Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 77

"Are you sure you don't mind me driving your very expensive car?" Jordan asked me as he adjusted the seat.

            "I don't mind." I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. I was beyond exhausted from keeping up with Bentley's perfection-demanding coaching. And the battles with Stevie hadn't stopped all week since Tuesday's vault practice with Patrick. Tonight, she did her tucked full on high beam again for the first time in well over a year. And I did five on high beam. My chest was low on the last two and Stacey sent me back to the white tape line, probably on Bentley's orders. That seemed to be his style. If you made the same mistake a few times in a row after being corrected, instead of yelling at you to get your ass in gear, he sent you back a step to do drills or more lead-up. But if you were screwing up and making different mistakes, he usually would let you keep trying. That was what had happened with the Jaeger on bars last Friday. I kept making changes but just not getting it yet. Until I did get it. Which he hadn't so much as cheered about once since then. It was all about the handstands, and I'd done dozens of extra bar routines this week all because of those damn handstands.

            "You look tired," Jordan said. "Are you sure you want to go out tonight?"

            I smiled at him. "Positive. Where are we going?"

            "I just figured we'd park somewhere and make out in the backseat," he said as he put my car in reverse. My eyes must have gotten huge because he laughed really hard. "Jesus, I'm kidding. We're going bowling."

            "I don't think I've been bowling since I was old enough to stop using the bumper things."

            "I know. Blair told me."              

            Butterflies flapped inside my stomach. I didn't know why I was so nervous. It wasn't like I hadn't been alone with Jordan. It just seemed like forever since I'd kissed him, and he was acting so formal and official.

            Once we got to the bowling alley, Jordan left me with old smelly bowling shoes while he went to order us some food, returning a few minutes later.

After eating at the end of the bowling lane, we were finally ready to play. I picked out a heavy pink ball.

            "Do not drop that on your toe," Jordan instructed, standing behind me.

            I rolled my eyes at him. "Thanks, Coach."

            The ball was tossed down the lane after it landed with a ground-shaking thud. It rolled into the gutter before reaching the halfway point.

            "Nice try..." Jordan said.

            I gave him a shove toward the lane. "Okay, go ahead if you're so good."

            "You get two turns, Karen."

            I managed to knock a few pins down on my second turn and got better with each one that followed. After two games, we were back in the car.

            "There's a play at my school at eight," Jordan said, adjusting the mirror. "It's kind of lame, but we could probably make it in time if you want?"

            A school play? That could be an item for a Normal Teenage Activity Checklist. "What's the play?"

            "Some twisted version of The Wizard of Oz, I think." He grinned at me and I didn't have any answer except yes.

***

          "I got that the wicked witch is the old man, but what's the deal with the kids dressed as birds?"

            Jordan laughed and guided me outside of the school building. "No idea. That was the weirdest play I've ever seen and it's only intermission. No wonder I haven't been to a school theater performance in nearly four years."

            "The head old man has a great voice," I pointed out.

            "He's the choir director," Jordan said, laughing even harder. "He's not even a student. I think they ran out of students to fill all the roles. They kept announcing all these additional auditions after the initial one, so I kind of figured they were hunting for more people."

            "Well," I said. "I bet the choir is very good."

            "They are, actually." He nodded toward a different building across the grounds. "Want to skip the rest of the show and I'll give you a tour?"

            "Sure." I stuffed my hands inside my pockets, enjoying the nearly forty-degree weather—a nice shift from the freezing temperatures in February. Jordan walked me around, pointing out buildings and telling me funny stories. I think I could have walked that campus all night, but eventually he stopped in front of a building that had windows lit up all over the place.

            "Dorm," he said.

            "Ah...where the meningitis lurks."

            He glanced around, looking nervous all of a sudden. "Do you want to go in? I have the key to my old room."

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