Chip’s eyes darted downward.
“Huh,” he said, under his breath.
That nauseated feeling came back as I pulled my underwear the rest of the way up and turned away so he was looking at my back instead.
The air felt thick and weird.
Why was it so weird being around Chip? We were teammates, and friends.
I mean, other guys had seen me naked before. That’s what happened when you were on a soccer team.
Even my best friend, Sohrab, had seen me naked, when we played soccer together back in Iran.
But nothing had ever made me feel quite as sticky as when Chip looked at me and said“Huh.”
I tugged my joggers on, then my shirt, and ran a hand through my hair.
Behind me, Chip finally spoke.
“At least they’re not turning blue.”
Just like that, the tension vanished.
I snorted. It hurt to laugh.
“Not yet.”
Chip set the ice pack down on the bench. “You need water or anything? I can grab you some.”
“Um.”
He looked at me again, real quick.
I was certain he glanced down at my pants.
Just for a second.
“I’m okay. Thanks, though.”
What was happening?
TEUTONIC PUNCTUALITY
While Chip went to find Coach Steiner, I sat outside Coach Bentley’s office and iced my testicles.
Coach Steiner was Chapel Hill High School’s athletic trainer. Ostensibly he was in charge of monitoring the health and safety of Chapel Hill High School’s Student Athletes.
Go Chargers.
My pain had more or less gone away, as long as I didn’t move. Or cough. Or think.
As the team shuffled in at the end of practice, they lined up to fist-bump me one by one and express their condolences.
They actually said that: “Sorry for your loss.” One after another, Christian and Robby and Jaden and Jonny Without an H and all the guys said it, and by the time Gabe brought up the end of the line I was smiling and it didn’t hurt so much when I laughed.
“You okay, Kellner?” Coach said.
Now that I wasn’t prone on the grass, she was back to calling me by my last name, like coaches always do.
