"Hey Banks! Wait up!"

I turned around to look at Fulton, who was bounding down the hall towards me. It's been two and a half weeks since I broke my wrist, and I have a lovely black in a sling to show off. Right.

I just wanted to go back to my room and take some painkillers.

"How's the wrist?" Fulton asked as he caught up, falling into step beside me.

"Horrendously painful." I answered bitterly.

Fulton didn't say anything, just walked along beside me for a bit.

"Anything else?" I asked tiredly. I'd just had to sit through a biology exam, trying to write with my left hand, I didn't have time to chat.

"Charlie was asking about you this morning," Fulton said softly. So softly I barely heard him.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" I asked him as I reached my door.

Fulton frowned. "No. Why would I play you, man?"

I sighed.

"Seriously. When I got up, Charlie asked me if I'd seen you, and how you were. You don't come to practices or games anymore."

"Why would I?" I asked him. "I can't exactly play."

Fulton shrugged. "We figured you'd still come to games."

"Oh come on," I said. "No one wants me there. I'm not gonna come and be alienated, Fulton."

He sighed. "Whatever Banks. Just…go talk to Charlie when you get a chance, ok?"

I didn't have a chance to answer him before he walked off, leaving me standing in front of my door. I let myself into my room and collapsed on my bed, reaching out automatically for my prescribed painkillers. I took two and curled up, trying to get to sleep.

But I couldn't. There was too much running through my head. My hockey career may very well be over. I have no friends, and the people who call themselves my friends barely have time for me. Charlie wants to see me.

I sat up and grabbed my bag, fumbling around in it for scraps of paper that had been my journal.

~|~ Friday, 3:39

Sorry for the writing, this whole writing left-handed thing is hard. But, I just really needed to write. To get out of my head for a while.

So, Fulton says Charlie wants to know how I'm doing. I shouldn't care, after the way he's treated me, but I do, more than I care to admit. I still care for him like I used to. I still love him. I'm incredibly angry at myself for that. How can I love someone who'd so easily turn their back on me? I just do. You can't help who you love. And Charlie has always been there for me, since before I can remember, through everything.

I don't think I'm gonna go see him, as much as I want to. Why go crawling back? I'm still so hurt. At least I don't have to play hockey for a while. And I hate that feeling. I'm actually glad that I don't have to play. What is wrong with me? When did I suddenly stop caring about hockey? When did I let love take over my life?

My mother keeps calling every day, to see how I am. I'm seriously thinking about unplugging my phone. I hate hearing her voice, so happy and chipper. It just reminds me how miserable I am. I've started taking some anti-depressants again. I got them filled by my doctor who promised not to tell anyone, specially my parents. Anyway, what are they called? Xanax. Yeah, that's it. I hate taking them, the little blue bastards. They remind me that I'm not ok.

God, me being not ok has become an annoying theme in this thing, hasn't it? I wish I could write about something truly amazing, not in the least depressing. But it's not as though I can close my eyes and wake up a month ago, is it?

So, at the moment, I'd doped out on two extra-strength Tylenol and a Xanax. I'm strangely calm. I don't know if that's the Tylenol or Xanax talking, but I feel better. Maybe things are gonna be ok…

My wrist is doing ok, although I'm aching to do something with it. I don't care, throw a football, write, draw…play hockey. I guess I do miss hockey. It's my teammates who I don't miss. I miss the excitement and the cheering and the unmistakable smell of popcorn on game night. There's nothing sweeter than that smell.

I miss the feeling of wearing my pads, proudly wearing my Eden Hall Mighty Ducks jersey, holding a hockey stick in my hands. Knowing I might not do any of that again tears me up. What if I never get to play again? Is my career, my dreams over before they start?

I should be in my physics class right now. No thanks. I'd rather sit here and wallow in self-pity. At least I can be alone here.

I'm gonna re-read this tomorrow or something, when I'm not on drugs, and see if it makes sense.

Adam D. Banks. ~|~

**

I guess I must've fallen asleep after tucking my journal safely into my pillowcase, because before I knew it, there was a pounding on my door and I was wiping drool from the corners of my mouth.

"Yeah?" I asked, irritated as I opened the door.

Julie smiled. "Hungry?"

I looked back into my room at my clock, surprised to see the numbers 7:14 blinking at me.

"Starving," I told her, turning back around.

She smiled again and took my good hand. "Let me shout you dinner off-campus."

I smiled back, genuinely smiled, and got my coat, not caring that my hair was sticking up.

"Here, let me fix that," Julie said, pushing my hair down with her hands. "I don't want to ruin my reputation by being seen with someone with hair as bad as yours."

I smiled and watched her as she took my hand again, pulling me down the hall and outside, over to the student parking lot where she unlocked her car, gesturing for me to get in.

"Thanks, Julie," I said softly as we pulled out of the driveway and headed into town. "I probably wouldn't have eaten tonight if not for you."

She turned to me once we stopped at a light. "I can't stand to see you so upset," she admitted softly. "I love you too much, Adam Banks. You're one of my best friends and I'm not letting you bury yourself."

With that, she moved past the intersection, stopping in front of McDonalds.

"Fancy dinner," I teased, struggling with my seatbelt.

Julie leaned over and popped it for me.

We got out of the car and walked into the brightly lit restaurant, and my stomach rumbled hungrily, as if it knew we were standing in Denny's, waiting to be served.

Julie laughed and patted my belly. "Settle down," she whispered.

I smiled and threw my left around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head fondly.

We ordered and took a table near the back. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I unwrapped my Big Mac.

Julie held her Quarter Pounder up. "Do you know what they call these in France?"

I smiled through a mouthful of burger. "A Royale with Cheese," I told her.

She laughed. "'Pulp Fiction'?"

I nodded. "I've seen that movie so many times, I know it practically word for word," I admitted.

"Connie, Guy, Fulton and I watched it the other night."

I cleared my throat, and took a sip of Coke. "How is everyone?"

Julie shrugged. "Ok, I guess."

"Truth."

She looked up at me. "We don't sit together in the cafeteria any more," she answered. "It's like we've broken up into little groups. There's me, Fulton, Portman, Kenny and Charlie at one table, Connie, Dwayne, Averman, Goldberg and Russ at another…the Ducks are falling apart, Adam."

I swallowed hard, suddenly not hungry. "It's all my fault."

Julie dropped some fries, halfway between the packet and her mouth. "How can you say that?!" she demanded. "This is Guy's fault, and let me tell you, the bash brothers and some of the other guys won't let him forget it."

"But if I just told Guy I'd go out with him…"

Julie threw a fry at me. It hit my nose and slid into my lap. "You're an idiot. You don't like Guy like that. That's not a crime. You shouldn't be forced to go out with anyone if you don't like them."

I threw the fry back. "I still feel bad."

Julie took a bite of burger and rolled her eyes. "You're too nice, that's why. Accept that none of this is your fault. The only thing you did was fall in love."

I blushed.

"You still love him, don't you?"

I looked up, I could feel the tears building in my eyes, and my wrist was starting to throb again. "I do. I wish I didn't, but I do. I'll always love him, Jules."

She reached across the table and took my hand. "I admire you, Adam. You stood up for yourself, and you're not refusing to feel differently."

I smiled weakly. "Thank you, Julie. Really."

She smiled back at me. "How's your wrist, anyway? Are you taking painkillers?"

I nodded and finished off my Big Mac, balling the wrapper up. "I'm taking Tylenol, but I have a prescription for percocet if the pain gets real bad."

"I had to take percocet last year, remember, when I did my knee? The list of bad side affects was longer than the actual good things that came from taking it."

I nodded. "I know, I'm not gonna take it if I don't have to."

Julie sighed. "When I was younger, I had to take this medication, paxil—"

"Really?" I demanded. Julie on paxil?

"You know what that is?"

I nodded. "Promise not to say anything?"

She nodded.

"Freshmen year, I went through a bit of depression…I took Xanax. I started taking it again a few days ago."

Julie looked at me for a minute. "Same situation, different drug." She took a sip of her Diet Coke. "For me, I mean."

"You were depressed?" I asked her. It was just so unbelievable.

She nodded. "For a good two years. The paxil really took the edge off. But I've been of it for 6 years."

I smiled. "Good for you. My doctor wanted me to take depakote…you know what that is?"

Julie shook her head.

"It's for manic depressives and schizophrenics."

Her eyes bugged. "You were…?"

I shrugged. "I didn't think so, but after I slashed my wrists, my doctors seemed to think I was."

Julie's face went pale and she clenched the table edges for support.

"Oh, Jules. I'm sorry…" I told her. "I shouldn't have mentioned anything."

She shook her head earnestly. "No, I'm glad you told me. I'm so sorry…"

I smiled. "Why? You didn't force me or anything."

Her eyes searched mine imploringly. "Can I see?"

I ran my good hand through my hair and held it out for her to see.

She ran her delicate fingers across the nasty scars on my left wrist.

"Adam…I'm…I don't know what to say…"

I pulled my hand back. "You don't have to say anything. Only that you won't tell anyone."

She nodded. "Of course. Not a word."

I took another sip of Coke, a heavy silence hanging above our heads.

"Have you ever told anyone?"

I shook my head. "No. I mean, when I went home, I told everyone it was because my grandmother died."

"That was when it happened?"

I nodded. "But don't worry, I'm over that at the moment. I'm just taking the Xanax to take the edge off the stuff that's going on at the moment. I'm not suicidal anymore. I'm better, Jules."

She got up and rounded the small table, pulling me into her arms. She hugged me fiercely, hugged me tight, and it felt good.

"I love you, ok?" she said in my ear.

I nodded as I felt a tear slip down my cheek. I wasn't alone.

Far from it.