Chapter 14: Understand My Tears
A/N- Two chapters with practically no angst. How have I pulled this off... ah well, an error now corrected. ^_^ Speaking of errors, I reread chapter 13 and discovered that I can't count, but... oh well. Spring break has been getting in the way of the story, I don't write as well when I'm not ignoring a teacher, but since school's started again this story should be done soon. I got to work my favorite part of the D2 book in! Yay! ^_^ This story seems to be paralleling parts of Closer Than We Thought that I haven't even written yet, weird. ...whew, long notes. Adam's POV
*****
Rat's waiting for me when I get to the soccer field. Not a Warrior in sight.
"I think I missed something..."
"Had you bothered to show up at all last week, you would know that they have a game at Duluth tonight." She scowls, I know that she's a bit annoyed I didn't make it to any of their practices last week. What was I supposed to do? We've got longer hockey practices now, and last week was a complete mess anyway thanks to a little fight with Varsity that broke out on Monday, in—of all places—biology. (Both teams had detention for the rest of the week. Detention with Varsity is not a great way to spend the afternoon.) The game against Blake was the first and only good thing that happened, well, that and the locker sabotage.
But that only went well for some of us. I heard the whole story from Guy... they ducked into the forest to ditch the leftover supplies, I believe he phrased it incriminating evidence, and hopefully avoid the Dean. It almost worked. The way he tells it, all of the third unit (plus Rat) got caught about ten feet from the nearest dorm. Being hockey players, and with a clean slate (officially...), the Ducks didn't get in trouble. This is Rat's fifth time getting caught and she's got a detention.
"Since the field is free," she continues after realizing I'm not going to answer, "I thought I'd teach you to play. So next time you join a pickup game you won't have to be clueless."
What????? Y'know, I promised myself I wasn't going to say anything about her getting caught, but... I never said anything about pretending I don't know about it. "Sure, we can do that. But you didn't tell me how stage 3 of the locker sabotage went."
"It went wonderfully. Except that I now hate all of you Ducks," she mutters. She surely realizes that I already knew what happened, and she's not going to dignify the question with an explanation. "Now come here. This thing is called a sideline, and if the ball goes over the sideline, it's out of bounds..."
I already knew that. And I don't want to play soccer. But come to think of it, playing one on one might not be quite as bad as that last mess... while she talks, I unceremoniously knock the ball out of her hands and kick it up the field.
It was a pretty pitiful kick that didn't even get it near where it was supposed to go, but that's okay. She gets the idea.
We manage almost half an hour with no incident... well, except for Rat kicking the ball over the goal, over the fence, and three inches away from hitting her coach, who chooses very bad times to be walking around. But then while she's trying to take the ball up the field, she manages to run over me. I immediately reach out my right arm to catch myself.
Stupid thing to do, really.
I manage not to cry out as pain shoots through my wrist, but Rat's obviously seen enough injuries to see that something's wrong. "Are you okay?"
"Fine. Old injury. Acts up now and then..."
"Let me see."
I know better than to argue with Rat, so I allow her to examine my wrist. I only realize how stupid that was when she asks, "What's the scar from?"
She says it so casually. Her face tells another story, and I know my careless, "Nothing serious, skating accident," doesn't fool her. Skating accident? What the hell kind of lousy excuse was that, Banks? "Y'know, I really should be going. I've got homework..."
Stop staring at me, Rat. I don't like that look. It's the same look I got so often from Charlie, after he read my sketchbook. I probably shouldn't get so pissed off about people being worried about me. But...
She follows me. "I'll help you with it. We can get back to the game sooner."
"You, on the Inferno, are going to help me with schoolwork?" I usually wouldn't insult someone about their grades, but Julie, Scooter, Jay, and Rat herself all do, so I know it's okay. As long as I'm joking. Which I am.
Of course, I know full well that's not why she wants to come along, and I'm right. As soon as she realizes I'm not going to let her follow me, she seizes me by the wrist (the other one, of course) and starts dragging me off the field. For a skinny girl who's a foot shorter than me and probably weighs at least 50 pounds less, Rat's really very strong...
I go with her, semi-willingly. "Where are we going?" She doesn't answer. After a minute or two I realize we're heading towards the forest. She drags me in pretty deep, then pushes me into a sitting position against one of the trees. "Talk."
The Ducks always say it's easier to talk to non-Ducks about any issues they have with the team. Charlie vents to Linda, Julie to Scooter, Russ to his lab partner in science, Ken to Don Tibbles (Hey, that's what I've heard)... etc. I've done a fair bit of talking with Max, come to think of it, but nothing very serious. Now I really get to test the theory.
Rat sits across from me, leaning against another tree. She doesn't say anything else. Just leaves it at that single, quiet command... talk. I don't quiet know what she expects me to say. So I wait. And she waits.
Patience is not one of my stronger virtues. "So where do I start?"
"Where you think it's best to start."
That could be a really long story. One more attempt to get out of this. "It's not important. It's over now." I've said similar things before. To Charlie. And Jesse. Often. It didn't work on them and I don't expect it to work now, but it's worth a shot.
"So you're over it?"
"Yes." Who am I trying to kid?
She frowns. "Then you wouldn't be denying it." Eh? She's lost me. "My older sister's studying to be a psychologist. Whenever I see her I get a lecture on it, so I'd like to think I know what I'm talking about. If you're over a traumatic event, you're willing to talk about it, because you've accepted it. If you're not over it, you want to deny it, pretend it never happened, or that it's no big deal, and you won't talk about it. Which means you need to talk about it."
That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard. "Uh... okay, I get it. I guess. Was she making that up?"
"Knowing her, it's a good possibility. But it makes sense. So talk."
Persistent, the soccer freak is. "Besides, I have talked to people." If she tells me Charlie and Jesse don't count, I'm going to scream.
She frowns for a moment. "Adam..."
I seem to be very good at annoying people when they want to help me. But I don't need to go through the same don't-make-Adam-upset-he-might-kill-himself phase that I went through with Charlie again... I don't need help, dammit!
I'm not a very good liar. I can't even lie to myself. "All right. But I warned you."
"Right. And I'm listening."
I wish I had my sketchbook, it could be so much easier. But no such luck. Bracing myself for the onslaught of pain, I begin. "When we were all in peewees, I was on a team called the Hawks. We were the best team in the league, hadn't lost a game since 1973. And we rubbed it in to the other teams every chance we got. Especially District 5, because they had no name, no equipment, no money, no talent... you get the idea." I pause for a moment, wishing she would say something. So I don't feel like I'm rambling. "But then District 5 got a new coach, and he taught them to play. Got them equipment. Gave them a name."
I can see comprehension dawning on her. "Ducks."
"Yeah." She falls silent again, so I continue. "At one of our games, a league official showed up and told our coach that I was on the wrong team. Seems the district lines had been redrawn but the Hawks—and everyone else—conveniently overlooked that."
"Sounds like something Eden Hall might do," she mutters. Maybe just to prove that she's listening. "Go on."
"So I got put on the Ducks, who naturally hated me, since I'd spent most of the year tormenting them. Except Charlie, but I thought he was weird." My throat's starting to close up. This isn't even the hard part! I will not start crying. "The Hawks started to hate me as soon as I switched teams. The Ducks were winning their games, and suddenly there we were in the championship game, against the Hawks. My ex-best friend shoved me into a goalpost and I spent the rest of the game in the hospital."
Rat cringes. "That's rough... knowing the Ducks though, I assume he got what was coming to him?"
"Who do you think started that fight during the last game?" She nods, but doesn't say anything, so I guess I should go on. "So we won that, even though I missed the celebration. Having to go to the hospital for scoring our first goal pretty much won all the Ducks over, though. So they didn't hate me anymore, we went to the Jr. Goodwill Games, my dad was happy again, life was good."
"Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where does your dad fit in?"
I mentally curse myself for letting that slip. Not even Jesse knows the extent of my parental issues, and that's saying something. But... I'm in this deep. "He was mad that I had to change teams, because the Ducks were 'losers' and the Hawks never lost... he actually told the Duck coach that I would rather not play than be on his team, would've been nice if he'd asked me what I thought first... He thinks I exist for nothing but hockey. Which is partly true. But if I'm going to be like that, I want it to be because I like the game that much. Not because I have to win to inflate his ego." Even I am a little surprised at how bitter that came out.
Then again, by now, I'm probably a very bitter person.
She comes over to sit next to me. "So you went to the Jr. Goodwill Games. Tell me more."
"Nothing much really happened. Except this." I hold up my wrist. "Never make someone mad enough to break a hockey stick over your arm. It really isn't pleasant..." I purposely leave out the part about Miss McKay pointing out that there's only a 1 in 1000 chance of making it into the NHL. Or my subsequent depression and packing up to leave. Because I know that if I think too much about that, I'll start to give up on myself again.
Luckily, she believes me that there's nothing more to it. "And every Eden Hall student, including the 99% of us who slept through your intro assembly, knows that you won the gold. Then you came back to Minnesota and got scholarships. I believe you told me you got assigned to Varsity?"
I told her that? Oh yeah... I did tell her that. Oops. "Yeah. And there was this huge prank war between Varsity and JV, that the Ducks thought I was siding with Varsity on, even though they weren't telling me anything. So they gave up on me. Jesse, the one Duck who wouldn't have dropped me, was in Colorado, so I was pretty much on my own. Eventually we got into an unofficial game. I wanted to go as a Duck, but I knew they wouldn't want me there. Plus when my roommate caught me trying to put my Duck jersey on he punched me out, but that's beside the point."
"Fun."
"Very. I tried to apologize to Charlie, but he was... less than enthusiastic about accepting it." I don't want to say anything bad about Charlie. But there's not really anything good I can say about that. "He was starting to really piss me off, so I went after him on the ice. He dragged me into the goal. Big fight ensued. Coach Orion came and broke it up. We'd played in the morning, so we were supposed to be going to classes but I wasn't in the mood..."
Where do I go from here? We got in a fight so I tried to kill myself, yeah, I'll bet. That makes me sound like a complete and total wimp.
"And things had been going so badly I just decided I'd had enough. I wasn't thinking very clearly at the time."
"What about now? Things are better?"
I've been waiting for her to say that, even if I didn't realize it. "You want me to go off on a rant?"
"It'll help. Trust me."
I do trust you, Rat, even if it annoys the hell out of me that you're getting involved in this mess. I still don't want to say anything I'm going to regret later... but I find myself talking anyway. "I hate Charlie sometimes... he takes everything for granted, all his friends, his talent, everything... he's so sure that no matter what he does to us we'll always be there for him again if he decides he's changed his mind. And the worst part is that he's right. The entire team doesn't think he can do anything wrong, and even if they do, they don't dare say anything..."
"You're jealous." It isn't a question.
Why bother denying it? "Yeah. He's got everything important but he just doesn't see it... everything has to go his way. He's the damn Captain. And after that game... it was just like nothing had ever happened. He never said a word about it. Never acted the least bit sorry. Just assumed I was his best friend again..." I trail off. I can't do this anymore.
But she was right. The realization comes from out of nowhere. I do feel better now...
Quietly, she reaches up and brushes a few tears out of my eyes. I hardly even realized I was crying. She doesn't say anything, and I'm incredibly grateful for it. She isn't going to go into a tirade about how sorry she is. She's not going to go off and try to kill Charlie. Most importantly, I'm not getting that damned "You should talk to him" routine that nearly anyone else would have given me for my rant.
I've talked to him, and I've said all I dare to say. And she understands.
*****
I have no idea how long we've been here, but suddenly, we hear voices. They're very familiar voices. "If they're giving you so much trouble, maybe we should tone it down a little... at least until summer, when they won't have to know."
"Won't you be in Maine?"
"Not for most of it. My parents have to go on a business trip that'll go until after school starts, so I'll be staying with Connie starting in July."
"Well... it might be a good idea. But I don't think I could stand trying to pretend for the rest of the year..."
They're walking closer... Rat stands up. "We should go," she whispers. I couldn't agree more. We try to just slip away, but it's not our fault we can still hear Julie and Scooter talking as we leave. The next statement makes us both stop dead.
"I understand. But I don't want you to get hurt because of me anymore..."
That can only mean one thing. Because I know perfectly well that Riley & Co. have no trouble with thrashing anyone they even think isn't showing the proper Warrior spirit. And dense as they are, there's still a good chance someone noticed that Scooter's stuff didn't get frozen/painted/duct taped/etc.
Rat indicates for me to stay put, then sneaks off towards the voices. She comes back a minute later, cringing. "They've really done a number on him. Looks like he got in a fight with a steamroller and lost." She pauses, I can tell we're thinking the same thing.
"He did."
We exit the woods in complete silence. "I'm going to have a little chat with them at our next study session," she announces finally. "And then the soccer teams are gonna start a little war with Varsity. Those two are perfect for each other and no dictatorial hockey team is gonna mess that up."
I laugh. At the same time, I'm relieved, she's forgotten about my... issues very quickly. For now at least. And hey, it sounds like a fun crusade. (If anyone's going to war with Varsity, you know the JV's gonna be in on it.)
We split paths. I've got practice, she's got detention.
High school is a lot more complicated than it has any right to be.
*****
Charlie walks into the locker room after practice looking half shaken, half furious. "They decided on a rink for us," he announces. We all look at him, interested. This being the championship game and all, we aren't playing it on the lower ranked team's home ice. We have to go somewhere completely nonpartisan. Usually whatever hockey rink's closest to the middle point between the two competing schools.
"It's that bad?" Averman asks.
"Blake."
Yeah, it's that bad. Blake!? That's got to be some sort of sick joke. Right in the middle of Hawk territory, just where not one of us wants to be.
"I thought the rink had to be neutral," Guy mutters. "They'll have better than a home ice advantage." The rest of the team nods in agreement.
But Ken and Russ are grinning. We know what that means. This could be fun after all.