Pushing Send (3 page)

Thefiercefangirl: Sorry, guys, GTG. I’m tired.

I smile as I sign out.

“Whatcha doing, sweetheart?” my mom asks from the doorway.

“Role-playing on IG,” I answer. When she doesn’t reply, I look toward my door. “Book stuff, Mom. It’s all good.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Mom, I am.”

“All up and up, right? Remember, everything you post stays up there in that cloud forever. No taking it back. No—”

“I know. I saw JJ’s big reveal on your Facebook from his first drunken college party, remember?”
My half-brother’s an idiot
, I think to myself.

“A decision he has to live with for the rest of his life,” she says like she feels bad about my Dad’s first child’s choice to get drunk and bare it all.

Gross. That is just something you can never un-see.

~*~

I don’t understand why Lana is hiding her role-playing from her parents, so I ask her on our way to school.

“They are completely over-protective,” she explains.

“Oh.”

“Your parents seem cool with everything,” she turns the topic on me.

“Yeah. Cool.”

“So your mom reads palms? Is that, like, her job?”

Ever since field hockey, Lana has been a little less chipper and a lot more in my face. I don’t understand. If she decided she doesn’t like me, she should just stop hanging out with me, right? God, this is so confusing. She knows so much about me now, all my embarrassing, closeted things, like the fact that my mom reads palms for extra money.

I asked her not to say anything, and she promised she wouldn’t.
I cannot believe she is starting that crap up again. She promised
.

“She is a hairstylist. She rents a booth downtown. That’s her real job.”

“She offered to read my mom’s palm,” she says.

“Great. I bet she was impressed.”

“She laughed, actually. No big deal.”

It is a big deal. My family embarrasses the hell out of me.

Say what you will about Mother Nature, but today, she is on my side. It down pours just as I am reaching an even higher level of uncomfortable in front of my new friend, so we start laughing and cover our heads with our bags.

“Should we run for it?” I ask.

“Yes!”

A horn blows from behind us, and I look over.

“Come on, Lana, you and new girl get in.” It is Pax, Lana’s popular and very handsome stepbrother. He is more beautiful than I could even put into words, and he seems like a very nice guy, too. He always smiles and either waves or says hi to me in the hallways at school.

“Thanks, Pax,” Lana says as she slides in the front seat.

“Lana, are you gonna let her in?” He laughs, as I squeeze in behind her to get in the back.

“I got it.” I laugh. “See? All set.”

As I look up, his blue eyes are smiling in the rearview mirror. Feeling my face heat, I turn away before he is aware.
Dear God, now is not the time to develop your first crush
, I tell myself.

“You like it here, new girl?”

“All except the torrential downpours when there is snow on the ground,” I answer as I look out the window, avoiding the chance that I may make a fool of myself and get lost in the rearview mirror again.

~*~

I am washing my hands in the school bathroom when Claire walks in.

She nods. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I nod back.

“Busy this weekend?”

I look around to see if I may have been mistaken, and maybe she really isn’t talking to me. She never talks to me, which is perfectly fine with me.

She laughs. “We’re the only ones in here, Had.”

“I suppose so.” I return the laugh.

“A few of the players and I are joining an indoor spring league. Coach says we need to play more. I, for one, would love a shot at state this fall. Hell, nationals would be cool. You wanna join? You can ride with us.”

“I’ll ask my mom.”

“Cool, message me?”

“O … kay?”

“You have Instagram?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Name?”

“thefiercefangirl.”

“Oh God, you are in deep with the nerd herd.” She laughs.

“My friends and I read. Why does that make us nerds?” I question her.

“Oh, I just bust on Lana, all in fun.”
Yeah right,
I think. “I’ll be nice. The past is the past, right?”

“Yep, so they say,” I answer.

“Cool, chat later?”

“Sure.”

~*~

“She said it was all in good fun?” Lana huffs as we walk home from school. “Crazy ass.”

“She said she just busts on you.”

“You aren’t gonna seriously go with them?” Lana asks, as if she already knows I won’t.

I shrug and she laughs, letting me know she thinks I’m joking. I don’t want to upset her, because she’s a good friend—my best friend—but I am really good at something for the very first time in my life. Not only am I good at it, but I love the game. I know I want to join them. On the field, it’s me, my teammates, the ball, and the goal. Nothing else. No one is better than anyone, and we all work together. I love it.

I also know Bee and Skylar won’t be upset about it. Lana, on the other hand, is making this about her and Claire.

When I walk in my house, I tell Mom about the indoor league and ask what she thinks. Of course she asks how much it’s going to cost. I hate money. Hate it.

“Not sure,” I say as I grab an orange out of the fridge, “I’ll find out.”

“We will make it work, I promise.” She smiles at me, but I see worry.

“If not, Mom, it’s seriously no big deal.”

Maybe it’s just not meant to be. I know we don’t have any extra money, and I don’t want her to stress out. Lana will be happier, too. Whatever happens, I know it will be fine. It always is.

chapter two

Airplane Mode…

It is the last day of spring break, and my half-brother JJ has just gone back to college after a very short visit, which I was grateful for because all three of my friends went away on some sort of spring break trip. Bee and Sky have sent texts and continued the role-playing online, but Lana hasn’t. She hasn’t even replied to mine.

Things have been a little stressed between us since I started playing on the indoor league with Claire. I still don’t understand why she would be upset with me about that.

I am bored out of my mind and just about to flip through the channels again when I hear a knock on the door.

“Hey, do you want to go bike riding?” Lana asks, when I open the front door.

Less than six weeks ago, I moved to Blue Valley from Franklin Street in downtown Buffalo. Looking online, this place was beautiful and peaceful. There was no crime or gunshots to be heard, no gang violence or bars on the windows, so how is it that I feel more uneasy here than I did back there?

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” I say, trying to mask my hesitation. “Lemme go grab mine and I’ll be right back.”

I follow her out the door and to our garage to grab my bike. It is a navy blue and white Schwinn. When I first got it, I could barely get on it without a stool. My parents said I would “grow into it,” and I have … after two years.

I hop on and coast to Lana’s house, where she’s standing on the sidewalk with her bike.

“Here’s your helmet,” she says, handing it to me. It has the same color scheme as my bike. I must have left it at her house because I mostly ride with her, anyway.

She starts to pedal and gestures for me to follow.

“Where’s Pax?” I ask casually. I don’t want her to think I like him, but he and I have gotten to know each other better after we started riding with him to school nearly every day since it has been raining or drizzling every day. Like I said before, Mother Nature isn’t so bad.

“Hanging out with Claire and her friends again, just like he has ever since you guys started being friends,” she says with disgust. “Why?”

I shrug as she looks back over her shoulder at me. There is no reason for that news to make me upset; a friend is a friend, after all. However, the idea of him hanging out with her is a little bothersome. Obviously, it’s annoying to Lana as well.

Feeling kind of bad, I quickly change the subject as we ride down the streets of our town. Lana and I talk about senseless things, like our English class and art, which is one of our favorite classes.

“What do you think our next art project will be?” Lana asks.

“Honestly, I don’t know, but I know it will be cool.”

Mrs. Liam—our art liaison, as she calls herself—is one of our favorite teachers. She loves to give us assignments that she likes to do, as well. Before break, we made pottery vases, and I loved it.

“So … umm … What do you think—” I cut myself off as I see Claire and Pax walking down the street together.

“Looky here. Hmm … shall we?” Lana asks.

I shrug, knowing exactly what she has planned. She is going to be confrontational.

“Why not forgive and forget, Lana? She and Pax seem to be getting close again, and honestly, she has never said one word about you—”

“She dragged my name through the mud, said I was crushing on my freaking stepbrother, Hadley.”

“I know, but—”

“And now she’s got my best friend brainwashed.”

“Not brainwashed,” I say, trying to stick up for myself.

“Close to it. She’s using you. She’s trying to get something out of you. Look,” she says, getting off her bike, “she’s got Pax’s attention now because of you.”

“That’s really not fair.” I get off my own bike and try to catch up with her at the same time I am trying to get my helmet off. “Pax seems like a smart guy, so I’m sure, if she is not kind to you, he’ll stick up for you. And Claire and I are teammates. If she is using me in that capacity, then I am using her, too. And Pax’s friendship with her has nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, yes, it does and—”

“If you think she’s using me, and it upsets you, switch it up, Lana. I’m doing the same thing. I know she and I can help each other.”

“Do you plan on playing that game forever? I mean”—she throws her hand in the air and laughs—“are you going to go pro?”

That stings.

“I don’t have rich parents, Lana, and if I can get a scholarship for something like field hockey, I could go to college someday. A good college, not a community—”

“What will she say when she finds out your mother is a damn palm reader? Do you think—?”

“Lana, that’s enough,” Pax’s voice comes from behind me, and I immediately freeze.

“What’s enough, Pax?” Lana snaps, then gestures at Claire. “Your little friend just keeps messing with my life.”

“Bygones, Lana,” Claire says. “The past—”

“Oh, whatever!” she snaps.

Embarrassment causes me to get on my bike and take off. Now Claire and Pax know about my mom’s side job. I am angry, so angry.

Did I really think this friendship was real? Lana has been so hot and cold lately, and I don’t understand it. I don’t like it, and now—dear God, now what will happen? I know exactly what will happen. The first day speculative glances will now come with deep judgment.

When I get home, I throw my bike in the bushes and run inside. No one is home—well, Dad is, but he’s
napping—
so I run up the stairs and take comfort under the covers of my bed.

My phone lights up with messages: Lana, Claire, and an unknown number.

You just made me so upset. She is evil. You can’t be mad at me. I didn’t see them. Just stop hanging around her. Call me. ~ Lana

Hey, no worries. I actually think it’s cool that your mom does that. Maybe she’ll read me sometime. Would love to see where things are headed with Pax and me. See you tomorrow for practice. I’ll pick you up. ~ Claire

New Girl. Breathe. Lana was out of line, but Claire promises she won’t say a word. I’ve got it handled. You can trust me. ~ Pax

I don’t want to be mad at anyone. Heck, I’m not mad. I’m hurt by Lana, though her demands do kind of make me angry. With Claire, there is just something about her that I don’t trust, but is it because of Lana’s mistrust? I mean, she isn’t mean to me when I’m not around Lana. Ugh! I don’t know what to do.

And then Pax Jamison messages me? What is that about? How did he get my number? Why does he want to handle it? I mean, it feels kind of good that he does, but he is … Well, he’s not interested in me. I’m sure he’s not. I don’t want him to be. I don’t want to be interested in him, either.

I realize I am overanalyzing everything, and for a moment, I would give it all up to go back to Buffalo where I could blend in and hide inside my books.

I pop in my headphones and put my phone on airplane mode.

Music and books are my escape, a much needed one right now. I scroll through my playlists and take comfort in, “Secrets”
by One Republic. Then I grab my notebook and write my story, mixed in with my secrets, the story that’s not my reality, but the one I wish was. My stories are of how I wish life was and how I sometimes pretend it is: my fairytales, my escape, all with a happily ever after—fiction at its finest.

Evidently, I fall asleep because I wake to Mom knocking on my door. I shove the notebook under my pillow when she opens the door.