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His eyes widen and he looks like he’s about to punch me. I wait for it, but he remains still, his fists clenched at his sides. I laugh as I watch his chest heave, not because it’s funny, but because I don’t know what else to do. I need them gone. I don’t want to deal with… this.
“Seriously,” says Seth, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell us what’s going on. Rachel has been worried. We’ve been worried.”
I close my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go to football practice.”
“Ok, fine,” I hear Lucas say. “We’ll let it go, if you just tell us what the hell you were on last night.”
My eyes snap open and I wonder for a brief second if they saw me do anything. “What?” I breathe, fear racking through me.
“There’s no way you were just drunk,” says Lucas while pointing a finger at me. “You did something. What was it?”
I chuckle bitterly. “I have no clue what you are talking about.”
“Liar!” Seth and Lucas shout in unison.
I shake my head. I’ve had enough of this. I don’t deserve any of this. “I’m late for football practice,” I say while stepping forward, but the bros refuse to move. “Get out of my way.”
“No,” says Seth while Lucas shakes his head.
I ram Seth with my shoulder while I shove Lucas away from me. Lucas grabs me, wrenching my bad shoulder backwards and I scream, grabbing onto his hand and throwing him off me. I gasp, holding the place that burns and trying to calm my breath. I blink away the tears, but a few escape, streaming down my face and dripping onto the floor.
“I’m sorry,” says Lucas while reaching towards me.
I wrench away from him. “Stay away from me.”
I stalk away from Seth and Lucas, ignoring their shocked looks while I walk towards the apartment door, slamming it close behind me.
***
“Where the hell have you been?” shouts Coach as soon as he sees me enter the field. “I called you five times yesterday.”
“Sorry, Coach,” I say while shoving on my helmet. “Stomach bug.”
Coach looks me up and down and shakes his head. “Yeah, you look like shit.”
I wait for him to either send me to the sidelines or yell at me some more, yet he only shakes his head and turns on his heel. Lucky me, I think while breaking into a run. I catch up easily to my teammates, but my body feels unusually weak and I find it difficult keeping up.
“What’s up with you, Hunter?” Logan asks while smacking my shoulder. A shudder ripples through as I grind my teeth through the pain. “Not like you to miss practice.”
“Nothing,” I gasp, already out of breath and I’ve hardly moved.
“Stacey saw you at that house party last Saturday,” says Matt. “Says you were pretty fucked up.”
Logan laughs. “Yeah, I bet. Hunter always gets fucked up.”
“Although, it’s still not like you to miss practice,” says Matt.
He glances at me and when I meet his gaze, I realize he knows. He knows I’ve done something really bad. I try to shake the worry away, knowing he wouldn’t do anything with the information, but I can’t help but wonder if this is going to ruin my football career.
Your football career hasn’t even started, numb nuts, says a dark voice in the back of my head. You can hardly call yourself a football star now with your fucked up shoulder and your fucked up life.
“Whatever,” I gasp. “I’m here now.”
Logan scoffs. “Hardly. I’ve never seen you so out of breath, Hunter.” He laughs and the noise grates on my nerves.
“I’m not surprised,” says Matt.
“Oh, really? Why not? Hunter doing harder-”
