Rumors (A Lingering Echoes Prequel)

  With the start of a new semester, I stopped hanging out with my previous group of friends to avoid the awkwardness—as well as to steer clear of Crystal Jennings, who seemed to be hanging on Shane all the time now, wrapping her limbs around his torso whenever I walked passed. Apparently, their one-night-stand had evolved beyond that over Christmas break. I tried my best to ignore her.

  Shane was just as bad. He smirked at me every time I walked past, or simply didn’t smile at all, his unwavering efforts to make eye contact unnerving. I wished we could have still been friends, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards.

  As for Tara, we remained cordial enough, but our interactions were almost too polite, too shallow. Our conversations never surpassed a few sentences, both of our body language suggesting we had other places we’d rather be. I hardly saw her anymore though, since she continued to spend most of her time with Austin and basketball. With too many uncomfortable exchanges to avoid, the library became a frequent sanctuary for me once again.

  As January pressed onwards, my extended time in the spotlight began to dim. My peers’ conversations moved on to more enticing “breaking news,” until my life was all but forgotten headlines. My heart felt relieved and yet at the same time, wistfully left wanting. In my fight to maintain my old identity, I seemed to have lost it all in one swoop. However, there was a sense of freedom in the manner that I’d given up basketball, a boyfriend, and friends who no longer fit the same way in my life. The choices were mine.

  I started training again—but not for basketball and not for my teammates or sisters. Every day when I ran along the trails, bundled against the cold, I trained for me. However, the efforts to strengthen myself were less about building my muscles and lung capacity, and more about fortifying my sense of self. Dead leaves crunched beneath my shoes, sweeping behind me while I pounded the dirt. Rhythmically, I breathed in and out, absorbing nature’s goodness and exhaling my stress, my confusion. I wished I had more to give back but, for now, I worked on my emotional cleanse. Out with the bad, in with the good…

  As I ran, I felt myself letting go of some of my hurt and pain—just a little at a time. I wasn’t sure I could talk about Maddie to anyone yet, even Mr. Nordell. There was still a well of guilt that I had to draw out of the abyss inside me—guilt that I didn’t want to toil with, for fear that I may never step out of its grasp. Perhaps with time, during one of my frequent visits to chat with Mr. Nordell, I’d tell him why Maddie’s death loomed over me—and the role I’d played and could never undo.