Page 6 of Mended Hearts

“Sure, honey,” my mother answers, giving me an understanding nod.

“You haven’t even touched your food.” My dad motions, pointing his fork at my plate.

“I’m not hungry. I think it’s first-day nerves.”

My dad shrugs and I take the gesture as a small win as I head to the kitchen.

I sit my pork chop to the side on a napkin before scraping the rest of my plate in the trash can. I wash my dishes, wrap my pork chop up in the napkin, and head to my room. I lied when I said I wasn’t hungry.

Unlike me, my mom has wasted no time unpacking. The hallway is filled with family photos—mostly of me. The places we lived in before were fully furnished, and when we lived in an RV, there wasn’t space for much. I never took into consideration what all my mom has been giving up this entire time as well. Selfishly, I’ve been too focused on what I’ve been missing out on. I slow down, fully examining each picture. I look happy in them. My mom looks happy, too. My dad…well, my dad looks constipated.

Starting from the beginning to the end of the hall, it’s almost like a moving photo album. Mom and Dad’s wedding pictures—happy. Dad and baby Echo—happy. Dad and toddler Echoholding a plastic bat—happy. But as I grow, his smile fades. It’s almost like watching reality sink in over time. He now looks as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I wonder if my dad enjoyed his life growing up. I wonder if my dad enjoys his life now. Sometimes I feel like he’s just on autopilot, going through the motions. It’s a sad thought and the main reason I can never stay mad at him. His heart is always in the right place. I just wish he’d show it more.

I let my door lightly shut behind me and rest my back against it. The sun is still out, filling my room with its warmth. I’m thankful it hasn’t set yet. It brightens the light-yellow walls I’m surrounded by. This is all so new to me. I’ve never had my own room before. I don’t know how to decorate it or make it mine. I’m just thankful to have my own bed. I walk forward, climb onto my bed, and sit Indian style on it. I’m facing the window, looking into our fully fenced back yard. There’s a big willow oak in the middle out back. I notice the remnants of rope dangling from the lowest thick branch. I imagine a tire swing full of kids laughing; carefree. Part of me wishes I could go back to those days and experience them all over again. Back when my dad was more carefree.

I HAVE THE worst case of first-day jitters as I walk through the school’s double doors.You’ve done this more than a dozen times.You’re a pro. I keep trying to remind myself. But the fact that I tried on my entire closest this morning before settling with a simple pair of jeans, Switchfoot T-shirt, and my new shell-toe Adidas sneakers has me questioning my‘pro-ness.’I do almost look like a skater chick, though. Brian would be proud.

But none of my mental mantra or ego boosting is calming my nerves. I’m nervous as hell.Yeah, Dad, I said hell. And not in the biblical sense.

Thankfully, my parents and I did a full walk-through, so I know the basic layout and the direction I need to go. But doing that walk-through in real time with the halls filled with kids is kind of distorting my memory. I spot a sign on the brick wall and follow the directions that lead to the office. Being a late enroller postponed the availability of my schedule, meaning I have no clue what classes I have.

“Can I help you?” the older lady with short blond hair asks as I step up to the desk.

“Yes, ma’am. I need to pick up my schedule. My name is Echo Price.”

“Just one second, please.” She begins typing into her computer before getting up and walking to the back of the office.

I turn around and walk over to the announcement board. All kinds of sports-related news fill it, along with fundraisers and future upgrades the school has planned.

“Echo.” I turn around to see a man in gym shorts and a school T-shirt.

“Yes.” I grab the hand he has extended.

“I’m Coach Fields. I heard you tell Mrs. Carter your name and wanted to introduce myself,” he explains.

“Nice to meet you, Coach.” I smile, hoping to make a good first impression, although I know the only impression to make is on the field. “I met your father, and I’m glad to finally meet the girl he’s been bragging about.” He raises his coffee cup to his mouth and takes a slow sip of the steaming brew.

My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I really wish he hadn’t done that,” I say, looking down at the ground. I know my dad thinks I’m the best, but it doesn’t mean everyone will agree with him. Plus, it just puts even more pressure on me.

“Ahh.” He waves off what I said. “Us parents only want what’s best for our kids.” I nod in response before he continues, “Anyways, I’m going to tell you the same thing I told him. Our starting pitcher graduated this past school year. So now we are basically having tryouts for the position. But don’t let that discourage you. Even if you don’t get picked for the pitcher’s mound, I’m sure we can find somewhere to fit ya.” He smiles with a nod, and I do the same, hoping mine doesn’t look as fake as it felt. Not that proving myself is something new, but playing another position on the field surely would be. It’s just more motivation for me to put in the necessary work. Now that I’m finally in school and my senior year, this is my last chance to get noticed by scouts. I can’t screw it up.

“Ms. Price.” I turn back to the front desk where the secretary is standing. “Here’s your schedule, dear.” She smiles, holding out the paper.

“It was nice meeting you, Coach Fields,” I finish before grabbing my schedule and hurrying out. The last thing I need is to be late on my first day of class.

Reading the numbers on the lockers, I continue walking down the hall, trying to find mine. I want to put my backpack up and make my way to first period. I round the corner and see a group of guys in ball hats with a few girls in the mix. Typical jocks with their little groupies. Besides me initially noticing them, I pay no further attention as I continue my journey.

“Echo,” I hear, stopping me in my tracks. An uncontrollable smile creeps upon me and butterflies consume my abdomen. Again. I turn around, tilt my head to the side, and purposefully ogle Dustin as he makes his way to me.

“Did he just say Echo?” A thin blonde with too much blue eyeshadow snickers.

A couple of the guys laugh, and I roll my eyes. I don’t know about them, but I’m in high school, not elementary. And thelast time someone made fun of my name, they ended up eating their lunch off the cafeteria floor. Pick something better to laugh about. I know I’m supposed to be the example, be the bigger person, but sometimes turning the other cheek is hard. I keep my smile planted and my eyes on Dustin as he makes his way toward me. He stops right in front of me, big grin and all.

“What kind of name is that?” The overly tan brunette laughs. I almost expect her to twirl her gum around her finger all valley girl like.

Like, totally!

“We can’t all have boring names like Kelly and Jamie,” Dustin hollers, looking back over his shoulder. The girls scoff and I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh. He looks back my way, flashing me that golden boy smile of his. “Sorry about that.”

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