Page 43 of Not a Perfect Save

When I grab my stuff from my locker after the grueling practice, the entire home screen of my phone is filled with missed calls from an unknown number. Every now and then, a player’s digits gets leaked and then he has to go through the hell of switching SIMs. I don’t need that on top of everything else. My finger hovers over the delete button—of a New Jersey area code.

I hit the return call icon instead. Three rings in, I’m feeling foolish. I’m about to hang up when a feminine voice picks up. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you called me back.”

My heart deflates. “Umm…”

“This is Hannah.”

It speeds up again. “How did you get my contact info?”

“Ella.”

The organ stutters. “Is she okay?”

There’s a short pause. “Yes. Of course. She’s fine.”

“Okay…” I say, my voice cautious. Why is Hannah calling?

“I wanted to personally invite you to all my wedding events,” she gushes. “You must come to the first party this weekend. It’s the big kick-off.”

Now the stupid organ decides to go all staccato. Maybe Ella changed her mind and is too embarrassed to call me herself? Did she think I’d say no? I frown.

Hannah goes on, “It seems Ella misplaced your formal invitation.”

Hope crashes. “Did she?” Somehow I doubt that.

A peeved huff comes through the line. “You know Ella.”

I thought I did.

“So will you come?” Hannah prompts when I don’t respond.

My jaw tightens. “Look, I don’t know what Ella may have told you—“

“Ella hasn’t said anything.”

Of course she hasn’t. It’s not like there was anything substantivetosay. “I see.” No, I don’t see.

“We’ll see you there then?” Hannah asks.

“No.” I’m not a sucker for punishment.

“But—“

But what? I’m in love with your sister and she kicked me to the curb.It’s time to set the story straight. “Hannah, Ella didn’t want a date.”

“Ella? This doesn’t have anything to do with her. She’s got her date all sorted out.”

Resignation turns into indignation.Does she now?

“I see,” I repeat, for the lack of anything else to say. Apparently Ella was telling the truth all this while—I really wasn’t her type. Bitterness settles over me like a shroud at the thought of her with someone else. Maybe Ishouldsee who she’s decided is a better fit for her after all this.

“We would really, really love to see you,” Hannah says.

And I’d like to see the inside of a bottle. But fuck it. “You know what? Yes, I’ll come.” Apparently I am a sucker after all.

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