Page 14 of Most Valuable Players
Gabby’s memory returned, but the fun-loving and determined girl I grew up with was lost during the crash. She stayed in Suck Hill, refusing to move away and basically hiding out in her parents’ house. Deep down, her ambition hasn’t changed. I know this because I almost always find her in front of her computer, studying or doing homework for her many online classes. She’s a Valley U student, too, but taking classes online isn’t the same as being on campus.
“Come in,” she calls without looking up, and then as if just registering my voice, her eyes find mine and a big smile spreads across her face. “Blair.”
I make the two-hour trip to Succulent Hill at least once a month to see Gabby and have dinner with my parents. Today, though, is just about Gabs.
“Happy birthday!” I squeeze her tightly and then step back to examine her outfit of yoga pants and tank. She looks fabulous, but she isn’t exactly ready for dinner at our favorite local restaurant and pub. “You aren’t ready.”
She bites on her lip. “I thought maybe we could just hang out here.”
“Uh-uh. You cannot celebrate your twenty-first birthday at home.”
“But going out is so”—she sighs and then plops back down onto the bed—“soul crushing. I don’t want to deal with the pity smiles or stares.”
I try to see her as a stranger might. She has two long scars on the left side of her face that cross in an X. I think it makes her look badass, but I can’t say I haven’t noticed the looks she gets when we’re in public.
“I promise to verbally attack anyone who dares to look at you the wrong way.” She doesn’t look convinced. “Come on, please?”
After a few more minutes of pleading, and twenty more minutes for her to change, Gabby and I head to dinner.
“How are classes going?” she asks as we’re seated into a high-top table near the bar. She fidgets and keeps her gaze turned down, basically ducking out of anyone’s line of vision.
“Mostly good. Statistics is a bit of a nightmare.”
“You’ll manage. You always do.” Her voice is proud, almost motherly.
“I actually made quite an ass of myself trying to get a tutor,” I admit. I like to fill her in on bits and pieces of college, but I almost always underplay the good and leave out the truly terrible—such as David blackmailing me. Somehow, it makes me feel less guilty about being the one pursuing our dream and hopeful that she might join me someday.
When I’ve finished telling her how I wrongly assumed Wes was a dumb jock, she is hysterical with laughter.
“It isn’t funny,” I say but join in laughing anyway. “I was a total ass, and now, I need to convince him to tutor me.”
“You’re going to have to grovel,” she says decidedly. “Try food. Men love with their stomachs.”
“I think that ship has sailed. I’ll go with helpful acquaintanceship.”
As she drinks her first legal adult beverage, I fill her in on Vanessa, who is always a favorite topic. Vanessa’s life is way more entertaining than mine, and though, they’ve only met once, I think Gabby likes to hear our college escapades. And I’d never deny her that.
I’ve tried on more than one occasion to get Gabs to Valley, but she maintains she’s perfectly content at home. I think she’s hiding scared, but can I blame her? I’d like to think I’d be able to get out of bed each day and ignore the questioning looks, but I don’t know if I’m that brave either. Still, I sometimes wish I could trade places with her. It’s her dreams I’m living every day, and I can’t help but think she deserves it so much more.
“Oh, hey, I made you a new bracelet to match mine.” She lifts her arm and points to an orange bracelet. It’s one of about twenty on her arm, but it matches the one she’s slid to me across the table. “Another year of friendship.”
I tie the bracelet around my wrist and then run a hand over my matching bracelets as I smile. “You know, Valley has a really great arts program, including jewelry and fashion design. You—”
“Not this again.”
“Yes, thisagain. Gabby, you should be with me at Valley.”
Before I can pitch her my best argument on all the reasons she should be at university, two guys approach our table.
They aren’t bad-looking and are dressed as if they just came from work, but they look at least thirty-five. “Can we buy you ladies a drink?”
“Sure. Actually, it’s Gabby’s twenty-first birthday.”
Gabby shifts, letting her hair fall over her face, and stares hard at the table top.
“Oh yeah? Happy birthday. Birthday shots are on us. What’s your poison?”
It’s silent for two long seconds before she looks up and meets his gaze. She flips her hair back, deliberately drawing attention to the scars. Both men drop their eyes.
