Her Name is Sorrel

IX

9

Despite the blithe, cutting remarks of my friends and their shitty advice, I still spent a large chunk of my free time with Squirrel. When I wasn’t catching a ball or tackling plastic dummies on the field, I was driving down the winding, dirt road that led to Sorrel’s small abode.

“You’re whipped,” Jared sneered as he threw the football spiraling in my direction, “No one in their right mind would ever spend that much time with Woodbridge’s biggest bitch.”

“She helps me with English,” I snapped, tossing the ball back, “You know I wouldn’t be here if she didn’t help me.”

“So? Ask Alex Williams; he’s nerdy enough. Don’t as Squirrel Solby. You know what happened last week?”

“Enlighten me Jared.”

“I slapped her ass, you know, when I was walking by like, on the way to the gym. Guess what she did?” He didn’t give me enough time to answer. “The girl turned around and gave me this lecture on how I was objectifying women’s bodies and blahblahblah.”

I gaped. I fumed. I calmed down.

“You touched her?”

“Yeah and it was the biggest mistake of my life. As amazing as her ass is, she’s not worth it. Too rude. She’s never getting laid.”

“Jared, don’t be an asshole-”

“She’s on some strong birth control, you know?”

I groaned, “Man, Jared-”

“It’s her bitchy personality.”

Slamming the ball down on the ground, I pivoted on my heels and stalked towards the parking lot.

“What the hell Danny! Practice just started!”

Waving my hands dissuasively, I continued to walk in the opposite direction towards my car.

“They’re all nutcases!” Jared began to shout frantically across the field, “Stay away man! The whole lot of them! The Solby’s are nutcases!”

I gave Jared the bird over my shoulder and sat down in my Mustang with shallow breaths. Sorrel and her family weren’t that bad. Right?

This week, I passed my first English quiz - 83% - a whooping B-.

2 weeks of private tutoring sessions - four days a week - finally paid off.

I decided to pick her up from the library; I knew she sat there until closing hours before making the half and hour trek to her house.

Sorrel rejoiced in my car; we celebrated with salty taffy and Starbucks.