Small Miracles

Ever since my run-in with the football team at the diner, things have been . . . quiet. No one bothers me anymore. No one even looks at me. It should make me feel isolated, like a freak, but I think it's peaceful.

Mom, of course, is worried. "Honey," she says one Friday night in early September. James is piling huge mountains of parmesan cheese on his spaghetti, but she ignores it in favor of focusing on me. "You haven't gone to any of the football games."

Wow, great observation, I want to say sarcastically, but I know I won't because it's Mom. "Football's not my thing anymore." I give her the same answer I gave to Savannah that day in the diner.

She looks at me with sad eyes. "Is it because of your dad?" That's how she refers to him now; he's "my dad" or "my father", like she never had any relation to him in the first place.

"No," I lie. "I'd just rather focus on my schoolwork. Get into a good college and all." It's a weak excuse and she knows it.

James speaks. "Mama, this was the bestest pasta I ever ate." He's got sauce all over his mouth and all down his front, but a big grin on his face, showing off his missing teeth.

Mom takes one last look at me before turning to my brother and putting a smile on her face. "Why, thank you, baby. Look at you, you've got a big ol' sauce mustache." She takes her napkin and wipes it away before giving him a kiss. "All better."

As I watch him happily continue eating, the seed of rage that's been planted inside me ever since I came back grows a little more. It's not fair to any of us what happened, but especially James. The kid's only five. He's too young to really know what happened, but every time he asks, "Where did Daddy go?" I can see Mom's everything-is-fine act falter more and more as she answers, "He went on vacation."

And it just sucks, it sucks so much that I'm graduating in a year and passing down all of my problems to James, who's too little to even understand them.

I stand up, taking my plate and putting it in the dishwasher. "I'm going for a walk," I say, leaving and slamming the screen door without bothering to hear her reply.

I'm heading to the field to lie down in my usual spot for an hour or so when someone calls my name. I turn around. Savannah, along with two girls I vaguely recognize from school, are walking behind me, waving.

I wave back, weakly. "Hi," I say as they get closer.

"Whatcha up to?" one of the girls asks. Now that they're nearer, I remember them: Kate Gunner and Anna Scott. They're cheerleaders, still in their uniforms. They must be coming straight from the game. I cringe internally. While the cheerleaders at school haven't been mean to me, they're far more likely to side with the football players.

"Uh, nothing," I say, shrugging. "I was just out for a walk."

"There's a party at Will Shepherd's," Savannah volunteers. "That's where we're headin'. Do you wanna come?"

"No," I answer, much too quickly. Anna and Kate exchange glances, so I add in a much calmer voice, "No, thanks. I'd better get home, actually."

"Aw, come on," Anna says. "What's one party gonna do? You used to be so much fun, Jem." The nickname sounds strange, because nobody has called me that in a while. I'm pretty sure most of the people who've used that name for me don't even know the meaning behind it. (My middle name is Madison, making my first two initials JM. If you say them fast enough, it sounds like 'Jem'. My dad came up with it)

Kate and Savannah are nodding and looking at me earnestly. "If anyone tries to give you shit, I'll knock 'em out for you," Savannah adds, and that gets a laugh out of me. It's just a party. I only have to stay for a few hours, and besides, it certainly won't hurt to make any friends.

"Okay, okay," I give in. "Let's go." The girls give a squeal as I fall into step beside them. I mostly listen as they talk, giving me the gist of what happened at the game. Our school won, of course, thanks to Nick Kingston, although apparently it was a close game.

I can hear the party before I see it, feeling the bass from the music vibrating underneath my feet as I walk. It's only 8:00, so we've got a few hours before the noise complaints start. "And Will's parents are okay with this?" I ask as we approach the house.

"They're away for the weekend," Kate says, laughing. Will's the running back of the team and Nick's best friend, along with Brady Marshall, the kicker. They're arguably the most important people on the football team and the 21st century southern Three Musketeers. All the women in Mom's bookclub sigh and reminisce about when the three of them were little kids, starting out in the town's Junior Football League.

After hopping the fence (thank God I'm wearing sneakers) and walking past too many pickup trucks (this is Texas, after all) we climb up the porch steps and go inside. Most of the seniors are here, walking around, sipping from red plastic cups, etc. I haven't been to a party since junior year. I'm a bit out of practice.

Kate and Anna leave to go get us drinks, and Savannah is going around greeting everybody, leaving me to stand there and try not to look at the two people making out on the couch.

I'm thankful when I see Will Shepherd coming over to me. Will's an okay guy. "Hey, Jules," he says. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Hi, Will. Congrats on the game."

He nods, a slow smile growing on his face. "Thanks. Heard about what happened the other week, at the diner." My own smile falters as I remember. "I wasn't there, but, uh, Nick told me what happened. Sorry about that."

I shrug, and Will adds, "Ethan's a dick."

I laugh a little. "I guess so. It's okay, though. Shit happens."

"Suppose so," Will muses. "Hey, speaking of Nick -"

"Were we?" I interject.

Will gives me a look. "Yeah, we were. Anyways, I'll go tell him you're here."

"What? Why would you do that?"

"Well, he'll be looking for you."

"All the more reason for you to not tell him I'm here," I say, feeling myself get annoyed again. "Why's Nick looking for me, anyway? I don't even talk to him." And I'm not about to start, either.

He shrugs. "You'd have to ask him."

"Why me of all people?" I ask, like he hadn't spoken. "I'm nobody."

Will gives me another look, and I sigh, because we both know that's not true. When you're the daughter of the coach who was supposedly gonna save the football team (and maybe he did, for a while), you're practically royalty in a small town. And when you lead them to States, whether you win or lose, people remember. I'm part of a success story, no matter how successful it turned out to be, and people know me whether I want them to or not. But that still doesn't explain Nick Kingston's sudden fascination with me.

"He probably just wants to apologize, too," Will says reasonably.

"There's nothing to apologize for," I snap. "I don't want to talk to him."

"Why not? What do you have against Nicky?" Will says, furrowing his eyebrows. And I remember that I might just be the only person in Sterling who doesn't give a shit about football anymore and therefore is immune to the so-called "charm" that Nick has. "You and him got along fine before."

"That was before," I say, and it's a lame answer, but something in Will's face changes and I think maybe he gets it.

"I'll tell him not to look for you," he says finally, and I smile at him gratefully. "But Jules . . . just give him a chance, okay?"

"Okay," I agree tonelessly. Will gives me a one armed hug before disappearing among the crowd of people.

I spend the rest of the night standing by the window, sipping my drink and chatting with whoever passes by. The head cheerleader, Ashley Clark, comes by and hangs out with me for a while. I like Ashley, mostly because she's the type of girl who doesn't take anyone's shit. She's still in her uniform, blue and black stripes smudged on her cheeks.

Most of the people here are drunk, so when they see me it's mostly, "Where've ya been, Jules? You used to be so fun . . . now you're a stick in the mud," and things like that. I just smile and nod while Ashley rolls her eyes and tells them to get lost. I'm just thankful they're being friendly.

11:00 rolls around and I decide I should probably go home. I'm tired, and the party is winding down, anyway, due to most of the beer being gone. I say good-bye to Will and Savannah and everyone else before making my exit.

Once I break away from all of the noise, the night is peaceful, just the sound of the crickets and my feet hitting the sidewalk. The air is cool, and I relish it, because in the morning it'll be warm again. In San Francisco, despite it being in California, there was still rain and fog and cold days. It was a nice change.

I start thinking about Jase, wondering how he is and what he's doing. I think maybe I should call him, but decide against it. He and I follow each other on Instagram, and every Friday and Saturday night there's pictures of him doing cool things with his cool college friends. I'm glad that he's having fun out there, but at the same time it makes me feel smaller and more frustrated than ever, like I'm missing out on everything.

Suddenly, I hear the engine of a pickup truck rumbling behind me. It pulls up ahead of me, idling at the curb. It's green. A feeling of dread starts to grow in my stomach, and I clench my fists, put my head down, and keep walking.

"Hey!" a voice calls. I stop and look up, and of fucking course it's Nick Kingston, staring out at me from the driver's seat. Of course Nick Kingston drives a green pickup truck.

"What?"

"Where are you going?"

"Home," I say shortly. "Why do you care?"

It's dark, but I swear I can see his face flush. "I just saw you walkin'. Uh, do you need a ride, or something?"

"No, I don't need a ride."

"Are you sure?" Nick asks. "It's kinda chilly. I don't mind." I'm still walking, but he's pressing softly on the gas, so his car is following me as I go. I want to tell him to fuck off, but I know he won't.

"You drunk?" I ask finally.

"No."

"And you know where I live?"

"Yeah. I went to your house for that football party freshman year, remember?" Unfortunately, I do remember.

"Fine." He stops the car and I get in, not bothering to buckle my seatbelt. We drive in silence for a little bit before I say, "Will told me you were looking for me tonight."

"He said that?" Nick says. "Fuck, that sounds so creepy. It wasn't like that. I just wanted to apologize for what happened the other day. You know, with Ethan and all of those other guys. It got out of hand."

I shrug. "I know. It happens."

I can feel him looking sideways at me, but I don't do anything. The radio is turned down low, but I can hear some soft, acoustic guitar playing, the soundtrack to our silence, and it makes me feel sad for some reason.

We stop at a red light, even though we're the only ones on the street, and Nick says, "Why don't you like me?"

"What?"

"Me. Why don't you like me? What did I do to you?" He sounds hurt and even a little mad.

"You wouldn't understand," I say dismissively, because there's no way I'm talking about this with him right now.

"I'm not some kind of kid, Jules."

"Don't call me that."

"Everyone else does."

"That doesn't mean you can."

He sighs, clearly frustrated. "I just wanna know what I did."

"You wouldn't get it," I say, louder this time. "Okay?"

He exhales. "Okay. Fine." We drive the rest of the way in silence until he pulls up alongside the curb in front of my house. The only lights on are the one above the porch and the one in Mom's room.

I open the car door and step out, slamming it. "Thanks for the ride," I say reluctantly, looking at him through the open window.

He nods and drives away, leaving me alone in my driveway.