Page 46 of Anytime I Want

“You’re exhausting. Stop saying I’m jealous. It’s weird.” Nathan sighs, accepting the hug, not even trying to resist. The bell rings, and Nathan shrugs Graham off. “I’ll see you all later. Josie, can I walk you to class?”

“Isn’t your class in the opposite direction?” Chloe interrupts, before Josie can respond. “Wouldn’t want you to be late.” She smirks. Nathan glares at her before looking at Josie hopefully.

“Well, I don’t care about being late. How about I walk you?” Josie says, wrapping her arm around Nathan’s waist. Nathan drapes his arm around her shoulders, his cheeks tinged with pink, and heads towards his class.

“I also don't care about being late. My lady?” Graham holds out his hand, and I smile, threading my fingers through.

“After you, my good sir.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a boyfriend if this is happening.” Chloe complains.

***

Graham

I’m slowly heading toward my class after dropping off Julia, playing a puzzle game as I go when I hear someone bark my name. I spin around and see Coach T.C. heading toward me.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“On my way, sir.”

“Let me walk with you. I want to talk to you about joining the wrestling team again this year.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Did my dad call you?”

“No, should he have?” His expression is a little too innocent to be real. I shake my head and wait for him to keep talking.

“You’ve got a lot of natural talent. You’re strong, quick. With a little dedication and hard work, we could make a great wrestler out of you.”

“Are you sure? Freshman year, you complained about me goofing off all the time.”

He scrubs his chin, considering what to say next. “Yeah, I don’t like that. But, I am willing to give you another shot. I want you to try. Practice started last Monday, but I’m happy to make an exception for you. Give us one week. Put in solid effort on the mat and I’ll leave you alone about goofing off between matches. We need you, son.” He grips my shoulder, staring me down.

I clear my throat and look down. “Give me a day to think about it?”

“Sure. I'll see you tomorrow.” He walks off, whistling as he goes before yelling at some stragglers to get to class.

Chapter 25

Julia

I stop running outside of Mabel’s house, taking a minute to stretch and catch my breath. I take my earbuds out, carefully replacing them in their case. It’s important that I don’t lose them again, because my mom told me she wouldn’t buy me new ones. Again.

“Julia!” Mabel says, swinging her screen door open. “Thank you for visiting. Today, let’s sing together.” She settles herself into a blue camp chair in her car port, clears her throat, and starts warming up. Her voice is beautiful, if a little warbling withage. I wish I could've heard her sing in her prime. “Julia. Join in.” She starts directing me in warm ups, and I turn towards the wall of her house, so I can’t see anyone.

“Not today, dearie. Look at me. We can do this!” Mabel gets up from her chair and places her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to turn towards her. “La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.” She gestures to me and I clear my throat, singing along.

“Beautiful!” Mabel says, clasping her hands in joy. We spend the next ten minutes or so warming up before Mabel sits down, blaming her old bones again.

“Mabel. Remember how I told you about the school talent show? Well, instead of signing up to perform, I signed up to do stage crew.” I wring my hands, hoping some of the nerves will come loose. “I am really excited to sing at your variety show though. Will you help me prepare?”

“Of course that’s okay, dearie! Oh, this is so exciting. Come inside, and we’ll pick a song. I have hundreds.” Mabel drags me to her front room, which houses a grand piano. Between that and the shelves of music, there isn’t much room to stand. She tells me to sit at the piano while she searches. She spends the next few minutes pulling out sheet after sheet, humming a few lines, and then putting each one back. Finally, she finds an old handwritten music score. “Here it is! My sweet Harold wrote it for me. I’ve asked Ginger to sing it for me, but she never will. She only sings ‘pop or country’ music.” Mabel sniffs. She sits on the bench and starts plunking out the right hand. It’s a beautiful melody, and she keeps looking at me and pointing to where she is. It’s clear she wants me to sing, but I can’t quite get past the name Ginger.

“Ginger?” I ask hesitantly. I only know one Ginger.

“Yep, Ginger. She’s probably about your age. She’s beautiful and talented but a bit of a pill. Have I told you that before?”

“Ginger Campos?” I ask, hoping that maybe it isn’t the same one.

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