Free Rumors by Erica Kiefer Page B

an inspiring sight. Mr. Nordell’s voice
softened. “We may admire the end product, but do we respect the
processes that lead to its creation?” He closed the laptop.
“Allie,” he began.
    The use
of my first name caught my attention.
    “ It’s ok to deal with life-changing events at your own
pace.”
    I
furrowed my eyebrows, restraining the tears. “But it feels like I’m
holding people back, like I’m constantly making people
uncomfortable or unhappy because I’m not who I used to
be.”
    Mr.
Nordell patted my hand. “You need to get better for you, not for
others. If people in your life are not willing to wait for you to
heal, perhaps you need to consider the importance of that
relationship. Time will tell.”
    ***
    Benched.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I sat out in a game for more
than a quick breather, let alone for an entire game. It was an odd
feeling, watching our rival game played from a seated
position.
    And yet…
I waited for the moment of envy to arrive. I expected to feel antsy
and eager to get back on the court. However, as I watched the
points bounce back and forth, evenly climbing the scoreboard, those
feelings didn’t come. I watched the game with the interest of a
spectator, cheering extra loud for my sisters and feeling proud of
the way they could soundlessly read each other’s moves, and I
joined the chorus of “boos” from the audience when a member of the
rival team executed a cheap shot at one of our players.
    Still,
from my seated position, I soon found myself observing the game as
if through glass. At times, the game seemed muted in my head. I
watched Coach’s aggravated yells when one of my teammates screwed
up a play (comical really, like an adult having a tantrum with the
way his face flushed red, and how he stomped his large, heavy
foot), and I noted the dejected expression on her face when she was
benched as penance. The “swoosh” of the basketball through the net
seemed hushed and lacking the adrenaline that once fueled me.
Granted, I wasn’t the one making the shot. Still, something inside
me felt different tonight…
    “ That was the sweetest win ever!” Tara cheered, sweeping her
mess of curls out of her face and tightening her
ponytail.
    “ Congrats,” I said, offering a high-five. The gym bustled with
teammates jumping up and down, recounting unforgettable plays of
the night and smiling in satisfaction as our rivals exited the gym
in one glum mass. Proud parents swept their daughter into their
arms for a hug and a photo. Mom was among them.
    “ Girls, you were fantastic out there!” She embraced Taylor and
Leah, ignoring their sweat like she always did. The fatigue on
their face from moments ago washed away with pride. “Allie,” she
said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be out there again
soon enough.” Her eyes suddenly roamed the gym, frowning as she
scanned the area. No doubt she was still peeved at the principal
and athletics’ director for enforcing tonight’s game suspension. I
could hear her grumbling disbelief again at their unfair and
impulsive decision.
    I
rotated my gaze, watching the gym unravel… but I wasn’t a part of
the buzz—the excitement—and it suddenly dawned on me that Tara was
right.
    “ I think I’m done,” I stated.
    “ Oh, don’t be silly,” Mom said to me. “The suspension was
for one game, I
assure you. If they try to push anything else—”
    “ No, Mom, I mean… I’m done with basketball.”
    My words
caught Leah and Taylor’s attention, and most definitely Tara’s. All
three zeroed in on me, a chorus of confusion and
questioning.
    “ What are you talking about?”
    “ Oh, come on, Allie, you’re just mad. You can’t mean
that!”
    “ Don’t do this, Allie.”
    The last
sentence came from Tara, her breathing picking up in pace as she
anticipated what I was about to do. “I didn’t mean what I said that
night at the hot tub. You’ve still got game. We need
you!”
    “ Allie,