Free Get Real by Betty Hicks

Duke–Carolina game!”
    â€œWhat!” I shout. No way. The Duke–Carolina game is the biggest rivalry in college basketball. Nobody can get tickets to that game. Except the Lewises, who buy season tickets because they both went to the University of North Carolina. And because they donate big bucks to the Rams Club.
    â€œI know it’s still a month away, but—”
    Who cares? I’m thinking—all four tickets! Jil, Mom-2, Penny. That’s three. Jil’s going to ask me to go with them. She’s got to—Graham is toast. And finally! I’ll get to meet her new family.
    â€œMom and Dad have to be out of town,” she continues. “They’re dying! Totally dying. They’ve never missed that game, but Dad’s got this business thing in St. Louis and they have to go to it, so guess what?”
    â€œYou have all four tickets!” I shout. I’ve been to lots of Carolina games with the Lewises. NC State, Virginia, Maryland. But never the Duke game. We grab each other by the arms and jump up and down.
    â€œAnd Mom says Penny can bring a friend!” Jil exclaims. “I can’t wait.”
    I let go of her arms as though they’ve burned me.
    â€œDez,” says Jil. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œ Penny ’s bringing a friend?”
    â€œWell, yeah. I wanted to ask you, but Mom reminded me that you’ve been to a million games, but Penny’s never—”
    â€œMom/Jane said that, or Mom/Mom?” I ask her guardedly.
    â€œMom/Jane,” she says. “Is that okay? I mean…” Jil stares at me, then slumps. “Oh, Dez, I’m sorry. I just thought you’d been to lots of Duke–Carolina games, and—”
    â€œIt’s okay,” I say, forcing a smile.
    â€œYou have, haven’t you?” She looks dazed.
    â€œYeah,” I lie. “Once.”
    â€œReally? Just once? Well”—she puts her hands back on my scorched arms—“you can definitely count on next year!”
    â€œZZZZZZZZZZ!” The buzzer rips the air to let us know we’re about to be late for our next class.
    As Jil hurries away, I shout at her back, “Come over after school. I want to hear about—”
    But she’s already gone.
    At least she freaked out when she realized what she’d done. After all, I am her best friend.
    Besides, Dad teaches at Duke. Maybe he’d hate it if I went and cheered my head off for Carolina. People at Duke hate people at Carolina. It’s tradition.
    Who am I kidding? I’ve been a Carolina fan ever since the Lewises took Jil and me to our first game when we were seven. We wore Carolina blue T-shirts, Carolina blue socks, and even tied Carolina blue ribbons in our hair. We stuck fake tattoos of little blue feet on our faces. Then we bought pom-poms and screamed, “Go, Tar Heels!” until we hyperventilated.
    Dad could have cared less. Just because he’s a professor at Duke doesn’t mean he’s a sports fan. The only giant rivalry he even knows about is the one between God and Satan in Paradise Lost, a three-hundred-page poem that, for no good reason, repeats everything the Bible already said in Genesis.
    Besides. It’s only a stupid game.
    I wouldn’t go if she begged me.
    *   *   *
    Four weeks later, I still wouldn’t go if she begged me. And I still haven’t had a chance to talk to her. Oh, sure, we IM and talk on the phone and at school, but I mean really talk. About important stuff. Like her new family—and her old family.
    I go to the Lewises’ twice a week to practice piano. On Saturdays, when Jil’s usually with Mom-2, and again on Tuesdays, when Jil has volleyball practice, because that’s the best time for Mrs. Lewis.
    It’s still unfair though. Just when my fingers get all limbered up and stretched out and used to finding the right keys, I have to go home and not come back