"Hey, dude, what is *wrong* with you?" Finn looked up into Puck's angry face.
"What?"
"Dude, are you *hung over*? Before the game?" Puck sounded seriously pissed off. It was one thing to have a good time but NOT when it involved a game.
"No! No, dude, Kurt made me stay up and watch a bunch of movies. He was trying to 'educate' me."
"Oh yeah? Anything good?"
"Nah. Just a bunch of chick flicks." Finn was not about to tell Puck that he had actually been interested in seeing the film version of Cabaret, the play *she* was supposed to be in last year. Casablanca had been kind of good too. Again, not something he was going to share with Puck.
"Well, dude, get your head in the game."
"Yeah."
Everything happened in slow-motion, as though it were some sort of dream. The ball was passed to Finn, who dribbled while he looked for someone who was open, and threw with all his might to Puck. Then he crashed to the ground. A player from the other team landed on top of him-his head hit the floor. Stars seemed to be dancing in front of his eyes. Stars always made him think of *her*, which made him think of the conversation he'd had earlier that year with *her* about him being kicked off the football team.
"I'm actually kind of happy about it. Then I don't have to fantasize about what song I'd sing at your bedside if you were in a coma."
At least in football he had a damn helmet. The stars were leaving, which made him sort of sad for some reason. Then there was nothing but velvety blackness.