The Game Changer

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Copyright ©2013
LM Trio

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Cover Design by Melody Simmons

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Prologue

It’s hard to believe that it only takes one split second in time to turn your world completely upside down. Everything that ever made you feel safe and secure; can be gone in an instant...

I stood facing the young, innocent girl staring back at me from the mirror. I threw my hair into a ponytail, once again focusing on the promise I made to myself:  each day, starting with my birthday, I would try to do something out of my comfort zone. I was a bit shy; it was one of the things I had planned to work on this year, to overcome my shyness.

My thoughts were interrupted by my Mom calling up to me, “JJ, you’re going to be late!” I quickly buttoned my neatly ironed white blouse and tucked it into my plaid, pleated skirt.

Before I had entered the kitchen, I overheard my mom and dad, joking with each other as they discussed my upcoming birthday. My mom teased my dad, telling him it was only a matter of time before I dumped them for someone more interesting; most likely
a boy
.

“Not on my watch. Besides, who could be more interesting than us?” he replied, pulling mom onto his lap. She laughed as he tickled her, telling him how sorry she felt for him since he was in such a denial. After all, I would be turning fifteen on April 10
th
.

"Well at least I'll still have you!"
he said, kissing her cheek.

"That's right
, sweetie. You'll always have me!" She giggled back.

O
r, so he thought...

Back then, I would have agreed with my dad. I was a bit of a late bloomer; unlike most of my friends that had already begun dating. I was one of those rare teens that actually enjoyed spending most of my spare time with my parents. They were cool and we had fun together. Most of my friends were embarrassed to be seen with their parents, not me.

I entered the kitchen and rolled my eyes at the two of them, suggesting that I had overheard their conversation. I grabbed a bagel from the table and kissed my parents good-bye as I headed out the door. I felt happy, content and was looking forward to the last day of classes before spring break. Mom called out to me, confirming our plans for dinner and shopping later that evening, it had become one of our rituals. Dad would be working late, so we were having a girls’ night out.

***

I awoke in a strange place, my body ached terribly, my head pounded and my mind fuzzy and confused. My dad sat still in a chair beside me, staring at the wall. My throat hurt; it was dry. I could hardly speak louder than a whisper. I called to him, startling him. He didn’t look right; he looked sick, unshaven. Had he been crying? I was confused.

“Where’s Mommy?” I choked out.

His body began to tremble. He didn’t answer, he didn’t have to. I knew. My life was shattered...

(
Jesse - 14 months later)

It
is Friday, the second week of June. The sun is hot and it was unusually humid for this time of year. I stare out the window of the car, wondering if this move was the right decision. We turn on to Seascape Drive where there is a sense of stillness. The cherry blossoms cast shadows on the perfectly manicured lawns, the houses seem to be vacant, the street deserted; nothing like the bustling sounds of the city of which we are used to.

I peek over at my dad to see if he notices the sound of my heart racing from fear. I am nervous about our new life. He seems to be too immersed in his own thoughts to notice. The car comes to a stop in front of a white house with blue shutters towards the end of the road. Once again, I glance over; he is staring straight ahead as he lets out a deep breath before turning off the ignition.

"Well kiddo, here we are."

"Yep. I'm excited
. Are you?" I reply as I give him a quick smile, trying to ease some of the anxiety we both are feeling.

"Yeah, definitely. This will be good for us
," he answers, giving me a reassuring smile. Deep down I know he is trying to reassure himself as much as me.

It’s been over a year, and in that year, my life has been mostly a blur. Almost as if I have been standing on the outside, watching as time passes, and feeling like I am going to die, too. Anything would be better than feeling the constant pain that consumes me.

Even now, after all of the months of therapy, the details are still unclear.

My mom and I shopping, having dinner, having fun. We were in the car, on our way home, laughing about something that I can’t remember now. God, I wish I could remember.

There was screaming and I’m not sure if it was her, or me, or maybe was both of us. It comes in flashes that are usually in the form of nightmares… seeing her slumped over the steering wheel, her head dangling towards me. There was a lot of blood. I heard the sirens, people yelling, swarming around me; it was complete chaos. The EMT’s frantically moving over me after they freed me from the twisted metal.

I hardly remember the funeral, either. I know it was at St. Bernadette’s, which was our church and my school. I’ve been told that some of my classmates were there, although I don’t recall actually seeing a single person that day. At that point, I had already chosen to close myself off from the rest of the world, including my dad. The months following, I grew worse and worse. My Aunt Kathy, my dad’s sister, stayed with us for a while; hoping to fill the void of my mother leaving us alone. I didn’t speak to anyone. I hardly ate. I never returned to school or saw any of my friends again. Physically, I had healed. Mentally, I was broken.

It wasn’t until several months later when I awoke one morning to find my dad sitting on the edge of my bed, trembling in the same way he had
that day
. It scared me.

“Daddy?” I barely whispered.

He turned to face me, his face drenched in tears. He begged me, “Please JJ, don’t do this to me. I can’t lose you, too.”

For the first time in months, I reached out to him. I cried and cried and cried. I told him I wanted to get better so badly, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t breathe. My heart ached. I was in constant pain. I confessed that I felt as if I were about to die, too. He held me tightly and told me he felt the same way. We would get through it together he promised.

I finally agreed to some intense therapy and was tutored at home through the remainder of the year. Despite the therapy, I was unable to bring myself to face my former friends after all of the months that had passed. By now, they had finally stopped coming by the house and calling. I didn’t blame them. I figured they must have heard about my breakdown or made up their own stories about me.

It was only after my Mom had come to me in a dream that I really begun to push forward. I knew that was what she would expect of me. It was shortly thereafter that my dad approached me about a new beginning. He had an opportunity to transfer down to the shore. He was offered a job at the new casino as the Head Chef of their trendy new restaurant. I agreed, this was exactly what we
needed, a new start. His only request was that come fall, I return to school.

I had missed the end of my freshman year and all of my sophomore year, being tutored at home. He thought it was a good idea that I start interacting with kids my own age, again. He was right. If I was truly going to move forward, I needed to socialize with people other than my therapist, tutors and my dad.

(Luke)

Oh, shit. I was late for class again.
Oh well
, I think.

It is a tactic I used often, most times it works. “Sorry, Mrs. Radnor. I stopped by coach’s office. I had a question about tomorrow’s game.” I say as I casually ease my way into my chair while flashing her a smile, dimples and all.

“Luke, this is the third time you’ve used that excuse in the last couple of weeks. You really need to get to class on time; it’s disruptive to your classmates… and me.”

I turn to my classmates and in my most sincere voice, I apologize. I flash them the same smile. The girls buy it; the guys, not so much. It’s my best defense. Mrs. Radnor buys it, though. She smiles and continues on with her lesson. Worked again.

I wasn’t really in Coach’s office. I was actually in the hallway talking to Sherri Adams, she’s into me and she is
hot
. We have a little side thing going on every now and then. My girlfriend, Alexa, and I are off and on so often, even I sometimes forget that I have a girlfriend.

My best friend, Mikey and I were probably around thirteen, maybe fourteen, when we realized we have this gift. We can pretty much talk our way
out
or in
to anything, as long as we smile and seem sincere while we are making up whatever excuse the situation calls for. For instance, Mikey can turn a D into a C by just flashing a smile and giving a nice compliment. He’s a pro, much smoother than me, and I think
I’m
pretty smooth. It’s all about how you play the game. We play it well. On and off the field.

We’re not bad guys. Actually, we’re pretty well liked. I have no time for the kids in school that think they’re so popular, they think they have the right to pick on the kids that aren’t. I’ll go out of my way to talk to a less popular kid, just to piss off the one that thinks he is. I’m pretty good about keeping myself out of trouble and I keep my mouth shut, most times. Mikey, on the other hand, tends to find himself in hot water every now and then. 

One of the only things we both are truly serious about is baseball. We know that is the biggest gift we are blessed with; it’s something we never take for granted. When it comes to the game, we are both disciplined and we work hard for it. The fun, the games, the girls and the partying get put on the back burner when it comes to playing ball. It drives my girlfriend crazy when I choose to stay home instead of partying or staying up late when it’s game time, she doesn’t get it.

We’re in the state championship for the second straight year. Scouts will be there watching as they usually are. It’s something Mikey and I are accustomed to by now. They’ve been watching us for quite some time. We’re invited to numerous tournaments throughout the year and spend summers at camps. We both have a real shot at the majors, but flashing a smile is not going to get us there.

(
Jesse)

I take a deep breath as I step out of the car, taking in the scent of the salty ocean air, hoping to clear my head of the worry that consumes me.
It truly is a great street
, I think as I take inventory of the neighborhood. It seems quiet and peaceful with only about six houses; each one with its own unique look.

Our house, a white, cozy C
ape Cod with blue shutters, sits nestled towards the end of the street. Directly across from us is a perfectly manicured, Georgian Colonial. Next to that is a well maintained, quaint little rancher, where an elderly woman, wearing an apron, kneels in her garden and tends to her flowers. She looks up when she hears our car and my dad gives her an overzealous wave.

If you st
and in the middle of the street and look through the thick flowering trees you can see a long fishing dock with a gazebo and benches stretching out over the bay. I know right then that I will be spending a lot of my spare time there, sketching. That’s what I do. Actually,
that’s what I did
. I haven’t sketched a thing since the accident.

My dad must have
read my mind. "What do you think so, far?" he asks.

"I l
ike it." For the first time in a long time I have a thought, other than something negative; it just might be possible to find a little happiness here.