Page 34 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

I found Sawyer in a corner in the basement, practically banging his head against the wall, a physics book hanging from one hand on the verge of slipping. “I’m never gonna make it. Never gonna make it.” He finally turned around, red-eyed from sleepless nights, and leaned against the wall. “I’m done, man.” He didn’t say it directly to me, but more like he was speaking to an imaginary person comforting him.

“Sawyer?” I asked and glanced over at the couch where Cam was playing Fallen Order relentlessly. His slow and rusty thumbs had finally regained most of their skill. “Are you alright, buddy?”

“Am I alright?” Sawyer scoffed. “Jesus, Cap, I’m toast.”

“Dude,” I sighed. “Is it really that bad?”

Sawyer rubbed his eyes with one hand, the other releasing the textbook to smash against the floor. “There’s no way I can pass this. And then I won’t be able to catch up. And then I’ll fail this goddamn course and lose my scholarship…”

“Is he spiraling?” Cameron asked from the sofa, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’ve got it,” I said, not too kindly. Though I had given myself over to him in every physical way there was, Cameron and I kept our guards up whenever we weren’t alone in his room. “Listen, I know a guy who knows a guy,” I told Sawyer. It was a long shot, but I couldn’t let my goalie despair and leave campus for Christmas in this state. “We can hook you up with that guy, Noah What’s-His-Name. He tutored half the football team last year and nobody failed.”

Sawyer looked at me like I was speaking of employing a poltergeist to teach him physics. “You’re fucking kidding,” he said. “Noah Foster quit tutoring ‘dumb jocks’ according to all the competitive nerds on campus, Cap. He’s prepping geeks for national competitions now. Have you seen the line in front of his room every weekend?”

“I…” I scratched the back of my head. “I didn’t realize that.”

“I can see that,” Sawyer said, voice clipped. Cameron apparently found that amusing since he was currently chuckling. I ignored him and focused on my goalie. “I never realized you were a quitter,” I said, harsher. It was another long shot, but Sawyer hadn’t reacted well to pampering and compassion. “The Sawyer I know grabs life by the balls and makes his own rules. If you want to pass this course next semester, you’ll get Noah’s help. And if you want Noah’s help, you’ll march in there and convince him to help you.”

Sawyer blinked twice, like he was emerging from a trance, opened his mouth, then closed it firmly and nodded.

“Do you hear me?” I all but shook him by the shoulders.

“Yeah, uh… Yeah, I hear you, Cap. Grab life by the balls.” He nodded again, firmer, and bent down to pick up his textbook.

“Good,” I said in the end. “Make sure you do that as soon as you’re back from break.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Sawyer saluted me and drew toward the door. “Merry Christmas, guys.”

“Same to you,” I said.

Silence filled the room briefly as Cameron and I remained the last two souls in here. Then, dramatic music began playing on the TV and the clicking of the controller clued me in. Cameron was in a heated boss fight and getting himself killed by the time I turned around and started toward the sofa.

After everything, I still feared speaking to him. This feeling of dread had been present in high school, too. I could remember assuming, but never voicing my thoughts. I could remember dreaming up a future for us and never asking what he thought. God, I had been a moron. And I remained one, apparently.

It was so much easier to pout and receive the punishment — or reward, depending on who you asked — than to ask him anything even remotely personal. And it wasn’t even Cameron I feared. In all my life, I had never been as close to anyone as I had been to Cam back then. But to ask a question and receive a negative answer terrified me after years of rejection and casual dismissal.

Great job, Dad, I thought. And, as I recognized where the fear stemmed from, I inhaled and let the smallest of my many questions leave my lips. “Christmas plans?” My voice was barely louder than a whisper as insecurities welled within me. Would he think I was clingy for asking? Would he think I was asking him to stay with me?

I barked at myself, a shield of anger protecting me until I forced myself to cool off.

Cameron was utterly unfazed. His snort of contempt said it all. But it wasn’t directed at me. I could see it in his eyes as he dropped them from the screen where his character had just gotten killed. “You?”

I shrugged. How much truth was too much? How open is too open? “Not really.”

Cameron looked at me fully for the first time this evening. “Aren’t you going home?”

“I don’t think so,” I admitted.

“Your folks are gonna be bummed out.” He set the controller on the cluttered coffee table in front of us, then shifted toward me. “They love Christmas.”

It pained me how little he actually knew about my family. “They’re obsessed with Jesus, not with Santa. And I don’t fit in.”

Cam nodded a little, like he understood everything and nothing at the same time. “That bad?”

“Coming out made it…not worse, but not better, either.” I heard the words as they left my lips and realized I was forming sentences from thoughts that had long lived in my mind, but had never been spoken aloud.

“How so?” Cam asked. “Did they say something hurtful?”