CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I try to do what Bri suggested. I really do. On the bus home that day, I take deep breaths, trying to stay present. Talia’s my best friend. She wants to hear from me.

I get off the bus a stop early to go talk to her. The neighborhood is hazy and still under the hot midday sun. Everything is lush and green, bees humming in the flowery shrubs that line the street to Talia’s. My heart pounds. My stomach turns. I can smell my own sweat, and it’s not regular basketball practice sweat. It’s anxiety sweat, rank and sharp.

Everything Bri said last night feels distant now. What if they’re wrong? What if Talia isn’t just worried about me—what if she’s mad now?

I take one step at a time, until her house comes into view at the end of the block, then I stop. My breathing is shallow. Am I going to faint? I reach out a hand and grab the fence next to me. This was a mistake.

I backtrack as fast as I can and go down a block to avoid her house entirely.

The next morning, I decide to try again. Going to see her in person is clearly too much for me, so when I get to the gym for practice, I go into the bathroom, lock myself in a stall, and stare down at my phone, willing myself to open her text messages. I can hear the distant thuds of basketballs hitting the gym floor, the chaotic rhythm matching my heartbeat. My finger hovers over the message icon on my screen.

Come on. Just one tap.

There.

The thread opens up and fills the screen—and then panic fills my chest and I exit the app and then the bathroom, striding across the court and stuffing my phone all the way into the bottom of my backpack.

By Friday, I still haven’t talked to Talia, and she stopped trying to text and call me. She never responded to the message I sent to the group, and any hope I had that my half-ass effort would smooth things over has shrunk to nothing.

Somehow, though, I can’t get myself to do anything about it. Every time I pick up my phone, telling myself this time I’ll text her, I freeze and swipe away—to social media, one of the games on my phone, literally anything else.

I’m waiting for the bus back home from practice when my phone pings.

PARTY TIME, Kev says in the group chat.

What is he talking about?

Hayley you’re our hookup. He texts again a moment later. What time should we meet up? Where is it?

Oh.

Oh no.

It’s the beginning of August, and my teammate’s party is tonight. I didn’t hear anyone mention it at practice, but the second I think it, my phone pings some more, the team chats lighting up with the address and time. I don’t want to go. All I want to do is curl up in bed and lose myself in TV until I forget that I’m probably destroying one of the most important relationships in my life.

Jacob texts a string of celebration emojis. My friends have all been looking forward to this party, and I can’t let them down again. The thought of that feels even worse than going to the party.

I text them Victoria’s address. I’m so ready!!!!!!!! I say, and immediately cringe. Even for me, that’s a lot of exclamation points. I picture Bri on the other end of this chat, seeing right through my fake excitement.

Me and Bri are coming together, Jacob says.

Imma just walk, Kev says. Talia and Hayley, you wanna walk with me?

My mom’s going to drop me off, Talia says, and my heart jolts at the sight of her profile picture in the chat. She doesn’t say anything else, but the message is clear: she doesn’t want anything to do with me.

It’s Family Fun Friday, so I won’t be able to get down there until we’re done, I say. I’ll let Victoria know you’re coming. See you there!

Everyone but Talia reacts with a heart or thumbs up. The bus rolls up and I get on, swallowing over and over so I won’t cry.

I’m dreading the party, so of course the evening goes by way too fast. Dinner is a blur, and even the action movie we watch can’t distract me from the pit of anxiety churning in my stomach. As the credits roll, my phone lights up with texts from my friends as they arrive at the party.

I make my way upstairs and stand frozen in front of my open closet. Maybe I can say I have a headache or something.

I check my phone and see a text from Bri, just to me. You on your way yet? I look at the message for way too long, and it’s like they’re psychic, because a few minutes later they text me again: You ARE still coming, right? Talia’s here. You should talk to her. I think it would help.

I don’t believe that at all, but I’m clearly not getting out of this that easily, so I respond. Yeah, I’m coming. Just getting ready.

I choose my favorite sundress; it’s the color of an orange creamsicle, with a high neck, a fitted waist, and a flared skirt. I accessorize it with big glittery hoops and my white Birken-stocks, do my eyeliner, and tie a fanny pack and a flannel around my waist. It’s warm now, but even summer nights can get cool in Seattle.

I put in my earbuds and listen to music on the walk down, taking deep breaths of the evening air as I make my way toward Lake Washington, where Victoria’s house is. The sun is just starting to set behind me, and the warm breeze ruffles my hair. I slow my stride as I head down the hill into Madison Valley, fighting the urge to turn back. I pass Café Flora, blinking back the tears that well up, and then I’m out of the business strip and turning off into the neighborhood that runs south along the lake. Here, the houses shift into an array of different mansions: big stately brick homes, modern boxes on boxes, buildings that look like they should be in the French countryside instead of Seattle. The street is wide, with tall broad-limbed trees spreading above me.

Victoria lives in a brick house a few blocks in. I stand and stare up at it; the house is three floors with a stained-glass window sparkling where the roof comes to a point above the front door, and it has a massive yard that’s surrounded by a tall fence with a vine-covered arbor over the gate.

As I enter and the gate clicks shut behind me, I hear the sound of laughter and music drifting from behind the house. The front yard is landscaped with so many bushes, vines, and trees that it feels like being in a forest. I follow the cobblestone path through the garden, around the side of the house, and into the backyard.

Green grass stretches down to the back fence, with a view of the Cascade mountains across the lake. My teammates and their friends mill everywhere: Jude and their girlfriend, Katie, are sitting with their friends around the koi pond at one corner, Sherika and Jaya are playing badminton at the net set up in another corner, and others are hanging out at the long tables clearly brought out for this purpose. The grill is going, overseen by a red-haired man I assume is Victoria’s dad. He’s directing a couple of the girls’ boyfriends in the proper way to grill burgers, and there’s Bri in the midst of them, nodding along. Of course. They love learning new things. Karina stands beside them.

I walk up behind the two of them and tap Bri on the shoulder. They jump and turn, breaking into a huge grin when they see me.

“You came!” They throw their arms around me.

“Good to see you, buddy.” Karina grins at me.

I force a smile and give them both a thumbs up. “I’m here! Let’s party!”

Bri squints at me, and I can tell they want to ask me more, but Karina’s here, so they just eye me. “Talia’s playing croquet with Jacob and Kevin and some of their chess club buddies.” They point, and I follow the line of their finger down to the edge of the lawn.

And there she is.

Talia is tanned and glowing, like she is by this time every summer, with her dark curls loose around her face. She’s wearing an emerald green striped tank top and black denim shorts that hug her figure. When did I start noticing her figure? But now I am, and I can’t take my eyes off the curve of her hips, her slim shoulders. She’s so pretty.

“I’m gonna get a LaCroix,” I say to Bri and Karina and dart away before they can reply. It’s all too much: the way Bri looks at me with sympathy, the feeling in my chest, seeing Talia after avoiding her for a week. We’ve never gone this long without seeing each other unless one of us was on a family vacation. I don’t know what to say to her. And I’m worried if I’m alone with her, I’ll tell her everything, and I’m not ready yet. Maybe later.

Maybe.

Near the open patio doors that lead into the house, I spot two stainless steel patio coolers with a sign pasted above them: DRINKS HERE.

I open one and scan the array of seltzer waters and soda inside. It’s almost too many choices, but I know what I want. I grab a key lime LaCroix, crack it open, and close the cooler.

Thank god there isn’t alcohol at this party. I’ve never been to a party where that was happening, though I’ve heard stories from the older players on our bus rides to away games. None of my friends or I drink, and I’m fine with that. It’s too easy to picture what would happen if I got drunk. Goodbye what little filter I have; hello spilling my feelings all over Talia.

“Hayley!” Arms encircle me. I recognize Mariah’s voice as she gives me a tight squeeze.

I turn around, smiling at her. “What’s up?”

“I see you brought . . .” She lowers her voice but jerks her head back not-so-subtly.

“I didn’t bring her. We all came separately.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Everything OK?”

I give her the TL;DR of my panic attack, and she shakes her head. “It really hasn’t been your week, huh.”

“Yeah.” I can feel the tears welling in my eyes, the lump swelling in my throat. “I feel like I’m messing everything up. With the team, too.”

“Hey.” She puts a hand on my arm, her kind eyes holding mine. “Everything’s gonna be OK. The team is cool with you.”

“It didn’t seem like it at practice,” I choke out.

She sighs. “OK, yeah, some of them are petty bitches, but that’s on them. I was just worried about you, and I know a lot of the players are glad you’re back. They were annoyed by the lateness, but they’re over it now.”

I take a deep breath. I know she’s right. Nobody’s given me any weird looks yet tonight. Maybe it’s not as big a deal as I thought it was. “Thanks.”

“I got you,” she says. “Wanna come see the tree house?”

My eyes widen. “Hell yeah.”

We leave the patio, walking right past Talia’s croquet game. As I pass, she glances over and our eyes lock. She opens her mouth, stepping toward me, but I look away and hurry after Mariah. My nose stings and I swallow the tears down. I’m such a coward.

The tree house sits in a massive oak tree at the end of the lawn. It’s a far cry from the basic plywood shelter my dad built in our backyard when we were little.

This tree house has multiple entrances and exits: a rope you can slide down, a ladder fixed to one end, and a narrow staircase that winds up around the trunk. The house itself is built around the center of the trunk, where the main branches split and spread out over the lawn. It’s not a square; I can’t tell how many sides there are, but definitely more than four. The roof is conical and shingled, with a tiny carved weather vane on top. I can see a few people up in the house through the tiny windows sprinkled around the outside.

“They did not fuck around,” I say, and Mariah laughs. I follow her up the staircase, clinging to the banister that’s fixed to the tree.

The door at the top is small, and we have to crawl on our hands and knees. Inside, the tree house is surprisingly spacious, though currently filled up by people sitting around in a circle.

“We’re playing Never Have I Ever!” one of the girls says. “Wanna join?”

We nod, and everyone squeezes down to make room for us. Across from us, Jaya and Sherika wave at me, and I wave back. And for the first time in a while, I feel my shoulders relax, just a little bit.