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Because I might’ve lost the girl I love forever.
Chapter eleven
I Don’t Want It to be Like This
Aaron
“Here’syourpass,”theadmissions secretary says to me as I finish signing in.
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking it and heading into the lobby.
After the shittiness of the snow day Friday and feeling miserable all weekend, I had hope that today would be better, but of course not. I want to crawl into a hole.
Actually, that’s not true. I want things to be fixed with Rae. Because I need my best friend right now. All I want is a fucking hug from her. Jesus, I sound pathetic.
Instead, I’m trudging down the hall to a class I have with her—life skills—which is bullshit. It doesn’t actually teach anything useful and our teacher takes it way too seriously. He doesn’t even allow us to switch seats throughout the year if we don’t like where we’re sitting. Which means she’ll be right behind me, close enough to touch, but still avoiding me in every way.
Can’t wait.
I think about skipping, but again, he’s the teacher I’d catch hell from and I don’t need that on top of everything else.
Outside the door, I take a deep breath, wishing that things will be better than they actually are.
When I open the door, everyone turns to look at me. My eyes go to Rae, who immediately looks down.
Great.
I slide into my seat in front of her after handing the teacher my pass. A chill rolls up my spine at how uncomfortable this is. I want nothing more than to turn around and grab her hand. Tell her I need her. I’ll do anything to fix this.
But nothing’s that easy.
Our teacher’s eyes stay on me until the bell rings. Before I even have time to turn around, Rae is dashing past me and out the door. I grab my books and hurry after her, catching her arm as she walks down the hall.
“Rae, wait. Can we… talk?”
When she turns to look at me, she looks exhausted. Her eyes are still full of hurt and anger. And I’m sure mine are mirrors of that.
“I thought I made it clear there’s nothing to talk about.”
“I know, but—”
She sniffs and pulls out of my grasp. “I need to get to class.”
I give a little nod as she turns away.
Guess this train wreck is far from over.
“What did the surgeon say?” Coach asks as I sit in his office.
When I finally made it home Friday night, my mom told me the orthopedic surgeon’s office had called and had a cancellation and could get me in today. It was the one bright spot in my otherwise shitty weekend. I was hopeful maybe I’d finally have some forward motion with my hand. Until the surgeon walked in with a sneer, spent all of two minutes with me, barely glanced at my chart, and told me I was young and healthy and basically laughed me off as a candidate for surgery. Supposedly, physical therapy and occupational therapy should fix it all. Even though they haven’t helped much so far.
When I relay that information to Coach, he grumbles out some curse words and offers to find me another surgeon to consult with. But why bother? They’d probably tell me the same damn thing.
Coach sighs. “I understand.”
Then I ask the question I don’t want to ask but need to know the answer to. “What happens this season?”
He nods slowly. “We see how you play. I’m not going to lie to you Aaron, based on what we’ve seen so far, I probably won’t be able to give you much play time. I doubt you’ll be able to handle much. But I’ll keep you starting for now, and we’ll see how it goes.”
