Gently

I watched her gently fold the shirt and place it on the bed. It was the gentlest thing I have ever seen Jenny do. Jenny was often brash, impulsive and had an uncontrollable temper. But now she was staring tenderly at a t-shirt lying on her bed. A t-shirt I had seen her wear many times but had never thought to ask her about it. Why would I? It was a championship t-shirt from a soccer tournament she had won while she was in middle school. Maybe early high school. 

“Um… Jenny? Can I ask you about something? About that t-shirt?” I tried to soften my voice and act nicely. Questions Jenny didn’t like usually sent her into a rage. 

“No. You may not.” Jenny turned on her heel and stomped out of our dorm room. She even slammed the door behind her. I stared at the door for a minute before jumping off my bed. I needed to find out what that shirt meant. What that tournament meant. 

Three hours later, Jenny still hadn’t returned, and I was quietly sobbing into my pillow. Jenny’s friend and teammate had been in a car wreck when they were just fifteen. The Arkansas tournament was the last tournament they had played in and the last tournament they had won together. Today, her friend would have turned 21. Two days after Jenny did.