My life’s been like a tv sitcom. Through obscure mishappenings that always seem to have morals, lessons have been learned and challenges have been, relatively, overcome but, at the end of each episode everything’s always back to normal. I guess you could say I’m stuck in a rut. I’ve pushed myself at every turn but all my work seems to build into nothing. I try so hard to better myself but I can never take that final step. Its like I’m traveling down a road, some parts are sunny and some parts are dark, but there’s always the promise of something better at the end. So I push myself and make myself continue even when I want to stop. But then suddenly there’s a cliff right in the middle of the road, that’s so long and deep its impossible to get around. The road continues past the cliff and the path is even more promising. Plenty of people have jumped and made it, but then, just as many have fallen into the depths. Its at that moment that I always get stuck. I want to keep going, but the seemingly endless abyss of the pit terrifies me. I turn around and go back home, go find a different path where there just might not be a cliff. That’s my problem, I can’t jump.

“Page!” I cringed at the shrill yell. “What are you doing?! That’s the fifth time this practice, if you can’t jump don’t play volleyball.”

“Sorry coach,” I mumbled as she waved me off the court to the comfort of the bench.

I felt Sadie’s familiar hand clamp around my shoulder as she laughed through a, “You’ll get em’ next time champ.”

“Thanks.” I replied, sparing no effort to make the comment as sarcastic as possible. After a long, stereotypical pep talk about how important the game Monday was and how we really needed the whole team’s effort (which she said while pointedly looking at Taylor) and after about a bajillion laps( five more for me for not paying attention), practice was over. Sadie and I walked out to our cars; the splendor that is a Friday night to high schoolers spread out before us.

“You get the pizza, I’ll get the movie.” She told me.


“Reconvene at my house at six,” I replied as she waved goodbye and bounded off to her car. I threw my gym bag into the back seat and dutifully pulled out my cell to order our ceremonial medium Hawaiian extra pineapple. Minus the five minute ride to Kaminski’s downtown, I had about ten minutes till the pizza was ready. Rather than spend them toiling away in the front of the pizza shop, where the most substantial entertainment was playing with a straw wrapper, I pulled out my copy of The Scarlet Letter (which I still had three chapters left to read of by tomorrow, oops).

I was halfway through a chapter when my silence was interrupted. From across the now abandoned parking lot, I saw Taylor coming out of the gym with your typical high school jock on her arm. I was about to return to my book when something caught my eye. The moderately handsome guy slipped something out of his pocket and pressed it into Taylor’s hands. As she leaned up to plant a gratuitous kiss on her accomplice’s cheek, the object in her hand glinted as it caught a stray sunbeam, drawing my attention. The only thing I could deduce about it was from the way her hands gripped around it. It fit easily in her palm and seemed to be a cylindrical container. I shielded my eyes and moved my head down for a better look. Yep, orange. And with that, I sank down in my seat, tossed the book onto the back seat’s floor, and decided those straw wrappers suddenly seemed enticing. I had this thing with confrontation, in that I tried to avoid it as much as possible, so I started my car and drove off to safety.

* * * * *


Sadie was already waiting for me when I got home and, upon my arrival, she promptly raided me of the pizza and placed a few pieces for each of us on plates that she had readied. Without a word I poured our drinks, coke for Sadie and iced tea for me, and followed her to the living room. My dad was in one of the chairs watching what I could only assume to be a boring history documentary. Hearing us come in he gave a smile and waved to Sadie, whose hands were too full to wave back, then recited one of those corny dad lines that went something like, “I’ll get out of your hair,” and left. After securing our food on the coffee table Sadie and I turned to each other, broke out into grins, and then flomped ourselves down all over dramatically onto the plush couch. Thus opening our weekly Friday night sleepover, which had been in tradition since middle school when Sadie’s over-protective parents had deemed her capable of such a feat.

Sadie pulled the night’s movie selection out from her back pocket, but we both knew there was in no way an implication of watching it until at least twelve o'clock when we had to try to be semi-quiet, if only for the benefit of my parents. With a sip of her soda, Sadie began the gossip; she always made it her task to share her weekly complaints with me. My mind drifted as I half-listened to Sadie talk about everything and nothing at the same time, reminding myself to nod and “mhm” her every few minutes to keep her talking. Of course, I kept my eyes trained on the general direction of her face, but I was really examining the familiar brown toned curtains behind her.
As I traced the paisley print up and down the curtain, my eyes caught a snag. They stuck there, slightly above Sadie's head, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't force them to continue their repetitive task. It was a shame. If you really looked at them the curtains were so intricate and beautiful, and yet here I was, stuck on a snag. Unable to move on. I frowned.
Sadie had been drowning on about something or another but at my expression she stopped. "What's wrong?" She inquired, following my gaze and turning to look behind her. "You okay there?" Her voice was a mix of annoyance and mild concern.

I sluggishly moved my gaze back to her. "Yeah," I said, my lips twisting into a smile.
"Nope!" Sadie yelled at me accusingly. "Your lips twitched your lying!" Damn. I dropped my smile; she really knew me too well.
"It's not," I started, "like anything's wrong in particular." She cocked a doubtful eyebrow. "It's just..." I bit my lip and tried again. "What are we doing Sadie? I mean I love you and I love our sleepovers, but there's got to be more." Sadie was listening with a tilted head and a thoughtful look but I could tell she was only feigning understanding. She stared at me and blinked an unnatural amount of times as she searched for what to say. I laughed, "Seriously is there no more pizza?" We both knew it was a weak attempt to cover up my outburst, but it was all I could think of.
"You had me going." She told me with a sheepish smile. I wasn't the only one who had a habit of avoiding problems.

* * * * *

People can be really stupid sometimes. By the time the weekend came to an end and Monday rolled around, everyone was aware of what I'd witnessed in the parking lot on Friday. I expected most of the student body already knew of Taylor's exploits, it was certainly no news to me, but the major difference was now the teachers knew. I'm not really sure how it got out, but it did, and now Taylor was on a week long suspension and the volleyball team was tied with two points left in the game. I hate to say it but we really could have used Taylor’s help; she was vapid, abusive, and straight up mean, but she was pretty damn good at volleyball.
Of course Sadie and I, on the other hand, had been riding the bench the whole game. Based on the usual proceedings of our matches, neither of us got much time unless we were ahead, by a lot, which wasn’t the case. I was expecting to be there the rest of the game and was contented to do so.
I looked on as Brooke, a solid player for our team, lunged heroically for a ball, only to be smacked in the face instead. A loud whistle blew as she crumpled to the floor in the fetal position, blood flowing from her nose. Her mom dramatically clattered down the bleachers screaming something to the effect of, “Oh no! My baby! My poor baby!” to join the cluster of people gathering around the fallen soldier.

After Brooke had been dragged to the bench, a tissue firmly in position over her nose, and the floor had been wiped of her blood, our coach looked at us benchwarmers with a pained expression. She let out a sigh.

“Page, go in for Brooke.”

My face was frozen in a state of astonishment. I could physically feel my eyes bugging out of my head, but it seemed impossible to draw them back in.

“M-me?” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. In lieu of an answer, Coach grunted and kind of put her hand on my back. I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be encouraging, or if she was just pushing me onto the floor. Either way, I stumbled onto the court and shakely assumed my position. For the most part, I was able to play fairly well; we even scored a point (one that I had nothing to do with). I wasn’t helping the team win, but I wasn’t necessarily making us lose either. I tried to simply coast, and it was going pretty well. Until, that is, one of the opponents (who was far too tall to be reasonable) jumped high and spiked the ball, kill shot in sight. It was going to land right between me and the girl to my left, I just knew it. I also knew that she was too far over and too unprepared, she wouldn’t be able to make it in time. I could picture the ball hitting the ground, hear the pound of it against the court. It was inevitable, she couldn’t make it in time. But I could.

I bit down hard on my lip, braced myself and, possibly for the first time in my life, didn’t turn around and go back home. I could see the cliff in front of me but, no matter how dark and scary it was, I told myself I could do it. I jumped.

And I fell miserably. Hard, on my stomach, my hands reached out. I heard a smack. The ball? No, it didn't have the same hollowness to it. Me? No, I was already on the ground. I dared to peak open one of my tightly shut eyes. The ball was rickashaying upwards, begging to be hit by one of my teammates. Had I done that? Cool. I watched as the girl who was too far to the left returned the ball to an unsuspecting team, unprepared to counter, and scored the final point. Game. Set. Match.

I pulled myself to my feet as cheering “erupted” from the measly parent bleacher section behind us and my teammates collapsed in on me in an excited jumping fit. There was laughter and high fiving and “way to go”ing to spare. I looked over to the bench where Sadie and the other not-so-good players were beginning to stand. She smiled at me encouragingly and clapped, but it was obvious they didn’t feel the same elation as the players on the court. They were glad we won, but it was a detached almost obligatory excitement and it couldn’t compare to the feeling on the court. I knew, I’d been there many a game. I knew all too well that unfulfilling feeling, but now I was experiencing the other side of things, and I knew I never wanted to go back.

* * * * *


I relaxed my body at the familiar chirp of the whistle, finally, practice had dragged late tonight. Panting, I dragged myself off the polished wood of the gym floor to the cheap plastic bleachers. I grabbed for my water and caught Sadie staring. I offered her a curt smile and wave before I plopped myself down onto a seat in the front row. She waved back from her position two rows up, where she’d been for most of practice, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Then again, neither did mine. I refocused my attention to where Coach stood before us as she began her speech.

“Alright ladies,” she barked with a clap of her hands. Over the last month the team had won five out of six games, all of which I had started, so the general tone of the talk was upbeat. I reveled in the familiarness of her calling my name as one of those she was "counting on". It was weird how normal it'd become so fast. My moment of jubilation aside, Friday night was, once again, full of possibilities and I had no plans of throwing away anymore on something as plain as pizza and a movie.
"Page!" I heard Brooke call from behind me. I swivelled to look back as she and Taylor approached. While just last month I would have cringed at the mere thought of such a situation, I now greeted it with an affable smile.
"Ready to get goin'?" Taylor asked a devilish smile on her face. I nodded. Since finding out about it on Wednesday, we'd had plans to go to a party in the next town over after practice. Gym bags in hand we bursted out of the doors and into the empty parking lot where Brooke's car was parked. It wasn't too late yet, but the sun had already set and the wind had an autumn chill to it. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and we hurriedly scurried to the warm salvation of the car.

* * * * *

"I can't believe you!" I stared Taylor down determinedly, "Seriously, these shoes with this dress. Wow, I never would have pictured them going so well together!" I gave her a satisfied smile. It felt good to be appreciated.
After several hours of primping and pampering at Brooke's house we were finally en-route to the party. We rattled down the dirt road leading to the hosting house and shakily pulled to the side when we drew near. The columns of cars seemed endless and there was quite a walk before we actually reached the house.
Once there, Taylor bravely sauntered in flanked by me and Brooke. There were people everywhere and blaring music threatened to wreck our hearing in years to come. In some distant corner of myself I recognized how annoying and down right stupid the whole concept of house parties was, but for now I was too absorbed in the sleek, exciting, and dangerous atmosphere to entertain the thought for long. After all, who cared if you could hear when you were sixty? As long as you were having fun now, what did it matter? At least that's what the typical high school opinion was, and I was a typical highschooler after all.
Three shots in a dank basement later, I was feeling pretty good. Suddenly, life was great and that guy I'd thought was mildly attractive before was starting to look pretty damn hot.
"Okay," Taylor bubbled, "who wants to take things to the next level?" She produced a bottle identical to the one I'd seen one Friday evening, containing a multitude of small white pills. With a practiced ease she distributed one pill to each person sitting in our little circle. "Hey," she said as she gave me mine, "Page be a dear and pass me my drink." Lovely, beer for Taylor and coke (okay, I knew it wasn't actually coke, but it could've been) for me. "What's wrong?"
I was the only one yet to pop my pill. I felt my lips twitch as I forced a smile. "Nothing."
She smiled back at me, convinced. I realized, no one knew me well enough to know I was lying.

* * * * *

Beyond that I didn't remember much of anything that went on at the party. I spent the remainder of my weekend on nothing more than homework and recuperation. I didn't really think back to the Friday night until Monday morning when I got to school. Almost immediately after school started, a nasally voice demanded that Taylor, Brooke, and I come to the principal's office. I made my way to the office in a confused daze that I didn't snap out of even after I sat down in the stiff chair between Brooke and Taylor.
"Ladies," our principal stated curtly as she stepped into the room and carefully shut the door. We all rose politely. Ignoring us, she made her way behind her desk, where she promptly sat down. Our principal was a short, stout lady but, despite her size, she had a very demanding demeanor. Before any of us could ask she answered our unspoken questions. "I'll be frank. You're here because of an anonymous tip that the three of you have been using drugs. I don't want to hear an argument or denial of the matter. In the handbook it states that the school can request a drug test at anytime so, there you have it. Please follow the nurse and listen to her instructions, and your tests will be processed before school ends." I was a nervous wreck the rest of the day. Was I clean? Had it all gotten out of my system since Friday? I couldn't focus on anything else. I felt so stupid.

* * * * *

I stared blankly at the curtains hanging on the far wall. My eyes no longer caught on the snag in them. They were so tired from lack of sleep that none of the distinctive details seemed to matter. The entirety of my vision seemed hazy and unimportant. It was two o'clock on a Tuesday. I should've been leaving class and on my way to volleyball practice, but instead I was sitting in my living room, stripped of all electronic entertainment devices. My parents hadn't taken the week long suspension well.

* * * * *

Neither,apparently, had the volleyball team. While the three of us were gone, they had lost their last regular season game and every tournament game they played, effectively ending our season. Brooke and Taylor still talked readily to me but it’d lost it’s glamour. I couldn't get over the whole ordeal. Sure, to some people a week long suspension might have been as common as going to the movies, but to me it was a new experience. One, I learned I didn't care for, either. The worst part was I didn't even have a reason for such self destructive behavior. My shallowness disgusted me, and no matter what I did I couldn’t shake my disorientingly fuzzy vision.

* * * * *

They say time heals but, a week later and nothing had changed. I felt worse, if anything. I needed someone to voice all of the self loathing thoughts I was ruminating on. I needed someone to yell, and tell me I was dumb, and petty, and brash, and that that, was okay. I needed comfort, I needed a friend, I needed Sadie. I'd been neglecting her since my volleyball deviation and, although I knew getting her to forgive me wasn't going to be easy, I also knew it was necessary.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” I told her. She plucked an eyebrow up at me. I shrugged, “I guess I was just sick of going home.”

She considered me, “Okay.”