My Darling Arrow (St. Mary's Rebels 1)

Arrow.

“But we managed to talk him down,” she continues. “And we came up with this whole deal. No cops. No bad press. As long as A does his anger management therapy and stays away from LA for the next couple of months. That was the only way to save his place on the team.”

A breath whooshes out of me.

Thank God for my publicist sister. Thank God that she saved him.

See? He belongs with my sister.

My brilliant, beautiful sister.

“Why did you break up?” I ask quietly then.

Maybe because she’s scared that I’ll bother her again with my phone calls but she answers me without arguing any further. “Why do people break up, Salem? We grew apart, okay? We started leading different lives. I don’t know when but it happened. And yeah, we broke up.”

I swallow down a lump of emotions but barely. “But can’t you work on it? The distance, I mean. You love each other.”

“Look, Salem, you asked and I told you. Let it go, all right? It’s none of your business.”

“No, wait. I…”

I taste something salty on my lips and that’s when I realize I’m crying.

That’s when I realize that I haven’t swallowed down anything.

My emotions welled up in my eyes and are now falling down my cheeks as tears.

It’s so silly that I’m crying because it’s their relationship, their breakup.

But God, they’ve been together for years.

I’ve seen them together and my heart is breaking for them right now.

“I don’t understand, Sarah. You love each other,” I whisper, pressing the phone tightly to my ear. “That’s the most important thing, isn’t it? You love him and he loves you and so you guys can work through this. You guys can overcome this. Love has to be bigger than any problems that you guys have. Love has to be bigger than everything else.”

Shouldn’t it?

Love has to be bigger. It has to be.

Otherwise what’s the point? What’s the point of a girl falling and a boy catching her in his sleek, muscular arms?

Shouldn’t she fight for those arms? Shouldn’t he fight to keep her in his arms?

Shouldn’t they put in everything they’ve got so they can stay together?

“Ugh, please. Can you spare me the bullshit? I don’t even know where you get it from. Mom was never like this. I was never like this. I don’t understand how you came to be this way. So weird and strange. Like an anomaly or something.”

My tears fall harder even as I tell myself that this isn’t the first time I’m hearing this. This isn’t the first time Sarah has called me an anomaly or weird.

It makes sense even.

I’m the only one in our family who doesn’t have any ambitions, who isn’t good at anything and who doesn’t like rules.

I am an anomaly.

But I didn’t call her to talk about my various flaws. I called because I wanted to know why. To maybe make her understand that this can’t be the end of her and Arrow.

“All I’m saying,” I begin with a determined voice, “is that there might be a way to fix this. You can’t give up on a relationship of eight years.”

Suddenly, something occurs to me.

Something glorious and wonderful.

Something that should’ve been obvious but wasn’t because so many things have happened in the past twenty-four hours that I didn’t give it more than a passing thought.

He is my coach now.

My new soccer coach.

“Maybe I can help you,” I blurt out to my sister. “Maybe I can do something about it. He’s here now. He’s my new soccer coach. Which means I’ll see him all the time and I can fix this. I can get you guys back together.”

My mind is racing with possibilities now – racing.

There’s so much I can do. So many ideas I can come up with.

“Salem,” my sister snaps and brings me out of my daydream. “You’re not doing anything. You’re not interfering, you understand me?”

“But –”

“No. Not a word out of you. Enough. You stay out of this. You stay out of my life. It’s my breakup. It’s my relationship. This has nothing to do with you. Do not meddle into things you don’t understand. And please don’t call me again, okay? Do not break any more rules, Salem. If Leah gets sick of you and kicks you out of that school and her house, I’m not taking you in. You’re on your own, you understand me? So please, just follow the freaking rules and keep your nose out of my business. And for the love of God, stop wasting your time on soccer. There are girls out there who can make something out of it, but you’re not one of them. Accept that and do something worthwhile for a change.”

***

I write him letters.

I’ve probably written him thousands of them ever since I started, when I was ten.

Because I wanted to tell him so many things.