“They were the Rebels’ chief rivals for the division title and the subject of conversation everywhere I went.
The game with Franklin West came first. That Friday evening, my mom was in Nashville, doing research for a freelance magazine piece about the city’s best day spas. Portia and I were waiting for our respective rides to the game. I was going with Jack, of course. Portia was going with her friend Cassidy, accompanied by Cassidy’s mother.
My sister kept checking her reflection in the hallway mirror. She was wearing a dainty pink sweater set that she said was similar to one owned by Madison Honeywell, fashion arbiter of Redford East Middle School—and a touch of pink lip gloss. “But this ponytail makes my face look fat,” she declared.
“No, it doesn’t.” I didn’t look up from the pages I was reading—my transcript of Ron Bingham’s interview. It was like a terrible car accident. One part of you wants to look away and not see something so horrible, but another part of you is fascinated.
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