When I step back into the hallway, I automatically glance in the direction where I’d seen her earlier. She’s gone.
I sit directly across from her empty chair and stare at it. The tears she’s shedding over this guy are comical. I run a hand down my face to harden my expression. My mom always told me I shouldn’t laugh when others are in pain, and I told her she shouldn’t have birthed a fucking devil.
The number of people pouring in at this early hour makes me grateful I couldn’t sleep last night. Coach would have my head if I didn’t do this. The last time I was injured, he lectured me about health and listening to my body. But pain is a mental game I always win. He doesn’t understand the disconnection between my brain and body. He didn’t consider that’s the only reason why I’m a good hockey player. I can push when they want me to push. I can take any hit. My dad thinks it’s a shame I’m not a world-renowned MMA fighter, but my mom couldn’t handle that. She wanted me skating on ice instead, like her dad used to. It makes me sick to my stomach how much humans try to recreate their past losses in their children. Yet here I am.
The doctor calls my name after I’ve stared too long at the fucking chair.
I finally step inside, ready to get this over with.
He looks me over, then clicks open the X-ray image.
“Broken,” he says. “But you don’t need surgery, so in other words, you got lucky with the break. You’ll need rest for the next few weeks. Stay off the ice. No stick work until the swelling goes down.”
I shake my head. “No, I need to play.”
He huffs, pausing to look at me. “Are you just going to put bubblegum and duct tape?”
I glare at him.
He shakes his head.
“It feels fine,” I say, even though I know it’s not fine. It’s clear on the X-ray that it’s fucking broken. My mind and body are two separate entities, so I don’t care about proof.
He writes a note for medication and then sends me off, making another snide comment I ignore completely. I shove the paper in my pocket and exit the building.
Serena is sitting in my car. Great. I thought she’d leave by now. I exhale, annoyed. The second I open the driver’s door, she looks up at me.
“Get out.”
“Is it broken?”
I shake my head, so she crawls into the passenger seat.
She’s quiet as I start the engine and drive out of the parking lot.
The only sound is the tires on the road as I drive in the direction of Silas’s house.
“Did you hear anything?” she asks quietly.
I grip the steering wheel tightly.
“About Cody?”
“Don’t say his fucking name,” I warn. Everything inside me tightens.
“Is he––”
“I don’t know, Serena.” My tone is dead. “Count your lucky stars that I don’t break your fucking hand for calling that bitch.”
“She was there?”
I inhale, remembering the way she looked like a dream. Scared, terrified, crying.
Serena’s on edge now, so I turn the music all the way up, drowning out her presence next to me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I use my knee to steer the car and yank it out of my back pocket.
Silas: Behind campus
