Her cast—my doing—was wrapped carefully in a plastic bag to keep it dry. She was tracing lazy circles in the water with her toes, like she was somewhere else entirely.
Zoned out. Quiet. Alone.
My chest sank.
I gripped the edge of the door, hard enough that my knuckles whitened.
That cast, seeing it, made something inside me twist.
Because it was me.
Idid that.
The ball was supposed to hit the bleachers.
Not her.
Never her. And yet here she was, sitting in the dark, looking so small it made my throat ache.
I wanted to say her name.
Wanted to walk in, sit beside her, ask her why she was still here, why she was hurting alone instead of letting anyone see it.
But what the hell would I even say?Hey, sorry I broke your arm. Mind if I join you for a late-night swim?
Yeah, no.
She’d flinch. She always flinched.
Even when I didn’t mean to scare her.
But I couldn’t move either. Couldn’t leave.
So I just stood there, half-hidden behind the door, watching her reflection ripple in the water.
The girl I hurt.
The girl who still showed up to class.
The scholarship girl who can’t afford to not show up.
And maybe she didn’t know it, but I’d trade every game, every win, every ounce of pride I had left just to take that moment back.
The way she sat there, lost and silent, it felt like punishment. And I deserved every second of it.
I couldn’t move, didn’t want to leave… a part of me didn’t want to leave her alone. I wanted to be close, really close to her again. But right now? This was as close as I could get.
She then shifted, making me step back a bit, hoping she wouldn’t notice me. I didn’t want to scare her again.
Her body slipped, her body slippedin.
Slow… so slow that at first, I thought she was just going in to feel the water.
Then her shoulders sank under. Her head followed.
My breath stopped.
One.
