Page 9 of Collision
“Yes, and I’m sure by Friday you’ll already be chapters ahead, like always. As for the reading group, you’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re going to party until dawn. C’mon, live a little!” She wriggles in the chair, begging me with clasped hands. I mull it over for a few seconds, uncertain, but in the end I decide to go. It’s what kids my age do, right? They go to parties, they have fun, they don’t hole up in their rooms with only books, Netflix, and the occasional bestie for company.
“Okay, okay, I’ll give it a shot.” I grimace, as though I’m agreeing to try a particularly unappetizing food.
“Yay!” she screeches, clapping her hands. Here’s the secret to keeping Tiffany Baker happy in one simple move: indulge her.
***
The rest of the day passes quickly between classes in English, creative writing, and French literature. On my lunch break, I decide to take some solo time and read in the student union. I have no desire to see Travis again, and I’m going to meet up with him at practice anyway. Thinking of practice, I check the clock, which reads four fifteen. I have forty-five minutes before I need to get to the gym, and I muse aboutwhat to do with that time. It occurs to me that Book Bin, a small new and used bookstore I love, is just ten minutes from campus. I text my friends immediately to see if they’d like to come. Alex has his photography class, but Tiffany agrees to meet me in front of the bookstore.
She rushes to the mystery section as soon as we arrive, while I walk slowly through the aisles, letting intuition guide me. As I wander through the old wooden shelves, I reach out and brush my fingers over the books, feeling for a little spark of something. I’ve always loved bookstores, with their stillness and the silence that hovers. It’s probably my favorite music.
In the mood for something a little different, I browse the fantasy section until I find something that strikes me: it’s about a clumsy girl who has the power to travel through mirrors and is given in marriage to a nobleman from a distant planet. Hmm, that doesn’t sound bad at all; if I weren’t so broke, I would buy it, which reminds me that I could really use a part-time job. I promise myself I’ll print out some résumés and start canvassing the town. Or maybe I can find something suitable on campus.
After the bookstore, we head for the Dixon Recreation Center, which is already teeming with students in basketball or football uniforms. Before entering the gym, we sit down at the Dixon Café for a snack. Tiffany gets frozen yogurt, I go for the pistachio gelato with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, my go-to choice.
We chat as we devour our treats, and I tell her about the way Thomas delighted in ruining my first class of the year. Tiffany doesn’t seem surprised; after all, his reputation precedes him. I sigh loudly when I look up at the clock to see that it is now five o’clock. We make our way toward the campus gym and I ask Tiff if she wants to come with me. Fingers crossed she’ll say yes, but unfortunately, she declines.
“If I see another basketball, I’m gonna scream,” she says. It’s enough for her to have to listen to Travis’s constant play-by-plays at home. It’s only when we are at the gym’s door, about to say goodbye, that I muster the courage to update her on my talk with her brother and our tentative new arrangement. The disappointment shows on her face.
“I just don’t understand how you can forgive him so easily.”
“It’s…complicated.” I shrug. There is a part of me, buried under layers of disappointment and resignation, that really hopes this time will be the last time. That Travis has realized his mistakes and will go back to being the sweet, sincere boy I fell for in the early days.
Tiff shakes her head. “You already know how I feel. He’s my brother, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see him clearly. You have to make him understand that you deserve more respect and that he can’t keep taking you for granted.”
“I swear, this is the last chance he’s going to get.” I know as I’m saying it that she doesn’t believe me, probably because I’ve said the same exact thing countless times before, but something about this time feels different. I feel like this really is the last one. I refuse to allow myself to keep being treated like garbage by someone who is supposed to love me. Heck, I’d be happy to receive half the care and consideration he lavishes upon his high school basketball trophies!
“Promise?” Tiff demands, extending her left pinky toward me. I entwine it with my own.
“Promise,” I say.
“Oh!” she says, rummaging in her bag. “Before you go, I got a little present for you.”
I don’t believe it. It’s the book I was leafing through in the bookstore. I turn it over in my hands, touched.
“I saw the way you were looking at it, and you deserve a little treat.” She smiles, her face nothing but sweetness.
“Thank you, Tiff, but you didn’t have to do that.” I’m moved by her thoughtful gesture, and a little mortified as well. She must have realized I couldn’t pay for the book, and that’s not a great feeling.
“It’s no big deal.” She shrugs. “Now I gotta run. See you tomorrow, gorgeous.” She gives me a big hug, and I reciprocate, squeezing her a little tighter than usual. I know she hates it, but I can’t help bugging her just a bit.
The gym is still mostly empty, but in the corner opposite the entrance I can see a girl sitting on the floor, leaning back against thewall. She’s intent on a small journal in her lap, scribbling something urgently. I cross the gym and sit down next to her; who knows, maybe we can be friends. I’m usually all alone at these practices.
When she notices my presence, the girl tears her gaze from the diary and gives me a shy smile.
“Do you think they’ll give us an attendance award at the end of the year? We deserve it,” I quip.
“I doubt it,” she replies, rubbing the back of her head.
“Damn!” I snap my fingers in mock disappointment. “I was really hoping for that.”
She laughs, covering her face with hands chock-full of rings. Most of them are thin steel ones, resting at different heights on her fingers. Her laugh is gentle, pleasant to listen to. Her black hair is cut to just above her shoulders, she wears purple lipstick and large earrings in the shape of rhombuses. But it’s her eyes that really win me over: they’re green and magnetic, and I could swear I’ve seen them somewhere before.
“I am Vanessa, but everyone calls me Nessy,” I tell her, holding out my hand.
“Leila. Nice to meet you!”
“Are you new here? I’ve never seen you on campus.”
