it home in the afternoons and Tomás and I drove together, hours later, after practice.
Tomás was already at our locker now, wadding up pieces of notebook paper and lobbing them, jumpshot style, into a trash can. I couldn’t help noticing his grace and upper arm definition. He seemed, as always, like the opposite of quick. He seemed to be moving so slowly, it was as though he were jumping under water. But each trash can shot went in.
“Are you behind the three-point arc?” Gretchen asked, fiddling with the combination lock.
He appeared to consider this. “Nah, that’s the cafeteria,” he said, and his face was so serious, it took me a second to realized he’d made a joke.
He turned to me. “So when are we going out again?”
Gretchen looked at me and her lips curled into a sly smile.
“It’s not what you think,” I said.
“Ronnie and I are just exploring the river. You know, the way she used to do with Karen?” And this made so much sense I wanted to smooch him. He didn’t say Ronnie’s deranged or she needs closure so we have to humor her .
Gretchen wrestled textbooks into her backpack. “You’re kidding, right?” she said. “It was an accident, Ronnie. Let it go.”
I sighed and retrieved my gym bag. I didn’t want to let it go. Letting go meant having everything that I loved about Karen drift out to sea. I wanted the opposite of letting go. I wanted to grip her memory so hard I could haul Karen herself up out of her fate. “Whatever,” Tomás said, communicating with the curl of his lips how unfazed he was by her opinion. “I take it you’re not coming with us.”
Gretchen slammed the locker shut. “No, I am not because the whole thing is ridiculous. Do you have any idea what you’re looking for or where to look?”
I shook my head.
“And even if you did, it’s been pouring buckets for the past three days. Don’t you think if there were any sign of what happened to her it would be washed away by now?”
I didn’t have an answer. Tomás just stuck his hands in his pockets and scuffed the floor. Talk about pouring buckets. She’d just dumped a reservoir on my state of mind.
It must’ve shown on my face because Gretch let out a sigh that sounded a lot like a huff.
“Listen, Ronnie,” she said. “I know you’re hurting. But what you’re thinking about, it’s too futile. There’s got to be some other way to get over this. Bake something. Knit a hat. Just not trolling the banks. All you’re going to get is wet.”
I looked between Gretchen and Tomás, one who didn’t care if what I did made sense, and one who did. Which one was the better friend? The answer was: neither. They were both good friends, but neither of them wielded the power over me that Karen did. I didn’t need to follow either one. I would listen to them, then I would make up my own mind.
Gretchen closed our locker and looked away. “I’ll catch you guys after practice,” she mumbled. “Stay inside.”
Stay inside. Stay safe. Don’t try to do this or that. Don’t reach for something you don’t understand; don’t try to retrieve what you lost.
I couldn’t stand the idea of being more isolated than I already was. It made me want to leap and bound like wildlife. It made me want to break free.
I had every intention of sticking with track practice through the end, then going home like I was supposed to, but that changed when I got out onto the field and saw how little daylight I had left. If I were going to explore today, I had to do it now.
I went up to Ranger Dave, who had a whistle around his neck and was writing something on a clipboard. He was wearing a thin windbreaker against the rain and shorts, not sweats. I should probably mention that, even though I hated myself for noticing it (he was my coach after all), his thighs were impressively solid and lean. There was an inverted “v” shape just above the knee where tendon met muscle. They were the legs of a serious runner.
Thighs or no
Tomás was already at our locker now, wadding up pieces of notebook paper and lobbing them, jumpshot style, into a trash can. I couldn’t help noticing his grace and upper arm definition. He seemed, as always, like the opposite of quick. He seemed to be moving so slowly, it was as though he were jumping under water. But each trash can shot went in.
“Are you behind the three-point arc?” Gretchen asked, fiddling with the combination lock.
He appeared to consider this. “Nah, that’s the cafeteria,” he said, and his face was so serious, it took me a second to realized he’d made a joke.
He turned to me. “So when are we going out again?”
Gretchen looked at me and her lips curled into a sly smile.
“It’s not what you think,” I said.
“Ronnie and I are just exploring the river. You know, the way she used to do with Karen?” And this made so much sense I wanted to smooch him. He didn’t say Ronnie’s deranged or she needs closure so we have to humor her .
Gretchen wrestled textbooks into her backpack. “You’re kidding, right?” she said. “It was an accident, Ronnie. Let it go.”
I sighed and retrieved my gym bag. I didn’t want to let it go. Letting go meant having everything that I loved about Karen drift out to sea. I wanted the opposite of letting go. I wanted to grip her memory so hard I could haul Karen herself up out of her fate. “Whatever,” Tomás said, communicating with the curl of his lips how unfazed he was by her opinion. “I take it you’re not coming with us.”
Gretchen slammed the locker shut. “No, I am not because the whole thing is ridiculous. Do you have any idea what you’re looking for or where to look?”
I shook my head.
“And even if you did, it’s been pouring buckets for the past three days. Don’t you think if there were any sign of what happened to her it would be washed away by now?”
I didn’t have an answer. Tomás just stuck his hands in his pockets and scuffed the floor. Talk about pouring buckets. She’d just dumped a reservoir on my state of mind.
It must’ve shown on my face because Gretch let out a sigh that sounded a lot like a huff.
“Listen, Ronnie,” she said. “I know you’re hurting. But what you’re thinking about, it’s too futile. There’s got to be some other way to get over this. Bake something. Knit a hat. Just not trolling the banks. All you’re going to get is wet.”
I looked between Gretchen and Tomás, one who didn’t care if what I did made sense, and one who did. Which one was the better friend? The answer was: neither. They were both good friends, but neither of them wielded the power over me that Karen did. I didn’t need to follow either one. I would listen to them, then I would make up my own mind.
Gretchen closed our locker and looked away. “I’ll catch you guys after practice,” she mumbled. “Stay inside.”
Stay inside. Stay safe. Don’t try to do this or that. Don’t reach for something you don’t understand; don’t try to retrieve what you lost.
I couldn’t stand the idea of being more isolated than I already was. It made me want to leap and bound like wildlife. It made me want to break free.
I had every intention of sticking with track practice through the end, then going home like I was supposed to, but that changed when I got out onto the field and saw how little daylight I had left. If I were going to explore today, I had to do it now.
I went up to Ranger Dave, who had a whistle around his neck and was writing something on a clipboard. He was wearing a thin windbreaker against the rain and shorts, not sweats. I should probably mention that, even though I hated myself for noticing it (he was my coach after all), his thighs were impressively solid and lean. There was an inverted “v” shape just above the knee where tendon met muscle. They were the legs of a serious runner.
Thighs or no
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