Page 76 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

There’s too many to carry now, so I wrap the globes in the extra clean shirt and shorts I keep in my soccer locker to keep them from banging against each other in my backpack.

By the end of the day, I can’t remember a single thing my teachers have tried to teach me. All I can think about is why. Why did he make these for me?

Could Kyle be right? And more importantly, do I want him to be?

Thirty-Seven

CHLOE

Saturday morning, the day of the state championship game, I wake up early, as usual. My team took a bus to the town that’s hosting the game, and since it was about a three-hour drive, we came the night before to get settled and check out the field.

Nerves have been doing bicycle kicks in my stomach for the past few days. I didn’t sleep well last night. I usually don’t in hotels, but something in the back of my mind tells me it’s not the game I’m concerned about. At least it’s not just the game.

As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m still thinking about Rhoads and how we left things. I can’t imagine him actually ignoring me, but other than the snow globes, he hasn’t reached out, so I don’t know what to think.

Then again, I haven’t exactly made an effort either. Because what can I say that would excuse my behavior? I can’t tell him I was starting to fall for him, despite my better judgment. Seeing him with the girl at Peggy’s just reinforced what I thought I already knew about him. Her wearing his jacket validated that spending time with him got my priorities twisted.

Still, my heart thinks it knows better. I close my eyes and picture the bookcase in my room where I lined up all the snow globes. For some reason, I can’t bear to let them live in a dusty pillowcase in the back of my closet. Looking at them makes happiness and sadness swirl together in my stomach.

I shove all that to the deepest part of me. Today is too important to be distracted. My teammates and I are feeling the same nerves. Their jaws are tight, eyes sharp. They’re focused, and I will be, too. I won’t let them down.

This is a big deal for our school. Our team has never won the state title in girls’ soccer. We’ve gotten close many times over the years, but this is our chance to prove that we have what it takes to go all the way. It’s my chance to prove that I can show up for my team in the biggest moments we’ve faced together.

My phone vibrates, and I laugh as the picture of my dad pops up on the screen to show he’s calling. In it, he’s got his face painted half blue and half yellow, and he’s grinning from ear to ear.

I go out into the hallway, so I don’t wake my still-sleeping teammates.

I press the accept button, and the video fills my screen. “Hi, Dad.”

“Morning, kiddo.”

“Hi, honey,” Mom says from next to him. They’re sitting together at the table for once.

“How you feeling?” Dad asks, taking a swig from the mug I painted for him when I was in preschool.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” I say. “Kind of like I swallowed a bucket full of creepy-crawlies.”

Mom and Dad both nod.

“Totally normal,” Mom says.

“Don’t worry about it. Just play your game and everything will work out fine. I’m sure once you step on the field, everything will sort itself out.”

“You’re going to do great, honey. Your dad and I will both be there to cheer you on. We talked, and I’m going to step back a bit at work.” They squeeze hands. “I’ve been training some people to run point, and they can handle tonight. I want to be around for you more. Who knows where that athletic scholarship is going to take you?”

The caterpillars crawl from my digestive tract out to my fingertips. “Really?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been distracted at your games over the years, Chloe. But I would never, ever miss this.”

Unexpected tears prick the corners of my eyes. It’s such a tender moment that I don’t know what to do with the emotion bubbling inside my head, lungs, and heart. I cough to dispel it, then look up, blinking back the tears. “Thanks, Mom.”

The door to my hotel room creaks open. Half of Janae’s dark brown face peeks out. I show her a thumbs-up to let her know I’m okay. She slides a piece of hotel stationery into the hallway.

Team breakfast downstairs in five.

I nod, and then the door closes.

“Thanks for calling. We’ve got breakfast in a few, so I’ve got to go. But I’ll look for you in the stands.”