After experiencing a life-altering tragedy, Emersyn feels as if her world has collapsed. Attempting to accept her new reality, Emersyn wonders how she can possibly keep going when it feels like her life ended months ago. Until she meets Haven, and s...
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August fading to September is the beginning of a lot of commotion around school.
All anyone can seem to talk about is the start of football season–which is apparently a very significant sport in this kind of small town. Everyone is talking about the first game of the season–who we'll be rivaling, what they will be wearing, who will prove to be the best player on the team.
I've never truly understood the importance of high school sports, especially having grown up seeing athletes typically favored in some classes. I've always been an art geek, and it was frustrating to lose funding for enrichment classes throughout the years so that my old school could afford nice things for the athletic departments. It is not that I feel the talents of athletes should go unnoticed, because that is not the case. It would just be nice to live in a world where all talents are equally recognized, where there is enough room for everyone to shine in their own way.
However, when Haven invites me to attend the game with her, I simply cannot refuse.
"Tyler's my brother," Haven retorts with a sigh, as if this fact alone disturbs her deeply. "So I have to go. I don't really want to. But I figured it would be less dreadful if you came along."
I fidget with the straps on my bookbag as Haven and I roam the halls together, headed for class.
"I'd love to go," I admit easily, because I mean the words. I would follow Haven to the ends of the earth, all the way up into space. She's like the northern star–I am simply drawn to her.
Haven's expression, though normally sunny and clear, is cloudy and shadowed. "I wanted to opt out this year," she admits. "It's the first year I won't be on the field, too. Cheering, I mean."
I furrow my eyebrows in puzzlement. Unable to keep my thoughts to myself, I question, "Why'd you quit, again? It sounds like you really miss it."
The shadow passing over Haven's features darkens. I almost regret speaking.
She shrugs too nonchalantly, her demeanor not matching her expression. "I just . . . had to." Haven does not elaborate, though she appears as if she wants to. Her lips keep twitching, opening and closing like she is going to say more but then thinks better of doing so.
"I just couldn't . . . keep up with it anymore," she finally explains. Refusing to meet my stare, Haven adds, "Physically, I mean. It's no big deal. Anyway . . ."
Haven rambles on, though for the first time since I first listened to her speak, I find it difficult to pay attention to what exactly she is saying. Haven's vague answer as to why she quit a sport she seems to adore only leaves me with more questions. What could she possibly mean by being unable to keep up with the exertion? That does not sound like a common excuse for someone her age, nor someone seemingly so skilled at a sport she claims to have been a part of since childhood.
I want to pry–I want to beg for more information. However, I keep my tongue in my cheek. Clearly, Haven does not want to discuss whatever it is that is troubling her. The last thing I want to do is make her feel as if she has to share something she is not quite ready to be open about. After all, I'm withholding things myself for the same reason.
