My alarm sounds like a drill in the side of my fucking head and I swing an arm blindly to shut it up. Normally I use my phone as my alarm clock and it's a much better experience. But I also sleep through it. So I've had to use this stupid thing to force myself awake.
I roll over onto my back and stretch before I remember about Saturday's events. It comes crushing back with the pain in my ribs and I let out a small gasp, quickly ceasing all movements. My arms are still over my head and I blink back tears in my eyes. Fuck, why does this still hurt so much?
Every movement is careful and it's not as painful as yesterday but it still hurts. It's still enough to leave my fists curled around my pajamas and wondering why the hell I'm doing this. I could skip. I really fucking could. Considering I won't be able to try out today, I can call Coach and just tell him that something came up.
My fingers slowly release their grip on the fabric of my pants and I force myself to rise. I'm not laying around today too. I've seen worse and I've felt worse. I'll be fine. As long as I come up with some excuse for why I'm not trying out today. I mean… there's always the possibility that I just push myself through a shitty tryout and tell Coach I'm sleeping off a hangover or something. He'd be pissed but it wouldn't look as pathetic as sitting on the bleachers the whole period.
Dad's downstairs again, making coffee and whistling, and I struggle to gather my clothes, stumbling my way across the landing to get into the shower. I couldn't do this yesterday and as fun as the idea of getting back into bed and sleeping through the day, I can't. Real life doesn't wait for me to shove my bleeding insides out of sight.
It takes me twice as long to shower than it would without these bruises but hey, at least I do it. I just manage to gulp down half a cup of coffee before my phone starts vibrating. Probably Kwan asking where the hell I am but I don't have time to read them.
Climbing into my car proves to be more difficult than I thought it would be considering I also have to bring my computer today since I forgot to print out my paper last night. I could probably have just loaded it onto a jump drive but I didn't.
Once I'm in the front seat, I peel out of the driveway, waving to the old lady as I pass her by. She reminds me a little of my grandma on my mom's side. Grandma was a frail woman that always smelled like home cooked meals and lemon clothes softener. I remember on more than one occasion talking to her on the phone. It devastated my mom when she passed away. I think if I'd been older it probably would have affected me more.
Ms. Anderson, first period biology teacher, gives me a lecture for coming in late and I nod along to everything she says, grateful when she lets me go with only a warning. Her eyes and the eyes of my classmates rake over me as I fumble my way toward an empty chair in the back, thankful this isn't a class I have with Kwan. I still need time to wake up before I face him.
When Anderson turns her back to me, I dig my phone out of my back pocket and scan over the few messages Kwan's sent me, guilt washing over me from not responding sooner.
From: Kwan
You're not skipping today are you? It's tryout day!
From: Kwan
Dash are you okay?
My gut twists uncomfortably as I read over my best friend's frantic messages. I can just imagine him sitting in his history class and worrying about me. Wondering if I was coming in to school at all. I wait until Ms. Anderson finishes talking about chromosomes before I scroll to the bottom.
From: Kwan
I just texted Keith and he says you're not working today… where are you?
From: Kwan
If something happened I'm here for you
"Something happened" is our code for my dad flying off the handle and beating the shit out of me. Which is exactly what happened on Saturday but it wasn't entirely unprovoked this time. I basically started it by not listening to him. Jesus, how hard would it have been for me to make that damn box of macaroni we still have?
To: Kwan
Didn't mean to worry you, sorry. I'm here but teacher's gonna kick my ass if she sees me with my phone. See you later
I send the message off and pocket my phone again, ready to just listen to whatever the hell we're learning about today in biology. The guy next to me is asleep on his backpack and that looks a hell of a lot more fun than listening to this shit. If it wouldn't cause pain to my ribs, I'd do the same. Just sleep this class away. Considering I've already shown up late, I don't think that'd be appreciated.
When biology lets out, Kwan's waiting at my locker. His eyebrows are drawn down when he sees me coming and I chew on my lower lip, trying to steel myself for the conversation that's about to happen.
"Hey man," I greet, swinging open my locker door. There's no need for me to be in here but I rummage around in it anyway to get a pencil. I have about a hundred chewed up stubs in the bottom of my backpack but I honestly don't feel like digging them out.
"Dash, are you okay?" Kwan asks, his voice small compared to mine. Or maybe mine's only small to my own ears. It sure feels like I'm talking quietly. Maybe it's just because I'm used to being happier when I talk to Kwan.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I respond, slamming my locker door closed before casting a glance his way, forcing a smile onto my face. "Overslept."
Kwan lets out a soft noise shaking his head. "Your face," he says softly, reminding me that while a smile bullshits the way I feel, I can't exactly cover the bruises and angry marks dad left.
I shrug, hitching my backpack up onto my shoulder. "S'fine," I mumble, not bothering with any of the lies. If anyone else were to ask, I have a thousand excuses under my belt. But this is Kwan and I don't have to lie to him.
He sighs, putting a hand on my back as he guides me toward the bathroom. "Come on," he says, reminding me that I can't pretend I'm okay around him. But I am this time. Really. It hurts like hell but dad basically apologized. Even brought a peace offering. It doesn't matter now, it really shouldn't matter now.
"Kwan, I'm fine," I respond but he pushes me into the bathroom and keeps a hand pressed against the door once we're both inside. "Dude, come on, this is ridiculous." I scan the bathroom for anyone else but we're alone.
"I'm serious," he responds, glancing toward the door when it rattles. I hear someone mumble 'what the fuck' before trying again. Kwan twists the lock underneath the handle and comes to join me, casting another look toward the door before crossing his arms. "Is your face all?"
"It doesn't matter," I respond, shrugging my backpack off. It gives my ribs some relief but I only let myself enjoy it for a second before putting it back on my shoulder. "Come on, we'll be late for…" I wrack my brains for the schedule I still haven't committed to memory yet. "Economics."
Kwan lets out a breath and raises an eyebrow, apparently intent on waiting me out to show him what my father's done this time. A low growl slips between my teeth and I let my bag hit the floor, moving my arms just high enough to raise the hem of my shirt. The bruising across my stomach and ribcage was purple this morning, but they don't feel as bad as it looks. Or maybe that's just what I tell myself so it hurts less.
"Happy?" I demand. I move to drop the hem of my shirt but Kwan stops me, his hand on mine as his eyes assess the damage. He raises his eyes to mine and lets out a breath, gaze tracing the bruises again.
"Dash… this looks really bad," he whispers, glancing around the bathroom. I don't know what he's looking for but he evidently doesn't find it cause his eyes end up on my bruises again. "You should… god, you should go to the nurse or the hospital or something. You could have internal injuries."
"S'fine," I repeat, shrugging my shirt back down over my stomach. I smooth the fabric as gently as I can before grabbing my backpack. I have to stoop a little and it only reminds my ribs that they should be causing me pain every single second. It takes effort to keep my expression neutral when I meet Kwan's concerned stare. "Come on or we'll be late to class and our teammates will think we were doing a quickie."
Kwan's whole face colors but it serves as a good distraction as I unlock the door.
"I-I wouldn't… they don't even… Dash!" he squeaks as I pull open the door. I glance over my shoulder with a smirk and exit the bathroom, starting in the direction of our class. It's up a flight of stairs and just looking at those twelve steps scares the shit out of me. If I let on that it hurts that much to climb stairs, Kwan will make me go to the nurse or the hospital. I can't do that. I can't bring this up again. Dad and I buried it. It's just taking my body longer to realize that.
"Dash, can you-"
"I'll be fine," I respond before he can get his thoughts out. I take the stairs as quickly as I can and it allows me a chance to get my facial expression into something a little less pained as Kwan jogs up behind me. His hand on my shoulder is gentle and a little reassuring. I glance toward him with a smile only half-faked this time. "See? Fine."
I'm pretty sure Kwan knows that fine is another code word for, I'm-doing-my-best-please-don't-call-me-on-my-shit. But he just smiles in response, giving my shoulder another squeeze before we continue to our class together.
I get through most of my classes okay but PE comes around and those of us that are trying out are herded onto the field, Coach Anthony Brimfield barking orders every few feet. I notice a lot of guys that aren't even going to take this seriously but a lot of the new faces seem to be actually interested in this. Which makes sense, most of the team this year is graduating. Coach needs to bring in some fresh meat so this team doesn't die after we all leave.
Kwan walks by my side to the field, casting worried glances my way every couple of seconds. I don't meet his gaze once and finally he leans over to me, his breath on my cheek and smelling like cola. "Hey, are you going to be okay? Do you need me to help you come up with a lie for this?"
I shake my head just as Coach turns around to talk to us, signaling for all of us to sprawl out onto the field. I take a few steps back and sink down onto the bleachers, already knowing that getting up from the grass will be more of a spectacle.
"For most of you, this is your last year on this team. After this season finishes out, you'll move on to college teams or hell, some of you will quit playing altogether. Either way you look at it, this is your last year with the Ravens," he says, staring around the group of us. "For those of you that haven't been on this team in the past, your passion and your determination are the most important thing you can bring to the field every day. Skill and precision can be learned. You can become a better player in the physical aspect. But if your heart's not in this game, you're wasting my time here."
He steps away from the group spread on the ground, giving them a chance to leave if they want to. Two guys on the end get up, awkwardly rubbing at the backs of their necks as they leave the field, casting a glance back every now and then. They look like they're both freshmen and I've never seen either one of them around before.
My attention is quickly brought back to the field as Coach claps his hands together. "Alright. Everyone that's still trying out, into the locker room and change into your gym clothes. Now, chop chop."
The kids on the grass lazily climb to their feet and I keep my attention on my teammates from last year, wondering if they're going to be the ones picked over. Coach seemed to think that Keith Montgomery wasn't doing that great last year but he got a free pass considering everything else that was going on.
The Montgomery family moved across town to be closer to the hospital because of his sister. She's got some rare blood disease or something and the doctors don't think she's going to make it much past middle school. I've heard stories from Keith before and he always calls her his little fighter. I don't know what I would do in his position. I'd probably quit football altogether. But maybe this is his garage. The place where he forgets everyone else and can just focus. Maybe Friday games are his leaky transmissions and bent rims. Problems that can actually be fixed.
The guys barely pay me any attention but I'm still uneasy slipping my shirt over my head. I quickly slide on my gym wear before anyone can see anything. But I catch Jeff's eye across the room and I have to drop my gaze, my hands starting to shake again. I can't bring anyone else into this secret. This horrible thing that claws at my insides late at night, reminding me that after this year, I'll be alone.
Kwan will go to college and one of the only four people I trusted with this secret broke up with me. If I can even call it that. The third person is Alex but he's not in the complete know. He guessed it was my dad and I never corrected him. I don't provide details and shut down when he asks. At the end of this year, he's all I'll have. I wonder if that's why he's trying to convince me to go to college. So I'll be someone else's problem.
I slam my locker door closed and sink down onto the bench, sliding my shoes onto my feet. It takes me a few minutes to work up the energy to move from my spot but when I do, Kwan quickly joins me, already dressed in his clothes.
"Dash, you can't seriously try out like this," he whispers, his hair falling into his face. He reaches up with one hand and smooths it down, shooting an exasperated look my way. "You'll hurt yourself worse, please don't."
I ignore him and start out of the locker room, feeling the warmth from the sun hit my skin. It's still not cool enough to be considered autumn but the heat of the summer died out weeks ago.
Kwan's hand touches my shoulder and I look at him, shrugging. "I don't know what you want me to say, man. It's not like I can just ignore this and not try out. I still have to do shit, regardless of what happened."
My best friend's eyes drop from mine and he heaves a sigh. "Just don't… don't push yourself, okay? If it hurts… if it hurts worse when you're out there… tell Coach you sprained something. Or your calf muscle's bothering you. Just don't… don't make it worse, okay?"
I shrug his hand off me but nod when he looks up at me. I can't promise that I'll do that but if I think that coach will check the state of my ribs judging on my playing, I'll bail. Tell him it's my calf or something. I can't let him get a look at my fucked up torso.
As it turns out, I'm one of the last to try out. Coach usually has the shoo-ins wait until last to tryout so we can watch the others and give them our feedback. He still makes the final call but he likes our input. I think he kept Keith last year because of what Kwan and I told him. Not like we talked him up or anything, everything we said was true. He's the best half-back this team's ever had.
Coach barks out orders to everyone on the field and I watch the freshmen and newbies line up while the older players get moved to the bleachers. Keith's in the lineup with the newbies and I really hope that doesn't mean Coach is gonna cut him. Other than his playing skills, he's just a fucking great person to be around. All positive and shit.
I'm trying to focus on the tryouts, trying to assess what their greatest strength will be, but movement near the end of the field catches my eye. Kwan follows my line of sight and suddenly we're both watching Fenton. He's trudging across the other side of the field, backpack hitched high on his back. He glances over his shoulder once, stumbling over nothing, before regaining his footing.
He lifts one hand up to scratch at the back of his neck and I hear one of my teammates say something, momentarily distracting me from watching him. It's not until the ball is sailing in the air that I realize Blake threw one toward Fenton.
I try to warn him but all I manage to shout out is "Hey!" which only results in him turning his head toward us. Which gives the ball the perfect angle and hits him square in the face.
"Fuck," I mumble, standing up from the bench. I pop Blake on the shoulder as I pass by him, giving him a look before I jog over to Fenton, my ribs aching with every movement. Kwan runs at my pace and I can't tell if I'd rather he get to Fenton first or not make me look like shit as I run.
Fenton's sitting up when we reach him and he's got a hand pressed to his face as blood pours out of his nose. He looks up when I reach him and I carefully kneel down in the grass next to him. "Fuck, I'm sorry," I mumble, glancing back at my teammates before turning my gaze to Fenton's. "Blake's a fucking idiot. Let me see." Fenton's still dumbfounded, holding my gaze, so I have to bat his hands away to get a look at his nose. The bottom looks twisted at an awful angle and makes my stomach churn. "Jesus, that looks bad."
Kwan kneels next to me and glances over his shoulder. "Coach is coming over, he'll probably send you to the nurse," he says softly, turning around to face us.
Fenton's gaze drops from mine and he clears his throat. "Um… I-I think it'll be fine. I-It's just a broken nose, it's not a big deal," he mumbles. His hesitancy for anyone to look at the injury reminds me of myself and I don't like the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach.
Coach reaches us and bends down, placing a hand under Fenton's chin. "You alright, kid? You really took that to the face," he says, angling Fenton's head back and forth to get a good look at him. "You need to go to the nurse."
"N-No, I'm fine, it's-"
"Not up for discussion," Coach responds, standing up again. "I'll walk you down there myself. Kwan, Dash, can you two start the newbies stretching?"
I open my mouth to say yeah but Kwan quickly butts in. "A-Actually sir, you're a lot better at that than we are. We've only instructed them once and they probably won't listen to us anyway. We don't want resentment first thing, right?" he asks, casting a quick glance toward me. "Dash can walk Danny down to the office."
Are you fucking kidding me, Kwan?
I try to shoot daggers at my best friend but ignores me, keeping his gaze on our coach who's seriously considering this. I try to butt in but Fenton interrupts me.
"I-It's fine, I can take myself," he says softly, taking a step away from us. He meets my gaze for a split second before his eyes are on the ground again. "I-It's fine."
"Dash told me his calf was bothering him this weekend anyway," Kwan says, immediately drawing attention back to me. I'm really going to kill him. He spares a glance at me and there's an apology in his eyes. "Maybe he can get his calf looked over while he's there. Since he really shouldn't be trying out in his state anyway."
Coach's eyes rake over the bruises on my face and I could murder Kwan right here. Jesus Christ, what is he trying to do to me? If Coach suspects anything because of my best friend, I'll have to kick his ass later. "I'm-"
"Alright, Dash, walk Danny down to the office. When your calf starts feeling better again, you'll be back at practices. Don't push yourself, do you understand?" he asks, reaching across the space to squeeze my shoulder. "Go get your leg looked over."
"You're not… I don't even have to try out?" I ask, trying to wrap my head around that. I've always tried out every year. But usually, dad's hands stay away from me in the days leading up to tryouts and I'm able to not fuck it up.
Coach shakes his head, giving me a grin. "Like I would make you try out again this year. Dash, you're the best quarterback the Ravens have ever seen." He nods like it's final. "Once you're feeling better, you'll join us at practices."
"Coach, it's-"
"No arguments," he responds, releasing my shoulder and taking a step back. He claps Kwan on the shoulder and gestures toward the others. "Come on, we have newbies to whip into shape."
Fenton and I both try to argue but it's clear they're not going to listen to us. I scratch at the back of my neck and turn to look at him. He's still awkwardly clutching at his nose to keep the blood in and there's no way in hell coach is going to let me try out today.
If not for Kwan, I'd be struggling through today, trying to prove that I'm capable of being on this team despite the injuries I'll receive throughout the year. But… leave it to Kwan to get me out of a shitty situation with only a few lies uttered from his mouth.
Fenton flicks his gaze up to mine when I clear my throat and I think I notice a faint stain of pink on his face. Probably from the blood rushing to his face with the amount he's still losing. I scratch at the back of my neck and gesture toward the school building in the distance.
"Shall we?"
A/N: Ahhh, we're finally at the first interaction between these two! I love working on scenes with the two of them together. Next chapter is more about the two of them and it's less focused on other people so look forward to that. I may post that one next week instead of waiting the regular two weeks, I'm not sure... watch this space, that might be a thing that happens.
So, at this point, the plot of the story is advancing and it's definitely going to be more focused on the two of them as it goes. We get to see Valerie and Dash interactions again soon, I'm excited to write on her, she's a lot of fun for me.
I hope you guys enjoyed this update, it's been a lot of fun to write. Your reviews and thoughts are encouraging, please let me know what you think!
