When I text her and it stays on delivered, the feeling intensifies.
I resort to reaching out to Asher, hoping that he’s heard from her. Or that he’s with her.
Grayson
Are you with Rae?
He doesn’t respond right away either, and I’m about to call them, or reach out to my mom to see if Rae iswith her. Then a message comes through, but when I see it’s Asher and not Rae my panic intensifies.
Asher
No. I just got done at the gym and she texted me about an hour ago, but she’s not responding now.
That’s not right.
She can disappear when she’s deep into working and puts her phone on do not disturb, but she doesn’t miss a game. Ever.
“Wheeler, what’s wrong?” my Captain asks, and I realize I probably look crazed.
“Uh, I don’t—” I run my hand through my sweat-soaked hair. “I don’t know, but I think there might be something wrong with my girlfriend.”
I try to call her, but her phone just rings then goes to voicemail. I know something is wrong. I look around at the locker room, and I know I can’t be here. There’s no way I can play the last period not knowing where she is.
My phone goes off with another text, and I hope it’s her, but it’s just Asher again.
Asher
I’m heading to her house.
While I feel better knowing he’s going to her, I need to do the same.
“What’s wrong?” Cap asks, clearly concerned as well. I’ve garnered the attention of the rest of my team and Coach Mitchell as well.
“I don’t know, but I have to go,” I announce, already pulling my jersey off.
“You can’t leave in the middle of the game, Wheeler,” Coach Mitchell scolds, but I’m already stripping the rest of my gear off.
“Family emergency. Sub someone in for me,” I grumble; I have tunnel vision as I try to change in record time.
“You’re going to get fined by the league, maybe suspended,” he threatens.
I could get kicked off the team forever right now and not even care, as long as I can make sure Rae is okay.
“Do what you need to do, I have to go,” I insist.
None of my teammates argue with my need to leave, and I’m sure it’s because they can see how frantic I am. Coach Mitchell doesn’t question me further, and I’m grabbing my keys, racing out of the locker room before the next period starts.
I don’t pay attention to anything on my way out to the parking garage. I keep trying to call Rae, hoping she’ll answer and tell me everything is fine. Each time her phone goes to voicemail I feel worse and worse.
I get to my car, never more grateful for my decision to get something fast. I’m buckling my seatbelt while pulling out of the parking spot and already starting to race out of here. Luckily, there’s no traffic since the game is still going on. I’m ignoring all speed laws as I race through the downtown streets and toward Rae’s house.
My phone rings, and I reach for it, answering without looking, just hoping I’ll hear her voice on the other end, but it’s my dad.
“Where are you? Did you get injured?”
“I left.” I press the gas even harder, pushing my car to go faster.
“Left? Gray, you know a game is three periods, right?”
