Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 54

He watched me biting my index fingernail. "Yeah."

            I leaned my head against the seat, relieved he didn't sound angry. "What was it like?"

            He laughed a little and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. "Quick."

            "That's it?"

            "Awkward, unromantic, inept, gauche—"

            "Okay, I get it. Enough with the SAT vocab lesson," I laughed. "But did you feel like you knew so much more about it after? Like you'd jumped this giant hurdle and sex wasn't a big unknown anymore?"

            "I guess so, but that didn't make me any more confident."

            "Confidence comes with practice," I recited, and then quickly realized the insinuations of using that line with this particular subject matter. "I didn't mean that. I don't mean that." My face flamed.

            Jordan flashed me a dimple-filled smile. "It's only true if you're practicing with the same person all the time. Just because you've done it with someone, doesn't mean you're not nervous with someone else. It's like starting over."

"There's been more than one person?"

            He laughed again. "Two persons."

            "I'm sorry. You didn't have to answer that."

            "You can ask me anything you want, Karen." He straightened up and finally took the keys out of the ignition. "But it's different for me. I'm a guy. You might not want just my perspective. Maybe find a second person to ask. A lot of girls our age are not having sex. Even some of the girls I know from school that have boyfriends and have been with them for months. And trust me, I'm getting the details from the guys, not the girls, which means whatever they say they're doing is already blown up by fifty percent."

            "That's good to know," I said, keeping my face totally dead serious. "And I was just going to ask if you wanted to do that friends-with-benefits-thing, but you're right, I should probably wait."

            I jumped out of the car and headed for the front door.

"I think you still have that fever." Jordan jogged up beside me, laughing. "My friend Tony's coming over in a few minutes. We're going sledding again, if you want to come?" Jordan asked as we stomped snow off our boots inside the foyer.

            "I would love to, but I'm starving and have three pounds to gain back after the flu-from-hell." I was already on my way to the kitchen the second my coat was hung up, and Jordan followed right behind me. "And then I've got homework and Stevie's picking me up in a little while. Ally wants both of us to come in an hour before practice for some physical therapy."

            I removed a single-portion sized container of leftover chicken soup from the fridge and popped it in the microwave. Jordan opened a drawer and handed me a spoon. "How was practice this morning?"

            "Awesome. I did five beam routines with a tucked back full. Stacey said I might be able to compete the new routine in Chicago."

            Jordan grinned and lifted his hand for a high five—'cause we're just friends. "When do I get to see your new release move on uneven bars?"

            "If everything goes as planned, you could see it during Friday evening's practice, if you want."

            "I'll be there."

            The doorbell rang, and before Jordan could even answer it, Tony was trampling through the house and into the kitchen.

            I stood there holding my container of soup, not sure what to say, but both guys laughed when they realized I looked a little disgruntled.

            "It's all right," Jordan said. "Tony knows you live here. And that you're not a freshman at our school."

            For a big giant ogre guy, Tony had a very friendly smile. I leaned against the counter, taking a few bites of soup.

            "So, you two really share a bathroom?" Tony asked.

            "Yep. Do you live at school?" I asked, remembering that Jordan's school was a boarding school.

            "Not anymore," Tony said. "My mom's the police chief. She said it looked like we were more of a family if I lived at home. Helped her campaign or whatever."

            Police chief...Several things went through my head in that moment, and I barely heard Jordan say he was going to the garage to get his snow gear.

            "Police chief doesn't get you a big house like that." Nosy wasn't something I'd been before, but desperate times called for bold actions. "What does your dad do?"

            "He's a plastic surgeon." Tony fiddled with the zipper on his black ski jacket and leaned next to me. "I'm sorry about your parents. I saw the article in the paper. My mom was talking about it at home. Then when Jordy told me you were staying here, I put it together."

"Thanks," I mumbled, not knowing what else to say. At least he was decent enough to bring it up and not say anything stupid like, "They're in a better place." I hated that.

            "Sure you don't want to go with us?" Jordan asked when he returned with an armful of snow pants and gloves.

            "No, but thanks for the invite."

            "See you later, Karen," Tony said on his way out.

            I sat down at the table with my laptop, notebook, and soup, ready to finish homework and tackle a revised list of long-term goals for Jackie.

February 24

Long-Term Goals—Take Two

Gymnastics Related

1.    Add at least 1 new skill to bars, beam, and floor before Nationals (if I compete)

2.    No major mistakes or falls in Chicago in April

3.    No major mistakes or falls at Nationals in August

4.    Follow Blair's advice and look for a way to control my mental breakdowns so it doesn't happen again in Chicago

*Can't add any more since I'm not allowed to write goals that I'm not completely in control of.

Non-Gymnastics Related

1.    Figure out a way to get more details on my parents' accident

2.    Find out who was driving that night

3.    Find out about highway cameras or footage not released to the public

Dad,

You should be very proud of me. I'm going to put on my lawyer hat and do some digging for the truth. And I'm not giving up until I find it, because I'm Charlie Campbell's kid and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

          Love you, Karen

Blair asked me last week how I got over my issue with vault several years ago, and the answer was drills and technical analysis. If I could just apply that to my parents' accident, maybe I could get past the nightmares and visions of accidents that never happened. Maybe I could get past the panic attacks.

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