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I still say ‘shit’ and a lot of other words but I’m not dumb enough to say them where he can hear anymore. Then again, he’s not at home very often so it’s not hard to keep him from hearing what I say.
Conner doesn’t curse much. His cousins are a different story. Micah and Gage are not just his cousins. They are his best friends, although they never come here to play basketball. I’m glad they don’t come here. They are in my class and it beats me why so many girls decide to like them. Gage is rude and Micah is always fighting. They’re jerks.
But I do know why a lot of girls like Conner.
He’s cute and when he smiles at me I get a strange feeling in my belly and have weird thoughts, like the one about how I might be willing to marry him someday.
I can’t tell him that. I can tell him anything else, but not that.
The high school boys shove each other as they leave the court. One of them trips and the others laugh loudly. I watch them growing smaller as they walk away and the whole place feels suddenly empty and lonely.
I look in every direction for any sign of Conner but now there’s no one else here but me.
A growl of thunder comes from the sky. There are dark clouds collecting in the distance. I can’t see any of the big, ugly city buildings from here but I know that’s where Emerald City is.
I’m tired of sitting in the grass. I bet if I get up and start shooting hoops Conner will show up. I won’t even tease him about being late.
My game must be off today. After fifty tries I’ve only sunk ten baskets. Worse, Conner still isn’t here.
After fifty more tries I only make six baskets. Annoyed, I hurl the ball into the grass.
But Conner still isn’t here.
And he’s still not here after an entire hour passes. And then another hour.
The dark clouds are much closer now. The rumbles of thunder are louder.
Conner would never just leave me here waiting. I know he wouldn’t. Even if he couldn’t come himself he would have found a way to let me know, maybe sent one of his jerkoff cousins to break the news.
But I’m thirsty and lightning flashes just on the other side of the tree line. I can’t stay out here. Conner will make it up to me. I’m sure he will.
Still, I feel like crap as I drag my feet on the six block walk to my house. I don’t even really care about my birthday. My father is on a business trip in Las Vegas. My mother will stay locked in her bedroom suite, drinking gallons of wine and watching one of those gross Real Housewives shows.
People have said I’m lucky that I was born with a best friend. I used to agree. Lita and I have never spent a single day apart. I don’t want to imagine a world without my sister. But sometimes I’m tired of being stuck right next to someone who’s a better version of me.
Lita’s friends have started to arrive for the sleepover. I can hear them squealing with laughter from the front yard so I use the kitchen door instead. If they are all in the living room I should be able to tiptoe to the stairs and get to my room with no one noticing.
The kitchen already looks wrecked with potato chip crumbs on the floor, a puddle of Gatorade on the counter and a melting tub of ice cream in the sink. I’m so thirsty I could scream but I clean up the mess before doing anything else. Even though Lita always leaves a mess behind and it drives me nuts, I don’t want her to get into trouble. If our mother stumbles down here all drunk and weepy she might get mad and decide to embarrass Lita in front of her friends.
So I’ll clean up the spills, put the ice cream away and sweep up the potato chips even though no one will say ever say thank you or even know that I did it.
Now I will literally fall over if I don’t drink water so I fill a glass from the filtration pitcher in the fridge and gulp every drop.
Then a voice separates from the giggles in the living room. “She’s not gonna hang out with us tonight, is she?”
I’m pretty sure that voice belongs to Abby, who once told the art teacher she was fat and didn’t even get punished for it.
And people say I’m mean. I would never say something like that.
“Yeah, Haven gives me the creeps,” says another voice and even though I don’t know who it belongs to, the words make my throat feel tight.
“Shut up,” says Lita and she actually sounds angry. “Nobody better say another word about my sister or I swear to god I will paint your entire face with green glitter nail polish while you sleep.”
Somehow hearing her stick up for me makes things even worse.
“Hi, Haven.” Tess Ballerini stands just outside the open kitchen door. She holds a yellow sleeping bag with butterflies all over it. She can always tell me and Lita apart and she smiles at me. Since she’s pretty much the only one of Lita’s friends who doesn’t act like I’m evil I force myself to smile back at her.
“Hi, Tess.”
