Page 104 of Something Borrowed, Something You

She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal and tried to swallow her proud smile. I bounced the ball, faking left, then right, took a few steps, and shot from three-point distance.

Swoosh.

“Lucky shot,” she said.

“Yeah. Okay. Your turn.” She grabbed the ball, and I stood in the way of the net with my hands up. “Get past me, MVP.”

I’d like to say I let her blow by me to help her confidence. But I didn’t have to let her do anything. She didn’t break a sweat to pass me. And I found out all too quickly that my three-point shot was beginner’s luck. We played for a while, the game growing more intense with each basket we made. By the time we were done, my shirt was untucked, sleeves rolled up, and I was sweating like an out-of-shape old man. Izzy was barely winded.

“Need a break?” she asked.

I was bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “What gave you that idea?”

She laughed, and we sat on the curb to cool off.

“How are things going? Is Yakshit being good to you, or do I have to fly out to New York to kick his ass?”

“Everything’s good, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Let me ask you something. Would you really fly across the country to kick a boy’s ass if he was mean to me?”

I’m sure she thought I was kidding, but I wasn’t. “Absolutely.”

“Then I should return the favor. Oh, wait… I just kicked your ass.” She smirked.

I deserved that. Picking a few pieces of grass from the lawn, I asked, “How is she?”

“Not so great…” Izzy turned to look me square in the face. “… thanks to you.”

“I’m sorry, Izzy.”

“I don’t get it. I thought you liked her.”

“I did. I do.”

“So, what’s the problem? Is it because you live out here, and we live in New York?”

“It’s complicated.”

She shook her head. “It’s actually not. Adults just make things more complicated than they need to be. You like her. She likes you. You work it out.”

“It’s not that simple. There’re a lot of other things that factor in as you get older.”

“Are you going to jail?”

Sadly, she was asking a serious question. “No, I’m not going to jail.”

“Did you cheat on her?”

“I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation to be having. But no, I didn’t cheat on her.”

She ignored my comment. “Do you still think about her?”

I nodded. It was impossible not to think about her all day long, even though I’d tried my hardest.

Izzy was quiet for a long time, and I knew she was pondering how to put together the puzzle of our conversation. Although without all the pieces, she’d never be able to see the full picture. At least that’s what I thought, until she proved kids could see a lot more than adults thought they could.

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