Page 3 of Bending Under Pressure

“I don’t care,” I automatically reply, standing up to head to my room.

“Haley, you’re being ridiculous. Walter has been nothing but nice to you, and you’re treating him like crap. It’s not right. If you want to be pissed at someone, then focus your anger on me. Not him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“And I didn’t deserve this!” My arms flail about, motioning around us. “I was happy. We were all happy! God, Mom, why don’t you worry about me for two seconds instead of him! Would it kill you to care about how I’m doing? I hate it here!” I turn and storm off to my room, ignoring my mother’s call for me to come back.

Ever since she introduced me to Walter, her sole concern has been him and how he feels. I know I should probably treat him better, but for all I know, he and Mom were having an affair while my parents were still married and that’s why they divorced. No one tells me anything! Locking the door to my room, I turn up my stereo and crawl into bed with a romance novel. I’d rather escape into someone else’s world than be in my own right now.

Once again, Jess is the only girl at practice who speaks to me. I feel like I’ve sort of made a friend. It relaxes

me a little bit. Hopefully, this means when school starts Monday, I won’t have that panicking moment where I don’t know which table to sit at in the cafeteria.

The week passes and practice goes well. Coach Spell pairs us and has us play against one another for our seed placement; he’s going to make the announcement Monday. My good feeling about Jess plummets when, at the end of practice Friday, I overhear the girls talking about a party as I slip my racquet into its cover. No one invites me though, which is fine. I grab my things to leave.

I’m halfway to my car when I hear someone call my name. I turn to see Keelan jogging toward me, Cameron and Jess not too far behind him. They’ve been watching practices here and there this week. I might have paid enough attention to them enough to know that Cameron is the owner of the truck I saw at his house.

“Hey, there’s a huge party tonight to kick off school and football season starting. Do you want to go with me?”

For a moment, I’m stunned. The same party none of my teammates offered to invite me to, Keelan is asking me to go with him? Why?

“No, thanks,” I answer.

“Oh, okay.” Keelan seems disappointed. “Not a partying kind of girl?”

“Only sometimes.” It really just depends on my mood.

He nods in understanding. “Well, can I give you my number in case you change your mind?”

“Sure.” I doubt that I will though. He’s the only one who wants me there, and I don’t know him well enough to know if going would be worth it. I pull my phone from a pocket in my racquet case, pull up where I can enter a new contact, and hand it to him to enter it himself.

Keelan smiles, his perfect white teeth making my heart beat a little faster. I love a good smile and Keelan’s is ridiculously good. “I’m going to text myself, so I’ll have your number, too.” He hands my phone back to me, and adds, “Catch ya later, Hales.”

He walks away, leaving me frowning. Hales? Why did he call me that? I am not a fan of nicknames. My name is Haley, which is what I prefer to be called, because it’s my name. Maybe he can be an ally on Monday at school, even though he’s given me a nickname. Shaking my head, I finish the walk to my car and head home.

I’ve been ignoring Mom and Walter since our little spat earlier this week. She wants me to focus my anger on her, so I have. After a silence-filled dinner, I retreat to my room as usual. I try calling Dad for the third time this week. My shoulders sag in disappointment when he doesn’t answer. Again. I was hoping he’d answer and maybe even let me come spend the weekend with him, but I guess not.

My phone dings with a text.

Keelan: Still don’t want to go? It’ll be fun. Promise.

Why does he want me to go so badly?

Me: Maybe next time. Thanks though.

I turn my stereo on, grab a book, and put my phone on the nightstand. Everyone can go party; I’ll enjoy my book. My phone beeps, but I ignore it, lost in my fictional reality. About halfway through, my phone beeps again, and I decide to check it. Both texts are from Keelan.

Keelan: It’s good you didn’t come.

Keelan: Do you like banana splits? Have you been to Elsie’s yet?

Me: Yes and who’s Elsie?

Keelan: Not who. Where. It’s a restaurant that serves the best banana splits. Want to go?

Me: Now?

Keelan: Yeah, now. I can pick you up.

He wants to take me out for ice cream? I can’t turn him down three times in one night, and ice cream does sound good. I glance at the clock; it’s eleven p.m. Mom would never let me leave this late, even on a Friday night.

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