Last Chance Avenue [Ed Sheeran]

Hoodie Ocean

Warning: You may get mad. Real life problems ahead.

I cringed in pain, pulling my fingers away from the guitar strings. Hell, I think, this was a pain I never wanted to feel again. My fingertips were red and raw, screaming out in pain, but I had to break them in or else I would never be able to play guitar. I kept my fingers pressed down again the strings, plucking out the tune of the Harry Potter theme song.

"Since when did you know how to play guitar?" Jamal asked, appearing suddenly in my bedroom doorway. I quickly set the guitar down.

"Um, I don't know." I lied. "I just learned it the other day."

"How about you put that down and come shoot some hoops with me?" He offered, spinning the basketball on his finger skillfully. I was horrible at sports. The hardest sport for me was making sure I didn't trip and bust my face on the ground while walking.

"Um, alright." I said. I'm Brooke now. I'm doing Brooke things. I followed Jamal to the basket ball hoop in the backyard, besides the pool.

"You're weird these days, you know that?" He asked, dribbling the ball, back and forth between his legs. I attempted to grab it, but he was too quick.

"What do you mean 'weird'?" I asked, losing breath while attempting again to grab the ball. He dribbled it twice more for jumping and making a shot I failed to block.

"You suck as basketball, that's for sure."

"I don't remember how to play, Jamal. Take it easy on me," I huffed, out of breath.

"And you talk different." he mentioned, retrieving the ball. He tossed it to me, making it bounce once off the stained white pavement and into my hands.

"Define different."

"See that? You would never use words like 'define different'. You would flat out ask me what the hell I meant."

I tossed the ball and it bounced off the rim and ricocheted off into another different. "What do you want me to say? I mean, I'm different now. I don't wear make up, I can't stand Ruby and Hazel, I don't even want to touch calamari. I can't explain what's wrong with me."

"I just wish you would fix it," Jamal said, retrieving the ball and tossing it to me. It landed harshly in my arms against my chest.

"I can't change who I am now," I snapped, tossing it back at him.

"It doesn't even feel like you, B." he said, angry at me, tossing the ball back. I let it drop.

"Cause it's not me!" I shouted at him, sick of being accused and assaulted. "God, my body doesn't even feel right, and I'm trying to get use to it! I don't need anyone shoving it down my throat! I know! I know I'm not me! I miss me, but this is all I got, so bear with me! Ugh!"

I turned around and faced the pool, watching the water gleam in the sling sunlight, warming the surface barely. I imagine Brooke in the pool with her friends, showing off her perfect body and belly button piercing. I didn't do those things. I say at home with books or hang out with Ed. It was so hard getting to being her.

"Brooke, I'm sorry. I mean, you were gone for six months. I expected you to come back and be ready to pick up where we left off. I didn't realize that it would be this hard."

"I know." I replied, turning around and rubbing my arm. My phone began to ring in my pocket and I pulled it out. Jamal dismissed our conversation and began dribbling his ball as I walked into the house. Hazel. Ugh.

"Hello?" I answered unenthusiastically.

"Hey, loser. We're going to party tonight. Want to come?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, I don't actually."