My Sweetheart (Alan Bosley x OC)

23

Finally, it was Friday. Four days after my initial argument with Alan, and three after our screaming match in the cafeteria. I was rushing around in my room, getting ready to meet up with Gerry, Emma and a few of their friends. Emma had mentioned some of the football team would be there, and I hoped that meant some of my friends would be there.

I blended some blush into my cheeks, careful not to get any of the powder on my white t-shirt. I wore dungarees over the top, and a pair of white sneakers. Hearing the landline ring, I abandoned my half-open drawers, that I had been sorting through looking for mascara, and ran into the hall, hoping to reach the phone in time.

Coach had gotten there first, so I stood a little distance away, reading his emotions. He seemed surprised, and a little annoyed. Someone must have called, bearing not so great news. I watched as he hung up the phone, noticing me.

"Come here, Julie. There's something I think you should know." He said softly, wrapping an arm around me once I'd gotten close.

"What is it, Coach?" I asked, confused.

He looked at me, debating whether to tell me. Eventually he gave up, and put a hand on my shoulder, speaking with a sympathetic voice. "I don't know if I should be telling you this, but I think it's the right thing to do. Rather than have me keep it from you, you deserve to know. Your mother was on the phone, she's successfully adopted a kid. A little boy named Rodrigo. You've got a brother."

Dread filled my stomach, absorbing me. I stood, frozen in time, as if everything else could move but me. My mouth gaped open in shock, a seemingly recurring thing that happened at the cause of my mother. How was this possible?

"I thought the adoption process took up to 6 months before anything was finalised?" I asked, in a brittle voice.

Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I held them back. She would not hold anymore power over me.

"Well it seems to me that she applied for adoption way before visiting us. She'd already made up her mind, she just felt the need to cause you grief." Coach answered, squeezing my shoulder, "It's okay, you're okay. You don't need her, she's not a real mother. You have Sheryl and I. You have Alan."

I stiffened at the mention of him. Alan. I had Alan. Did I? It certainly didn't feel like I did. I couldn't lose him, he was my best friend, the love of my life. I needed him, and I hoped that he realised that he needed me too.

"You know what? Good for her, at least she has someone new to manipulate. She won't be bothering us anymore." I shrugged, putting up a wall of fake nonchalance.

I turned around and walked into my room, careful not to slam the door, as I didn't want uncle Bill to know how upset I was. I leaned the back of my head against the door, sliding down it, and putting my head in my hands, sobbing silently. My breathing became erratic, and I battled to keep my mind clear.

She'd been serious about replacing me. I really did mean nothing to her. It was ironic, I hadn't thought it was possible for my week to get any worse, and I had been proved so extremely wrong.

After a few minutes, my breathing had slowed, and I felt a little better. I stood up shakily, and began to fix my makeup. It was too short notice to cancel on Emma now, so I'd have to put on a brave face and act as if nothing had happened. I grabbed my purse, and marched downstairs, eyes still puffy and red.

"Is it okay if I still go to Emma's?" I asked Coach, who was busy in the kitchen.

"That's fine. Don't be out too late, you know the drill." He said, cutting up salad.

"Thanks, Coach. Bye Sheryl! " I smiled, kissing him on the cheek before running out of the door.

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