Authors: Allie Everhart
I've only lived with Amber a week and she's already driving me crazy, watching me like a hawk to see if I'm limping. I think she'd secretly be happy if I was, because it would give her yet another opportunity to try to convince me to move on and accept that my gymnastics career is over.
My parents have been trying to do this for a year and their attempts have gone nowhere. So when I was offered money for college, my parents were overjoyed, assuming college would give me something new to focus us. Plus, they couldn't afford to send me to college themselves so having someone else offer to foot the bill was like a gift from God. My mom even cried when she found out.
The college money came from a car dealership in my hometown. After going to nationals, I became kind of a local celebrity and was hired to do some local commercials, one of which was for this car dealership. The commercials ended after the accident, but the owner of the car dealership felt so badly about what happened to me that he offered to pay for my college.
As soon as Amber found out I was going to college, she called and suggested I go to the same school she goes to, saying how fun it would be to go to the same college, and how I could live in her apartment. That's when her cheerleader side came out. Just like my parents, she was hoping college would help me move on.
So here I am, living in Chicago and sharing an apartment with Amber. It's late August and I start classes in a week. I turned 21 last week so I'll be an old freshman. Amber is also 21 but she's halfway through her junior year because she takes classes every summer.
I hear knocking on the door and get up to open it.
"Hey, Kira." Matt smiles at me and it's that same sad smile Amber gives me whenever the topic of gymnastics comes up. So she told Matt what happened to me? Why did she tell him? Now whenever he sees me, he's going to give me that smile. I don't want him looking at me that way. Feeling sorry for me. Because there's nothing to feel sorry about. I'm going to compete again. I am. I have to.
"Hi." I step aside. "Come on in. Amber's still getting ready."
I wait for Matt to go past me. I don't want him seeing the slight limp I have from the pain and stiffness in my leg. It's because of my workout yesterday. As soon as I got into town I joined a gym, and yesterday I went a little overboard on my workout. But it's what I have to do if I want to compete again. I have to train hard and suffer through the pain. As the saying goes, no pain, no gain.
"So how do you like Chicago?" Matt asks, sitting on one of the chairs. I take the couch.
Our living room furniture is from Amber's grandma, who moved into a nursing home last year. We have a floral print couch, two pink velour recliners, and a wooden coffee table that's been painted white. The furniture is pretty hideous, but it was free so we can't complain. And at least Amber's parents bought us a new TV. It's a 42-inch flat screen which is currently sitting on the floor until we can find someone who knows how to hang it on the wall. We bought the bracket. We just don't know how to install it. Amber asked Matt to do it but he has no handyman skills and we didn't want to risk having him try to install it, then have the TV crash to the floor in the middle of the night. So for now, it sits on the floor, resting against the wall.
"I like it," I say. "I've been to Chicago before. My brothers like the science museum."
"How old are your brothers again?"
He says 'again' because we already talked about this. Matt came over last night for dinner and asked me all these questions about myself, but I'm sure he forgot half of what I said. He wasn't really listening. His attention was all on Amber. He really likes her.
"Josh is 15," I say. "Nate is 12, and Luke is 10."
"Do they play sports?"
"Yeah. Josh plays football, Nate plays basketball, and Luke plays baseball."
"I used to play baseball," Matt says, "but I sucked at it."
Matt doesn't look like an athlete. He's around 5'9 and on the thin side with not much muscle. But he has a good-looking face. Very symmetrical and his eyes are a rich brown color that match his dark hair. I don't know him that well, but so far, he seems like an easygoing, nice guy. But he also seems kind of boring.
The room is silent except for the sound of Amber's blowdryer, which we can hear from the bathroom down the hall. It's not a very big apartment. There's an open living area that includes the kitchen, and then two small bedrooms and a bathroom.
"You said your dad's an insurance agent?" Matt asks, trying to fill the silence.
"Yeah. And my mom helps run the office." I already told him all this last night. I need to find something else to talk about. "So you know anything about this band that's playing tonight?"
"Not much. I've heard of them. I've just never heard them play. I only knew they were playing tonight because the lead singer came into the shop yesterday."
Matt graduated from college last May and got a job as a project manager at some company downtown. But soon he'll have to start paying off his student loans, so he's working at a men's clothing store to make extra cash. He worked there all through college and said it's an easy job because the store only sell suits and most guys go there to buy, not to shop. Matt makes a commission on each sale so it's basically easy money.
"If he's in a band, why does he need a suit?" I ask.
"The band's just a side thing. He's in college, in his senior year. The suit is for job interviews, but he didn't end up buying one. He said he'd come back later. Anyway, we got to talking and he mentioned the band and suggested I stop by to hear them." He shrugs. "Even if they're not that great, it's something to do. And I told him I'd go so I feel like I should." He motions to the bathroom. "How much longer do you think she'll be?"
"Another twenty minutes. Maybe more." I smile. "You should know this by now. You've dated her for over a month."
"I usually check my phone while I wait so I guess I don't notice."
Is he saying the time is going slower because he's talking to me? I check the clock on the wall. It's only been five minutes. Damn. Time IS going slow. Painfully slow. Matt and I have nothing to talk about.
"You want to watch TV?"
"Sure." He smiles, like he's relieved we no longer have to talk. I'm relieved too. The awkward silence was getting to me.
Thirty minutes later, Amber finally emerges, wearing a short black dress. Her blond hair hangs in big waves that look natural, but took a half hour, a pile of products, and at least two hair tools to create. I know because I've done it myself. Sometimes when I went out with my high school boyfriend, I'd curl my hair like that and it took forever. My brothers would be banging on the bathroom door, telling me to hurry up.
"You look great," Matt says, getting up from the chair.
"Thanks!" She gives him a quick peck on the lips. "Ready to go?"
Seeing her in a dress, I feel like a slob in my baggy t-shirt and old jeans. "I think I'll change my shirt."
"Okay." She smiles. "We'll wait."
Matt sighs, but in a joking way. "Is this going to be another half hour?"
"No, I'll be quick." I hurry back to my room and find a black t-shirt that isn't great, but it's a lot nicer than the shirt I'm wearing. At least it's fitted and not baggy. I change into my newest pair of jeans, a dark boot cut, then slip on some shoes. There isn't time to do much with my hair so I just run a brush through it, then put on some mascara, and I'm done.
"Okay, I'm ready," I say, hurrying back to the living room.
"See?" Matt says to Amber. "It's possible to get ready fast." He gives her a kiss.
"Maybe, but don't get your hopes up." She loops her arm around his and they head to the door.
I can't tell if Amber likes Matt. I mean, I know she likes him, but I'm not sensing any passion between them. They almost act like an old married couple, and yet they've only dated for a month. Shouldn't they still be hot for each other after a month? The flame shouldn't have fizzled out already. They should be all over each other, and yet when I snuck out of my room to get a snack the other night, I found the two of them just sitting on the couch watching TV. When I moved in with her, I thought she and Matt would be going at it in her room all night long, but that hasn't happened, at least not yet.
We take Matt's car and I sit in the back, already feeling like a third wheel. Matt has a Prius so there isn't much room back here. But at least he has a car. So does Amber. She has her mom's old Ford Focus.
I'm carless and probably will be for years. I have no money to buy one, not even a really old used one. Back in Michigan I borrowed my parents' car whenever I had to go somewhere. It was actually my car. The man who gave me money for college also gave me a car from his dealership. It was a used car but only a couple years old and in great shape. He thought I'd need it at college, which I do, but my parents need it a lot more than I do. They only had one vehicle; a minivan that was rusted out and barely worked. So when that man gave me a car, I gave it to my parents. After all they'd sacrificed for me, I didn't even consider keeping it for myself.
When we get to the bar, Matt drops Amber and me off at the door, then goes to park.
"Seriously?" I say to Amber. "Did you tell him I can't walk?"
"No." She rolls her eyes. "Geez, Kira, he was just being nice. Don't read so much into everything."
"You're right. I'm sorry." I force out a smile, trying to ignore the pain in my leg. That's why I'm crabby. When my leg aches like this, it reminds me of my injury and puts me in a bad mood. But if I'm ever going to get past this and achieve my dream, I need to stay positive, even when I'm in pain. So tonight, I'm going to smile and have a good time and be happy to be here with my best friend.
Matt meets up with us and when we get inside, he pays the cover charge for all three of us. He may be kind of boring but he's a really nice guy. That's probably why Amber likes him.
"It's freezing in here," Amber says, shivering in her sleeveless dress.
Matt puts his arm around her. "You want to go back and get a sweater or something?"
"Could we? I know it's a pain to go all the way back but—"
"It's not a big deal." He kisses her. "I'll go get the car."
"Matt, wait." She turns to me. "Kira, could you stay here and get us a table? "
"Sure. Go ahead."
She hugs me. "Thanks! We won't be long, I swear." She takes off with Matt.
"Sorry," a girl says, bumping into me.
"It's okay." I'm blocking the entrance so I turn and follow everyone into the main section of the bar. It's a big place, and the lights are dim, so it's hard to see. There's a stage up front with equipment set up. The band hasn't started playing yet but club music is pumping through the speakers.
I spot a table in the middle toward the back and make my way over there, sneaking through the crowd.
It's strange being out like this. It seems like forever since I've had an actual night out with people my age. All last year I spent every Saturday night watching TV in my room, listening to my brothers fight with each other while my parents yelled at them to be quiet.
It's good I'm no longer there. It was definitely time for a change. I needed to get out of my parents' house. Out of Michigan. Out of my comfort zone. Maybe living on my own will prove to my parents that I'm not weak and fragile, and that I actually can become the athlete I used to be. And if not, I'll at least prove that to myself. Because miracles do happen. And I'm going to be one of them.
Austin
There's a big banner over the bar with our name on it. Dylan has a friend who works at a print shop and makes all kinds of promo stuff for us for a really cheap price.
I love seeing that banner. It makes me feel like we're a real band. A band that could actually be something more than just some guys who like playing music together in their free time. We've never talked about it, but I think we should make a demo and send it out to record companies, just to see if anything would happen. It might not, but what the hell? Why not try? We're popular here in Chicago, so why couldn't we be popular elsewhere?
"I love Vandyl!" some girl yells as she looks up at the sign. She's drunk and spilling her drink as her hands wave around. Her friend is just as drunk and yells, "Vandyl!"
Vandyl is the name of our band. It's a combination of Van and Dylan. They started the band and named it before I joined. They needed a guitarist so they put an ad online and that's how I found them. We clicked right away and the rest is history.
"Austin," the bartender says. I turn and see him holding a bottle of water.
I take it from him. "Thanks. What do I owe you?"
"It's on the house. Good luck tonight." He gives me a nod, then goes to take drink orders.
The band always gets free drinks, but I still offer to pay because I don't like to assume. I always stick with water. Van and Dylan do too. We agreed when we formed the band that there's no getting drunk before or during a show. And there's no drugs, period. I'm not hanging around that shit, or around people who are into that, and luckily Van and Dylan feel the same way. They both get drunk after a show, but that's it. Just alcohol, no drugs.
There's a back room at the bar where we can hang out before we play, but as I'm heading over there, I stop when I see a girl. It's her face that catches my eye. She's pretty, but not in that done-up kind of way, like most of the girls here. This girl isn't wearing much makeup, or maybe she's not wearing any at all. It's hard to tell from where I'm at. She has a slight smile on her face as she makes her way through the crowd. She seems to be heading for a table, her eyes focused on it. I wonder if she's with someone. Maybe that's what the smile's for. He's probably waiting for her.
The people in front of me move, allowing me a better look at the girl. Now I can see her body, and damn, she's hot. This girl works out. I can see the definition in her arms. But it's not too much. Some of the girls at the gym work out to the point that they have almost no body fat, leaving them with all muscle. No womanly curves, no softness.