1 Call It in the Air Introduction I have always wanted to write a realistic fiction young adult novel, but I struggled to create a unique protagonist and plot. I eventually realized that I wanted to tell a story that shows the positive impact that playing a sport can have on a teenage girl’s life. I also knew I wanted to tell a story about a biracial, Mexican-American teen, where her race was not the center of the story but simply a part of her life. These two ideas came together as Call It in the Air. Once I knew I wanted to write a book about a teenage girl who played a sport, I chose softball because it’s the sport I know best. I began looking for books about girls playing softball. I found The Game Can’t Love You Back by Karole Cozzos and Throw Like a Girl by Sarah Henning. To my surprise, both books focused on girls trying to play baseball and football with the boys, and much about softball. These two books became important to my writing as a reminder that girls who play girls’ sports need to be celebrated for playing a sport they love. I found a book, Heroine by Mindy McGinnis, that focuses on a teenage girl’s love for softball and her descent into drug addiction. I appreciated how this book celebrates softball and the passion one can have for it while also exploring the emotional connections that sports, particularly softball, can foster in our everyday lives. I believe sports can help teenage girls build confidence, accountability, and valuable leadership skills that can benefit them for the rest of their lives. Next, I began my search for young adult books, specifically biracial, Mexican-American teens. I found Everything Within and In Between by Nikki Barthelmess and Mexican Whiteboy by Matt de la Pena. Both books had a parent who was Caucasian and a parent who was MexicanAmerican. While I enjoyed both books, the main conflict was the protagonists’ search for or 2 confusion about their racial identity. These two books reflected a stereotype of mixed-race individuals as being confused about their identity. The main conflict in Call It in the Air isn’t the character's racial identity, although situations arising from being biracial will occur; those moments will be the scenes in the book. My goal is to show that race plays a part in who we are, but it does not have to be all-consuming of who an individual is. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han is probably the most well-known young adult literature book with a biracial main character, Laura Jean. She has a Korean-American mother and a white father. This book shows how being biracial is a part of the person and who they are, but it does not have to be an all-consuming part of life, like in Everything Within and In Between and Mexican Whiteboy. Call It in the Air is more like To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before in that it will show what it is like growing up with two different cultural backgrounds while showing some of those moments of discomfort or confusion that are more of a focal point in Everything Within and In Between and Mexican Whiteboy. These books were important to my writing process for Call It in the Air. They helped me see more clearly the story I wanted to tell about a biracial teenage girl playing softball, a girl’s sport. Call It in the Air is about a biracial protagonist, but it won’t focus on her identity. I will show the importance of telling this type of story and why telling stories that don’t center on identity matter and are important in young adult literature. Call It in the Air will be a young adult realistic fiction novel with a biracial protagonist that celebrates girls participating in girls' sports and demonstrates how playing sports can foster lasting friendships, and why the everyday teenage girl softball is a story that matters and is worth telling. Girls Playing Sports Stories YA 3 The books that influenced my ideas and writing about softball were Throw Like a Girl by Sarah Henning, The Game Can’t Love You Back by Karole Cozzos, and Heroine by Mindy McGinnis. Each of these books showed me examples of what I want and don’t want to do when telling the story of a girl who plays softball. Throw Like a Girl by Sarah Henning is a great story about high school junior Liv, who shows that she is willing to do anything she can to be able to play softball, which includes quarterbacking for a high school football team. While the book does a great job of showing the hard work that girls have to put into playing on a boy’s football team, softball is still on the story's sideline. The book is a celebration of how girls can play alongside boys; it is not a celebration of a girl playing a sport she loves or all the things she loves about that sport. There are no scenes of girls playing softball, no moments of what it is like to be on a softball field playing with teammates. Call It in the Air will have scenes that play out on a softball field. Scenes that show the skills and struggles of playing a sport. The Game Can’t Love You Back by Karole Cozzos is similar to Throw Like a Girl in that the main character plays a typical boy's sport, baseball. The book addresses why the main character, Eve, loves baseball and why she wants to continue to play it in high school instead of softball, while showing the hard work and difficulties that can come from playing when you play with the boys, especially at the high school level. While softball is not the story's center, Cozzos shows how playing sports can teach teenage girls important life skills and lessons, but it is still a celebration of girls proving they can play with boys. I think that the stories of everyday girls, like girls who play a typical girl’s sport, like softball, are important. Books like The Game Can’t Love You Back and Throw Like a Girl are only celebrating girls who fight against the social norms by working hard to play a sport with 4 boys, which is admirable. But when that one girl walked away from the softball field, the ten remaining players on the field deserve to have their stories told for the time, hard work, and lessons they have learned playing softball. Call It in the Air will tell the story of a girl who stopped playing baseball with her brother, how much she loves playing softball, and the support and acceptance she feels playing softball. In writing Call It in the Air, I wanted to show the friendships that can be built when playing a sport with girls. The main character, Liliana(Lily) Reyes, and her two best friends, Kyla and Taylor, all play softball, and because of time spent together working on a skill and working towards winning, they have fostered a strong friendship, one that will hopefully be strong enough to get them through even when the softball season is over. The book is meant to show how friendships are built and cultivated through common passions like softball because, as teammates, the girls have learned to rely on and trust each other. I will establish friendships through character interactions and flashbacks, and, oddly enough, the strengths and weaknesses between female teammates will become clear as they begin to play with the boys in a summer softball league. Although Mindy McGinnis's book Heroine is not entirely about softball, it is more about the opioid epidemic. McGinnis explores how society often portrays athletes as heroes, especially when they overcome hard things, like how the main character overcame the devastation and pain of a broken pelvis to play softball her senior year. This story is about a female athlete overcoming impossible obstacles, similar to how the main characters in The Game Can’t Love You Back and Throw Like a Girl had to overcome impossible obstacles - playing high school sports with the boys - in order to do the thing she loves, playing softball. Call It in the Air will show that not all athletes are heroes and that athletes struggle to always do well in their sport. 5 Athletes are not always the heroes that the aforementioned books try to make them appear to be. One element that the above-mentioned books have neglected to embrace is the metaphors and life lessons that come from playing sports, which can be the backdrop for a great young adult literature story. Call It in the Air is going to embrace the metaphors and life lessons that can be learned from playing softball. To call something in the air doesn’t just apply to fly balls or coins it applies to the decisions that have to be made in life, and the struggle to make decisions is not just something that teenagers can relate to but far too many adults can as well, and that is at the crux of Call It in the Air. I love it when books are named directly after lines in the novel; that is a goal I have for Call It in the Air, and that will happen later in the book. I also love it when books foreshadow and drop subtle hints of things to come. McGinnis hints that Mickey is headed towards prescription drugs and heroin. I wasn’t surprised that she ended up using heroin; I was simply surprised by how she got there. In Heroine, the hints about Mickey using heroin are dropped every time Mickey goes to a certain cafe and talks to Ed at the cafe. As a reader, I found it fun to put those hints together. My plan for Call It in the Air is to do something similar. Each time Lily is on a softball field, how well she is able to catch a pop fly or fly ball will reflect her ability to make decisions. Also, Lily’s decision-making will be seen every time she is with the Will character. Each time, she will get better and better at catching the ball, which will be a reflection of how she is practicing or working on her ability to make decisions off the field. Biracial American Teen Stories in YA Biracial Americans, especially teens, are an ever-growing population. Individuals born and raised in multicultural households witness firsthand how two cultures blend. This blending 6 puts these individuals in a unique place in society. They sometimes feel they belong to both cultures but do not feel they fit in because of looks, language, and family beliefs or traditions. These individuals often feel stuck between two cultures and identities; these stories could make for unique and dynamic stories that could be told in young adult literature. “In the world of children’s and young adult (YA) literature, the inclusion of mixed race experiences has been slow and sporadic. Even the multicultural movement… seems to have missed the transformational possibilities of including mixed-race stories and voices” (Chaudhri 95). This complex perspective is not often told or even acknowledged in young adult literature as it should be. The first book I found, Everything Within and In Between by Nikki Barthelmess, does well to demonstrate the difficulty of navigating family, school, and friends while trying to understand the ups and downs of having a dual identity. The main character, Ri, struggles with her own inability to speak Spanish and fit in comfortably with her Latin neighbors and white friends. The story centers around finding and understanding one’s identity while balancing complex family relationships and cultivating old and new friendships. All of this is happening while her family, friends, and she make incorrect assumptions about her experiences and who she is based on her name and the shade of her skin. Barthelmess does a great job of showing how Latinx and Americans don’t look like just one thing, and that young Mexican-Americans sometimes struggle with the idea that they are not supposed to look and be a certain way. The protagonist in Everything Within and In Between is searching for acceptance from her white friends, along with acceptance among her Mexican relatives and neighbors. Scholar Amina Chaudhri would classify this novel as a “Missing Half story” with racial confusion and self-doubt leading the protagonists to spend the entirety of the story searching for who they are. 7 Using research from Nancy Thalia Reynolds’ book Mixed Heritage in Young Adult Literature, Chaudhri asserts that “...mixed-heritage issues in YA literature repeat the kinds of issues in adult literature with mixed characters… the search for the Missing Half…internalized racial confusion, abject isolation, self-doubt, and so on, reappear in both historical and contemporary YA fiction”(97). These issues are the most commonly told stories of mixed-race individuals in YA literature, and this is the story told in Everything Within and In Between. The protagonist, Ri, embodies all the aforementioned traits of a mixed-race teen in young adult literature. Ri spends the entirety of the book searching for her mother (missing half), who she thinks will help her understand more about her Mexican heritage, which her Mexican grandmother, with whom she lives, refuses to talk to her about. Ri’s grandmother constantly tells her to be grateful for her lighter skin. Ri’s grandmother also refuses to teach Ri Spanish because her grandmother believes that assimilation and speaking only English are best for Ri’s future. Ri eventually finds her mother, who affirms Ri’s feelings of self-doubt, They thought, your grandfather especially, that since you have a light complexion, you’d be better off than they were. People wouldn’t be racist sons of bitches to you because you look like them. I remember when they first started telling me those kinds of things when I was a kid. It confused me… made me feel ashamed of who we were. I didn’t want that for you (123). I know these sentiments to be true because I heard them from my own father and family; I don’t want this to be the main story and the only story being told about mixed-race individuals. I agree with Chaundri that “While the validity of these issues for some mixed-race individuals is not to be underestimated, it is problematic when the repetition of these themes creates a onedimensional, essentialized representation that ends up being understood as inherent to mixed- 8 race identity” (Chaundri 97). Everything Within and In Between is one of two young adult books I could find where the protagonists had one Caucasian parent and one Mexican-American parent. Everything Within and In Between reinforces the idea that people of mixed-race identity are confused about their identity and searching for who they are. My goal in writing Call It in the Air is to show the unique situations that a biracial individual can face in a society that makes assumptions about people based on an individual's name or physical appearance while trying to avoid this stereotype of racial confusion or the feeling of being lost based on the character's race. Some unique situations I’m going to include are when people assume a character speaks Spanish and the complicated emotions that come when a biracial person is put in those moments. Lily will be put in some situations unexpectedly at her work; however, she will also knowingly walk into those situations when she goes to La Tíenda, the small Mexican grocery store. Or when she has to talk to her great-grandmother, who has stopped speaking English and now only speaks Spanish. The complicated emotions of not being able to communicate with family will also be addressed because it eventually does happen as families assimilate into the United States. Mexican-American writer Alex Temblador wrote, “Sitting in my discomfort as I push past my nervousness is part of what it means for me to be Mexican-American” (141). These scenes of discomfort will be significant scenes that help to understand the character, but they will not be the entirety of the story. Call It in the Air captures that confusion, discomfort, and feeling of immersion in American culture without making the confusion the entire story. This will be shown in scenes with Lily’s family when multiple generations are present. There is a scene later in the book that brings four generations of Reyes women together, along with two teenage boys. The roles of men and women still run deep for Lily’s grandmother, so this means that Lily must help prepare 9 and serve the food while her brother and his friend sit around, and she is not able to eat until her grandmother says she can. Lily knows and understands her grandmother’s expectations, which contradict the traditions and expectations in Lily’s own home. This happens all while Spanish and English are being spoken simultaneously throughout the scene, most of which Lily doesn’t understand and needs to have translated. This scene is an example of old traditions still being in a family while new generations have begun to change those traditions as they build their own lives and assimilate. The second book is Mexican Whiteboy by Matt de la Peña. The book follows biracial teenager Danny, who has a love for baseball. Readers watch as Danny struggles to balance the expectations of his white mother and Mexican-American family, who ultimately want the same things for him. Still, he struggles to see the similarities because he thinks that he needs to be a certain way to be a real Mexican-American or be like his father’s Mexican-American family. Danny feels the significance and pressures of being “the first Lopez to go to college” (48). This makes him feel uncomfortable because Danny feels love and support from his family, but he is also afraid that they resent him for the opportunities he has (de la Peña 48). Danny has feelings of belonging alongside feelings of being an outsider at the same time, which are very similar to Ri’s in Everything Within and In Between. Both books are stories of racial confusion and selfdoubt and are the stereotypical story of a mixed-race teen. Although Danny’s story is a stereotypical missing-half biracial story, I really liked how Danny’s performance as a pitcher was connected to his mental and emotional state. Along the way, his love and dedication to baseball taught him the importance of hard work and learning to accept who you are. As he resolved his personal problems, his pitching accuracy improved. De la Peña’s connection to life’s lessons and an athlete’s performance on the field is one of two 10 softball or baseball books that I found that show the strong correlation between the two and why sports can be significant in helping teens build mental strength and confidence. The importance of sports and the positive impact they can have on girls to help them with confidence and leadership skills is why I feel stories about teenage girls playing sports are important stories that should be told in young adult literature. In writing Call It in the Air, I am hoping that I can capture the connections between life on and off the field and their correlating success as de la Peña did in Mexican Whiteboy. Call It in the Air, like Mexican Whiteboy, will also show how struggles and lessons on the field are present off the field and how they are inexplicably connected, and when struggles are addressed and improved, their performance on and off the field improves. A book series I stumbled upon that helped me realize how I wanted to write my biracial protagonist is the series To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han. In a podcast interview, Han discussed her main character in To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, a Korean-American protagonist with a Caucasian father and a Korean-American mother. Regarding racial identity, Han said, “Most times when we would see a book with a main character who wasn't white, the whole point was their sort of struggle with their race. And I think that we didn't get to see the story where it's a part of the identity, but it's not the whole reason for the book” (Aminatou). Like Han, I don’t want my main character’s race to be the reason for the book. As someone biracial, I could understand and feel the significance of race in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before because it wasn’t the main character's sole concern but simply woven into her everyday life in a way that was significant enough to influence who she was and how she saw the world but consume her life. 11 My goal is to make it clear that being biracial is part of my main character’s life, but it isn’t the main focus of her life, and she is more complex than the stereotypical mixed-race character, as Chaudhri described it (97). Haley Jones described this as an element of critical race theory known as “‘counter storytelling’ in which an author takes the societal expectations surrounding race and flips it on its head, deconstructing the expectations set by the audience.” (qtd. in Jones).” Jones continues, “in not complying with the trend of the racial hero, releases young readers-of-color from the pressure of having to ‘fix’ things within their ethnic communities, as well as giving an honest portrayal of the life of a normal teenager of color through the text’s use of culture.” Counter-storytelling has been known to receive negative criticism, especially in the case of To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, because the main character in the book isn’t an activist for her race “Moreover, readers complained that while she is a protagonist-of-color, her Korean culture takes a back seat in the narrative; she seems to be surrounded by an entirely white cast of characters. All of these accusations, of course, are true. These legitimate concerns aside, Lara Jean nonetheless represents a good representation of a protagonist-of-color” (Jones). I would argue that just because a person of color isn’t an activist for their race or isn’t surrounded by other people of color doesn’t mean they still don’t have a good story to tell. Chaundri writes, “What we need now is representation of a diverse range of experiences that include non-traumatic circumstances” (103). My hope in writing Call It in the Air is to show that being mixed race doesn’t mean you have to be an activist for your story and experience to matter. I believe that great realistic fiction in young adult literature revolves around a character who grows and whom people can relate to. Currently, young adult literature does not have many books about biracial individuals who are not activists. Call It in the Air will be a book 12 where biracial individuals can see themselves living a life where they feel comfortable and are growing and changing, but their race is not the driving force for the growth in their lives. Conclusion Young adult literature needs more books about girls who play softball for the love of the game. More literature is needed where strong girls or women are seen supporting each other, building friendships, and playing sports, specifically softball. When I am done, Call It in the Air will be a book that shows readers that strong female friendships cultivated through playing sports can be lasting and beneficial for teens. Call It in the Air is meant to show readers that being Mexican-American can be different from what society thinks or typically sees. Comedian and actress Anjelah Johnson-Reyes describes the experiences and feelings of growing up Mexican-American. She writes, “Johnson is a white last name…I don’t speak Spanish, and I didn’t grow up in a super Mexican area. But like many Mexican-Americans, I have a huge family who takes pride in honoring Latino traditions. But we’d always throw in the good ol’ American ones as well. For example, we eat tamales with rice and beans for Christmas, but we have ham and mashed potatoes on the side” (241). Johnson-Reyes goes on to explain how, even as an adult, she has struggled with the MexicanAmerican she thought she was supposed to be versus the Mexican-American she was. Having American-born parents and her not speaking Spanish were not the stories that the audience expected her to tell, so at the start of her comedic career, she told the stereotypical stories that people expected. She has since come to realize that her real stories can be just as funny and are just as important for audiences to hear (245-247). Johnson-Reyes explains her goal as an actress 13 and comedian: “I want to show the world that being Latino and American doesn’t just look like one thing” (247). I believe that this is what books should show: being Latino and American doesn’t look like the stereotype, but depending on family circumstances, the generation, and locations in the US, being Latino manifests itself in various ways. My goal in writing Call It in the Air is to break away from the stereotypical girls' softball/baseball story in which the main character has to fight to play on the boys' team while also distancing the main character from the stereotypical missing-half story of biracial characters. The book still has elements of the typical realistic fiction young adult novel as the character struggles to build confidence and make her own decisions. It is a typical young adult story with a protagonist who rarely gets to be at the center of the story. 14 Works Cited Barthelmess, Nikki. Everything Within and in Between. New York, Harper Collins Publishers, 2021. Chaudri, Amina. “Growing Mixed/Up: Multiracial Identity in Children’s and Young Adult Literature.” Diversity in Youth Literature: Opening Doors Through Reading, edited by Jamie Campbell Naidoo et al., ALA Editions, 2013, pp. 95–104. Cozzo, Karole. The Game Can't Love You Back. Feiwel & Friends, 2018. De la Pena, Matt. Mexican WhiteBoy. Ember, 2010. Han, Jenny. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. Simon Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2014. Henning, Sarah. Throw Like a Girl. New York. Hachette Book Group, 2021. Johnson-Reyes, Anjelah. “Anjelah Johnson-Reyes” American Like Me: Reflections on Life Between Cultures. Ferrera, America, and E. Cayce Dumont, editors. New York, Gallery Books, 2018, pp. 241-247. Jones, Haley. “That Wonderful Sensation of Being Known: A Look at Critical Race Theory, the Teen Activist Protagonist, and the Use of Culture in Jenny Han’s "To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” Harvest, 1 Dec. 2020. nuharvestjournal.org/harvest2020/2020/11/25/ That-wonderful-sensation-of-being-known-a-look-at-critical-race-theory-the-teen-activist Protagonist-and-the-use-of-culture-in-jenny-hans-to-all-the-boys-ive-loved-before. Accessed 6 March 2025. McGinnis, Mindy. Heroine. Katherin Tegen Books, 2019. Sow, Aminatou and Friedman, Ann, hosts. “Cozy Content.” Call Your Girlfriend. 5 Feb. 2021. https://www.callyourgirlfriend.com/episodes/2021/02/05/cozy-content-jenny-han-to-allthe-boys. 15 Temblado, Alex. “Is Half Mexican-American, Mexican Enough?” Living Beyond Borders: Growing Up Mexican in America. Longoria, Margarita, editor. Viking Books for Young Readers, 2021, pp. 133–141. 16 Call It in the Air Prologue I have always loved playing softball, specifically third base. Stepping carefully over the fresh chalked lines, making the first trail of steps to take my position on the left side of the infield. I love the hard grounders that come right at my shins, and if I miss the catch, I have laces imprinted on my leg for days. I love the thrilling line drives where I stretch my glove out and wonder for a split second if the ball will take my glove with it as I try to stop its determined trajectory. I love the backhanded catches down the third base line, the charging at a bunt, the throw to first base, and the pickles that can happen between home and third- one bad throw or catch could be the difference between winning or losing. The one thing I don't like is the infield flies, the balls that go straight up in the air. They go so high that I have to throw my head all the way back to see where they are going. This is the moment that I dread the most- trying to figure out where the ball will come down. I always seem to be slightly off. I can't seem to estimate the ball's arch and fall trajectory, so when the ball finally gets close enough for me to figure it out, I either miss it by an inch or dramatically make a last-second change to catch the ball. This has led to collisions and near misses like colliding with the shortstop- embarrassing; the catcher- painful; or, worst of all, the pitcher- nobody wants to hurt the pitcher. I usually end up colliding with them because I hesitate and wait until the last possible moment to call out, "MINE, MINE!" or "I GOT IT!" or "ME, ME, ME!" The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself or commit to something like catching a ball that could affect the outcome of a game. As I take the field, I realize this is the last inning of the last fast-pitch softball game I may ever play. I'm hoping no fly balls will come to my side of the field. My best friend Kyla, the 17 catcher, was behind home plate, taking pitches from Ellie. Taylor claps my glove with hers as she takes her place between second and third base. I watch Taylor field the grounder and throw it back to first base just as I hear the thwack of the pitch hitting Kyla's glove. It's time to tell them I don't plan on sticking around here after graduation, and the plans we've been making aren't going to happen, or at least I won't be a part of them. The clink of the bat brings me back, and I throw my head up and realize that the ball is high up in the air, just above the middle of the third baseline. Great! Kyla has already thrown her helmet off and is moving up the baseline. Ellie, the pitcher, is moving in, too. I hear Taylor saying, "Call it! Call it!" as she inches towards me. I move towards where I think the ball will land. I get there first. I see the plummeting object as it hurdles toward my chin, where I've placed my open glove. Seconds before the ball lands in my glove, I think Shit, I better call it. I shout, "ME, ME, ME!" A fitting call that reflects the decision I made weeks ago, but at least I finally made a decision all by myself. 18 Chapter 1 "Leo, I think you took one of my socks," I yell, sifting through my basket of clean laundry again. "Are you sure?" he yells from downstairs. It sounds like he’s eating something. "Yes. I'm sure," I yell back. With his large blue tube socks in hand, I stomp out of my bedroom across the hall to his. His baseball uniform and my softball uniform have the same color of socks, and today, we have to wear blue socks for the Home Run Derby fundraiser. He's always stealing my socks. One time last year, I didn't realize he had taken one of my socks until right before a game started, and I had to wear his giant sock for the entire game. My sock sat comfortably just above my midcalf, and his sock went uncomfortably to where my knee bent. Every time I squatted down, I could feel it rubbing the back of my lower thigh. I usually don't mind wearing his socks, which I do when I haven't done laundry in a while, but these socks are not socks I'm willing to share. I open his bedroom door and step over pairs of Crocs and Nikes in a jumbled half-circle around the doorway. I make my way through dirty clothes scattered all over the floor to the end of his bed, where a basket of wrinkled clean clothes sits beside an open bag of potato chips. Sifting through his wrinkled clothes, I shake out the T-shirts in an effort to rid them of wrinkles, but it doesn’t help much, so I settle for laying the shirts neatly on the end of the bed. I drape shorts and socks along the basket's rim, only to find that my sock isn’t there. "Leo?" I yell again. "Found it," he yells from downstairs. I run back to my room and double-check my softball bag to make sure I have my pants and shoes. I'm already wearing my blue and white Eagle Rock High softball jersey since we have to wear it all day for the fundraiser and then change into our full uniforms for the annual 19 Baseball vs. Softball Home Run Derby later tonight. I grab my name tag for Funland before I go downstairs. I get participation hours for helping with the fundraiser, a requirement for softball to play in the remaining games, and I get paid because I work at Funland. "Here's your sock," Leo says, wadding the sock into a ball and throwing it at my head as soon as I step into the kitchen. I snatch it from the air just before it hits my face. "Here," I say, flinging his sock toward his head with too much aggression and not enough precision. It falls short, fluttering down onto the kitchen counter. He swipes it from the countertop and shoves it in the front pocket of his baseball bag before zipping it back up. "Come on. We gotta go. I need to make a stop." "Where?" I grab a key lime yogurt from the fridge. "I gotta pick up a sponsorship poster," Leo smiles. While Leo drives, I eat my yogurt using the foil lid as a makeshift spoon because I forgot to bring one. I do my best not to let the foil scrape my teeth or lips because the metallic taste and feel in my mouth would ruin the limey goodness of the yogurt. "Why did you wait so long to get the poster?" I jab at him. "I didn't," He shakes his head. "When I went to pick it up, the sign was all messed up. Instead of Wheeler Farms, it said Heeler Farms. They’re not a dog farm, so it had to be reprinted. We need to stop by the Farmer's Market to pick it up from Izzy." Izzy's family owns Wheeler Farms. Leo informs me that she has to work at the farm’s booth at the Farmer's Market every Saturday. Izzy and I aren't really friends, but we've known each other since we moved back here in sixth grade, and we have taken a few classes together. "You look like a dog," Leo nods at me as I lick the insides of the yogurt cup. 20 "What's going on there?" I ask, examining the remaining contents of my yogurt. The lid can't adequately scrape the divet that outlines the bottom of the cup. "I feel like you and Izzy have been hanging out a lot lately." "Nothing is going on." When he says this, he doesn't look at me. That usually means he isn't telling me the whole story. "Really?" "You tell anyone else where you plan on going to school?" He snaps to get me to stop asking questions, and it works. "No," I say, looking out the passenger window. I hadn't told anyone except Leo that the second I stepped on The U campus, it felt like the right place. The only other people who knew were those in the university's admissions office, and they didn't know how significant it was that I had clicked that accept button all on my own. "You can’t put it off forever," he says. "I know," I mumble. "You’ve got to tell them. Own it. You're making it harder than it should be, and the longer you wait, the harder it will be to tell them." "I know," I snap at him. Leo shakes his head as he pulls into a parking spot at the farmers market. "I'll be back." I watch him jog towards the market, weaving between people with canvas bags with produce sticking out, and a family admiring the wind chime booth. 21 I have struggled with decision-making since my mom died five years ago. I had been the one who decided on the ice cream place. It was all the way across town, but we went anyway. The car accident wouldn't have happened if I hadn't picked that place, and we wouldn't have been there at that intersection. After nearly five years of therapy, I'd gotten better at making decisions and voicing my opinions, but my friends and family were used to me just going along with whatever they wanted. It’s easier to let others decide the little things for you, but now I’m struggling to tell my friends about the one decision I have made. I feel the knot building in my throat at the thought of telling Kyla what I’ve decided. It goes against the plans she thinks she's made for us. To distract myself, I examine my yogurt cup again and decide I'm up for the challenge of licking the cup completely clean. First, I finish licking all around the insides of the cup as far as my tongue can reach. I wipe away the yogurt I feel has glopped onto the side of my chin. Then I stick my nose into the cup to extricate the yogurt from the divot at the bottom of the cup. I pull the cup back from my face and assess my progress. I've cleaned out half of that pesky divet. I dive in for one final swipe when I look out the window and see Leo coming to the car. The banner rolled up and tucked under his arm, and he's not alone. A tall, lanky guy with light brown curly hair carrying a baseball bag and wearing the same Eagle Rock High baseball jersey as Leo is walking beside him, and they are both looking at me. I pull my chin from the cup, but it's too late. Leo is shaking his head with a mocking smile, and the other guy is squinting at me like he isn't sure what he is seeing. He looks familiar, and I think he started school here just this year, at the beginning of our senior year. Leo opens the trunk, and they walk around the back of the car to put away the new guy's bag. I flip the visor down to check my face in the mirror. I swipe the small line of light green 22 yogurt off the bridge of my nose just as Leo opens his door, slides behind the wheel, and says, "Woof, woof." "Shut up," I say as the other guy opens the back door and slides in behind me. I swipe my chin and cheeks, ensuring no yogurt clings to my face. I set the now mostly empty yogurt container in the cup holder and turn around. I give a small wave and say, "Hey. I'm Lily." "Hey," he nods at me. "Will." "You two don't know each other?" Leo says, turning the car on. "No," Will shakes his head. "Oh," Leo says, looking between us before backing the car up, "Will is Izzy's cousin and center fielder on the baseball team." As he drives out of the parking lot, he says, looking at Will through the rearview mirror, "Lily is my sister and plays third for the softball team." Then Leo glances at me from the corner of his eye and smiles, "She doesn't usually eat like a dog, but…" "Shut up," I say and flip him off, but I look out the front window as I feel my cheeks flush. "I got you something," he trails off and reaches into his pocket, and I think he’s going to flip me off, but I’m surprised as he pulls a spoon from his pocket and tosses it towards me. "But it looks like you don't need it anymore." "Thanks," I say, snagging the spoon from the air before it lands on my lap. I use the spoon to eat the rest of my yogurt. There is enough yogurt left for one-half spoonful, and it's clear the spoon isn’t as thorough as my tongue was at getting every last bit of yogurt. "How do you two not know each other?" Leo says, "Will and I have been hanging out all year." 23 "I've been busy," I shrug. This year has been crazy busy. Until softball season started in March, I worked weekends and three nights during the week as a CNA at Meadowbrook Nursing Home, in addition to school. When softball season started, I changed my availability to as-needed, so I wasn’t on the schedule, but they could call me if they needed shifts covered, and I could choose to work or not. I’d taken three shifts in the last eight weeks and wasn’t looking forward to working there fulltime in the summer. Last summer, before my senior year, I finished my CNA certification and worked at Funland. I started working at Funland again two weeks ago, but only on weekends for special events like the Homerun Derby. The park doesn’t officially open until Memorial Day, but in May, they allow organizations to host fundraisers using the facilities. JJ, the manager, had called me because they were short-handed for the animal shelter fundraiser, and then I worked last weekend for the Eagle Rock Museum fundraiser. There were far fewer people at the museum fundraiser than at the animal shelter fundraiser. Apparently, walking through a park full of cats, dogs, and rabbits who need money for their food, shelter, and medical needs is much more important to the people of Eagle Rock than funds for a new addition to the museum. When people came to Funland after walking through the adjacent park with the animals, they came with stickers of an adorable smiling dog, an orange tabby cat, or a bunny in mid-hop coming towards the camera, with the words thank you or come back and see me printed across the top. I made sure to get one of every sticker for Gabby and me before the end of the day. The people were usually smiling or accompanied by a crying child because they couldn’t take an animal home. 24 It wasn’t surprising to me that fewer people showed up to walk through tents full of paintings and mountain men artifacts. When people donated to the museum, they got a 3Dprinted arrowhead. While I’ve never found a fully intact Native American arrowhead, my dad has one that he found on a construction site that he keeps in his desk drawer. JJ told me that more people come to the animal shelter events, but the museum gets bigger donations. For the last three years, the museum has been raising funds to add a new wing that they claim will allow for bigger exhibits. It’s estimated that they should have enough funds raised by the end of the year to start construction on the new wing. This little Idaho city isn’t as cultured as some people want it to be, but it’s slowly changing. Too slowly, and that is just one reason I want out. Now I just have to tell my friends that’s what I’m doing. "Where are you stationed today?" I say to Leo as we get our bags out of the trunk. "I'm at the Derby all day, fielding balls or selling concessions. You?" "Funland Park," I tap my name badge, which I'd stuck on my jersey. "Until the Junior League Derby, I'll be fielding balls." "What about you, Will?" Leo says. Will glances at his phone and reads, "Funland Park and then Junior League Derby. "I guess we're on the same schedule," I nod at Will. "Let's go," I say, walking towards Funland. The Homerun Derby is the annual fundraiser for Eagle Rock High School's baseball and softball teams. All the players get sponsors. The sponsors pledge a lump sum or pledge to pay money based on how far a ball is hit or how many home runs are hit out of the field. All money spent at Funland Park, the adjacent arcade, the ice rink, the zoo, and concessions for the day goes to our programs. The local t-ball league, junior league baseball and softball teams, and all varsity 25 high school players get to participate in hitting at the Home Run Derby. It's a full-day event from 11 am to 7 pm. As a player for the high school team, you have to be here for at least four hours to be eligible to play in the upcoming district and, hopefully, the state tournament. Kyla, Taylor, Leo, and I have to make up for the extra time for missed practices earlier in the season. The entrance to Funland is a four-foot-wide sidewalk with tall chain-link fences on either side. Today, the fence is decorated with sponsor posters and blown-up pictures of past Eagle Rock High School softball and baseball teams. Funland Park is at the center of Fenbrough Park and Fields, and it's surrounded by a haphazard maze of baseball and softball fields where the two high schools and city rec leagues play. Funland Park only has five rides: a Ferris wheel, a kiddie train, kiddie planes, an octopus ride, a Merry-Go-Round, and an eighteen-hole mini-golf course. JJ, the manager, assigned me to work at the Ferris Wheel with a sophomore baseball player, Ben. Each ride has one official park employee and one person from the baseball or softball team. The extra person spends most of their shift opening the entrance and exit gates and checking seat belts, while the park employee controls the buttons and levers of the ride. Over the last two hours, the lines to all the rides have been steady. There has been little time to focus on much else, but when the Ferris Wheel seats are filled, and the ride is in full motion, no more starting and stopping, I look around. Across the small plaza, one of my best friends, Taylor, has been assigned to work the Merry-Go-Round with Will. They seem to be having fun together, always talking and laughing. I feel slightly jealous of the fun they seem to be having. I take a look at Ben, who is leaning with his back against the metal exit gate, his arms folded. We ran out of things to talk about 10 minutes into our shift. 26 I watch Taylor’s long blonde ponytail sway back and forth as she moves around the Merry-Go-Round, checking the seatbelts of each rider. Her posture is perfect from years of ballet, and she glides effortlessly from passenger to passenger. Every movement she makes is precise and intentional, just like her. Taylor doesn’t hesitate to make a decision or share her thoughts on anything. I watch her step off the ride and nod at Will as she hits the button to begin the automated announcement, and the ride begins. I pull my shoulders back and try to stand up a little bit straighter. I wonder if better posture makes you more confident. I follow Taylor’s eyes, and I watch the Merry-Go-Round slowly spinning and picking up speed. I like to pick a figurine on the ride and watch it go around out of sight, then try to find it again when it comes back around. I’m so focused on the white horse with its front legs in the air that I don’t notice Will until he’s right in front of me, on the other side of the Ferris Wheel’s small metal fence barrier. "Hey," I say, trying not to sound startled. "You want some water? I'm grabbing some for Taylor and me." "Yes, thank you," I say. Then turns to Ben, "Ben? Water?" Ben nods, bored of being here. Will gives me a slight smile before he turns to walk towards the concession stand. There are still two minutes before I start unloading the current riders. I glance at JJ, who is trying to talk to a dark-haired lady holding a squirming toddler on her hip. He sees me and raises his eyebrows. Then, he guides the woman and toddler towards me, waving and pointing in my direction. She follows his pointing and nods as they make their way towards the Ferris Wheel. 27 JJ jogs ahead of her and gets to me first. "Lily, you speak Spanish, right?" "Ahh, no," I whisper. I hate this question and assumption. I've found that most people I meet assume that I, Lilianna Reyes, with my name, dark hair, and eyes, must speak Spanish. Whenever I say no, I feel so guilty, like I don't live up to my name and looks. I know it's not my fault that my dad didn't teach me to speak Spanish. It's on other people for assuming that I do, but I still feel bad, especially when my ability to speak Spanish could make someone else's life easier. Because people usually only try to speak Spanish to me if someone needs help. "Oh," Says JJ. "I'm sorry, I thought you did?" I took three years of Spanish classes and can read it well enough, but I struggle to understand what people say as they speak. "I can try to help," I say. Just then, the woman approaches me, and I say, "Hola." The woman begins to speak too quickly. I caught something about a birthday party at two o'clock and the name of one of the park areas around here. I remember the day last year in Spanish class when we practiced asking and giving directions, but my mind is blank now. The only thing I can remember is my partner, Rosemary, waiting impatiently for me to give her directions to Taco Bell. "Um," I say to JJ. "She needs directions to Eagle Park." JJ nods. "Okay?" I turn to her, "Eagle Park, no lejos," And my mind is blank again. I pause for what feels like forever as the woman looks at me, waiting for directions. "That's all I've got." "Cuánto, lejos está?" 28 I shake my head. I know how far the park is. It's two blocks from here, but I don't know how to tell her that and give her directions. She is looking at me with so much patience. I shake my head. "Dos…I don't know. Lo síento, habla un poco de Español." "What’s going on?" Asks Will, handing me the water bottle and tossing the other to Ben. "We need to tell this woman how to get to Eagle Park. I think. But I don’t speak Spanish," I say with a sigh, just as the bell to slow the Ferris Wheel dings, so we can start unloading passengers. I glance over my shoulder at the ride's control stand, and JJ does the same. A beat later, JJ moves towards the ride and pulls the lever, slowing the ride. I watch him because I don't know how to help this woman. But then I hear someone talking in Spanish, and I turn to see that it's Will. "She needs to get to Eagle Park for a birthday party. "Will says to me. "Ahh. Where is Eagle Park?" "It's two blocks down this main road," I say, pointing to the road. Will looks away from me and back to the woman as he translates what I'm saying. "After two blocks, walk down the path on the right through the pine trees. There should be a small wooden sign near the road where the path begins that says Eagle Park. It's right behind the baseball field," I point in the direction of the field. Will translates and points to where I pointed. The woman turns to look where he is pointing, and then, I think, she repeats the directions. She says, "Gracias" to Will, then she turns to me and says, in an accent, "Goodbye," before she leaves. We watch the woman leave the park before I say, "Thanks for your help." "No problem," He shrugs and smiles, "See you around." 29 "Bye," I say, a twinge of guilt in my stomach because I couldn't help her. I watch Will walk back to the Ferris Wheel, and I'm more curious now about this new person I haven't seen all year. Besides a handful of family members and classmates, I don't know anyone my age who speaks two languages fluently. The click of the latch and clinking of the chain that locks the gate of a Ferris Wheel chair reminds me I have a job to do, so I walk over to take over for JJ. "I'm sorry about that, " JJ says, stopping the Ferris Wheel and opening the bucket door to let a mom and daughter off. "These are the last two to offload, " he waves to two girls, who look to be about 13, over to take their seats. "I shouldn't have assumed you spoke Spanish," He shakes his head, his face red, as he checks the lock of the chair. "It's okay. It happens to me more often than you think," I shrug. "Well, I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened. Thank you for trying to help." I nod, not wanting to talk about it anymore. He nods back and gives me an uncomfortable smile. Then, he walks over to the concessions booth, which has a much-too-long line for the two people running it. I watch him walk through the line, apologizing to people for the wait, and then he disappears through the side entrance and reappears at the window a moment later. My eyes wander to the Merry-Go-Round. I see Will circle around to the back, checking the riders' seatbelts, while Taylor checks the riders on the other side. "It’s so embarrassing when that happens," Ben says. I turn to look at him. "What?" I say. "When people think you speak a language that you don't." I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or sincere, so I look at him and say nothing. 30 "My Dad is Dutch. We went to Holland last summer, and complete strangers and even family members tried to speak to me in Dutch. I felt bad. Like I was a disappointment when I had to tell them I didn’t speak Dutch," he says. "Yeah, I know what you mean," I nod with a sigh, relieved and surprised he was being sincere. "But I've never had that happen here… in the States. Well, except for when my grandparents come to visit, they try to speak to me in Dutch," He clarifies. I nod and offer him a small smile because I don't know how to respond. As my Abuela has gotten older, she has started to use Spanish more than English, and I can’t really understand most of what she says now. He nods. "It's weird and uncomfortable," I finally say, "And a little confusing." He nods, "Did you know that like 60% of Europeans can speak at least one other language besides their native language? "I didn't know that," I say. "Do you want to learn Dutch?" He shrugs, "I don't know. I did after we came back from Holland, but when I didn't hear anyone speaking it, I lost motivation," he chuckles. "I don't think I made it past the second lesson on Duolingo." I laugh with him. I’ve thought about downloading Duolingo so many times. As I walk out of the double-wide trailer that is the Funland break room and office after changing into my uniform for the Derby, JJ calls to me from the manager’s office. 31 "Are you interested in working more than weekends this summer?" JJ asks as I step into the office door frame. The plan was to work four ten-hour shifts at Meadowbrook Nursing Home as a CNA and then work here on weekends, but I wasn’t looking forward to that much time at Meadowbrook. Working at Funland was so much more fun. Most people working here are in high school or college, and compared to working at Meadowbrook, it's less responsibility. People go to Funland because they want to be here, but at Meadowbrook, too many people didn't choose to be there, but were put there by their families. My dad wouldn’t like me working at Funland anymore because it wouldn’t help my future nursing career. "Maybe," I say, curious about a summer not spent working in the memory care ward at Meadowbrook, but one thing is for sure: I need to make and save money this summer. "How many hours could I work?" "About thirty to thirty-five hours a week." "I’ll think about it." I’m already trying to do the math. I make three more dollars an hour as a CNA, and I need to save at least fifteen hundred dollars for housing. I need to look at the spreadsheet I made last week. I think the budget spreadsheet we made in my financial literacy class last semester has been the most useful thing I’ve learned in school. "You don't have to decide now. Just message me if you want to work more hours in the summer," he smiles. "I’ll let you pick your shifts if you let me know sooner rather than later," he says, his smile fading. "Sorry about earlier." "Thanks," I say. "Have fun tonight, " he says, stepping aside so I can exit through the small office door. 32 "Thanks," It feels odd to thank him for apologizing for being judgmental and encouraging me at the same time. When I get to the field, Coach Davis, the baseball coach, is setting up the pitching machine on the pitcher's mound. Behind the home plate fence, Coach Harris, the softball coach, is standing in front of a group of kids, all seated cross-legged on the ground, listening as she goes over the rules and procedures of the Derby. Coach points to the visitor dugout, where I'm standing, holding my bag, scanning the field, looking for Kyla. When Coach sees me, she pauses and yells, "Reyes, go get Jones from right field." "Yes, Coach," I say, hanging my bag in the dugout. "Tell her she has ten minutes." "Yes, Coach." I grab my water bottle and look back at Coach to see if she has any other instructions. She isn't looking at me and has resumed giving instructions to the kids. Just before I turn back around, I see one little hand ease up just above everyone's head, the fingers wiggling at me. I wiggle my fingers back because even though I can't see her, I know it's Gabby, waving our special wave. Gabby was born when Leo and I were eight years old, and she and Tía Gloria have lived with us for the last six years, so she's more like a little sister than a niece. The wave started two years ago when she was in the chorus for her school play, and she was just staring wide-eyed at the audience, not singing or doing anything. I was sitting on the edge of the aisle and leaned my head into the aisle to get her attention. When she noticed me, her eyes widened, and it looked like she would cry. To distract her, I stuck out my tongue, placed my hand next to my temple, 33 and wiggled my fingers at her. She smiled and relaxed. Then I mouthed sing. Since then, whenever we see each other from far away and can't talk, we wiggle our fingers at each other. I find Kyla lying on her side, just outside the chalk line in the right field. Her softball bag is open beside her, and she uses her shin guards as a pillow. The chest protector is strategically balanced on the end of her shoulder to block out the sun while she sleeps. For as long as I've known Kyla, she has done this between games. Kyla has been my best friend since the sixth grade, when we sat next to each other in English class and had to interview each other on the first day. The teacher, Ms. Robison, sat us alphabetically by first name. After we left that class, we went to lunch together. I can still remember walking into the lunchroom and being shocked that we had three different options for lunch. I remember Kyla waving to Taylor in the pizza line before she said, "Let's go get pizza," and the three of us have been best friends ever since. I sit on the grass beside her and tap the chest protector to get her attention. It's how I always get her attention when she lies like this. "Yeah?" She says without moving. "Coach says you have ten minutes." Kyla exhales and then sits up next to me. "I think Coach is punishing me," she says. "For what?" "Every wrong thing I've ever done," she shakes her head. "Like what?" I laugh, "You're the best player on the team." "That pop fly I missed last year that would have ended the inning. I should have run you over to catch the ball." "That was my fault," I say. 34 "Oh, I know, but she's punishing me for it," she takes a deep breath. "I think she's punishing me for our road trip." Last month, Taylor, Kyla, and I took a college tour road trip to check out some colleges before we made any decisions about our futures. We planned it all out so we could drive to the farthest college, The U, about four hours away, and then hit up three other college campuses on the way back, and ended the day staying with Taylor's sister at ISU. Everyone liked the idea except my dad, who didn't like the thought of three girls traveling alone, so he made Leo go with us. We only missed two days of practice, but it was enough to require us to work a full day at the Derby. "All four of us have to be here all day," I point out. "Yeah, but none of you have been stuck with Coach. I've been Coach's errand girl all day. You know who set up all those signs?" She waves her hands at the field, exasperated. The field is dotted with signs with printed dollar amounts. The smaller amounts are closer to home plate, and the further from home plate the sign, the higher the dollar amount. The further a kid hits a ball, the more money they earn for the fundraiser. "You did?" "Yeah. It was me. While Coach sat on her bucket and told me to move a little to the left or two steps back," I laugh as she imitates Coach's no-nonsense tone. "And I was the batgirl. Passing the bat from one kid to the next wasn't that bad until…" She looks at me, one dark eyebrow raised, "I picked up the end of the bat, and it was sticky. How does the barrel of a bat get sticky?" "What?" I ask, confused. 35 "Yeah, sticky. It was like it had jam or honey on it or something," she shakes her head and puts her palms on her temples. "I don't want to think about it anymore because it could be something much grosser than jam or honey." "How does –?" I was about to ask how jam or honey gets on a bat, but Coach interrupted me. "Jones. Reyes. Let's go," Coach yells from home plate. Kyla and I jump up. She shoves her gear in the bag, and I help her zip it up before we run to home plate. Leo, Will, and a handful of other softball and baseball players are at home plate, waiting with Coach. As soon as we are there, Coach rattles off instructions. "Cooper, Fisher, Koets, O'Reilly, Reyes, Reyes, Rodrigez, and Tolley. You are in the outfield fielding balls as they are hit. Fisher will be on the left field line and O'Riley on the right field line. Throw all the balls to one of them. Now, you have five minutes to get to the outfield and warm up. Any questions?" When Coach is met with silence, she nods in the direction of the outfield, dismissing us. I'm the only one who didn't bring my glove to the huddle, so I go to the dugout to get my glove while everyone else runs to the outfield. I'm rummaging through my bag when I hear coach behind me. "Reyes," she calls just as I find my glove. I grab it and stand to look at her. "For every ball you don't call today, it's four laps around the field after practice on Monday. I need to hear you calling it from right here. Got it?" "Yes, Coach," I nod. Four laps is a mile. 36 I've never been great at calling and catching fly balls, and she issued the same challenge to me last year during the Home Run Derby. Last year, I ran four miles at the practice after the Derby. It was harder for me to make decisions and commit to them this time last year, but I think I’ve gotten better at making decisions, for the most part. This year, there had only been one time this entire season that I didn't call the ball, and Taylor and I ran into each other, and it almost cost us a spot in districts. I have no problem committing to catching the ball now. I just have to be willing to call it so everyone knows I've got it. I purposely go to far right field because fewer balls will be hit in that direction. After one batter hits three of their five hits into left field, Coach yells at me to move to left center, where the majority of the hits that make it to the outfield will go. After my move to left field, six of the ten junior league players hit balls in my direction. I call and catch every single one of them. Gabby hits one ball to the outfield, and it goes straight to Leo, who is on my right. Leo and I cheer for her, and hear Tía Gloria cheering for her from the stands. As the baseball coach raises the speed of the pitching machine for the JV baseball and softball teams to hit, I begin to feel nervous. The high school players will hit most of the balls to the outfield, and the fielders will have to catch the balls and throw them to the side in less than ten seconds before the next ball is hit. In the next round, I call and catch seven balls and barely miss the eighth. The ball is farther back than I think, and it tips off my glove, hits the ground, and rolls to the fence. I run to scoop it. I called the ball but failed to catch it, and I hope that doesn’t count toward how far I have to run on Monday. I throw the ball to Fisher on the sidelines just as I hear the crack of the bat. 37 "Lil ball," I hear Leo yell as he runs towards me, but he isn't looking at me. His head is angled up, watching the ball. I search the sky where he is looking, and I struggle to find it. I take two quick steps forward, and I see it. It's coming right at me. "Oh," I mutter. It's so close, too close. "Got –" But it's too late. Someone else yells, "Got it, " and I turn my head and see Will launch himself into the air to catch the ball. I called it too late, and there is no way he sees me because his eyes are where they are supposed to be, on the ball. First, his glove grazes my forehead. Then I'm shoved sideways as his body hurls itself into mine. I land on my side, my gloved hand still outstretched. The wind knocks out of me as I hit the ground, and I see Will's arms outstretched like Superman as he lands on his chest, inches from my face. I hear a "humph" come from him as the air is knocked from his lungs. This isn't the first time I've been knocked to the ground because I waited too long to call the ball. This has happened enough that I know to wait calmly through what seems like forever, even though it's probably only five seconds before my lungs relax and I can breathe again. I can already tell it isn’t going to be the most painful time, either. My collision with Kyla last summer knocked the wind out of me, but also left my legs bruised from her catcher’s gear. When I finally inhale, I hear a gasp from Will, catching his breath.. I hope this is the last time this happens to me. "You two okay?" Asks Leo, picking the ball up and throwing it to the sideline. I sit up and nod. I turn to Will, who sits up and does the same. "Sorry," I say. "Are you alright?" He asks, taking a deep breath, "I didn’t see you. I’m sorry." I nod. Still trying to catch my breath. 38 "Reyes, you bleeding?" Coach Harris yells from the third baseline. "No." "Rodriguez, you good?" Coach Davis yells from the pitcher's mound. He already has the next ball in hand, ready to feed the next pitch into the machine. "Then get up," Coach Harris yells. Coach hates wasting time. The only injuries she has patience for are head injuries and blood. Will and I jump to our feet, and a second later, I hear the crack of the bat. The ball goes to right field. I look at Coach Harris. She holds up two fingers, so I know I’m running two miles at practice on Monday. 39 Chapter 2 I ignore the call from Meadowbrook and let it go to voicemail. I don’t feel like picking up a shift to work tomorrow. With one week until graduation, I have one more final to submit tomorrow night, and I have to tell Kyla and Taylor about school tonight. Last week, the morning after the Homerun Derby, I was cleaning my room and vacuuming the hallway outside my bedroom when my Grandma called. I turned the vacuum off and left it in the hallway in front of Leo’s door. My mom’s parents live in Arizona, and my grandma was calling to talk about the graduation party and how long they would be here. I ended up talking to her for almost an hour, and when I got off the phone, I started doing homework. I forgot I had even been vacuuming until I was two paragraphs into writing my final for my English class, and I heard Leo grumble from the hallway. "I know my room is a mess. You don’t have to leave the vacuum here to tell me to clean it up." It took me a few seconds to pull myself from my paper, and when I looked up from my computer, Leo was standing in the middle of my room. He was covered in dust, and flecks of grass were stuck on his clothes from mowing the lawn for the last two hours. "What—no, don’t do it," I said quickly. "I just vacuumed." But it was too late. He was already lowering himself to his stomach to lie on the floor. "Go lie in your room." "There’s no room in my room to lie down." "Your bed." "I’m too dirty for that." "Then clean your room." 40 "If you help me, I’ll clean it right now." He smiled as if this were a great opportunity for me. I shake my head. "Homework," I say, pointing to my computer. "Please," he lifts his head to look at me. "No." Please?" "No." He gets on his knees and clasps his hands. "Please, help me clean my room." "No. Grandma and Grandpa will be here Wednesday for the party, so you need to have it clean by then." He shrugs, "I’ll clean it next weekend." Without thinking about it, I laugh. "What? You don’t think I will?" "No, you are such a procrastinator when it comes to cleaning. You’ll probably be up all night Tuesday cleaning." He smiles, then stands up, takes two steps toward me, and stands near the edge of my bed. "Don’t sit," I plead. I set my laptop down, so I’m ready to push him off if he tries. I’m not someone who likes to have everything neat and tidy all the time, but I’m very particular about dirty clothes not being on my bed. I never lay on it wearing my softball uniform after a game or if I’m wearing my scrubs after working a long shift at Meadowbrook. No matter how tired I am, the thought of collapsing on my bed in dirty clothes gives me the chills. 41 "Let’s make a bet," his smile widens. "I bet I clean my room before you tell Kyla and Taylor your college plans." "So I have until next Tuesday to tell them?" I smile. "What’s the wager?" Bets and dares are how Leo and I frequently negotiate chores and other responsibilities, such as cleaning, who is making dinner, and who gets first dibs on the car we have to share when Dad isn’t traveling for work. When he is out of town, one of us gets to drive his truck. We’ve been so busy the last couple of months that we haven’t made any bets recently. "If you don’t tell them by next Saturday, you'll spend Sunday cleaning my room all by yourself." "And if I tell them by Saturday?" "I’ll help you clean my room." "No, I get nothing from that," I shake my head. "If I tell them by Saturday, I get the car for the summer." He shakes his head. "That’s too much. You can have two weeks." Two weeks means I can drive the car to work and to friends’ houses, and don’t have to ask anyone for rides. "Two weeks in July," I say too quickly. He notices how quickly I respond. His furrowed eyebrows suggest he’s trying to figure out why I said July. Last night, when we Facetimed with Dad, Leo was texting and not paying attention. Dad told us he would be working from home for all of July and August, so we would be sharing the car for most of the summer. 42 "Final offer," he says. "You don’t tell them by Saturday, and you clean my room on Sunday all by yourself. If you do tell them, you get the car for all of July if you help me clean my room on Sunday. If you don’t help me clean, you only get the car for two weeks." He rarely ups an offer like that. "Are you that desperate for help with your room?" He nods, and his eyes go wide as he nods, "You haven’t seen my closet." "Deal," I say, raising up my knuckle for our seal-the-deal knucks. Mom used to make us hug or give knucks to each other when we had to apologize to each other when we were little. "Deal," He says, tapping his knuckles against mine. Now, it was Saturday, and I had six hours to tell them. I wasn’t worried about telling Taylor. She already had plans to live with her sister at ISU in the fall. It was Kyla I was worried about. For a year, she’d been making these hypothetical plans that we would go to school together and be roommates, and after we visited schools two months ago. Her plans for us to go to CSI two hours away started to sound less hypothetical and more real, even though I kept telling her I didn’t know what school I wanted to go to. Kyla would be here in an hour, and then we would go to a bonfire at Brody’s house. I didn’t want to tell her before the bonfire, or that could make for an awkward night, but telling her after didn’t give me much time. The party could even go later than midnight. I was overthinking this. Telling Kyla I was going to the U in the fall would take me less than five seconds to say, but the way I’ve been thinking and planning for this is like I’ve been planning an hour-long speech. I’ve thought of all her possible reactions and rehearsed what I might say to her in each scenario. "Are you sure your Tia won’t mind?" Kyla says, for the third time. "Yes. She has no problem with me borrowing her clothes." 43 As long as I ask her first, I don’t tell Kyla this. Kyla runs her hand along the bottom of the red ribbed crop top she is wearing and then looks at me. "I really like this top, but – " Kyla’s family owns and boards horses, but at school, Kyla doesn’t fit the stereotypical image of a cowgirl with her long, dark curly hair and wide-legged jeans. But at home, her closet is mostly full of cowboy boots, t-shirts, flannels, and boot-cut jeans. Gloria’s red crop top accentuates her long torso and makes her 5 '8 frame look even taller than she is, and her widelegged pants make her look less like my friend who spends her weekends riding horses. Looking at her image in the mirror as she tugs on the bottom of the shirt, I can’t tell if she is selfconscious about showing more skin than normal or if she really is hesitant to borrow the top from Gloria. "Stop. I borrow her clothes all the time." I went and got the top for Kyla because I knew she would like it, and I hoped it would help soften the blow when I told her about the U. "If something happens to the top. I’ll tell her it was my fault," but I can tell she still isn’t sure about the top. I know Tia Gloria knows, and I suspect Kyla knows Gloria knows that I don’t wear crop tops. I think crop tops are cute, especially the one Kyla is wearing tonight, but I don’t like to show my stomach. Except for in the months of December and January, when my tan has mostly faded, it is significantly lighter in color than my arms, legs, and face, which regularly see the sun. Crop tops show the zebra stripes created by my tan lines. I reach into my closet and pull out a zip-up hoodie. "Here, wear this over it." 44 I toss the jacket to her just as we hear footsteps and chattering downstairs. Then Gabby shouts, "Lily. Lily." Seconds later, I hear her bounding up the stairs. Then she is in my bedroom, holding a new gray and black softball glove out to me. "Look," she waves the glove at me. I got a new glove." She smiles at me as I take it from her and smell the new leather. The smell of the leather always reminds me of my dad. When we were seven, he bought Leo and me a new glove after we had just moved from Florida to Texas. I remember my dad showing us how to put the conditioner on the glove. I think Leo’s favorite part was when we went outside, and each got to take a mallet to our gloves to help loosen the leather. But for me, the best part was when my dad brought out a bucket of bright yellow softballs. Up until that point, I’d been playing baseball with Leo and the boys. I was nervous about starting to play softball with the girls, but I was excited to play on my own team and not feel like I was accepted on the team because I was Leo's sister. While my dad showed Leo how to wrap a baseball in his glove to help shape it, I followed along, placing a new softball in my glove. Then, I wrapped the glove as tightly as I could around the ball while my dad secured the bungee cord. That night, I slept with my new glove. In the morning, I woke up with a stitch line that went from my eye to my ear. I still have the glove. It’s in a box on the top shelf of my closet, along with my favorite blanket from when I was little and some photo albums my grandma gave me before she and my grandpa moved. The albums are full of pictures of my mom as a kid and a teenager. I used to look at them all the time after she died, but it's been a while since I pulled them down. 45 "Can we put the stuff on it?" She says, "The lotion stuff, you and Leo put on your new gloves last summer." Last summer, my dad gave Leo and me new gloves. I let Gabby help me prepare my glove. We broke it in well enough, but I’ve only used it a handful of times while my dad was at a game because I loved my old glove. I received it for my twelfth birthday. It was as flat as a pancake and had little cushioning left in the pocket, but it had my name written along the pinky in my mom’s handwriting. In the intense moments when I missed a pop fly, overthrew to first, or the game was on the line, it was comforting to see it there; and in the moments when I caught the line drive or made the perfect throw, she was there to congratulate me. "Yes," I tell her as I hand the glove back to her. "We’ll do it tomorrow." "Hey, you ready to go?" Leo says, popping his head into my room. "Yeah, " I nod. "Leo, look," Gabby says, skipping towards the door to show off her glove. "Nice," he says and widens his eyes. "Can I see?" Gabby nods and hands it to him. He tries to put it on, but it’s obviously too small. "I can work with this," he smiles. "It’s mine now." Then he disappears from the doorway, and I hear him run down the stairs. Gabby runs behind him and yells, "Come back!" Then I heard Gloria say, "Leo, can you go get the rest of the groceries from the car?" "Put that sweater on before we go downstairs," I tell Kyla as I grab a sweater for myself. "I think Gloria is in the kitchen." 46 Kyla nods, her expression still unsure about wearing the shirt as she puts the sweater on. Gloria can be difficult to get past, but when it comes to her clothes, she has always been willing to share as long as I ask her. I walk into the kitchen before Kyla, who slides into a chair to hide the shirt. "Hey," says Gloria, smiling at me. "What are your plans tonight?" "Bonfire," I say. "Fun," she nods. "Did you talk to your Grandma?" "Yeah, they will be at my Uncle Ryan’s tomorrow. Then, they will drive down on Wednesday morning for the party and stay overnight for the graduation." My Uncle Ryan is my mom’s brother. He has one daughter, but she lives in Montana with her mom, so he doesn’t see her often. My Uncle is what some might call a ski bum. He works from home for some tech company and spends half the year hiking and rock climbing, and the other half working for the ski patrol in Jackson. We don’t see him very much because he likes to travel so much for skiing. Last summer, Leo and I got a postcard of snow-capped mountains in New South Wales, Australia. I didn’t even realize that it snowed in Australia. "They are getting a hotel, right?" says Gloria, her eyes wide with worry. "Yeah," I say as Leo and Gabby walk into the kitchen from the garage, each with an arm full of groceries. I look at Leo, and he has placed Gabby’s glove on top of his head like a hat. Gabby clumsily sets the grocery bags on the counter, causing three oranges to roll out across the surface. "Leo, give me my glove back," she whines. 47 "Careful," says Gloria, lunging at the counter to use her body to stop the oranges from rolling off the counter. Leo sets the groceries on the counter and then tips his head so that the glove slides off his head and into Gabby’s waiting arms. She smiles and walks over to the table to show Kyla her glove. Leo, Gloria, and I work quietly, putting the groceries away while Gabby chatters about the glove and school. I’m not really listening until I hear Gabby say, "That’s a cute shirt. My mom has one just like it." I turn from the pantry and see Kyla with an uneasy smile. She is looking at Gloria, who is looking at me. "Hey Tía, can Kyla borrow your shirt for tonight?" Gloria’s brows furrow as she looks from me to Kyla. Gloria is ten years older than Leo and I, but she looks like she’s twenty-two. She works as a paralegal and is dressed in her work clothes, a black button-up, and a grey pencil skirt. She is striking and, as Kyla would say, "Intimidating as hell." Gloria had planned to go to law school, but her plans changed when she got pregnant during her senior year of high school. It took her six years, but she eventually got her bachelor's degree. A couple of months ago, I saw an LSAT book downstairs. When I asked her about it, she told me she was curious about how she would do on the test. After that, I began to notice that at night, when I got home and Gabby was in bed, she had the large white LSAT book in front of her, studying. There have been nights that I go to bed, and she would still be studying, and then when I wake up in the morning, she would already be awake. Sometimes, I wonder if she sleeps. "Yeah, that’s fine," she says to Kyla, and then she turns to me and whispers, "Thanks for asking. First." 48 Gloria is my aunt, and she has practically raised Leo and me, but sometimes, with remarks like that, it’s like I’m the annoying younger sister and not the niece. 49 Chapter 3 Every year, the weekend before graduation, someone hosts a party for the softball and baseball players. This year, Brody Johnson is hosting it, and he lives out in the middle of nowhere, which is what some people like for parties. Brody’s dad is a farmer, so they have acres of land, and the Snake River runs through the back part of the land, which is where the party is located. Tonight, Leo is driving us in our dad’s truck to get to the bonfire because we have to go on some bumpy dirt roads to get there. We follow someone driving a UTV down a back road as I pay attention to any significant landmarks like trees or broken fences. I usually end up being the designated driver, and half the roads we take to get here aren’t on Google Maps. When we get there, a dozen cars form a large semicircle around a small, very old barn and a bonfire. Faint lights come through the barn's open door while a bonfire crackles and pops, lighting the area in front of it. We grab some chairs and a large blanket from the back of the truck and walk towards the fire. A Zach Bryan song is playing from a speaker at the end of a wooden bench while people stand around talking. We walk by a group of guys with red cups in their hands. They are talking about the height of the fire, and one guy is trying to convince someone to jump over it. "Hey," Leo says, holding his hand in the air as Brody extends his hand to him. They do that weird, loud, double-clap handshake greeting. Gloria described it once as an obnoxious reinvention of the high five that has been turned into a greeting to announce that someone new has arrived. And it’s true when Leo and Brody clap their hands together, and multiple people turn towards us and yell a greeting in our direction. 50 "Welcome to tonight’s festivities," Brody says, looking at Kyla and me. "Beverages and food are in the barn," he pauses and looks behind us. "Um, do you know if Taylor is here yet?" He says. "No," Kyla says, "I think she’s going to be here later." Brody nods and rocks back and forth on his heels. "I’ll see you around," He says and walks away. "Well, I feel special now. Don’t you?" Kyla says, shaking her head. "So special," I say. Of the three of us, Taylor was the most social, especially when it came to guys. In the last couple of weeks, she had been hanging out more with Brody. At least, I think that’s why I heard less from her. Brody was in a couple of Snaps she sent me last weekend. Kyla was more social and enjoyed large group gatherings, while I preferred being with a small group of close friends. Over the last two years, I’d managed to get out of most parties claiming to have work or homework, but most of the time, I’d volunteered to watch Gabby while Gloria went out. Gabby and I would spend our nights playing games, eating ice cream, and watching movies. I would prefer to be home tonight, but I’d promised Kyla I’d participate in all senior year high school experiences, including tonight. Besides the senior all-nighter, the night of graduation, this should be one of the last high school parties I have to go to. I feel a twinge of nostalgia, then sadness, but my desire to be somewhere else and the excitement of knowing that three months from now, I will be two hundred miles away pushes the sadness out and leaves nostalgia not for my classmates but for my mom and how she made Idaho feel like home. Kyla and I sit on the chairs near Olivia and Emma, two seniors on the softball team. Emma is talking about how excited she is about going to Boise State in the fall. We have all been 51 playing together since seventh grade, but we don’t usually hang out any other time except during softball season. This place seems familiar. I look out across the wheat fields to try to find a familiar landmark because even though I’ve never been here before, the barn looks familiar. It’s so small that some people would call it a shed, but I can’t figure out why. I stand up to go look at it from another angle when Olivia turns to me and asks, "What are your plans, Lily?" Based on the context of the conversation, I know she means plans for the summer or college. I look at Kyla, who has raised her eyebrows because I know she is curious about what I might say. "I’m going to go check out the barn," I say and walk away. I think I hear Olivia respond with a surprised, "Oh," but I don’t turn around to look. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Kyla shaking her head. I take a quick look inside the barn. A battery-powered lantern hangs from a nail in a rafter that supports a small loft. Jade Hendricks and Luke Whitehead sit with their feet dangling over the edge of the loft, a skylight above their heads. Jade waves at me, and I wave back. Jade and I took all our CNA classes together during our sophomore and junior years, and we started working together at Meadowbrook around the same time last summer. Besides Kyla and Taylor, Jade is one of my closest friends. She moved here in eighth grade, and we met in our science class, where we bonded over our shared love for science, softball, and what it was like to be the new person in school. She used to hang out with Kyla, Taylor, and me until she joined the cheerleading team our sophomore year, and she got a whole lot busier. If it hadn’t been for the CNA classes and Meadowbrook, she and I probably would have lost track of each other, but we managed to stay friends. We aren’t as close as we once were, but she is someone I will miss. 52 A long white table stands in the middle of the barn floor. Leo and a small group of baseball players stand around the table, drinking energy drinks and beer. The barn is so small that it could only accommodate one or two more people before it would be filled to capacity. Leo sees me, pulls a long can from his sweater pocket, and waves it at me. I shake my head because I don’t like energy drinks. "It’s water," he says. He reaches across the table, and I take it. It’s one of those sparkling water drinks that looks like an energy drink. "Thanks," I say and take it from him. I walk around the barn, looking at the small structure and out across the fields, trying to find anything that looks familiar. I’m looking across the canal at a grove of trees when Kyla comes up to me. "So, how’s the barn? Did you find anything special?" I can hear the sarcasm in her voice. "Yeah, it has a skylight above the loft. I’ve never seen a barn with a skylight before." "Ha. Me neither." We stand looking into the moonlit farmland. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, but I know she’s waiting to see if I will answer Olivia’s question. Kyla has always been so patient when it comes to my decision-making. Taylor lacks the patience to give me time to decide or give an opinion. I rarely get to pick where we go to lunch because it would take me too long to decide, and by the time I decide, the only option left is to go to my house or to stay at school. Taylor would get so annoyed with me because when we would leave school for lunch, there were only three options that were close enough: my house, 53 Wendy’s, and Burger King, but the decision of where we were going had to be made before exiting the school parking lot. You either had to turn right for my house, go straight for Wendy’s, or turn left for Burger King. If we chose Wendy’s or Burger King, every second counted. Lunch was thirty minutes long, and it was a twelve-minute drive to each one. We usually had to go through the drive-through and eat our food on the drive back in order to make it back to class on time. To make a decision like that, I needed time. The only time I got to decide where we went to lunch was when Kyla would tell me an hour or two before, and tell me to pick where we should go. I usually chose my house or Burger King. To get to Wendy’s, we had to cross a major highway, and there have been so many car accidents there that I do whatever I can to avoid it.. Friendships are often defined by the things you do for each other, like giving me a warning about an upcoming decision, but friendships are also defined by the things you don’t have to do. After my mom died, Kyla never asked me how I was doing. She just had to see my face or hear my voice to know if I was having a good or bad day. In the year after my mom died, she slept over at my house almost every weekend. She didn’t ask to sleep over, and I didn’t ask her. At that point, I couldn’t ask or suggest anything like that for fear that something bad would happen. She would show up around eight or nine o’clock with a backpack and stay the night. All through high school, she would suggest things to do or eat and wait patiently for my input. She seemed to know what days I was capable of comfortably coming to a decision and days when decisions would cause anxiety. "Where are you going to college, Lily?" She says. I take a deep breath. "The U." She looks at me, surprised. "Wait. What? You're going to The U this year?" 54 Kyla had accepted a scholarship to CSI just before I had made the decision to go to The U. You said you thought it would be fun to go to CSI together for two years, and then you would transfer to The U. "I said I would think about it," I thought about it, and I realized I didn’t want to go to CSI. "Yeah. You always say you’ll think about it, and then you go along with whatever I do. We even looked at apartments last week online, and you were like, ‘Oh, that’s cute.’" "I’m sorry. I thought you just wanted my opinion for some reason." "When did you decide this?" "Last month." "Last month," she spits the words at me like they burned her mouth. " You finally made a decision, and it took you a month to tell me about it?" "Yeah, I decided a week after you decided to go to CSI." "Why did you wait so long to tell me?" She steps away and swipes at her cheek. I can’t see the tears in the dark, but I know she’s crying. I’m on the edge of tears, my anxiety rising because her reaction is not a scenario I planned for. I didn’t expect her to be angry with me like this. She hardly ever gets angry. "I don’t know. I was scared to say it out loud and make it official." "How could you not tell me?" She folds her arms. "You made a really big decision that affects both of us. What if I had wanted to go to another school, and I chose CSI because of you?" 55 "Did you?" Did she? I knew Kyla had received query letters from multiple colleges for softball, but she said she wanted to stay close to home. "I had other options." "Where?" She inhales a staggering breath. "Do you remember when my mom and I went to Boise to visit my Aunt, and I told you we toured BSU while we were there?" I nod my head. "Yeah." "We didn’t just visit my Aunt. The coach of BSU invited me to tour their campus and facilities. The catcher they recruited from our graduating class shattered her pelvis and broke her ankle in a car crash, so they had an opening on their roster." "What? Really?" "They offered me a partial scholarship." "You got a scholarship to a Division 1 school? That’s amazing," I step towards her, but she steps away. "I know." I don’t want to ask why because I’m afraid of her answer. "Why did you turn it down?" "The remaining tuition was too much money, and I wanted to be close to home, and you said you were thinking about going to CSI, so I thought that meant you were going to CSI. And you said it would be fun to live together. " "So you turned down BSU for me?" "No, but you were a small part of the decision." "Why didn’t you tell me?" "Because I knew you would think I was crazy for turning down a D1 scholarship." 56 She was right. I did think she was crazy for turning down that scholarship. "Lily, I like being close to home. I want to come home on weekends and see my family. I know you want to leave, but I don’t. I was hoping CSI was far enough for you, but close enough for me." "I’m sorry." We’re quiet for a second. The crickets are so loud I can barely hear the chattering of people on the other side of the barn by the fire. "Did you know I thought you were going to CSI?" She says. "No. I thought you were just excited and wanted to share your plans with me. I really did think about going there, but The U is where my mom went, and it just felt like the right place when we visited it, and I got a partial scholarship." She looks at me, and I can see a look of betrayal on her face. "That means you knew where you wanted to go in March, not just last month." "Yeah, I guess so," I hadn’t even realized this until I’d said it out loud. Kyla shakes her head. "And all you told me was that you thought it would be nice to go to the school where your mom went to school," she sighs. "For years, I’ve helped you make so many little decisions, but now, when you make one of the biggest decisions of your life, you don’t even include me," – she swipes at both her cheeks – "Worst of all, you let me think we were going to go to college together." "I’m sorry," I don’t know what else to say, but I know she’s right. Most of the time, I just follow Kyla's lead, but not this time. I hadn’t bothered to tell her that I was making my own plans. "I gotta go," She turns to leave. 57 "Wait," I jump in front of her. "We can figure this out." "I’m not doing this now. Maybe you can figure it out without me. You obviously don’t care about what I do." Her words stab me through the dark as she walks away. I lean against the barn, trying to hold back tears. I feel my phone buzz. It’s a text from Taylor. I’m taking Kyla home????? Talk to u when I get back. I don’t respond to her message. I just slide down the side of the barn and let the tears roll down my cheeks. Half an hour later, Taylor finds me on the side of the barn, and I tell her my side of what happened. "Are you mad at me?" I say. "No, this isn’t my fight. I think you both made stupid assumptions." Taylor has always been good at not taking sides. She doesn’t hesitate to call you out for doing something stupid, but she also doesn’t hold it against you. I nod and lean my head against Taylor’s shoulder. We don’t say anything for a minute. The crickets have quieted, and I notice the sound of running water from the river. I close my eyes and lean my head against the barn, and try to focus on water. "I think it will be up to you to make this right." "Got any ideas?" "Nope, but I’ll think about it." "Thanks," I say, hugging my knees to my chest. 58 I hear the sound of laughter coming from the bonfire. "Are you ready to go back to the party?" "No, my eyes are probably puffy from crying," I touch my cheeks, which are warm and damp from tears. "Can you take me home?" "No. I’m not leaving again until I’m ready to go home." I texted Leo just before Taylor arrived, but either he was somewhere without service, or he was ignoring me. "Just don’t sit too close to the fire, and no one will be able to see your face." I let Taylor drag me to the part and sit me down in a camp chair. The fire has died down a bit, and Taylor cozies up next to Brody on the log next to my chair. There aren’t as many people here now, and I look around the fire, trying to find Leo. The only way I’m getting home soon is to find Leo and make him feel sorry enough for me to want to leave. I can’t see him, but I can still see the truck parked at the end of the field, so I know he didn’t leave me. I pull out my phone to text him, but there isn’t any service right there. Holding my phone above my head, I try different directions, but nothing works. I could walk around to find a signal, but Leo hasn’t responded to my previous messages anyway. He probably isn’t going to respond now. Instead, I stare into the flames and start to replay the events of the night, but I feel my throat tighten, and I don’t want to cry here. I try to distract myself by listening to Jade, Olivia, and three of the boys from the baseball team share their plans for the summer and the future. That doesn’t ease the tightening in my throat. I pull my phone out to text Kyla, only to be reminded of the lack of cell service. 59 On the other side of the fire, I hear Will ask, "What is there to do around here in the summer anyway?" "Man, who moves their kid somewhere new their senior year?" Peyton says, slurring his words. I watch between the flames as Will leans back in his chair, looks into the fire, and says, "Yeah." It’s too late when I realize I’ve been watching Will watch the fire long enough for him to feel me looking at him, and he locks eyes with me. He smiles at me before he stands and walks over to sit in the chair next to me. "Hey." "Hey," I say back, not taking my eyes off the fire. Will leans towards me like he’s going to say something, but Brody jumps up and yells, "She’s in. Taylor’s in. That means you’re in, too. Right, Lily?" "In for what?" I ask, looking at Taylor. "Slow Pitch co-ed softball." Next to me, Olivia lets out a snort, "Are you serious?" "Hell, yeah," Says Brody, flexing his arms like The Hulk. "My dad plays in those softball leagues. Some of those old guys take it way too seriously," says Olivia "Yeah, but we’re doing coed, so it shouldn’t be as bad. And it would be fun to kick those old dude’s asses. So you’re in too, right, Olivia?" "When is it?" Asks Olivia, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "It starts in two weeks and goes through the second week of July." 60 "Yeah, I’m in," Olivia says and looks at me, waiting for my response. I look between Olivia and Taylor. Taylor gives me a nod of encouragement. "Sure?" I say, putting no effort into sounding happy about it. "Is Kyla in?" Says Brody. I shake my head, and Taylor says, "No. She’s working in Wyoming for all of June and July." "We need another girl. There has to be at least four girls on the field at all times." "Are there any other seniors on the softball team?" Says Brody. "No," says Olivia. "I’ll play," Says Jade. "Oh, yeah, I forgot you used to play. You’d actually be on the field, not just cheering us on," says Brody, laughing to himself. "That won’t be a problem," says Jade. Jade was really good. She only quit because she couldn’t do cheer and softball and have time to meet all the requirements for CNA certification. "Leo, are you in for co-ed softball this summer?" Brody says, looking over my head. I turn around and see Leo standing directly behind me. "Yeah, I’m in," Leo says. Brody claps his hands, shattering the silence of the night. I jump because I’m so focused on trying to figure out where Leo has been for the last two hours. "It’s 12:27. Did you tell them?" Leo says, leaning down. "Yep," I say, avoiding his eyes because if I make eye contact, I will probably start crying. "When?" 61 "Like two hours ago," My voice quivers as I say this. "You okay?" I nod. I want to ask if we can go home, but I know my voice will be unsteady when I speak. "You still want the car?" I nod. "We start at ten am tomorrow." I nod and whisper, "Can you take me home?" I can feel myself weakening at the thought of going home. The knot was building in my throat. It’s ready to be let loose as soon as I’m in the car. "I'm going to take Izzy home. I’ll be back in fifteen… thirty minutes to get you." "I’ll just come with you." I don’t mind crying in the backseat, and lying down sounds nice right now. I stand and swipe a tear from my cheek. I don’t think Leo notices this, or he ignores it and says, "I’ll be back for you in a bit." "No," I say. Trying to stifle a sob. Leo notices this and leans towards me. I avoid his eyes as he examines my face. "Ok, I’ll take you home." "I’ll take Izzy home," Will says, standing up. "She’s at my truck," Leo says, walking towards the few remaining vehicles. Leo gets to the truck first. He walks to the passenger side, where Izzy is standing with the door partially open. Leo says something to her. She closes the door, and Leo walks her to a sideby-side two cars away from us. 62 When I approach the truck, Will takes two quick steps in front of me and opens the passenger door. I can’t bring myself to say anything because I know I’ll cry from this unexpected kindness. I climb into the truck and mutter, "Thanks." "I hope you feel better," Will says before he closes the door. I watch him walk around the front of the truck, and as soon as he’s out of sight, I crawl into the backseat, lie down, and close my eyes, and I feel the tears slide out of the corner of my eyes as we drive. Leo doesn’t say anything as he drives us home. I open my eyes and sit up when I begin to feel the familiar bumps and turns of being almost home. The road I live on is about a mile long, with houses on each side, and is surrounded by empty fields. It's the last single neighborhood before you start to pass newer subdivisions, and you get closer to the little city of Eagle Rock. The road was supposed to be phase one of a subdivision, but for some reason, they stopped building, and there are five short roads connected to the main road where the asphalt abruptly ends and the road turns to dirt. There are no cul-desacs, just roads that end or lead to empty fields. I feel like that happens often here. People make plans, and then they abruptly stop or change them for smaller, easier solutions. There are so many partially finished, redone buildings downtown or subdivisions like mine, where the roads just end because the plans changed, or they ran out of money. That’s one of the reasons I want to leave. I don’t want to be here and make plans, then have to change them and get stuck here. It happened to Gloria. She planned to go to college and then law school, but then she got pregnant, and now she’s a paralegal. She has unfinished plans. 63 My mom and dad got out and established their careers before they came back. My mom was getting ready to go back to school to be a nurse practitioner, but she died right after getting into a program at ISU. I don’t want to be stuck here and be a CNA forever. I think if I went to CSI or ISU, I’d feel stuck. I’m only moving four hours away from school, but I hope it’s far enough away not to let myself settle for less than I want. I want to be a nurse practitioner and do what my mom wasn’t able to do. I can’t do that here, and I don’t want to be somewhere that feels unfinished and surrounded by unrequited dreams of bigger things. 64 Chapter 3 Cleaning Leo’s room wasn’t that bad. He picked up his dirty clothes and found multiple single socks under his bed. Then, he cleaned his closet while I dusted, vacuumed, and organized all visible surfaces. It’s a good distraction. Even though I place my phone somewhere, I can always see if Kyla texts me back. I’ve sent dozens of texts and haven't received a response. I’d just finished straightening up everything on Leo’s desk when I heard my dad’s voice coming from downstairs. It's surprising because he isn’t supposed to be home until tonight. I hear the words "breakfast" and "work," and Gloria says something I can’t understand. "Liliana, can you come here?" My dad says.. I freeze at the sound of my full name. He only uses it when I’m in trouble or he has something important to talk about. He says my name with perfect Spanish pronunciation, with more emphasis on the i’s that sound like e’s. My mom used to say that it was so beautiful when he said it, and it is, but I associate it with being in trouble. In the kitchen, my dad is standing at the counter with a bag of Lupe’s Burritos beside him, and I know what's coming. I’d told him I was working weekends at Meadowbrook until graduation. He wasn’t supposed to be home until tonight, but he must have gotten an early flight and tried to bring me a breakfast burrito. Lupe’s has the best breakfast burritos, and it's right next to the small airport. If he arrives home while I’m at work, he always brings me a breakfast burrito. And I would have been working if I hadn’t been avoiding Meadowbrook’s calls. I’m guessing he went to Meadowbrook and realized I wasn’t there and hadn’t been there for a while. "Hey. Dad," I say. "I thought you were working weekends at Meadowbrook." 65 I take a deep breath, picturing the list of pros and cons of working at Meadowbrook and working at Funland. Meadowbrook had more pros than Funland because I would make more money there, and it would look better on future resumes if I worked there longer. But I really want to work at Funland. When I talked to Kyla and Taylor about it on Friday after our last practice, Kyla said I should do whichever one I wanted and not what I thought I should do. Taylor tried to emphasize the need for more fun in my life and that Funland was more fun to work in than with old people. I wanted to work at Funland because it was more fun and just an easier job. Yesterday, I was pretty set on working at Funland, but now, with my dad looking at me, waiting for an explanation for why I wasn’t at Meadowbrook this morning, I don’t know that I have the courage to say what I want. I take another deep breath. "I was or was going to," I say. "Was? What changed?" He says, folding his arms. I’m not sure what to tell him. Should I tell him that working in memory care is not what I want to do, even though I get paid more because of the patients' unpredictability? Working in memory care is a strange combination of entertaining and heartbreaking. Like the paranoid older woman with Alzheimer's who thinks her husband, who passed away two years ago, is cheating on her, and her children are trying to take her money. She has been caught multiple times trying to steal money from people. We have to check all her hiding spots before she goes to bed. One night, I found a fifty-dollar bill that she had stolen from her son. She claimed she was taking back what was hers. There are a couple of Vietnam vets with Alzheimer's who suffer from PTSD. One Vet often mistakes a too-loud sound on the TV for air raid sirens and tries to tell everyone to put their 66 helmets on and get low to the ground. The other Vet thinks that Charlie is coming for him and is always watching him. I didn’t know he suffered from PTSD until a nurse told me that Charlie was what they called the enemy during the Vietnam War. The fear in their eyes and voices is so real. It's heartbreaking. I want to be a nurse, but not a nurse who works with people with memory impairments, especially older people. Working at Funland is easier, and I’ll have more time to do other things this summer. Working as a CNA at Meadowbrook would mean working 40-50 hours a week. Working 25-30 hours at Funland, where the worst thing I have to deal with is an occasional vomit cleanup, sounds so much better than dealing with memory care patients. I take a deep breath and say, "I don’t want to work at Meadowbrook." I pause to gauge his reaction. He pulls his shoulders back and furrows his thick eyebrows. "I’m going to work at Funland. They offered me like 30 hours a week so I could make some decent-ish money this summer." I hear Gloria let out a small laugh. I turn to look at her. She covers her mouth, her eyes are wide, and she shakes her head. "Decent-ish?" she says. I shouldn’t have brought up the money first. My dad sighs as he runs his hand through his silver-streaked, thick, dark hair. "Funland does not look as good on your nursing school application," Dad says. " You’ve only worked at Meadowbrook for six months. It will look better on your resume. And that decent-ish money is half of what you would make as a CNA, Liliana. Your tuition is paid for, but your living expenses are not. The more money you save now, the less you’ll have to work later. 67 The smart thing to do is to work full-time as a CNA after graduation," he says, looking at me, arms folded, waiting for my response. I look at Gloria, and she shrugs. Sometimes, she can help change my dad’s mind, but today, it looks like she is siding with him. "I… I don’t … No," I finally say. The thought of working forty or fifty hours at Meadowbrook every week for the summer sounds awful. I’ve spent the last three summers taking online classes and working, and I want one summer to have the freedom to do whatever I want. What I’ll do, I don’t know, because Kyla will be gone and won’t talk to me. I’m pretty sure that Taylor will be spending most of her summer with Brody. She always finds some guy to hang out with in the summer. Weirdly enough, I want to have the opportunity to choose to do things and not be dictated by a strict schedule. "I don’t want to work at Meadowbrook." My dad’s eyes widen. I hardly ever don’t do what he tells me to do. I’ve rehearsed the conversation so many times in my head, but I thought I had time before I would have to deliver it, and I wasn’t off to a great start. I take a deep breath before I plead my case. "Dad, I know that Meadowbrook is the ideal job for me right now, but I want a fun job for the summer. I want to have time to do other things besides work. This is my first summer in three years that I’m not taking classes." He shakes his head and interrupts me. "So what are your plans then? Work a few hours a day, and then what?" "I don’t know. Why do I have to have every hour planned?" 68 My dad's jaw tightens. He looks at Gloria and then back at me. "Smart kids can make dumb decisions when they have too much time on their hands." "I don’t know, but I’ll be fine." My dad is looking at me unblinking and running his hand through his hair. I look from him to Gloria. Gloria is looking between us when I catch her eyes. I widen my eyes and silently plead with her to help me. "You know what? I might have something to fill some of that extra time you're going to have if you want to work at Funland." "Really?" I say. "Do you know what shift you're going to be working?" "I think the afternoon shift. Two to eight." "Perfect," Gloria says to me. Then she turns to my dad and says, "Mom is going to be working mornings two days a week in her doctor's office, and I need someone to watch Gabby on those mornings." Then she turned to me and said, "You think you can watch Gabby for me?" "Yeah, I can do that." "And you can still work some weekends at Meadowbrook," Dad interjects.. He really isn’t going to let working at Meadowbrook go. "How long would I watch Gabby?" I say to Gloria, trying to ignore his comment. "From whenever she wakes up until before you go to work. Then you will need to drop her off with my mom." "You might have to take her to softball practices." "That works for me," I say, reaching into the paper bag to pull out my breakfast burrito. 69 "Liliana, you can’t quit Meadowbrook," Dad says, his voice firm. "Fine. I won’t quit," I say, but I just won’t change my work status either. They can keep calling to see if I want to take a shift, and I will keep ignoring them. Am I ghosting them? I don’t think you're supposed to do that to your work. "Good. Pick up a shift or two when you can," he says, grabbing a burrito before he leaves the kitchen and dragging his suitcase behind him. When he’s gone, Gloria snatches my oversized bacon and egg burrito from my hand and opens the wrapper. Thanks for your help," I say as I watch her cut the burrito in half. "Thanks for helping me out with Gabby. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when school ended," she takes a bite of one half of the burrito. Gloria was 18 when she had Gabby, but she was 22 when she went from cool Aunt to full-time caregiver of her own child and two 14-year-old kids. She had moved in with us so my mom could help more with Gabby while Gloria went to school, and a month later, my mom was gone, and Gloria was there for us. She helped plan the funeral, and two weeks after that, when my dad got a work transfer, she convinced him that moving two heartbroken kids away from their home was not what they needed. She helped him find a different job so we wouldn't have to move, but now he travels all the time for work. Then, she offered to stay and help take care of us so we could try to maintain some semblance of normalcy in our lives. Originally, she had moved in with us to make her life easier, but instead, her life got a lot more complicated. I hadn’t realized any of this until a couple of months ago, when I was complaining to Taylor about Gloria making us go to church with Grandma on Easter. Taylor, who loves Gloria, wasn’t having it and pointed all of this out to me. I had never realized or thought about what she 70 had done. I couldn’t imagine taking care of a kid and two heartbroken teenagers four years from now. "Thanks," I say again, trying to thank her for more than what she has done for me this morning. "You’re welcome, Míja," She says and elbows me as she walks by. "And thanks for the burrito," she adds as she walks down the stairs to the basement, where she and Gabby live. I finish my burrito at the kitchen table and check Kyla's social media accounts to see if she has posted anything this morning. It’s Sunday, so she’s probably spent all morning with her horses. Her love for horses is why she will be gone most of the summer, working at a youth camp in Teton Valley. She has attended the camp for the last three summers and will work as part of the horse training team this summer. Kyla wants to study equine therapy in college. Her plan was to attend CSI for two years and then transfer to Utah State to complete the equine therapy program. She’s posted a couple of pictures of her with her favorite horses, Biscuit and Cleo. She looks happy in the pictures. I like the pictures, and I wish that my anxiety, which feels like cowardice at this moment, had inadvertently made me part of her plan to attend CSI. 71 Chapter 4 The grad night party this year is being hosted at the new Mountain Athletic Club. At first, I thought it was a weird location, but this place has more to offer than I realized. There are indoor basketball courts and pickleball courts, and two of the basketball courts have been turned into rooms to watch movies. A couple of large rooms that have board games, and one room with multiple TVs and video game hookups. There is a huge pool and hot tub. No students are allowed in the hot tub, and despite the cover on the hot tub and being surrounded by cones and caution tape, I’ve heard there are two chaperones standing guard around it at all times. I’d spent all last night worried that things would be weird between Kyla and me, but they haven’t been too bad. She found Taylor and me after the graduation ceremony, and we took pictures with each other and a bunch of other people. She and Taylor were both waiting for me at the entrance of the party so we could walk in together. For the most part, things feel normal between us, but there have been a couple of times tonight that I can see the same hurt look in her eyes that she had that night at the party. It’s almost four am, and the three of us have done everything except swim, and we walk into one of the game rooms. A big group of people is playing the board game version of Heads Up. There are groups playing games of Risk and Monopoly, and then there are a couple of tables in the back where people are playing cards. I spot Leo at one of the tables and walk over to him. He is playing with Brody, Will, Charlie, and Tyler. They all stare intently at their cards, and Charlie places two yellow Skittles in the center of the table. "Are you playing poker? With Skittles?" I say, standing between Will and Leo. Leo nods and tosses in two blue Skittles. "I’m out," Will says, setting his cards down. 72 Brody sets two yellow Skittles in the middle. Taylor stands next to Brody and says, "That sign on the wall says no poker." "They just don’t want people playing for money," Will says, glancing at the chaperones by the door. He lowers his voice and says, "They don’t care because they think we aren’t playing for money." "You’re playing for money?" I say. Will nods, stands, and leans closer to me. "The purple is worth one dollar." "You’re high rollers." "Yeah, high-rolling farm boys," he laughs. I look around the table and realize that Leo is the only one at the table who doesn’t live on a farm. "Green is two dollars, red is three dollars, orange is four dollars, and yellow is five dollars." "So, are you out for this round or for good? Taylor says, who I hadn’t realized had come up behind me to listen. Will steps aside and says, "I’m out for good." Taylor slides into the seat just as Charlie lays his cards down, and I see three of a kind. Either they all had bad hands, or they are all really bad at this game. I'm betting it’s the latter. Taylor’s going to crush them. Her quick decision-making and ability to read people make her good at poker. Considering she has dated two of the guys at the table and knows Leo so well because of all the time she has spent at our house, I don’t doubt she will take all their Skittles or money, and the game will be over in an hour. When Leo sees Taylor take Will's seat, he looks at me and then says to Will, "Are you sure you don’t want to play?" 73 Will nods and says in a low voice, "I’ll pay out when I get my phone back." "Good luck," I say, squeezing Leo’s shoulder. "Yeah," he says, letting out a breath. Leo had played poker with Taylor, Kyla, and me at multiple sleepovers and knows that she rarely loses. "Bull shit," Kyla yells from behind me. I turn towards her just as one of the chaperones says, "Language, people." Jony, a kid I know from my anatomy class, says, "You can’t say bull shit. They get mad," he nods towards the chaperones, "You have to say BS." "That’s BS," Kyla says as Izzy smiles and flips over the top three cards on the small pile, revealing three five of hearts cards. "Shit," Kyla whispers, picking up the pile of cards. "You two want in?" Jony says, gesturing his cards towards Will and me. "Yeah," Will says. Before I can do anything, Kyla says, "Lily wants in." "Okay," I say, sitting between Will and Jony, who has scooted over to make room for us. Ten of us played for a while, but the game soon morphed into one of truth and lies. If you get caught in a lie, you have to answer a question and tell the truth about anything the person who called BS on you asked. The game dwindled down to six of us: Izzy, Jony, Will, Kyla, Jacob, and me. Now we are playing with too many decks for only six people, and Izzy looks like she is holding an entire deck. "BS," Jacob says to Will. Will exhales and shakes his head, and he shovels the pile of cards towards him. He begins to organize them in his hand and asks, "What’s your question?" 74 "How do you really feel about living in Eagle Rock?" Will pauses and looks around. "This should be interesting," Jony says. "It’s fine," Will says, clearing his throat and focusing on his cards again. I look around the group and realize that everyone, except me, has lived in Eagle Rock their entire lives and, from what I know, doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. "Be honest," Jony prompts. "I am being honest. People have been really nice here," Will says, not looking up from his cards. "Thirty minutes left. Everything remaining in the food booth is half off," a tired-looking woman in a ponytail and baseball hat adds, "That includes drinks, pizza, and nachos." We all look around at each other to see who is leaving and who is staying. Jony is the first to speak. "Anyone else want pizza?" "I do," Jacob says, standing up. Jony stands as the rest of us shake our heads. Jony and Jacob leave, and Izzy says, "I guess the game is over?" "Yep," Kyla says, leaning her head back on the wall and closing her eyes. I think Kyla had been avoiding me all night, and this was the first time we’d been in a room together for more than five minutes all night. Every time I walked into a room she was in, she always seemed to walk out a few minutes later. Izzy stands and walks over to the poker table and stands with Leo. I’d been so wrapped up in graduation and my own drama that I’d forgotten to ask him about what was going on with Izzy. She has seemed to be around more recently. 75 I look at Will. He has started sorting the cards by numbers and suits. I quietly begin helping him sort the three decks of cards. "You know, you don’t have to say it’s fine living here," I say, laying down three diamonds. He smiles and continues to sort the cards. "I like it. People are nice." "But living somewhere is more than just nice people," I say. "Yeah," he nods. I think back on the three places we lived before moving back to Eagle Rock. I remember some of my friends, but mostly, I remember the things we did and the places we went. Whenever we moved somewhere, I knew my mom would make a list of ten things we had to do while we lived there. She even made one for Eagle Rock when we moved back, even though Leo and I were born here and visited family here almost every year. "I think it's mostly about what you do in a place and the memories you make there." "That makes sense," he grabs the last pile of cards and sorts them, then leans forward and lowers his voice, "But to be honest, it doesn’t seem like there is a lot to do here." I laugh and say, "I know." Kyla opens her eyes but doesn’t lift her head from the wall. I can feel her glare. The land her family lives on has been in her family for four generations. My grandparents moved here just before Gloria was born, so my family is still relatively new to Eagle Rock. My mom’s parents grew up here, but now that they and all their children have left, my family ties here don’t run as deep as most people’s. I’ve always felt accepted here, but it also felt like I was accepted despite being an outsider. I like Eagle Rock, but my lack of deep love and connection to it has been a 76 point of contention for Kyla and me before. More than once, she has been offended when I complained about how simple and boring this place could be. "There is stuff to do here. You just have to look a little harder to find it," I say. "Really? Like what?" Will says. "Yeah, like what?" Kyla says, leaning towards me. She has narrowed her eyes at me like she is challenging me to make good suggestions, and the hurt I thought I saw earlier has seemed to morph into anger. "Umm… Echo Hot Springs is fun." "What’s that?" Will says. "It’s this hot spring less than an hour from here. It has hot pools, but the new water slides are fun, too." I pause, and they both continue to look at me, waiting for more. "There is also a fun three-par golf course and a mini golf course there. And this one hike that leads up to a wooden swing in the middle of nowhere." "Middle Creek Trail, " Kyla says, smiling. "That’s a fun hike." "Is it easy enough for kids?" Will says. "Yeah." "You got a kid?" Kyla says. "Ten-year-old sister." "I moved here when I was eleven," I say. "Where from?" "San Jose, California," I say. Will smiles and says, "I think you are the first person I’ve met here who hasn’t lived here their entire lives. 77 I laugh, "There are a few of us. We’ve just learned how to blend in." "Hey, didn’t your mom make some kind of list of places and activities for you to do when you moved here?" Kyla says. I turn to Kyla. She knows I don’t like talking about my mom. She knows I cried almost every day for a year after she died. It's only been in the last two years that I’ve stopped crying when something reminds me of her, which happens almost daily. Most of the people crying at graduation were crying because they were afraid of change or were going to miss their friends. I didn’t cry until I saw Taylor hug her mom, and at that moment, I realized how much I missed my own mother. I’d managed to keep the thought of how and why she wasn’t there in the back of my mind and not allow myself to think too much about it over the last week as I prepared for graduation, but seeing Taylor hug her mother wrenched my heart and brought tears to my eyes so quickly I couldn’t have stopped them if I’d known they were coming. When my family finally found me, I’d stopped crying, but my nose was runny, and I didn’t have a tissue. When my grandma hugged me, she whispered in my ear how proud my mom would be of me. I started crying again, but my grandma gave me a pack of tissues. Kyla’s comment about my mom proved to me that she wasn’t just sad but angry. The realization of how Kyla really feels, the thought of my mom, made me feel the exhaustion of being awake for almost 24 hours. I swallow the knot in my throat as I look at Kyla, and that is when she lets me see her anger. Her jaw is clenched, and her nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath through her nose. I take a deep breath and say to Kyla, "Yeah, she did," then I turn to Will, "It was a fun way to get to know Eagle Rock." 78 "Do you still have the list?" "Yeah, I think so," I say, looking at my hands, trying to keep myself composed. "I have an idea. Since you love making plans and decisions so much," Kyla says, leaning back, her arms folded. I look at her, hoping she can see the pleading in my eyes for her to stop or at least bring up another subject besides my mom and my decision-making abilities. "You should find the list and share it with Will. It may need some updating, though," she is glaring at me. I think she wants to hurt me, but then she turns to Will and says, "What do you think, Will?" I turn to look at him. "That would be great," she looks between Kyla and me like he isn’t sure what is happening. At least he can pick up social cues. "Then you can make plans," she emphasizes, "and show Will around. Show him how great this place is," she swallows and takes a deep breath, "This place that you are so eager to leave. I think that is what you need to do this summer." We stare at each other. At the last minute, my best friend managed to tug on my two biggest fears, my mom and my anxieties, with planning everyday things, like the small decisions of what we should do today. "I’ll leave you two to make plans," Kyla doesn’t break eye contact with me until she walks past me. "Ummm," Will says, "I really liked her idea, but I feel like something else was going on here." 79 It was a good idea. It’s probably something that would help me. I stopped seeing my therapist last year, and she was always telling me to make plans. That’s what this would be. "Lily? Are you alright?" Will says. I nod. I swallow the knot of betrayal and anger brought on by Kyla’s words. "Um. I’ll talk to you later," I say to Will without looking at him. I think he says something like okay or goodbye as he leaves, but I’m too focused on finding Kyla to pay attention to him. As I walk towards the building entrance, an announcement about the end of the party is made. I’m standing in line to get my phone when I see Kyla exit the doors. I jump out of line and move towards her. "Kyla, wait," I say. As I run after her, my hurt turns to anger as I realize my best friend has exposed every insecurity in me. She doesn’t stop but walks faster. I pick up speed and yell, "Kyla. Wait." I see people in the parking lot watching me, but I don’t care. "Wait," I catch up to her at her car and place myself between her and the driver’s side door. "What the hell was that?" I say, out of breath, "Why did you do that?" "You’ve never liked Eagle Rock. You’re leaving. You finally made a decision, and you did it without even considering what or who you are leaving behind," she says. "I’m sorry. But why did you have to bring up my mom like that, and that list?" I hadn’t thought about it in years. "I felt like it. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I feel like, for the first time, you didn’t take into consideration what your decision would do to our friendship." 80 "I did. Kyla, I promise I did. You were the biggest factor on my list. I didn’t think that us going to different schools would ruin our friendship." She rolls her eyes, "Where we are going to school isn’t what ruined our friendship. You did. Look, I’m glad you finally made a decision, but when the decision actually mattered, I still can’t believe you didn’t think to ask me or even tell me about it. I’ve helped you make so many simple and mundane decisions, but you can’t trust me to help you with the big one. That is what hurts the most." "I’m sorry," I say. I know she's right, and I understand why she's hurt. I’ve leaned on her so much in the past few years. "Move," she says, glaring at me. "No," I say, trying to stand a little taller so we are the same height. "I thought things were fine. You’ve been… nice all day." "Yeah, because I didn’t want to ruin graduation. My mom said I had to get a picture with you." I know I hurt her first, but she hurt me tonight with that comment and what she did earlier. "Why did you have to bring up my mom tonight? You didn’t have to do that." She shakes her head. "She is why you are the way you are. You can’t rely on people’s pity about your mom forever. You can’t let that moment define your entire life and dictate how you make decisions. It’s getting old." Her words take my breath away, and I stare at her in shock. She folds her arms and looks past me. "Move," she says again. 81 I step away from her car door and lean on the car parked next to hers as she backs out of the spot and drives away. 82 Chapter 5 I’ve never really broken up with someone before or been broken up with, but I can imagine it’s like what I’m feeling right now. The pain, hurt, and betrayal of a best friend have to be at least as bad as a broken heart. Nobody bothered me yesterday when I didn’t come out of my room because I’d been up the night before. I slept, and then when I woke up, I cried myself back to sleep. It wasn’t until around one am that I wandered out of my room and into the kitchen to find something to eat. I grabbed a package of graham crackers and took it up to my room. This morning, I woke up to a knock on my bedroom door. "What?" I say, looking at my phone. It’s almost 10 am. The knocking persists, getting louder and faster. "Leo, stop." I watch the door knob turn, and the door opens, revealing Taylor and Leo standing in the doorway. Leo’s fists are still in the air from knocking. Taylor smiles at me as she walks into my room and sits on the corner of the bed. "Did you talk to Kyla?" I say. "Yep, "Then she slips her sandals off, pulls her legs into a cross-legged position on my bed, and says, "Tell me what happened." I told her everything except what Kyla said about my mom when we were by her car. I didn’t want to say it out loud, even though it hurt me the most. When I finish, Taylor says, "That list thing isn’t a bad idea, you know. It sounds kind of fun." "What?" I say. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I thought Taylor would definitely take my side this time. 83 "This isn’t my fight. I think you’re both being stupid. And I really do like the list thing. Do you still have the original?" I sigh, knowing there is no point in trying to convince her to take my side. "I think so." "Let’s see it," Taylor says, staring at me. "It’s in my closet," I say. I get a small brown photo box down from the top shelf in my closet. Before they moved to Arizona, my grandma gave me three small boxes of pictures of my mom. I remember placing the list on top of the pictures after I’d found it in her nightstand drawer a couple of years after she died. The list is written on a piece of lined paper torn from a notebook. When I unfold the paper, I see my mom’s handwriting, which is always comforting. I read off the list. "Rollerblade around the river" Taylor laughs, "That would be fun." "It was," I say. "Echo Hot Springs, Middle Creek Hike, Rob’s Diner (Rootbeer), The Berg." "The Berg? Is that the place that had those giant shakes?" Taylor says, I nod. "That place closed a couple of years ago." She says. I continue reading the list. "The Museum." "The museum? Really?" 84 "My mom said we missed Idaho history in fourth grade, so we at least had to know the local history." We spent two hours in the two-room museum. She made us read all the plaques on the exhibits and then would tell us more stories. "Zoo, Funland, The Drive-In, Runoff Trail (Tetons)" "What’s the runoff trail?" Taylor Says. "It’s a hike at the base of the Tetons. You hike up along the runoff from the mountain, and when you get to the top, there are waterfalls and pools of water. You have to go in July or August if you want to make it to the top and not have to hike through snow." This was the last item we had completed on the list the summer before my mom died. I glanced over the list again. I’d forgotten we had done these things because of the list. Besides rollerblading around the river and the museum, everything else became a regular family outing. "Can I see it?" Taylor says, leaning towards me. I nod and hand it to her. "Her handwriting was nice." I nod and watch her scan the paper. "This list is a good start. It needs some updating. The museum needs to be removed, and The Berg needs to be replaced, but I think you should use it to show Will around." I shake my head. "Look, I know Kyla did what she did to make you uncomfortable and hurt you, and she shouldn’t have, but think about it. This really could be good for you." "So you agree that she is in the wrong," I say. 85 "I told you. You both have done some stupid things, but this could really help you." "What? How?" I say. "It’s the little decisions. Deciding on everyday events or activities that give you the most anxiety, right?" I nod. "You stress over where to go to lunch or whose house to hang out at night. But when you decided you wanted to be a nurse, it seemed like you didn’t hesitate to take chemistry and all the nursing and anatomy classes. You decided that is what you wanted, and you just did it." "My mom was a nurse," I say. "I know, but you made this three-year commitment of classes and training with little anxiety, right?" "I guess so." "But having to decide where to eat, something that will take thirty minutes to an hour, and have little impact on your life after you eat it. You stress about it. You can see how mixed up that is, can’t you?" "I see your point." "I also have to ask. Did choosing college stress you out as badly as where to go to lunch?" "No," I say, "But I made a pro-con list for each school that helped me make a plan and see all the possibilities." I open my nightstand drawer, pull out the legal pad with the pro-con lists for each college, and hand it to Taylor, "I also had time to decide. There isn’t always a lot of time to decide things for everyday stuff." 86 "How come Kyla is listed like five times on the CSI pro list, and I’m listed once on the ISU pro list?" "You’re also the only pro on the list. So you should feel special about that." She shakes her head and smiles. "You should show Kyla this list. It might help her see how much you considered her in your decision." "I don’t know if I want to. At least not right now." Taylor nods and sets down the notepad. "I say let's update that list and use it to help you practice making the small everyday decisions. You’ll have a checklist of things you have to do this summer, and you decide when we do them. When was the last time you picked and decided what we were going to do on any given day or night?" "I don’t know," I say. "Well, this summer, you’re making all the decisions for what we do." I scrunch my nose at the thought and feel nervous already. She raises her hands, "Come on. You can do this." "Okay," I say. "This is going to be fun," she says, standing up and slipping on her sandals. "I have to go to work. I’ll see you there tomorrow, right?" "Yep." "Great. Update that list and bring it with you. And message Will and tell him you found the list." "I don’t have his number," I say, slowly remembering why he is part of the plan. 87 "Here," she pulls out her phone, and seconds later, my phone buzzes with Will’s contact information. "Why is your phone always on vibrate?" Taylor asks, sliding it into her back pocket. I’ve never admitted that when my phone isn’t on vibrate and the volume is even at its lowest, the sounds of notifications and ringing make me feel anxious, as if I’ve missed something or something is about to happen. "I just like it better," I say. She shrugs. "See you tomorrow." "Wait, you're not going to help me update the list." "No," She scoffs, "you can do it. I believe in you," she says before leaving the room. I take a deep breath and fall back on my bed. My hand brushes against the yellow legal pad with my college pro-con list. I sit up, pick up the pad, and flip to the next page. I rewrite everything from my mom’s original list, minus The Berg and the museum, and numbered them one through eight. I write nine and ten, but I leave them blank. I’ll brainstorm new places later. I reach for my phone to see a calendar. In Taylor’s mind, doing these things was supposed to be spontaneous, but I’m going to do my best to plan them out. Doing one or two of them a week should get us through the beginning of August. The message with Will’s contact info is still on my screen. I tap on it and take a deep breath. I’m not nervous because I’m texting a boy, but because I’m texting him about a list of things to do. I’m trying to find the courage to text him when my phone starts to vibrate, and Meadowbrook pops onto my screen. I answer it. 88 I tell them that I want to stay on the backup list, but I’m only available to work on Sundays. They ask if I can come in later today, and I tell them I can’t. I tell myself I have a list to finish and a person to text. When I hang up, I feel good, empowered, even. I‘d made a decision and told someone about it. Meadowbrook and my dad didn’t know I was probably not going to work there again, but at least now I would only have to avoid their calls on Saturdays or Sunday mornings. I’d created some predictability for myself, meaning I’d be less anxious when they called. I click on Will’s contact info and send him a message. It’s Lily. I found the list. I hit send before I can overthink it. 89 Chapter 6 For most of yesterday, I texted Will back and forth, making plans to start checking things off the list. But I also spent hours scrolling through pictures of Kyla and me and typing and deleting messages to her. I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I was teetering on the edge, with angry tears, sad tears, or hurt tears. I swear, one of the times I saw the bubble pop up, it showed she was typing something, too. Finally, this morning, before I left work, I sent her a message that said I hope she has fun this summer. The cell reception at the camp she is going to is spotty, and they only have Wifi in the main office, so I knew I had to send a message to her before she got there, or she might not see it. Even with all my conflicting feelings about Kyla, I still care about her, and I know how much she has been looking forward to this summer job. I put my keys and phone in my locker as Taylor walked into the breakroom. "Hey," Taylor says, taking out her AirPods. "Do you want the snack booth or the kiddie rides?" On my way to work, I ranked my favorite jobs for the day, and the snack booth was number one. The snack booth is the easiest job. I get to sit in a small trailer next to a fan and hand out candy and mini-golf putters. "Snack booth?" I say. "Really?" She says, turning to look at me. "That was a quick decision." I shrug, "I may have already been thinking about it on the way to work." She smiles and nods. Taylor turns to finish putting her things in her locker, but her smile doesn’t go away. 90 "Hey," I say," why are you so happy today?" She spins around. "I had a good night last night… I think I found a good one." "Brody?" I ask "Yep," she looks like she’s going to say more when JJ, the shift manager, comes into the room. "Hey, we need you two out there. It's a shift change, and we actually have a line at the kiddie rides." "Talk to you later?" She gives my elbow a gentle squeeze before she leaves to follow JJ out to the park. The snack booth is a white trailer with a cotton candy machine, soda machine, hot dogs, and various types of candy. Currently, there are only a handful of chocolate bars left over from the Spring bulk buy from the local bulk store. The majority of the candy is licorice and gummy treats, the types that don’t melt in the heat of the summer. If the chocolate bars weren’t gone in the next week, we would get to take them home because they melt if left in the booth much longer. The line JJ was referring to was a group of eight kids attending a birthday party. They were wearing pointy birthday hats, and some of them had balloons tied to their wrists. One little boy’s blue balloon hovered over his head, with a large number 6 on it. Taylor was busy making sure that the kids already on the train were buckled in while JJ led the next kid in line to a train car. I pull the tall wooden stool up to the window, click on the fan, and reach under the counter, looking for some entertainment. I feel a small paperback book and put it on the counter. It’s a fantasy book called Sovereign of Shadows. The cover has ominous dark caves in the 91 background while a king, draped in heavy robes, raises a faintly glowing staff that seems to be pointing to ghostly figures above him. It must be JJ’s book. Science fiction isn’t my first choice when it comes to reading. We are not allowed to have our phones if we are working where customers can see us, but they do allow us to read books when we are in the snack booth. I reach down again, and after feeling around a bit, I find two more books. One is a romance novel, Seaside Serenade. The cover is of a woman in a too-tight dress, with her boobs about to fall out as she looks down on a bare-chested man on one knee, one hand extended to her as he appears to be serenading her. This must be Lisa’s book. She is the owner’s daughter and fills in when needed, but she only ever works the snack booth. I shove the scantily clad woman aside. I’m curious but too embarrassed to read it in public. The other book, Rethinking, is the book I was looking for. I found it when I worked at the snack booth during the museum fundraiser weekend. It’s basically about not pigeonholing yourself in life and, if you do, how to get out of it. Like, don’t become a doctor just because that’s what you’ve always said you would, but because that’s what you really want, and if you don’t want it anymore, it’s never too late to change your mind. I glance around the small park. Taylor hits the green Go button on the kiddie train, and JJ runs back over to the people in line for the Ferris Wheel. I decide they’ve got everything under control, so I open the book and start reading. I had been reading this book the weekend before I decided I didn’t want to work at Meadowbrook for the summer. The book reminded me that change can bring new opportunities and open your mind to new possibilities. My favorite part of working at The Fun Park is right after the park closes, after the last customer leaves. It’s still and quiet, with the smell of popcorn lingering in the air. Some nights, 92 it’s like the air has been charged from the fun of the day, and some magic is about to descend upon the park and all who linger there. Tonight, I avoid the office where JJ and Taylor are talking about what music to play. I don’t want to be wrapped up in that debate and asked to choose the music. But that means I have to sneak out the back and walk around the building. I hope Taylor wins the debate. Her opinions can be unnerving, but the unpredictability of her decisions is never disappointing when it comes to music. One night, she will play Olivia Rodrigo, and the next night, it will be Weezer, but tonight, I hear classical music begin to play as I walk towards the Kiddi Train, thinking the song sounds familiar, but I don’t know why. I’m about to walk through the turnstile when Taylor seems to glide up from behind me, passing through the turnstile first towards the Kiddi Train. I follow. It always smells faintly of cotton candy and motor oil by the train. Taylor is spraying down the red and white caboose. She flows with the music; every flick of her wrist and step seems to match the tempo. After finishing the caboose, she glides to the next car, a purple and white train car. She smiles at me as if she sees me, but her mind is elsewhere. I wipe down the orange and white conductor's car and see JJ pushing the frayed broom, coming up from behind the train. He pauses to look at Taylor, who is now wiping hastily to the faster pace of the song, yet every move remains in sync with it. He glances at me, and we shrug our shoulders before continuing to work. I wipe down two more train cars when I realize that Taylor has already wiped down the other five. Taylor smiles and walks toward the merry-go-round. I hop on the twentieth-century carousel just as Taylor enters the control room at the center. I begin cleaning where I always do: the white horse lifted on its hind legs. I start from the top of the pole, clean the giant figurine’s 93 mane, and scrub extra hard on the saddle. Then the lights flicker on, and for a brief moment, the carnival music blasts, but it stops, and a familiar tune played on the piano floods into my ears as I realize that the carousel is moving. The figurines bob up and down as we spin through the night. I turn to see Taylor gliding with the music. She seems to float up and down with the figurines and the piano scales as she cleans. I begin to clean, but cleaning becomes harder while moving in a circle, and the figures move up and down. I feel off balance, and I’m starting to get dizzy. I grab onto a brown horse’s saddle to steady myself, and I see Taylor slide effortlessly between the moving figurines, wiping the saddles as she goes by them. I surrender to my wooziness and lean on a tiger that doesn’t bob up and down. I stare at my feet until the ride stops and the lights turn off. I stand up and see JJ staring at us, his head tilted and mouth open. He wants to ask a question, but doesn’t know what to ask. Taylor walks by me, scoops up the cleaning solution and rag that I placed at my feet, and then glides toward the main office. I slowly make my way down off the Merry-Go-Round and over to JJ, who is still staring at the door Taylor went in. "What was that? What is she doing?" JJ says, exasperated. "Did everything get wiped down?" "I think so," I say. I take a deep breath and close my eyes to absorb the music that fills the park. The music stops abruptly, and seconds later, Taylor walks out of the office, her large purse slung across her chest and her phone in hand. She somehow continues to glide, but now the music is coming from her phone. She approaches JJ and me while rifling through her bag. Handing me her phone, she 94 digs through her Mary Poppins bag with both hands. I glance at her phone and see that the song playing is Clair de Lune, and it’s been on repeat this whole time. She finally pulls out her keys and waves them in the air as she takes back her phone. She smiles and waves as she steps around JJ and me, still standing, confused. We turn and watch her get in her car, back up, and drive away. With her window down, she smiles and stretches her hand out to wave at us. Working with Taylor at the park is part of what makes it so magical. I would never have thought to play Clair de Lune while cleaning. I turn on Clair de Lune, plug my phone in, place it on my desk, and put my AirPods in before I climb into bed. I fall asleep listening to Clair De Lune, wondering if there will be more magical moments this summer—moments when I don’t hesitate to make a decision.