Page 240 of On His Team

Stanley sits at his stall with his elbows on his knees and his head down. Benson is two spots away, staring at the floor. Percy has already showered and is sitting half dressed with a towel around his shoulders, quieter than usual even for him.

I take my gear off slowly, shower, and get dressed. All normal things, but none of them feel normal.

My phone has twelve messages by the time I finally look at it.

Team chat.

My parents.

A couple guys from home.

Gianna.

Hers is the only one I open.

Gianna: I’m proud of you.

I read it once. Then again.

Me: Thanks, G.

Then I put the phone away.

Tomorrow will be tomorrow. Tonight, all I can do is sit in a room full of guys I have spent years with and listen to another team celebrate through the walls.

G is waiting at Hawthorne when we get back. I know she will be because she told me she would but seeing her through the front window still does something to me. The living room is fuller than usual for a night after a loss. Lucy is there. Mara, Melly, Penelope, Aspen. Nobody planned anything. Nobody sent out a message telling people to come over. They just did.

That is what Hawthorne has become this year. People show up when something matters.

The second I walk through the door, Gianna gets to her feet.

She doesn’t ask me how I am from across the room or try to read my face in front of everybody. She just walks straight over, takes my hand, and says quietly, “Come upstairs.”

I follow her. My room is dark when we go in. Gianna switches on the lamp beside the bed while I close the door behind us. The room looks exactly the way I left it that morning, which feels wrong somehow. Same clothes over the chair. Same notebook on the desk. Same water bottle beside the bed. Everything in here is the same. Except for me.

Gianna turns toward me and waits. There’s nothing careful or nervous in her face. She is just giving me room to say whatever comes out first.

“I’m pissed,” I finally say.

She waits.

“I hate losing to them.”

She nods.

“And I hate that now we have to wait.”

“Yeah.”

That is apparently all I need.

I sit on the edge of the bed, and Gianna comes to stand between my knees. Her arms settle around my shoulders while mine go around her waist. For a while, neither of us says anything. I rest my forehead against her stomach and let her fingers move slowly through my hair.

The house is quieter up here. I can hear voices downstairs every once in a while, but not enough to make out what anybody is saying.

“I don’t want it to be over,” I say eventually.

The words come out against her shirt.