Fantasy Football Page 7

  To this day I don’t know how I managed to land flat on my ass with my arms behind me. Without a shadow of a doubt I was shocked and bewildered by the outcome. One minute I’m doing a forward flip in midair, and the next I was casually sitting in the street.

  It took a few seconds to clear the cobwebs from my brain. When I could see clearly again, I noticed a few of my classmates standing on the sidewalk with their mouths agape, and their complexions white as ghosts from witnessing my near death experience.

  Willie Williams came bolting out the front door of his raised ranch home. Even back in the sixth grade Willie was a tank. People parted like the red sea whenever his path crossed theirs. He scooped me into his arms and placed me on his plush green lawn. Mr. Williams spent every waking minute of his free time on his Scott’s Tuff Turf green lawn. Willie wasn’t even allowed to practice football in the yard.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, squeezing different parts of my body. My guess, and hope, was he was checking for anything broken or displaced.

  As Willie picked at small pebbles embedded in my scraped hands, a young woman emerged from the car. My first thought was, it was about damn time. The petite blond had a cell phone in her hand, and I prayed she didn’t make a call to 9-1-1. I needed to get to school, not a hospital.

  “I didn’t even see you,” she said, her voice panic-stricken.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I said under my breath.

  Willie laughed.

  “Do you need me to call an ambulance?” the woman asked.

  I could hear a baby crying from the backseat of her car. My guess for the reason she didn’t see me was because she was either talking on her cell phone, or messing with her baby. It was nearly impossible not to have seen me. The woman was obviously distracted.

  “No, I need to go to school,” I said still woozy. “I have finals to take or I won’t graduate.”

  “I should at least take you home,” she said. As Willie helped the lady load Mariah’s bike in the back of her SUV, I gave her my address. “I just need to drop my daughter at the sitters and I’ll meet you at your house.”

  After I cut through Willie’s backyard, I was back on my street. As soon as I opened the front door and saw my mother, I broke down into tormenting tears.

  “What are you doing home?” my mother asked.

  “I was hit by a car!” My voice cracked when I fought to regain my composure. I wasn’t one for being a blubbing baby.

  Mariah bolted out of her bedroom and down the hallway in a mad dash. “Where’s my bike?”

  Really? I thought to myself. I was nearly run down by a car, and she was worried about her precious bike. This was how it all started, with no concern by my family members about my ordeal. I could have had a walking concussion, but no one questioned my injuries or insisted I go to the hospital to verify I didn’t suffer from internal bleeding.

  The real kick in the pants though, the lady who hit me never showed up at the house. Not only did she nearly kill me, she disappeared with Mariah’s bike. My dad filed a police report, but without any of my eyewitnesses ever seeing the car before, or memorizing the license plate, the case was closed a few months later. The police had a few theories, including, she was driving on a suspended or no license, had priors, or was under the influence.

  And it didn’t end there. Later that day in second period gym, I was finally able to take inventory of my injuries when I dressed in my T-shirt and shorts for softball. My left leg had a dark blue and purple bruise the size of a watermelon. It certainly explained why I was experiencing shooting pains down my leg anytime I climbed the stairs.

  I was covering third base when the ball was thrown to me to force out Casey. Casey didn’t care that she was already thrown out. She planned it out in her demented head to run me down, no matter what. When I refused to drop the ball out of my glove, I pushed Casey off me and made sure I grabbed a fistful of dirt to deposit in her face when doing so.

  That was the day I concluded people only cared about themselves. From strangers running me down with their cars and disappearing, to family members’ lack of concern, to classmates who showed no mercy.

  There within laid my piss-poor attitude against people, and obviously for good reasons – so I thought. I cleared my throat. “Huh. So, guys are scared of me?”

  “Sorry,” Boyd said. “Maybe that was too harsh.”

  “No, no.” I did ask for the truth. If I lashed out, Boyd would be proving his point. “You did the right thing. I just wish I could trust people again.”

  Nikki sauntered into my bedroom. She was casually dressed in blue jeans and a plain hot pink hooded sweatshirt. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, and she wasn’t wearing make-up. I was beginning to hate her. The girl was naturally beautiful.

  “Who are you talking to?” Nikki asked.

  “Your hurtful boyfriend,” I said, purposely not covering the tiny talk hole on my cell phone. “He just called me ugly.”

  The same time Nikki screamed, What? I heard Boyd’s rebuttal of, Like hell I did.

  “Let me talk to him!”

  “No way, you’ll use up all my minutes.”

  I turned my attention back to Boyd. “Gotta run. Nikki and I are headed to the mall for Homecoming dresses.”

  “Later,” he said, then disconnected.

  “Should I be worried that you’re talking to Boyd behind my back?”

  Nikki was half-serious, half-joking. I could tell by the tone in her voice. “Don’t you mean jealous? I’ll explain on the way to the mall, but first I need to take a few shots of my mom’s shoes.”

  “What for?” Nikki asked, following me up the stairs to the main floor.

  My parent’s room was at the end of the hall. I flung open the doublewide French doors and immediately inhaled the aroma of my father’s favorite cologne, Polo. Or was it my mom’s?

  I could practically see my father standing at his armoire dressed in his faded blue jeans and blue-grey flannel shirt, wrapping his gold watch around his right wrist. He was the only left-handed Collins that I knew of.

  The bedroom was now a shrine to my father. Mom kept all his sports memorabilia on his side of the room. Although he was an avid football fan with signed footballs and posters, he also had a shelf filled with signed hockey jerseys, baseballs, basketballs and trading cards.

  A lump materialized in the back of my throat, and I immediately swallowed it back down while fending off a tear that pooled in the corner of my eye. I missed him horribly. I missed his laughter, his corny jokes, and his inability to ask for directions whenever we took a road trip.

  “I need to take inventory of my mom’s colored shoes, so I can coordinate a dress with one of them.”

  “Smart, Collins, very smart.”

  Nikki has been in my parents’ bedroom before, but she’d never seen my mom’s walk-in closet. It literally could double as a studio apartment. I, for one, thought it was over the top with its dark brown tile floors, white marbled walls, a dressing room, and wine refrigerator. And on the other side of the closet was Mom’s bathroom. It’s just as sick as her closet.

  As soon as I pulled open the closet door, I skirted around Nikki incase she fainted. Not that I’d be able to catch her, but I’d be able to somewhat cushion her fall to the hardwood floor.

  “Just remember to breath,” I told her. “I don’t want you to hyperventilate.”

  The reaction was what I’d expected. Unless you possessed a similar closet, the initial shock was an eye-bulging, mouth-dropping, release a few swear words at the envy. Nikki stood in wide-eyed wonder and whispered what I was sure was in lines of the F word followed by, me.

  “This is unreal,” she mumbled.

  “That it is, my friend. Let me just take a few shots and we’ll disburse.”

  The outlet mall was only fifteen minutes from our house and was always manically hectic. There was an indoor food court that offered just about everything under the sun. And there was an outdoor atrium with plastic ta
bles and chairs to offer relief from the feet. Although, I think most of everyone used it for people watching. It creeped me out, no matter what its intended purpose was.

  Nikki parked her car in a spot close the Gap. The Dress Barn was a few stores down and around the bend, next to Tees and Tux. And from the looks of the parking lot, the entire senior class inhabited all the stores.

  “This is so exciting!” Nikki said slamming her door shut.

  Of course I didn’t share in her excitement. She was here for a purpose. Nikki had a date with Boyd. I only had a date with my camera and a few rolls of film.

  “Sure is.” My returned enthusiasm was fake, along with my smile.

  The sound of a car horn from behind me nearly catapulted my heart right out of my chest. “Move it, Collins!” Casey barked, her head leaning out her driver’s window.

  “Where’s a guillotine when you need one?” I said to Nikki and loud enough for Casey to hear.

  Casey pressed down the accelerator, flipping me off in her passing. “Wonder what she’s doing here?” Nikki asked. “Boyd said no one has even asked her to homecoming.”

  “I’m sure she has cousins,” I said.

  We passed the atrium filled to the gills with pedophiles and porn agents, and turned the corner to our store. With my full attention on Nikki while she droned on about her ideal dress, I smacked into what felt like a wall with my left shoulder.

  The blunt trauma sent a shockwave of pain down my arm, and stopped at the tip of my tailbone when my ass hit the concrete.

  “What the hell, Collins?” With all the white fuzz floating around my head, I couldn’t make out who it was, except the voice was male.

  I heard some laughter erupt around me; Nikki and Boyd included. That narrowed my guess on who slammed me to the ground. Before I could take a gander, a pair of hands wrapped around both my upper arms and pulled me to my feet.

  “You’re such a walking disaster, Parker,” Casey said. She glanced past me and smiled. “Hi, Trent. Maroon is still your favorite color, right? I’m off to get my dress.”

  Trent was standing next to me, shaking his head and asked, “How the hell do you get rid of a tick again?”

  “You burn off its head.” Devin laughed, and released me from his grasp. “Don’t you ever watch where you’re going?” he asked. “Always in a hurry, Collins.”

  “Sorry.” It was all I had. Getting slammed to a cement sidewalk by a guy built like a Hummer scrambles the brain, along with all motor skills to help one form complete sentences.

  I peered over my shoulder to see Nikki conversing with Boyd a few yards away, leaving me alone and tongue-tied with Trent and Devin. They looked like a set of Twinkies, both dressed in school sweatshirts.

  Trent wrapped an arm around my waist and brushed away some dirt off my back, and picked a few leaves out of my hair. My stomach sank at the thought of having a tear in my brand new black sweater. It wasn’t cheap.

  “Careful with our star photographer,” Trent said to Devin. “We have a game tomorrow. We can’t afford any injuries.”

  Devin smiled, showcasing a bright smile. His two I-teeth were slightly skewed, which gave him a sincere grin. All these years and I never realized what a gorgeous smile he had.

  “For sure, dude.” Devin nodded at Trent and then turned his attention to me. “Do you need a medic?”

  Trent shoved Devin aside and took a step closer to me. “How many fingers am I holding up?” Trent asked while holding up three fingers.

  I couldn’t tell if they were serious or poking fun at me. Either way, there was only one response. “How many am I…”

  Before I could extend my middle finger, Boyd slapped my hand down and said, “Remember our conversation earlier, Parker?”

  Yes. You called me a bitch. I cleared my throat and padded it with an exaggerated eye roll that nearly bowled me over. “I’m fine guys, thanks for asking.”

  Boyd gave me a thumbs up and I smiled, batting my eyelashes. I could be sweet, but it just felt so unnatural. The urgency to not let my guard down was knocking at my common sense. In the end I knew they would all abandon me as if I never existed. I was waiting for a sign from the great unknown that I could actually trust again.

  The Dress Barn was wickedly chaotic. The scene of dozens of girls fighting over the same dress or fighting their way to a dressing room made me cringe. All I needed to do was find a dress, pay for it, and get the hell out of Dodge.

  Nikki started thumbing through a rack of strapless dresses, and I joined her on the other side rummaging through A-line dresses. Nothing piqued my interest, but Nikki kept holding up one dress after the other saying, “This one?”

  As I waited for Nikki to try on a few dresses, my eyes honed in on a black-laced chiffon-style dress. Mom had black-buckle pumps with three-inch heels to match. I already could picture the steam pouring off my body. I was going to be one hot tamale!

  After waiting in line for over an hour, Nikki and I finally paid for our dresses and hit the food court. I was nibbling on a soft pretzel when I felt my phone vibrate against my hip.

  “Huh?” I said after checking the caller ID.

  “Who is it?” Nikki asked.

  “My mom, which can’t be good.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because she never calls me.” I hit the green button. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can you come home? You received a Federal express envelope today that I think you need to open right away.”

  My mind wondered off for a few seconds. I know I didn’t order anything, so who would be sending me something? “Who’s it from?” I asked my mom.

  “Santa Claus, from the North Pole.” And she wasn’t joking.

  Chapter 8

  “She really said the package is from Santa Claus?” Nikki asked as we strolled back to her car.

  The past few nights had been brisk, with nighttime temperatures dipping into the mid-fifties. But a warm front was passing through, pushing temps in the low eighties during the day. And at seven-thirty, it was still a balmy seventy-two degrees. But a light breeze swirled fallen crisp leaves around our feet to remind us it was still fall.

  “A letter, not a package,” I corrected her. “And it’s from the North Pole.”

  We climbed in her car and Nikki turned the ignition. I immediately rolled down the window to allow the refreshing breeze to play with my hair.

  “It’s probably junk mail, or some lame scam letter disguised to look important.”

  I played with Nikki’s theory. It actually made sense. The Federal express letter was more than likely a chain letter stating if I didn’t send a dollar to the first person on the list, I’d be plagued by bad luck for the next seven years.

  “I should have just had my mom open it, if she hasn’t already.”

  Frankly, I had the sneaky suspicion she had. It was simply her nature to be intrusive like that. But hopefully after our little chitchat bonding moment from earlier in the day, she refrained from the temptation.

  Nikki pulled in my driveway at exactly eight o’clock. The sun had completely set and I was already missing summer where it was still light until well after nine o’clock.

  Every tree in our neighborhood walkways was lit up for Halloween. It was tradition. Even the newbies on the block followed suit by wrapping the trunk of their tree in green lights and purple lights on the branches. And at Christmas time the purple lights were changed out for white.

  “I don’t know why I’m excited to see what you received,” Nikki said slamming her door shut, “when knowing darn well it’s junk.”

  The front door was unlocked. I stepped aside to let Nikki in and said, “It’s the thrill of the unknown.” I spotted the envelope on the entryway table under the big vase of lilies.

  “Mom, are you home?”

  Her arm flew up from her chair in the living room, similar to that of acknowledging roll call during class. “I’m here. Guess I zonked out,” she said. She stretched her arms and strolled over t
o my side.

  “Open it already!” Nikki snapped her fingers in front of my face.

  “Chill!” I peeled back the long cardboard tab and retrieved a letter sized envelope from inside. “If there’s another envelope inside this envelope and so on, I’m going to shoot Santa.”

  But there wasn’t another envelope inside the letter. There was a certified check made out to me. A real, genuine check for one thousand dollars. I could feel the penetrating glares from my mother and Nikki over my shoulders. Like me, I was sure they were checking for authenticity.

  “Why would Santa send you a grand?” Nikki inquired. “Is he making up for lost time in gifts or something?”

  I glanced at my mother and she shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t look at me,” she said.

  There was one single word written in the memo section of the check, Bike. When the word registered through the stems of my brain cells, I felt all the blood drain from my face. “I don’t believe this. How can this be?”

  “Omigod!” Nikki squealed. “All these years and that lady finally sent restitution.”

  Mom chimed in, “All those years of guilt building up. I’m sure it played an ugly number on her guilty conscious.”

  I was still reeling from shock. The timing of the check was remarkable, considering I hadn’t thought about the woman who nearly ran me down for years, until today. A strange sensation tingled throughout my body. Was this the sign for me to change my attitude?

  There definitely was something strange at work. The Earth’s axis shifted, pigs were probably flying and hell just froze over. What’s next, the Cubs finally win the World Series?

  “What are you going to do with the money?” Nikki wanted to know.

  It wasn’t my money, though. I handed the check to my mother and said, “This belongs to you. You’re the one who replaced Mariah’s bike.”

  My mother shoved the check right back in my face. “Don’t be ridiculous. This belongs to you to compensate for your pain and mental anguish.”