I lean my head back against the wall, trying not to think about how this is actually the lowest I have ever been. Not in the hospital while numbly listening to the doctor explaining the MRI results. Not when watching from the stands as my team got chopped up on the ice while clutching my crutches tightly. Not when refreshing my inbox countless times in desperate hopes for a message from the Rebels. No, this is actually it—hiding in a stinky storage room while listening to my teammates pass outside, chatting about dinner plans and frat house parties.
My gear is soaked with cold sweat when I finally dare to return to the empty locker room. There is no time for a shower if I don’t want to risk a confrontation with Coach, so I strip out of my jersey and protectors with shaking hands.
My car is the last one in the parking lot, waiting for me under the dim glow of the street light. I’ve never been particularly close with any of my teammates, but my eyes sting when I unlock the screen of my cell phone and there’s not one single message waiting for me.
I let my forehead sink against the cool steering wheel, just concentrating on my breathing for a moment. Five seconds in, five second hold, then a long exhale, like I’m trying to work through a hard check on the ice.
It’s not working.
The pain isn’t sharp and fresh like a bruised rib. Instead, it’s a dull echo, starting in my stomach and spreading into my whole body.
When I reach for my phone a second time, I dial the only number I know by heart.
It takes Nate less than three seconds to answer, his voice soft as if he already knows what I’m about to say.
“Nicko?”
“I’ll do it.”
Xander, October 17th
On Tuesday morning my alarm wakes me up. It’s odd, because usually Nate’s goes off half an hour before mine. Then I listen to him get up, fuss around with his hair, change his outfit at least once, and walk from our room to the bathroom a couple of times. Only when he’s finished would I decide to crawl out of bed.
This morning? None of that.
When I came home from practice last night, there was a peacefully snoring lump under Nate’s blanket, so I didn’t bother him. Best he slept off the rest of his hangover. But now that he’s sleeping in this morning too, I’m worried it might not be just a hangover.
I crack my eyes open and turn off my beeping phone, peeking over at Nate’s silhouette.
“You awake?” I croak across the room, rolling onto my back. As much as I hate Nate’s early morning routine, waking up hard on the dot is not so great either. A soft grumble is all the answer I get.
“Feeling any better?” I ask once I’ve made my way off of my bed, lingering at the edge of the bookshelves splitting our room.
“...yeah, fine,” comes the muffled reply.
I sigh in relief. If he’d been sick another day, it might have gotten tight for the game on Saturday.
When I’m done in the bathroom, I find my best friend leaning against the kitchen counter, nursing the world’s slowest cup of coffee. He looks...off.
Nate’s hair is still falling onto his forehead, and he’s wearing his glasses instead of contacts. There also isn’t any sight of the smart way he usually dresses. Instead, he’s wearing a gray sweater and dark sweatpants. Normally, he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this outside of the gym, so he must still not be feeling a hundred percent.
“If you’re still sick, I could cover for you again,” I offer, though I don’t like it much. Even if I’m not superstitious, I do believe in not changing a winning team. Especially when said team has pulled three games right out of the gate.
I raise my hand to check Nate’s temperature, but he leans backward, away from my hand.
He stares at me like I’ve swung at him.
I blink back, hand still outstretched.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask again, slowly lowering my arm. He’s acting all sorts of weird, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was still drunk.
“I’m fine,” he bites out, looking even more irritated. He grabs his cup of coffee and squeezes past me, retreating to our room.
I’m left wondering what I did wrong, but in the end just shake my head.
***
Am at Wok’s want anything?
