Cryer's Cross (Multimedia eBook Edition with Video) Page 6

  She slips into her desk next to Jacián and taps her fingers anxiously, unable to do anything about it. It’s going to bother her all day, she knows. Maybe at lunch she can take care of things.

  And then, when she sets her backpack on the floor, she turns to her right, like she’s done every day for twelve years. To talk to Nico.

  And no one is there. His desk is empty.

  Every bad thing comes rushing at her. Every emotion—surprise, grief, fear, anger. She gasps a little as she experiences the moment she’s been dreading for days now. And then she feels the rush of a sob coming so fast and hard she can’t stop it.

  “Fuuuck,” she gasps. She buries her head in her arms on her desk and fights it for as long as she can. She doesn’t want to cry anymore. Not here, especially not now. Not in front of everybody. Because Kendall’s supposed to be strong. She’s tough. She’s grown up with boys surrounding her. She played and got hurt with them on the playground, and she didn’t cry then. She broke her nose playing dodgeball in seventh grade when Eli Greenwood winged one at her face from six feet away, and she didn’t cry then—not for real, just the stinging tears that happen automatically when your nose gets hit. And she even broke her arm when she jumped off the bag swing at its highest point, at the river with Nico where he liked to fish with his dad. Totally missed the water, landed on the bank. It was a drought summer that year.

  She didn’t cry then, either, but Nico carried her home, the bone just barely piercing through the skin of her forearm, and even though she said she didn’t want him to carry her, she really was a little bit too faint over seeing her own bone to fight it too hard.

  That was the first day he kissed her.

  And now here she is, bawling in front of all the boys she grew up with.

  Almost all, that is. The most important one is missing.

  That makes her cry harder.

  After a minute she feels a hand squeezing her shoulder. Hears a voice by her ear. “It’s okay, Kendall.” It’s Eli Greenwood’s voice. Kendall takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries again to contain her sorrow. She lifts her head. Eli is crying too.

  She rummages for a tissue in her backpack. “Sorry, guys,” she says. “Stupid me. God.” She feels embarrassed. “Where’s a tissue when you need it, huh?” She knows her nose must be bright red. She sniffs hard.

  “Dude, it’s cool,” Travis says from behind her. Even Brandon isn’t saying anything. She glances at him, and he looks miserable.

  They’ve all been affected. For the seniors this hit feels so much more personal than Tiffany Quinn. Kendall thinks maybe she knows a little better how Tiffany’s closest friends must have felt. She looks over to the sophomore section and catches the eye of Tiffany’s best friend, Jocelyn. The girl gives Kendall a sympathetic smile, and Kendall smiles gratefully in return.

  Jacián, quiet all this time, but watching, points a finger toward the front of the classroom, where Ms. Hinkler stands, trying to get the students’ attention. “You still need a tissue?” he asks gruffly. “I’ll get you one.”

  “No, I’m okay,” Kendall says. “Thanks.”

  Jacián nods as Eli goes back to his seat. Everyone settles in to try to concentrate.

  For most of them the only way to get through it is by moving on.

  THIRTEEN

  Somehow she makes it through to lunch, when she gets a chance to straighten the curtain and the desks. She can’t stand to go outside to eat lunch in their spot. She can hardly stand to look at Nico’s desk. It’s so empty. So cold.

  By afternoon she can no longer concentrate at all, and even Ms. Hinkler is giving her a free pass indefinitely to lay her head down and just try to get through it.

  When school is over, there’s nothing Kendall wants more than to play some soccer. Get the whirlwind out of her head. Work out the grief and the anxiety. Think about something else for a change.

  She suits up in the locker room, alone again without Marlena, and makes a little wish that Coach has found more players to join the team before they miss another game. Tomorrow is the next one scheduled in Bozeman. She runs out to the field and starts warming up. Counting to thirty for every stretch, counting her steps as she jogs in place. Slowly the others join her. She counts them, just to make sure.

  Four seniors. One freshman. Only one sophomore now. Six.

  Coach is late, and the team falls into a three-on-three scrimmage naturally, anxiously. Kendall feels naked without Nico there. They had so many plays together. So much nonverbal communication. Years of it. There’s no quick fix when you’re missing that.

  Jacián is also looking a little bit lost for plays without Marlena. The two end up on the same team with Brandon, and they fail miserably, like it’s their first game ever.

  They scrimmage for twenty painful minutes before Coach shows up. When he strides onto the field, everybody comes to a standstill. He waves them all in.

  “Guys,” he says. Kendall notices the wrinkles by his eyes for the first time. He looks tired. He waits for everybody to quiet, glancing at his clipboard, fingering the whistle around his neck.

  “Hey, guys, gather up. It’s good to see you again.” He gives a grim smile. “Wish it were under better circumstances. We’ve lost two of our best at the moment. Update, Jacián?”

  “She had a rough night, but she’s tough.” Jacián’s dark skin gleams with sweat in the afternoon sun. “Doc says she won’t play this season at all, though.” He looks down. “Sorry, guys. She feels bad.”

  Kendall looks at the grass.

  “And you’ve all figured out by now that we’re down to six. Last year we played with nine and it was tough. This year with eight would have been already approaching impossible. It’s different with one game, but game after game for a whole season . . .” Coach pauses. He shakes his head as if he doesn’t want to say what he has to say next.

  “I made a dozen phone calls last night, people. And I don’t have a single possibility for new players. Not one. Not even one who hedged or wavered on a maybe. We’ve squeezed a third of our high school for our soccer sports program. That’s a ton more, percentage wise, than most other schools nationwide. We’re maxed out.” He pauses. Sighs. “We’re done, guys. I’m sorry. This is the end of the road for us.”

  The whole team stares at the ground, nobody daring to look up.

  “To you seniors who played your last high school game as juniors,” Coach says, “I’m especially sorry. This isn’t the way to end a career.”

  He glances at Jacián and around the group. “Some of you have a lot of talent and have a chance of playing on a college team. I hope you give it a shot. Keep practicing on your own. Don’t give up.”

  Coach pulls his baseball cap from his head, smoothes his cropped hair back, and replaces the cap. “That’s it. I’m sorry. We did the best we could. I’ll be on the grounds for a bit if anybody wants to talk further.” He stands for a minute, almost unsure, and then he turns and walks back toward the school building.

  The team stands in silent shock, realizing the season’s over, watching their coach walk away for the last time. For some of them their soccer career is over. It’s hard to swallow that.

  A moment later Jacián walks away, not following the coach but going toward the locker room. Kendall watches as he enters, and then exits again with his backpack and his school clothes rolled up under his arm. He walks to the truck.

  “Wait,” Kendall says under her breath. He’s her only ride if she doesn’t want to get arrested. What a crazy messed-up world.

  She runs to the girls’ locker room and grabs her things. Says a little word of good-bye. This is it for her.

  So many good things ending.

  She jogs back out, and when she sees that Jacián is still sitting in the truck waiting for her, she slows to a walk. Gets into the truck. They both sit there. Jacián’s face is full of rage, but he doesn’t speak.

  “Can you take me to your house, please?” she says in a dull voice. “I told your gr
andfather I’d come by today to see Marlena.”

  Jacián doesn’t acknowledge her. A minute later he starts up the truck and peels out of the dirt lot onto the road, going way too fast. The truck fishtails on the loose gravel. Kendall closes her eyes and grips the door’s armrest. They hit rocket speed before he bottoms out in a few potholes and eases off the gas.

  Out of the blue he slams his fist onto the steering wheel. “Fuck!” he yells at the top of his voice.

  Kendall startles and slides closer to her door once again.

  He slows the truck as he pulls into the ranch’s driveway, and takes a deep breath.

  She glances at him. His face is even now. He drives carefully, deliberately.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that,” he says darkly. “The parentals don’t really give a shit that they’ve wrecked my life.”

  Kendall regards him. “You know, maybe you should get some help with that. Anger management is a good idea,” she says.

  He laughs bitterly. “You think? Now, where would I go for that? The general store, or maybe the Feed and Seed?”

  Kendall ignores him. Looks out her window as Hector’s house comes into view. Says quietly, “Why do you have to be such a jerk?”

  He pulls the truck into the big barn and doesn’t reply. He goes immediately to the corner of the barn and grabs a mesh net full of soccer balls. Heads out to the makeshift soccer field, not looking back.

  Kendall goes to the house and knocks on the door.

  Hector opens it wide. “Hello, Miss Kendall! How nice of you to come by again.”

  Kendall smiles. “Nice of you to invite me,” she says.

  “I am happy to say that Marlena is taking a nap right now. She needs it. But I think you should feel comfortable out here playing soccer, no?”

  Kendall looks at him, standing there with his innocent smile. She slumps her shoulders and drops her backpack to the porch. “Seriously, Hector?” Her voice is strained.

  “You should call your mother first to let her know you are here, of course.” He steps into the kitchen and returns a moment later with the phone.

  Kendall sighs. “Maybe she should just come and pick me up.”

  “Oh, please, no! Marlena has been looking forward to your visit all day. She thought you might be coming later, after soccer practice.”

  “Yeah, well, there is no soccer practice anymore.”

  Hector’s face falls. “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. It is a shame for you and for Jacián. Marlena feels responsible.”

  “It’s not her fault,” Kendall says automatically. She dials her house and leaves a message saying she’s at Hector’s. Indefinitely. “You can pick me up anytime if you need me,” she says. “See you soon.” Trying not to sound desperate.

  Hector takes the phone from her and shoos her in the direction of the yard, where Jacián is warming up all over again. “I am going into town to sit with my friend for a bit,” he calls out. “Just let yourself in later.”

  Kendall sighs and goes down the porch steps. “Okay,” she says, not wanting to be here. Wishing she could just go hang out with Nico and have everything be okay again.

  She walks toward Jacián, waiting for him to reject her. Just what she needs today. Some pompous jerk to tell her to go away. Stupid Hector. He needs to back off.

  Jacián sees her coming and doesn’t stop stretching. Kendall walks up to him and stands there, awkwardly.

  “Yes?” he asks finally.

  “Marlena’s taking a nap. Hector’s going to town.”

  Jacián squints up at her. “What are you, the butler?”

  Kendall rolls her eyes. “Mind if I play? While I wait for Marlena, I mean?”

  He lifts himself up to his feet and messes with the net bag, opening the cinch and letting the balls loose. “It’s a big yard.” He passes one to her and then dribbles another one up and down the stretch of grass, warming up.

  Kendall pulls a ponytail holder from her pocket and whips her hair back into it. She moves out of Jacián’s way and warms up too, as if they are at soccer practice. They work individually.

  It’s not long before Kendall’s in the zone. The constant whirring of her thoughts quiets, softens. She counts her steps to one hundred, and then she can stop and really concentrate on the ball. She loves the way it moves over the grass, like a hand on bare skin, seeking out all the nuances. She feels her muscles praise her for the stretch, feels the sweat break out on her forehead. Feels her breath paint a path in front of her.

  There is nothing else like it in her world. Nothing else like the bliss of her brain shutting down after seven days of constant whirring. Incredible relief.

  She ignores Jacián completely, keeping her distance, and then slowly she begins running some of the plays she used to do with Nico, passing instead to herself, running like hell to catch up and slamming the ball into the net. Retrieving it again and taking it all the way down the side yard, then back and forth, like she’s running suicides with the ball. Then back again for another play with invisible Nico.

  It’s funny how the presence of a memory is a comfort here on the field.

  By the time Kendall has worked out all her stress, an hour has passed. She and Jacián successfully avoid each other, though once when his ball gets away from him, Kendall plants it back at his feet, and he acknowledges her with a wave.

  Hector would be so proud.

  When Kendall is dying of thirst, she calls it quits, hoping Marlena is awake. Jacián’s shirt is stuck to his body. Sweat drips off his hair, curled in dark spikes. He’s breathing hard as she walks past. She drops her ball by the mesh ball bag. “Thanks,” she says.

  “All right.” He almost smiles.

  Impulsively she adds, “You need any water? I’m headed in.”

  “No, I’ve got a bottle in my gym bag.”

  So civil.

  Marlena is awake. Kendall grabs a paper towel, wets it, and wipes her face and the back of her neck with it. She pours a glass of water and walks over to the family room, where Marlena rests in her same spot on the sofa. “Sorry I smell like a skank. How are you today?”

  “Pretty sore.”

  “Are you able to move around yet?”

  “Not without embarrassing or killing myself. I’m working on it.”

  “So, home for a few more days, probably?”

  “Yeah. Total suck. I’m bored as hell.” Marlena turns gingerly. “So . . . I saw you outside. You’re here early. What did Coach say?”

  Kendall takes a long drink of water and then wipes at a drip from her lips. “We’re done. It’s over,” she says. Shrugs. “He called around but couldn’t get anybody to help us. Said we actually did pretty well, with a third of our high school on the team. I guess if you look at it that way, it does seem pretty crazy to think we’d find anybody else.”

  Marlena drops her head back onto her pillow. “Ugh. Crap. Jacián’s going to murder me.”

  Kendall is quiet.

  “Coach was trying to get a scout to show up to one of our games, trying to get him into one of the big soccer schools. He was deciding between UCLA and Stanford. Now I’ve messed up his chances at a scholarship.” Her voice quivers. “Did he seem mad?”

  Kendall remembers the scene in the truck and presses her lips together. “Not more than usual,” she says lightly.

  “Oh, God. I feel so bad.” Marlena starts crying.

  “Aw, shit,” Kendall says, going over to her, sitting on the floor. “Come on, Marlena, it’s not your fault. Nico’s gone too. We’ve never lost two players at a time, and we were already down one from last year. It’s not just you.”

  Jacián comes into the house and heads straight down a hallway, still wearing his cleats. Kendall hears a door shut and then the sound of water rushing through pipes on the other side of the wall as he turns on the shower. Her mind wanders for a minute and she shakes her head, embarrassed.

  Marlena stares off out the window, a forlorn look on her face. Kendall lace
s and unlaces her fingers, holding each position to the count of six. When the phone rings, she stretches to reach it from the coffee table and hands it to Marlena.

  “Hello?”

  Marlena listens for a second and then says, “He just came in; he’s in the shower. Have him call you back?” She pauses again and says, “Okay. Bye.”

  Kendall looks at Marlena, mildly curious.

  “His girlfriend,” she says. “Back in Arizona.”

  “Ah.” Kendall picks up a magazine and pages through it idly. How Jacián managed to get a girlfriend is beyond her comprehension. “Is he always so ornery?”

  “Nah. He just hates it here.”

  “So he tries to make everybody else’s life miserable too?”

  Marlena sighs. “I guess. But seriously, since we moved here, nothing has gone right for him. Back in Arizona he had a weekend job at an indoor soccer arena, which he loved. He had a summer job at a soccer camp in the mountains that he had to give up because my parents made him work here on the ranch. He had his girlfriend, and a huge class AA school with a terrific soccer team.

  “We finished school there and moved here, and within a week Sheriff Greenwood and the state police were knocking at the door and insinuating all sorts of crappy things. And then Grandpa put Jacián to work chasing down cattle and delivering meat. We didn’t have a clue what we’d be doing here.” She shifts, trying to get more comfortable. “He was pretty happy about the soccer team once he saw you all play, ‘cause most of you are not bad, and it was so cool that Coach was doing so much to get a scout to come out to Bozeman for a game. But now that’s over too.” She sets the phone on the coffee table again. “And he’s fighting with his girlfriend.”