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The session finishes quicker than I’m expecting, and I start to follow Dr. Sutton out. As we pass her desk in the corner by the door, she stops to put away her pen and papers.
“Why haven’t you gone swimming recently?” she asks, though she doesn’t look at me.
“Just haven’t had the time,” I lie, shrugging, then crossing my arms over my chest again.
She tucks my paper into her file and nods, straightening back up. “I think you should try to go this week, if you can make the time for it.”
Chapter 13
THEN: Freshman Year, September
Paloma
My job with the hockey team isn’t what I expected—but it’s not bad. Or difficult. I rarely see the team, spending most of my time in the laundry room holding my breath and ignoring Jeremy—my colleague—and his stupid mouth.
Though, I’ve imagined punching him in it several times.
“Honestly, Paloma,” he says from his side of the laundry room, tossing one of the practice jerseys into the wrong bin. I snatch it quickly enough and toss it into the correct pile. “It’s just kind of distracting.”
When we’d met on our first day together, he’d shaken my hand and said, “I didn’t think they hired girls for guys’ sports.” I’d tried to laugh off the immediate tension as I asked him why.
“You know,” he’d said, smiling and elbowing me like we were already pals sharing an inside joke. “I don’t think they want to worry about the guys sleeping with the girls, getting distracted or starting drama.”
Since then, my anger toward him has only grown. I still haven’t found the end of it.
“Distracting?” I ask, my voice louder than usual. I’m almost always the nod and end the conversation type of person, but he’s made these comments three times in the past week. “I’m wearing the exact same thing as you.”
“Yeah, but c’mon, Paloma. You have to know what you look like.”
You look just like your mother.
With a body like that? What do you expect, Polly?
My stomach rolls with nausea as the words reopen old wounds I’ve fought hard to close.
Jeremy’s eyes scroll over the school-issued track pants and polo—identical to his current outfit—lingering over parts of my body I wish he didn’t even know existed. “Maybe you should get a baggier set.”
“I don’t even work with the team. We do laundry. We’re—”
“Still.” He waves his hand at me dismissively.
My body curves in, naturally wanting to hide whatever he’s seeing. I swallow down the vitriol I want to spew, taking in a few calming breaths to push back the tears of frustration.
“Okay, Jeremy.” I smile at him bitterly. “Actually, why don’t you let me finish the rest by myself. You said you have a test, so you can get out of here earlier.”
“No, you don’t have—”
“I insist.”
It doesn’t take much more than that for him to cut out early for the day, a pep in his step. I don’t give him my back, eyes locked on him as he salutes me and saunters out the door.
Screaming into the pulled-up collar of my shirt doesn’t help.
• • •
It takes me twice the amount of time to prep without Jeremy’s help, but I do it happily—
—until I glance at the clock and realize that practice has been over for nearly an hour.
