Damn that one strike.
If I had two left, I’d pound his ass to the ground right now. A little scuffling and spitballs is different to total humiliation. The entire class is snickering now, staring at Chris while he attempts and fails to climb the wall.
I should walk over to him, give him a boost.
But I can’t.
It won’t help his whole rite of passage. It’ll only make him look weaker. I have to let him do it on his own, but it kills me.
I don’t understand why.
Ivan’s right. Chris is a pathetic loser.
But there’s something about him.
His eyes are… The way he looks at me, like he’s scared…like he needs someone to take care of him. He’s so small and pathetic. It makes me want to protect him. I guess I kind of felt that way about Riley when he was being bullied, but I was pounding Ivan for my own gain as well. I had a lot of anger to unleash. I’ve pretty much dealt with that shit now, so what’s driving me this time?
Mom’s sweet face brushes the back of my mind. I close my eyes for a second, warding off the shame that always accompanies her memory.
“All right, all right, don’t kill yourself!” Coach finally yells. “We’ll call it an incomplete. You’re not the first. Looks like you’re on hockey duty for the rest of the season though. Be at the rink right after final bell. I’ll tell you what you have to do.”
Chris slumps against the wall. Defeated.
He must be having the week from hell.
We all turn away and head out to get changed for final period. I glance over my shoulder in time to see Chris’s dejected frown.
Whatever weight he’s trying to carry is too much for him.
I wonder how long he’s going to last.
*****
Final bell rings.
I love that sound. It’s my favorite one of the entire day because it means I get to skate. Shooting out of the classroom, I ignore whatever last-minute instructions are being yelled at the students and make a beeline for the rink.
Kade’s already there when I arrive, throwing off his uniform and reaching for his hockey gear.
I dump my bag into a locker and shrug off my jacket, then yank off my tie. Unbuttoning my shirt, I pull it off and scrunch it into a ball just as Chris enters the locker room.
He jerks to a stop, his eyes rounding as he takes me in.
My forehead wrinkles. “What?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head and looks to the floor, slowly backing out of the room like he’s somehow trespassing.
He is such a little weirdo.
Kade gives me a look that tells me he’s thinking the same thing. I shrug and we both snicker while Chris backs right into Coach.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Chris pings straight and spins to face Coach, who towers over him. “I, um…”
“I told you where the gear closet is. Just past the showers. Now move it.”
Chris bobs his head and spins back, his eyes darting to my chest before hitting the floor again. I rub my naked torso, then reach for my shorts, tugging them on before sitting down to pull on my socks and hockey pants.
By the time I’m done, Chris is struggling out of the gear closet, laden with hockey pads. Nearly crumpling under the weight, he puffs into the middle of the locker room and dumps them in a pile.
“Shoulder pads.” I clap my hands and raise them for a catch.
Chris frowns and then looks at the jumbled mess. Lifting up a pair of protective pants, he gives them a cursory glance before rifling through the pile and wrestling some shoulder pads free.
He throws them over to me, but it’s a pathetic attempt and they land on the floor behind Kade.
Even I have to snicker at that one. “Excellent miss.”
Chris’s eyes narrow into that glare that makes him look like a girl. I swear if he raises his middle finger and dips his hip, he’ll look exactly like Annabeth Spencer, one of the hot cheerleaders from Williams Academy.
I made out with her at the Spring Dance earlier this year.
Funny how even that memory doesn’t spark whatever the hell is going on in my belly right now. I don’t understand my fascination with this guy. Why can’t I stop looking at him? Why am I comparing him to a hot girl?
Snatching the pads off the floor, I go to put them on and am hit in the face with a neck guard, followed by two shin guard bullets to my stomach.
“What the f—?”
Kade’s laughter cuts off my F-bomb. My gaze shoots across the room to spot Chris fighting a smile as he turns and starts handing out gear to the other guys on the team.
I let it slide with a grin.
It’s nice to see the guy show a little attitude.
Maybe he’s not such a weak loser after all.
#9:
What’s The Point?
Christiana