Sisterhood 2: The Second Summer of the Sisterhood by Ann Brashares

Author:Ann Brashares
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780375890246
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2003-04-22T04:00:00+00:00

On Saturday, Bridget went for a run in the morning before the soccer game. She’d gotten up to four miles. Slow ones, but still. When she arrived at the field, she was sweaty and sticky, but happy in the way only running could make her happy.

She took her usual spot on the sidelines. Billy looked for her. He looked relieved to see her there. She noticed he swung close by her in the first quarter, in case she had anything to say. She just waved.

By the end of the half, Burgess was down by one. Billy ambled over. “What do you think?” he said.

She was enjoying this. “I think your midfield is a disaster,” she said.

Billy looked alarmed. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“If Corey can’t pass the ball, tell him to take up tennis.”

Billy disappeared for a moment and came back with Corey. He sort of shoved Corey at Bridget. “Listen to her,” Billy instructed.

“Corey.”

“Yeah.”

“Pass. Pass the ball. You handle all right, but you can’t shoot worth a damn.”

Indignation settled over Corey’s face.

Billy looked grave. “She’s right,” he pronounced.

The whistle blew, and Billy hauled Corey back into the game. She noticed right away that Corey started passing.

That was something Bridget loved about boys. They took insults well.

Burgess won it 2–1, and there was the usual cheering on the field after the final whistle. Bridget cheered and screamed right along with them. All the high school kids bunched up to go out afterward. Corey was already making out with his girlfriend by the goalpost. Billy came over to her. “You want to come out?”

Bridget considered this. It was nice that he’d asked, but he hadn’t asked in a way that made her want to go. He’d asked in a way that let her know he was grateful. Grateful and interested were a world apart. “No. Thanks, though,” she said.

Instead, she hiked out to Interstate 65. A bunch of the high school kids passed her on the road. They were clumped together in a convertible, and she walked alone on the shoulder. She knew how it looked to them and she didn’t care. Some girls couldn’t stand being alone. Bridget was different. She went to movies, restaurants, even parties by herself. She loved her three friends above all other things, but she’d rather be alone than cling to people she didn’t care about.

When she got to the Wal-Mart she bought a bunch of things, most importantly a soccer ball. She hitched a ride back, hopped out at the courthouse, and found her feet swerving her past the soccer field again. It was dark out now, but there were a few strong lights illuminating three patches of grass.

With a swarm of emotions in her chest, she took the ball out of its box and smelled it. She had tears in her eyes. She dropped it on the ground. She loved it clean and shiny, but she loved it dusty, too.

She had quit soccer back in November because she hadn’t wanted people counting on her anymore. She’d just wanted to sleep.

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