I mean…no woman deserves what just happened to her – and I put that on everything – but let’s just say putting him seven feet under – because six is a privilege – wouldn’t have been blaring through my mind like the soundtrack to an 80s action movie.
“You’re done,” Coach declares to me in an unrecognizable voice. “Go back to the locker room. Tell Wheaty he’s in.”
“I-”
“You’re benched.”
“But-”
“Benched!” He bellows at the top of his lungs. “This isn’t a fucking discussion!” There isn’t even time for my mouth to move before he’s locking eyes with Dixon. “Escort him there to guarantee he doesn’t fuck up anything else tonight.”
Dixon nods at the order and gestures a palm towards the doorway Coach is moving out of.
Instead of stealing a glance of Gilly or trying to speak a third time, I simply lift my hands in surrender.
Throw in the towel.
Because what the fuck is the point anyway?
She’s not speaking up.
He’s not shutting up.
And my voice?
Doesn’t matter.
To anyone.
“Rumlow, take Danny Zuko over there to the meet with DPD in the west office,” Dixon orders during my exiting. “I’ll radio Conaway. Tell him to meet you there.” I’m several steps ahead, practically rounding the corner when he responds to a question being asked, “Yeah, I’ll radio Atwell to go by his team’s room to grab his coach.”
More words continue to be exchanged but fail from registering.
Exhaustion and irritation and outrage repeatedly cycle through my mind like 7-inch vinyls a DJ can’t seem to stop shuffling through resulting in my stumbling into the locker room as opposed to gracefully entering.
Snowman’s stare immediately zeroes in on me prompting him to ponder, “How in the hell do you look bloodyworsethan when you left?”
“Why’s Dix in here?” questions Peck offhandedly.
“’Cause it’smen’shockey, F King,” Goonie Tune 2 lightly pokes.
“That’s where dicks are supposed to be,” his brother playfully adds.
“Wheaty,” I defeatedly call out prior to reaching my area, “gear up. You’re in.”
Our other tendy stops chewing mid bite, letting the bit of orange he had left tumble out of his open mouth. “Huh?”
“Coach is putting you in.”
“What?!” croaks Snowman in disbelief.
“Nyet.” Cap immediately bites. “Etogo ne proizoydet.” He slowly shakes his head while repeating it in English. “No. Not fucking happening.”
“I-I-I-I don’t wanna play,” Wheaty poorly mumbles out in between his own frantic headshakes. “I-I-I-Ican’tplay. Not now! Not when the boys clearly needyou.”
“I wasn’t volunteerin’ to give you the pipes,” escapes at the same time I reach for my clearly vibrating cell. “I wastold.” Once it’s in my possession, I plop down and inform, “I’m benched.”
“What the fuck did you do?!” Potato practically shouts at the top of his lungs.
