Tatum's Story, The Choice

By Deborah Seethaler

This is the story of Tatum Mitchell, a talented 15-year-old who excels in both motocross, like her father, and gymnastics, like her mother. She's been feeling the pressure to pick one to focus on and give up the other...and hurt one of her parents in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Seethaler
• Release date: Aug 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9780578557977

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Copyright © 2019 Deborah Seethaler

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 978-0-578-55797-7

Written by Deborah Seethaler

co-writer: J. Guy Johnson  

Illustrated by Deborah Seethaler  

Editor: Alison Stoller

Cover design by: Beth Seethaler

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Copyright

  Tatum’s Story

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5  

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

 CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11  

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13  

CHAPTER 14  

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19  

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

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About The Author

  Tatum’s Story

The Choice

Deborah Seethaler

Thank You

Mr. Joe, Crystal H. &

J. Guy Johnson

This book touches lightly on death,

child abandonment and overcoming hard times. 

A group of people with different poses Description automatically generated with medium confidenceA group of people with different poses Description automatically generated with medium confidencechapter heading picture

CHAPTER 1

My dark brown hair fell forward as I pulled on my shoes. I checked the mirror and couldn’t help but notice that my blue tank top happened to be the exact same shade as my eyes. Not too bad, I said, knowing I didn’t have any time to make changes even if I wanted to. I hurried through the kitchen, noticing my dad through the window as he drove up the driveway. 

Dad, hurry! We're late, I hollered from the doorway as he came up the porch steps. 

What, no hug? Dad replied. 

I hugged my dad and then excitedly said, We were supposed to be there a half-hour ago!

Hey, Tatum, just because the three of you are always together, doesn't mean we have to be on time. I’m sure us running late just this once will be fine. Besides, I just talked to Mark, and they just barely got the grill started. 

I wrinkled my nose at the comment. I didn’t care; I wanted to go now!  

Where is your mom?  

In the kitchen, I spun around and yelled. Mom! Dad's home!  

I gave my dad another hug as mom met us in the doorway. 

You’re back, mom said, smiling in relief.  

Robin, Dad sighed as he wrapped his arms around mom.

My mom was pretty. She always looked her best every day, but today she looked exceptional since she knew my dad would be coming home. Standing next to her made me feel less put together and I wondered how she got such a tomboy for a daughter. She wasn’t very tall, just coming up to my dad's shoulders, so it was no wonder why I didn’t get very tall. 

Hurry, I urged, mildly grossed out by their love for each other, and headed to the car. 

My dad is a Pro Motocross rider. He competes in motocross competitions all over the states. His favorite is taking part in freestyle competitions, performing stunts in front of hundreds of people. When he is not off riding, he works at Mitchell’s Automotive Shop with my Uncle Mark (the owner) or is giving me pointers on how to improve my riding skills. 

I wanted to join my dad at all his races, but since I have my own motocross races, our schedules rarely line up. 

On top of that, my mom requires me to put in practice time at her gymnastics studio almost every day after school.

I’ve become pretty good at gymnastics, especially when I get to compete in bar and floor routines. Sometimes I think my mom has special plans for me with how hard she pushes me. It has been that way since the day I could somersault. 

I honked the horn as I climbed in, hoping my parents would hurry. Life was no fun when I wasn’t around Baze and Jake, and even though it had only been an hour since we’d been riding our dirt bikes down at Wheeler's raceway, I was anxious to get back to them.  

Mark was my dad's older brother. My cousin Jake was my best friend, and Baze was his. We were always hanging out together and everyone referred to us as The Three Amigos. The only fallback was both Jake and Baze were a year older than me.

When we arrived, Mark was manning the grill, and my dad went to join him. The smell of barbecue filled the air, and my stomach growled obnoxiously. I heard Mark ask my dad how his races were as I passed by and sat down next to Jake. Jake was much taller than me, thin and toned, but we both had the same blue eyes, which we must have gotten from our dads. His dark hair had a messy look to it, but that didn’t seem to bother him.  

Jake had his phone out reading over messages. Whatcha doing? I asked as I sat down next to him. 

Oh, nothing, he replied, his phone pinged. Just this girl keeps texting me. I don’t know how she got my number. 

Did you give it to her?  

A guilty, embarrassed look crossed his face. Well, no. Not to that girl.

Ok, then why the hesitation?  

I was too nervous to give my number to the girl I liked, so I gave my number to her friend, and I think that girl gave it to the wrong friend. Jake sighed.

Jake’s phone pinged again, and I snatched it out of his hands. Here. Let me see that.

I quickly read through his messages, and it was a bunch of nonsense. Really? I asked. All you have to do is block her. She’ll get the hint. I pushed block and handed his phone back. 

Tay, I don’t want to look like a jerk.

You want her to stop texting, don’t you?

I guess, Jake replied.  

Just then, we heard a familiar noise, the loud sound of skateboard wheels against pavement. Jake and I both turned and watched for Baze, who always joined our family gatherings. He’d been part of the family since we were little. He always kept us on our toes by showing off his latest skateboarding tricks, and I wasn’t afraid to follow his lead.

The three of us were inseparable. We’re involved in almost every activity together for most of our lives, especially now with motocross. 

His soft blond hair hung in his face, almost covering his blue eyes. It would always grab my attention, no matter how long I had tried to ignore the way it was always flopped over. 

Jayson, Jake’s twelve-year-old brother, was playing with their dog Max when Baze came to a stop, kicking up his board. Jayson noticed Baze’s arrival and hurried over to him. 

Baze, will you teach me some of your tricks on your skateboard? Jayson begged.  

Sure, I have a few I can show you, Baze replied as he ruffled Jayson’s hair. First you are going to throw down your board like this and jump on, Baze explained as he continued down the driveway. Here’s the hard part. You’re going to pop your skateboard in the air and then land on it again. Baze demonstrated it, making it look easier than it probably was. It does take practice.

I can do that, Jayson said with the overinflated sense of ability that all preteens seemed to have.

I looked at Jake. Can I borrow your board? I asked.  I was comfortable on a skateboard and did most anything the boys did. 

Ya, sure. It’s in the garage.  

After grabbing the board, I mimicked what Baze did and then continued up the ramp laid out to play on. Jayson attempted the Ollie for the third time.  

Tatum! My mother hollered from the picnic table. Be careful! I don't need you breaking any bones.  

I rolled my eyes at her. Okay, mom, I’ll be careful.  

I know her fear of me skateboarding had something to do with me getting hurt. But it wasn’t that different from doing advanced gymnastics, which is just as dangerous.

Jayson was repeatedly trying to do an Ollie, but he couldn’t seem to get his feet to coordinate with each other. 

I thought I’d give Baze something to try while he waited for Jayson to land one. I had practiced this move several times. I had finally mastered it and I wanted to show off. 

Baze, try this, I said as I performed the stunt. Being a gymnast made it easy for me to make this move. I took a few quick steps, then performed a handstand on my moving board, holding for maybe ten seconds, just long enough for everyone to see. 

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Whoa, that’s awesome! Baze commented. 

I’m not even going to try, Jake asserted, but that was cool. 

I’ll try it as long as you try the kickflip, Baze dared. 

That’s so not fair. You know I haven’t mastered that yet, I huffed.

I know, but you almost had it last time. You just need more air. 

Alright, but you owe me a handstand, I said as I threw down the board. 

I picked up speed, knowing I needed about the same stride as an ollie. Somehow, I needed to get the board to flip underneath me and land on it again. Baze had shown me several times, but I hadn’t gotten it right yet. I attempted it anyway and came tumbling to the ground, tripping myself on the board, exactly like I had every other time. 

Ouch! Baze said for me. You ok? 

I nodded. I’ll try again. 

My mom unfortunately stopped that plan, though. Tatum! My mom shouted, standing up from her seat. I just told you to be careful. 

I’m fine, mom! No broken bones, I reassured her. Then under my breath, I added, This time, so mom wouldn’t hear. 

Jake laughed and helped me to my feet. 

What’s up with your mom? Jake whispered. She rarely gets this paranoid. 

I shrugged my shoulders. I don’t know. Here, I said, handing back Jake’s skateboard. I better quit before she yells at you too. I’m finished for now. It disappointed me I was quitting so easily, but it had been a tough week for my mom with my dad being gone, and I didn’t want to get grounded.

Oh, and Baze, you still owe me a handstand, I said, giving him a wink.

I looked back at my mom and saw Dad bend down to whisper into her ear. I couldn’t hear what he said, but mom’s eyes started to tear up. I wondered what he had said to make her cry.  

Tatum, why don’t you help me carry some food from the kitchen? Aunt Karen asked. 

Sure, I replied, willing to do anything to get my mom off my case.

I have something for you anyway, Karen mentioned as we walked towards the house.  

Karen had always been there for Jake and Jayson, going to all their motocross races. She cheered them on, supporting them as my dad did me.  

She was funny with the girls that would crowd around Jake. She had confided in me that she hopes that he dates none