Page 57 of The Tomboy

“The tennis article that Millie wrote, apparently it had been changed. Millie didn’t know anything about it going to press today,” I said.

“I have nothing to do with the school newspaper,” Bianca said vehemently.

“Well, your bestie Addison does,” I countered.

Bianca swallowed hard and looked away. Good to know she had a conscience. She covered her hand over her mouth and lowered her voice. “Mrs. Stephens and I had already decided to drop Addison for the doubles,” she said, “But hey, did you know Taylor’s mother is dead?”

In an instant, my blood ran cold, like a cloud of sadness suddenly engulfed me. It was exactly how it was when I found out about Phoenix’s broken pelvis.

“What?” I choked out, but it was like my world flipped, the news gutting. Death wasn’t something I was familiar with, well only with old people. Mom’s grandma had passed away last year, at the age of 93. But for someone my Mom’s age to die, that couldn’t be real, that wasn’t fair. “How do you know?”

“She told me,” Bianca said, her eyes glistening like this was something that truly affected her. For a moment I remembered why I’d liked her so much—once. She’d actually been a decent person, well, until she dumped me. “I asked why her mother never came to watch her games, I mean, in a nice way. Because her dad has turned up to every game.” She sniffed and muttered, “Unlike mine.”

The Holbruns had busy lives, running businesses, much like my parents. They occasionally made it to matches, one or the other, never both unless it was regionals or a big tournament.

We both stared at one another. I took it for granted that my parents, if not able to attend, were at least around...and alive. I suspected Bianca felt the same way.

“Uh, you guys played great together,” I said in a bid to not think about such things.

“I know. It was amazing playing with her,” Bianca grinned. “She is so consistent. She doesn’t make mistakes.” She hushed her tone and tilted her head in Addison’s direction, “Unlike...”

“You two should try and qualify for State. In doubles.”

Bianca sucked in her lips. “I would love to,” she whispered. “But do you think Taylor will go for it?” She huffed out a remorseful breath, appearing to be sorry about things. She looked up at me wistfully and muttered, “I know I haven’t exactly been welcoming to her.”

Bianca excused herself to join her team, while I meandered back to my car, regretting that I hadn’t spoken to Taylor. The drive to Covington Heights was done purely on muscle memory. I didn’t remember one stop light or road sign, or any other cars on the road. The car basically drove itself, while I fixated on the death of Taylor’s mother, a woman I had never met. So many questions—how, when, why? My heart ached for her, knowing that I’d never be able to survive without Mom or Dad or Clay.

The house was empty when I got home. Checking my phone, Mom had left a message that I could get my own dinner because she and Dad were going out. That wasn’t unusual, but I was almost about to reply that she could have told me earlier, while I was out and could’ve stopped for takeout. But I was lucky she’d texted, could text. I couldn’t fathom not getting texts from Mom, couldn’t grasp being permanently parted from her.

Instead, my reply was:No worries, have a good night, see ya later.

And I would—see her later, that is.

Perusing the contents of the refrigerator, I opened a packet of strawberries and gulped down a few. They were fairly tasteless, not like the ones that Mrs. Jacques had grown in her garden over summer. I tossed the container back on the shelf and closed the door when my phone started ringing. With my mouth full, I picked it up, at first a little surprised to see Millie Conway was calling me. But then again, Millie was a sweet girl and definitely concerned about Taylor.

“Millie? Hi.”

“Hi. Did you talk to Taylor?” There was an urgency to her words.

“Uh, I saw her,” I said, “but we didn’t exactly talk.” Actually, thinking about it, we’d been sitting side by side during the final tiebreaker, but she never said a word to me. It’s like we were caught up in a moment, oblivious to everything around us. Until the tennis ended and everyone cheered and jumped up from their seats. And then she’d given me the cold shoulder of rejection.

“Well, she just texted me back,” Millie said. “She said you’re the only person who knew where she lived.”

I took a second to absorb that statement, or rather, the implications of it. But I didn’t get the chance to say it, because Millie said it for me. “She thinks that you did it. That you told me, and I wrote it in the article.”

A shiver came over me, one that chilled me right to my bone marrow. Taylor thought I was a snitch, she thought I would stoop so low as to humiliate her?

“No,” I said, uncannily calm. “No.” I grabbed my keys from the counter. “Are you at home? I’m coming to pick you up. Right now. We’re gonna sort this out.”

“But, but...we’re just about to eat dinner,” Millie stuttered, “I’m—”

“What’s your address,” I demanded. “I’ll be there in five.”

Shoving my feet into the shoes I’d removed just minutes before, I dashed out to my truck, my mind in a panic, my heart racing. How crazy was it that Taylor believed I could do such a thing? Never in a million years would I do that to her—or to anyone.

Millie came out of her front door as soon as I pulled up in her driveway. She was wearing a pale blue sweater and black pants and a crossbody messenger bag that made her look like she was an official reporter. She looked kind of nerdy and understated, but all of Millie’s gear was expensive designer brands.

“What did her text say?” I asked, not giving Millie the chance to greet me. “Does she really think I could do such a thing? Did you reply to her?”

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