3: 3
3
Antonia kept cracking bad jokes the whole way, and it finally took the edge off the ugliness from before.
What I didn't expect was that the two of them would come chasing after us like ghosts again.
Paul had paid to swap into the seat right next to us.
When he squeezed in beside me, his eyes wouldn't quite meet mine, but his voice stayed stubborn.
"Since we're all here anyway, of course I'm going to watch it with you."
But Mercedes, taking the seat next to him, made no effort to hide how little she wanted to.
She swallowed her irritation and deliberately came bouncing over instead, all sunshine and smiles.
"Viola, if you can't follow the rules of the game, just ask me anytime."
"Paul hates being bothered when he's watching a match, so whatever you do, don't suddenly start asking him things, okay?"
With that, she wedged herself right between us as if it were the most natural thing in the world, swapping places with Paul.
That nameless irritation came surging back through me.
"I don't like being bothered when I watch either."
"You don't need to trouble yourself explaining. Thanks."
The mood soured in an instant, and Paul's tone carried open reproach.
"You don't understand a thing but you pretend you do. Mercedes was being kind, and you throw it right back in her face."
"We were good enough to pay a premium to switch seats and keep you company, and you have to put on this fake, holier-than-thou act. Who's it for?"
"Besides, Mercedes has been a sports fan since she was little. She's willing to help you understand the World Cup. Would it kill you to ask a few humble questions?"
I didn't look at him again. I stood, grabbed my coat, and took one last glance at those two faces pressed close together.
"Since you two are childhood sweethearts with so much in common, I won't intrude on your fun."
From the moment Paul had switched over to our seats, Antonia had made her distaste plain and gone off somewhere else.
I got the number for my new seat and walked straight off.
"Viola Pruitt, don't push your luck!"
The team was just coming onto the field right then, the whole stadium roaring, and Paul's words were completely swallowed up in the cheers.
And I didn't look back. I slowly disappeared from his sight.
......
When that familiar figure came running across the green field, Antonia and I exchanged a glance, and our thoughts were pulled back to that hospital room four years ago.
Paul hadn't eaten for three days and three nights because of the liver cancer, and I stayed with him, my whole life sinking into darkness along with his.
It was Lolo who came over to me, carrying a box of fried chicken, tugging Antonia along with her.
Their eyes were bright as stars as they pointed him out to me on the TV, buzzing with excitement.
"Viola, that's my favorite soccer star."
"You know what? The only reason I've held on this long is because of my idol. He never gives up, right down to the last second!"
After that, the painful days seemed to take on a little warmth. Somehow it was two sick girls who ended up giving me strength.
The roar of the whole stadium pulled me out of the memory and back to the present.
As the final shot froze on the screen, the team we were rooting for won a narrow three-to-two.
The cheering swelled louder and louder, and the star we'd come to support actually pulled off his jersey and flung it out across the crowd.
The camera caught me and Antonia holding the jersey high, hugging each other in celebration.
In that moment, we both missed Lolo so much.
After the game let out, plenty of fans crowded over, offering big money to buy the jersey out of my hands.
Even Paul pushed his way in, looking at me with delighted surprise.
"Viola, you don't understand soccer anyway. Why don't you give this jersey to Mercedes as a keepsake?"
"When we get back, I'll clear out your shopping cart for you."
I put the jersey away and let his words wash right past me.
When Paul saw I still wouldn't pay him any mind, his patience finally ran out.
"Viola Pruitt, keep making a scene and we're breaking up."
"Fine. We're breaking up."
