together, Barrett and my dad carry in the last of my belongings. I have a few suitcases of clothes, some toiletries, and a box of school supplies. Tomorrow, we have plans to go get our books. Practice starts the day after.

My parents insist on taking us out to lunch. Barrett doesn’t have a choice in the matter. We pile into the back of their beat up Camry. His large body fills the small space. He angles his long legs across the backseat, taking up some of my foot room. At six foot five and nearly three hundred pounds, there is a lot of him.

His hand covers mine on the armrest. “You okay?”

I force a smile. “Still processing.” It hasn’t hit me yet that I’m here, all that I’ve had to give up to get to this place. I know once it does, I’ll probably have a breakdown, but until then, I’m going to put one foot in front of the other.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I just…”

“I know.”

I flip my hand over and squeeze his. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course, Dee. Anything for you.”

I’m starting over from scratch. I have a year left to finish my degrees, to wrap up my soccer career, to finally enjoy being young before real life starts. Graduation looms over me. Because I didn’t play my sophomore year thanks to a broken tibia, I still retain one last year of athletic eligibility. I can keep playing. In June, I’ll trade in my cleats for a grown-up job. Or maybe grad school. I don’t know. That’s still up in the air. So much of my life is in flux, and I don’t like the uncertainty one bit. I don’t thrive off chaos; I crumble in the face of it.

We end up at the pub off campus for lunch. It looks like everyone else had the same idea; the place is packed. The guys brought me here over spring break for wings and beer.

“Zhang, my man,” a big, beefy guy says, clapping Barrett on the back. “This your family?”

We’re not related. There’s no blood between us. But because my mom, Barrett, and I are all Chinese-American, obviously we have to be family. Surely there’s no other logical conclusion. We can’t possibly be friends or random strangers he picked up off the side of the road.

“I didn’t realize your dad is Black,” the guy continues. “Small world, huh?”

Barrett forces a smile. “Dee, this is Sullivan. He’s a strong safety. Sully, this is Diana. She’s on the soccer team.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, offering his hand. It’s surprisingly smooth, no calluses. Not what I expected from a football player who works out all the time.

“You, too.”

He mutters something under his breath to Barrett, who nods, his smile disappearing. It’s clear to me that he doesn’t actually like this dude, but just plays like they’re friendly for the sake of the team. I’m familiar with that. Keep the peace; it makes everything that much easier.

“We were going to grab lunch,” he says loudly.

“Don’t let me keep you,” Sullivan says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Diana, I’m sure I’ll see you around campus. Don’t be a stranger.”

He gives me what I think is supposed to be a charming smile. It just makes him look constipated.

“You, too.”

Mama nudges me. “Look at you, making friends.”

“Just don’t bring home any white boys,” Dad says, frowning at Sullivan’s back.

I roll my eyes. “You know that’s not why I’m here.”