It was 11:30 am and I cowered behind a rack of bath towels, as Brooke fought an old woman over the last Ralph Lauren snow white comforter with lace embroidery on the edges. There was tugging, and yelling, and I was a little nervous that the woman might need a hip replacement after. "Brooke, just leave it, we'll find another one," I whispered, trying to pull her away.
"Oh, hell no." She replied, "We've been her two hours and this is the only one you've wanted. I'm not going to let some old cow just-"
"Brooke!" I hissed, the older woman didn't hear. Thank God.
"We are getting this comforter, Gemma. I'm not going to lose."
"I cannot believe you pushed that woman, and ran." I laughed, as Brooke and I walked into a café we'd agreed on for lunch. Brooke had won in the end, and I have to admit I didn't really doubt her ability.
"Serves her right," she winked, "she was fine in the end."
"Well thank you, because I love the comforter."
"You're welcome," she grinned, "we better hurry up and eat because I have to meet my marketing team out her for Baker Men."
"What happened to Clothes over Bros?" I asked, while sipping my latte.
"That is a very long, and depressing story," she grimaced, "I prefer to just focus on Baker Men now."
"Alright, well how did it come about? Baker Men, I mean."
"Oh, I'm not sure," she sighed, "I was planning to marry Julian and his last name is Baker, then suddenly I just had an idea for a men's wear line and here I am."
"Do you like it?"
She looked down for a moment, before looking back up with a bright smile. "Of course I like it," she laughed, "I love my job."
"I don't doubt that," I smiled, "You're a great designer, I just think you're not as happy with this label as you were the other."
"You're a smart kid, Gem. Sometimes, though, we have to do things we don't like."
I didn't want to push her anymore. Instead we continued to chat about the last two hours of shopping, and what we planned to do to my room. I'd never noticed how much Brooke and I had in common until that day. We were both to sarcastic for our own good, had the same taste in clothes, we even liked the same tv shows. For a long time, I forgot that I'd gone to bed last night hating the woman in front of me. Now, I liked her, I would maybe even say the earliest stages of love. I couldn't deny how a like we were, and the thought was comforting. I'd spent my whole life trying to be like my mom, not knowing that it was impossible. Brooke was who I took after, Brooke was who I got my temper from, and my dark hair, and my ambition. I didn't have to aspire to be like Brooke, because I was her real daughter.
"So I have my first soccer game tomorrow, and I was hoping you could come?" I asked, looking up at her hopefully.
"Of course I'll come," she smiled, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Inviting Brooke was a big mistake. I had just finished lacing up my cleats, when I stood up and spotted her. "Oh no," I choked, "no, no, no."
"Hey G," Delia said sprinting over, "You're mom is-." I held a hand up, forcing her to stop. Brooke was dressed head to toe in blue, black and white. She had on a black shorts, with white tights, black shoes. Her shirt – I was silently kicking myself for ever telling her my jersey number—was blue also, with ' Number 18 gets her legs from me' printed on the front in obnoxious white lettering. Did I forget to mention that she had her hair in two low pigtails, tied with blue and white ribbon? Yeah, well, that too. She was walking around the field passing out blue and white cookies, shaped like soccer balls.
Without thinking, I ran over to her, just as she was finding a spot on the bleachers. "B-Brooke," I whispered. "What are you doing?"
"Oh hey, honey." She grinned, "Here I got you the yellow Gatorade because I know it's your favorite." She thrust the bottle at me, not dropping her smile.
"I don't even know what this stuff is," I said, putting the bottle down, "what's going on?"
She was smiling like a maniac now, digging into her huge Raven's Soccer duffel bag. Where did she even get that? "Oh and here's a Cliff bar, in case you need some energy out there on the field." Her smile was really starting to freak me out.
"Brooke, what the hell?" I whispered. Her eyes flashed with annoyance, but the smile still didn't falter. She glanced around us, then lowered her voice so only I could hear.
"Do you know how hard it is to win over the moms in your Soccer Booster Club?" She hissed, "They need to know that I support the team."
I stared at her for a moment, "You're doing all of this to win over a bunch of middle aged soccer moms?" Brooke's brows furrowed for a minute, but then she started to crack up. I couldn't help laughing too, Brooke Davis trying to be a soccer mom was too much to handle. We were both doubled over shrieking with laughter, when my coach whistled for me to start warm ups. Grabbing the Cliff bar, I turned back to her and smiled. "Why?" I chuckled, taking a bite.
"I just wanted you to have a normal mom, I guess," she said looking down, "I didn't want you to be embarrassed."
"Embarrassed?" I asked, my mouth full. "Of you?"
She nodded, and reached out to close my mouth. "Sorry."
"Brooke, you're cooler than all of those women combined." I said, nodding towards all the women staring at us. I started to think Brooke just didn't feel comfortable with them, and their judgmental eyes, and really bad hair. "They're just jealous of you, because your hot, and successful, and their old, and their only career is carpool."
"Gemma, don't talk like that." She scolded, but I could tell she wanted to smile. "Alright, kid, go kick ass out there. I love you." I started to open my mouth, but then another whistle from my coach stopped me.
"Archer, on the field now!" He boomed.
Turning away, I began to jog back to my team, when I stopped. I spun around, and cupped my hands over my mouth making sure everyone could hear. "Hey mom!" I yelled, Brooke whipped her head up, looking a little confused. "I love you too!" I finished, with a smile. Before turning back around, I stuck my tongue out at the bitchy booster club ladies.
After almost an hour of running continuously, I flopped down on the bench, and gulped down the Gatorade Brooke had given me. We were currently tied and 2-2, and with only a limited amount of time left, everyone was starting to lose hope.
"We never beat Hamilton," Delia sighed, sitting down next to me. "They're soccer robots."
"C'mon you just got to stay positive," I said, handing her a water bottle.
"Easy for you to say, superstar." She laughed.
"What?"
"Gemma, we only got two goals and both of them were made by you."
"Well, no, you passed them at the exact right time." I said, blushing.
"Ok," she smiled, "What about that group of admirers over there?" She pointed at the left side of the bleachers. Where Mather and his friends were seated, they must have just gotten out of basketball practice. Mather gave me a wink, and I blushed even more.
"Less talking, more running," Our coach yelled from behind us, "Archer your on."
I sprinted back onto the field, and tried to ignore the whistling from Mather's section of the bleachers. When the game started back up, I completely zoned out and my only focus was the ball. I tore past the Hamilton girls, and kicked the ball right out from under number 13. As I got closer and closer to the goal post, all I could think was how proud Lucas would be. I suddenly wished he were here. I was seven feet from the goal now, and trying to get around a pesky number 5 who kept failing to steal the ball from me. Suddenly Delia appeared to the left of me, and with a swift kick, I sent the ball over to her. Without hesitation, she lifted her leg and struck the ball sending in sailing into the goal. Everyone screamed, and I didn't notice until I had been lifted off the ground that Mather was there, and he was grinning that movie-star grin. I couldn't help myself, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him to me. Giggling, as his arms slid around my waist.
I heard someone cough, and I turned to see Lucas and Brooke both standing on the side lines. I'd never been more embarrassed in my life. "Oh," I said, pulling away from Mather, "Hi Lucas, I didn't know you were coming."
"Of course I was coming," he said, trying not to glare at Mather, "you were great out there, Gemma."
"Thanks." I smiled, "um, this is Mather."
"I know who he is," Lucas said flatly, "you failed to mention that you were dating my daughter during practice, today, Mister Kent."
"Well, we're not really dating," I said, I glanced up to see that was not the best answer. Lucas was glaring, Brooke looked uncomfortable, and I think Mather was about to pass out.
"She's joking," Mather tried to smile, "of course we're dating."
Everyone seemed to relax, and Brooke let out a small laugh. "She's got your wit," Lucas said, nudging Brooke. The moment seemed to last longer than it should have, and I'd be lying if I said that the look they gave each other was meaningless. Something felt right about the situation. With Brooke and Lucas together, across from me. It felt inexplicably right, like this was how it should feel when I win a soccer game. I should feel excited, and wonderful, and I should feel even better when I look into the crowd of people and see my mom and dad, and, well, my now boyfriend. Then I noticed a flash of blonde hair, and turned to see Peyton walking up to us. Everything came crashing down, and I felt the familiar sick knot in my stomach.
"You were amazing, Gemma!" Peyton smiled, coming in for a hug. I hugged her back, and I caught a glimpse of Brooke over her shoulder, she looked pained.
"Thank you," I choked out, Mather reached over and took my hand.
"Well we better get going," Lucas said looking at Peyton, "Bye gem."
"When are you coming home?" Peyton asked, bluntly. I heard Brooke cough, and I guessed it was to cover up a more than un-appropriate word.
"Not sure," I said, looking down, "maybe I'll come stay for the night next week."
"How about Thursday?" Peyton beamed, "I'm working with some new artists at Tric, and you can come a long."
"Yeah that sounds good," I replied. Peyton and Lucas waved goodbye, then made their way back to the car park. As I watched them go, Mather threw and arm around me. "I gotta get home, I'll call you." I gave him a nod, and he kissed me on the cheek before heading over to the basketball guys.
"Hey kid," Brooke smiled, linking her arm with mine, as we walked back to her car. "You were kick ass, today."
"Well, you know why?" I smiled.
"Why?" She asked, opening the door to her Lexus.
"I get my legs from you," I laughed, sticking my tongue out.
"Don't you forget it!" She grinned turning on the car. For the first time in a long time I felt really happy. Despite the awkward Peyton encounter a few minutes ago, everything was wonderful. My parents, my boyfriend, my friends. I just really hoped that this wasn't the end.