The rumors from last weekend’s hot tub bust came to an end. Everyone finally stopped spreading the stories and lies. In its place, the truth spread like wildfire.
“Allie quit.”
For the first time in my life, I gave up the title of being a winner. Instead, I was branded with the taboo label for any athlete—a quitter.
“I still don’t understand why you did it,” Taylor said a couple of days later, scraping butter onto her toast. Each irritated, harsh spread of her knife left a growing pile of crisp crumbs on her plate. Taylor, like most people, assumed I’d come to my senses by now and “un-quit.”
“I’m not asking you to understand,” I said, glancing at the clock. “But I would like your support.” I grabbed the car keys. “Hurry, we’re going to be late for school.”
“My support? Allie, you’re killing our dream! It’s supposed to be Leah, you, and me out there on that court! It’s everything we talked about all summer!” She paused, looking at her feet, and then mumbling, “At least before Maddie died.”
My emotions reared. “How could you possibly even care about basketball this much?” My voice faltered, but I pushed through. “You were at her funeral, too! How has your perspective not changed? How is basketball still so important to you?”
Taylor’s voice elevated to match mine. “How can you just give it all up?” she countered. “Maddie admired you for your talent. She wanted to grow up and be just like you—a confident, star athlete. And you’re just throwing it all away. You’re not honoring her by acting like nothing else matters!”
Her words cut deep, making me question my decision for the first time. Was she right? Was it important that I keep playing, even if my heart wasn’t in it? We stared at each other, the impasse growing between us.
“I found my book! We can go—” Leah stopped short, eying the two of us. Her intuitive nature seemed to sense the heat between Taylor and me the moment she turned the corner into the kitchen. “What’s going on?” she asked, the smile dropping from her expression.
Nobody spoke for a few moments, the tension building between us—an invisible, impenetrable wall. Taylor’s scowl deepened. Her voice lowered. “We miss Maddie, too, Allie. Just because we’re still passionate about basketball, that doesn’t mean we aren’t hurting. That doesn’t mean we don’t care!”
“Taylor, back off—” Leah started.
“You weren’t there!” My sharp voice sliced through the air. “You weren’t at the river. You didn’t see Maddie fall in—you didn’t see her bobbing around like a helpless doll in the water.” My voice turned raspy. “You weren’t the one that couldn’t… that didn’t…” I shut my eyes, fighting the images flashing through my mind.
Someone touched my arm. My eyes flew open. Leah’s fingers wrapped around my forearm, her firm, yet gentle grip bringing me back. Taylor’s scowl softened, though her arms remained crossed against her chest. Finally, the sharp edge of the car keys digging into my palm made me break the silence.
“We’re late. Let’s just go.”