Game Changer (The Field Party)

There needed to be a guidebook for teenage girls. Maybe I would write one after college. I was sure my lessons weren’t over. I had a future to focus on. No more wasting time with relationships.

Why hadn’t I listened to my momma when she’d said, “Boys are of no concern to you right now. Nothing but trouble”? Wise words that would have saved me from a lot of heartache.

Slowing down as I reached the house, I looked up at the window to my bedroom. I’d been looking out that window for so long, dreaming about the day I could get out of this small town. Now I was so close to getting out, but I was going to stay a little longer. Deep down, the debate was pointless. I wasn’t going to Mississippi. I couldn’t do it. Even if he never knew I was there and we never saw each other, I’d know I chose that college for him. That would always bother me. I wanted to choose a college for me.

I stopped outside the door and bent over, putting my hands on my knees. Telling my parents I was no longer leaving Lawton next month after the big show I’d conducted to get out of here didn’t sound appealing. They’d been preparing things for me to go. Momma had bought some items I’d need in my dorm room already. She had given in and was being supportive, only to now have this thrown back in her face with a “Never mind.”

The door opened to the house, and I looked up to see my mother. “Mail came for you. Classes resume on schedule. Come inside,” she announced as she waved the envelope in her hand. She turned back around, leaving the door open for me to follow.

I obeyed and started prepping myself for this conversation.

I followed her all the way to the kitchen. She dropped the envelope on the table, then went to get something from the stove. “You must get tested three days before move-in. Read it,” she said without turning back to look at me.

I picked up the envelope, but I didn’t care what it said. I had made up my mind. Following Asa Griffith to Mississippi now sounded insane. It had been before, but I was just now understanding how stalkerlike it was. He didn’t want me. Well, he wanted to have sex with me, but other than that, he wasn’t interested. He had tried to make it very clear with his telling me how we couldn’t be exclusive. How he didn’t do that. He had been honest. I had been the one with my head in the clouds.

“I’m not going, Momma,” I said. Got it over with. Thinking about this anymore and putting it off was making it more complicated.

She spun around then and gaped at me as if I had lost my mind. It was the opposite really. “What do you mean you’re not going?” she asked, then went on to rant in Spanish for a good minute before waving her hands out in a wide gesture for me to explain myself.

“I don’t want to go to Mississippi. I need more time to think about where I want to go. For now, I will go to community college. There’s still time to get registered there.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you staying here because of that boy?” She almost spat the words out as if they were distasteful.

I shook my head. In a way I was staying here because of that boy, but not the way she meant. “No. He leaves for college in two weeks. I doubt he comes back much if ever.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand you. All the drama to go, go, go, and now you want to stay.” She turned back around to the oven then and pulled out whatever she had been cooking. “Fine. Stay, go local, and work here.”

“Just for this semester, Momma,” I said when I realized her voice almost sounded pleased. I didn’t want them to decide I was staying here for good.

She made a sound of acknowledgment, but I feared I might have another battle on my hands soon. My backing out of leaving didn’t mean I wasn’t ever leaving.

“Go tell your father lunch is ready. He’s in the stockroom. Then get out front so your sister can go finish her required reading.”

“Yes, Momma,” I replied, and left the room.

She had taken that too well. I wasn’t going to start worrying about that now. I needed a break from constantly thinking things over and over. I was too young to be this mentally exhausted.

The stockroom wasn’t huge, but there was a lot of stuff in there. Boxes stacked high in each aisle. I didn’t want to search every one. Instead I called out, “Papa!” after I walked inside.