Chapter 10

January 25, 2018

The tall, young girl entered the house in her usual happy style, yelling, “I’m home!”

“Kitchen,” came the reply from her father.

She detoured to drop her gym bag in her room, then joined both parents in the kitchen.

Her mother’s eyes bugged out a bit, and she asked, “Where’d you get that skirt?”

“Beth gave it to me. She said she’s got lots like it and that I ... made it look good with my legs,” her face going a bit pink as she said that, despite her swarthy complexion.

Her mother was taken a bit aback, apparently, as she gaped a couple of times, giving her husband enough time to say, “Beth’s right. I guess I hadn’t noticed, but your legs are getting so long. That should enable you to be faster.”

“That’s what Meka said. She asked if I’d go with her to meet Coach Markov at the university to see if she had suggestions about how I could increase my speed.”

That statement left both parents gaping this time. The mother opened her mouth to say something, but she shut it and looked at her husband, who was shaking his head.

He looked at his daughter with something that one could readily discern was love and said, “Your friends ... Our friends really want to help you. Don’t they?”

“They do. I love them so much for helping me. I’m so much better than I was before I met them, and I’m stronger, too. Meka said I looked a lot stronger than when we met, and that we’d do some drills on Monday to test my strength ... and the others’ ... in dribbling situations. She said she doubted that she could knock me on my butt as easily as she did last fall.”

“You’ll certainly have better leverage now, given that you’ve grown a couple of inches since then, and your leg strength will help even more.”

“About those legs,” the woman said. “I don’t like that you’re showing so much of them, Civia.”

The girl furrowed her brow, then asked, “Why? The girls...” She cut that argument off as she knew her mother would consider it invalid. “It’s within the school dress code.”

“Perhaps, but only barely, if so. However, just because something is permitted, doesn’t mean that you should wear it.”

“I wouldn’t wear this to school. I already get too many comments.”

The girl groaned mentally, as she knew she had just opened a new battle, of sorts.

“About?”

“In Gym, we have to wear gym shorts, and the boys keep looking at ... my legs and saying stuff.” She headed off what she figured would be her mother’s argument by saying, “Meka said I should come up with something that I can say easily that thanks people for their compliments but doesn’t get me flustered. I’ve been trying to think of something, but she said that only a few hours ago.”

Her mother appeared disarmed for a few seconds, then said, “That’s a good idea. You are becoming quite an attractive young lady, and that’s why your legs in a short skirt worry me.”

Thinking “argument averted,” she replied, “Thanks, Mom, but I certainly won’t be wearing this to school.” She decided to try to shift the discussion, saying, “I’m afraid I’m going to need new jeans. The ones we got last fall are getting too short. They’re also becoming a bit tight on my legs, particularly my thighs. Could I get a couple of pair that are too long now? I could cuff them until I get taller.”

“Won’t the kids make fun of you with cuffs?”

“I don’t care. How silly is it to have to buy new jeans that fit me every other month? They already make fun of how tall I am. Maren’s almost as tall as I am, and we like that we’re tall, so that doesn’t bother us.” The girl made a strategic decision that could enable her to cut off this line of questioning, so asked, “May I invite Maren to visit after school tomorrow? I’ve got her phone number, now, so I could ask her tonight.”

Her mother looked at her with a look that the girl interpreted as her mom seeing through that stratagem, but willing to let the previous discussion go.

The woman smiled, and said, “That would be good. We’d like to meet her.”

January 26, 2018

The tall, young girl unlocks her front door and holds the door open for another girl, nearly as tall, with medium brown hair and eyes. The visitor leads her hostess into what was obviously the living room.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Well, I know that ... Maren, I’m sorry. Because I had so many good friends I saw a lot, I ... didn’t allow ... us to be closer friends. I learned last week that you’re worth knowing better, and I’d ... like to fix my mistake.”

The tall, young girl looked at the floor in apparent embarrassment, but suddenly thought of one of her other friends, and picked her head up to look into her visitor’s eyes.

“I’m here. I really enjoyed last Friday. I liked meeting your friends. They’re great, and I sort of learned why ... you did what you did. I’d ... like to start over with you, Civia.”

“You don’t have to start over with me. I really liked you that day we met, but I got this weird thought that I’d lose my other friends if I spent too much time with you. Those girls were my first-ever real friends and I ... I love them,” her voice dropped in volume at the end. Before Maren could respond, Civia added, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have other friends. I had a great time with you last week, so I’m starting over with you. I’m going to be more open with you and your suggestions of doing things together, but I’d also like to invite you to join me at the Williams compound, particularly once the remodel is finished on the J ... Uh, on the J house.”

“I liked those girls and I’d like to see them again. My mom’s already told me that unless we have existing plans I’ll be allowed to go there whenever I’m invited.” Maren rolled her eyes and added, “She wants me to have more friends and she thinks those girls could be good for me.”

“They so much could! They’re great. They’ve helped me so much, despite ... to them, that I’m ... I’m just a little ... well, a young kid.”

“Yeah, you’re not so little.”

“See...” She obviously jettisoned what she was going to say and replaced it with, “I’ve been the tallest in my class for three years and the kids always make fun of me for it.”

“That’s ‘cause they’re jealous.”

Civia nodded, saying, “I know. My parents tell me that all the time. With those girls, most of them were taller than me and, I don’t know, it felt ... more comfortable.” She suddenly looked scared of something, then said, “I’m ... I’m sorry that I’m telling you things like that. You didn’t come here to listen to me ... umm...”

Softly, Maren responded, “Stop, Civia. You might think this has become ... umm ... embarrassing for you, but, while it’s embarrassing for me, too, Mom said that real friends share feelings, although often obliquely.” She waited with eyebrows raised for Civia to indicate comprehension, wondering a bit about Civia’s vocabulary despite knowing that the girl was smart.

“Obliquely. Adverb. Indirectly, often used to describe tactical decisions in any sort of interaction.”

When Civia grinned at her, Maren returned the grin in spades, while staring at her new friend, then said, “I think we’re gonna be good friends.”

“And I think you’re really gonna like my friends. If you like words and vocabulary, you’ll love Beth. She knows so much!” Civia’s mien took on a much more serious appearance as she said, “I love her so much.”

Softly, Maren responded with, “My mom likes her a lot, too, and she really hopes I’ll spend time with her and those other girls. Since I’m a teenager, I know I’m not supposed to want what my ... mother wants, but Beth seems pretty cool. You know, for an old lady.”

The two girls laughed, smiles on their faces, their eyes showing happiness.

“Come on. I’ll show you my room,” and the two long-legged girls darted in that direction.

The two girls, sometimes sedately, sometimes animatedly, walked around the small room, sharing anecdotes about things they owned or didn’t, both learning more and more about the other. Since there was only one chair, Civia’s mother found them sitting shoulder to shoulder at the head of the bed, their backs against the headboard talking with each other. Had Civia seen her mother’s eyes, she would have seen love, approval, and satisfaction, but she was too wrapped up in the long, quiet discussion about their two families. The mother stood at her daughter’s room’s doorway just enjoying the scene for a few seconds before interrupting them.

“Would you be interested in introducing your friend, Civia?”

“Oh. Mom.”

The girl subtly indicated to her friend that they should stand, but Maren probably got the message more from Civia’s hasty exit from the made-up, but now rumpled, bed than from the hand gesture. The two exited from opposite sides and walked to the door, Civia having the longer trip.

“Mom, this is my friend, Maren Randle. She’s a 7^th-grader at school. Maren, this is my mother, Kalina Palecek.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ma’am.” Maren’s eyes glanced right at Civia, but quickly returned to Civia’s mother as she continued with, “Thanks for the chance to visit.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, too. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Maren again sent her eyeballs in Civia’s direction, but quickly responded, “Umm. I don’t know. I’d have to ask my mom. I’d like to stay if I’m allowed.”

“I’d be more than happy to talk to your mother if you think that would help.”

The subsequent phone conversation, which mostly involved the two mothers talking to each other, the two girls standing around in impatient exasperation they thought well hidden, lasted for more than five minutes. Not only was dinner discussed, but whether Maren’s mother would pick her up or Civia’s parents would drop Maren at home. Shortly before the end of the conversation, Civia’s father walked in the front door.

“Come on,” Civia quietly said out of the corner of her mouth as she headed toward the front door, where she initiated the introduction of her father to her friend and vice-versa.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Maren.” While keeping his attention on his daughter’s visitor, he quietly spoke out of the side of his mouth at his daughter, “Do you know what the dinner plans are?”

Civia responded equally quietly, “Maren’s staying for dinner. We’re making baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and diverse salad.” The girl turned to her friend and asked, “Would you help me get dinner started?”

Maren shrugged, then said, “Sure.”

They were still in the stage of pulling stuff out of the refrigerator and other storage places when Kalina walked up to Maren and handed the girl’s phone back to her, while she said, “Thanks for getting started, girls. What do you two want to work on? I’ll start whatever you don’t.”