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“That’s my boy.” Mo nods his approval while Stella rolls her eyes.
“You’re his friend not his father.”
I shift uncomfortably on the wooden bench as Mo’s pale gaze brushes mine.
“I was Cody’s mentorandhis nominator for team captain. As far as I’m concerned, there is no distinction.” Now there’s a friendship definition you don’t hear every day. If Mo threw on a cape and a voice muffling mask, we could have a cinematic moment in the making:
Cody, I am your father.
Crap. Even my thoughts are starting to sound like Wes.
“God Mo, do you always have to be so condescending? Do us all a favour and pull that stick out of your ass.” Stella scoffs and suddenly I’m wholly invested in the lacrosse game.
The only thing more awkward than couples bickering? Siblings fighting.
“How can Ibe the one with the stick up my ass when you haven’t touchedalcohol since mom died?” Stella freezes beside me and I do my best to drag everyone’s attention back to the field, “Oh look, it’s Wes!”
My intervening comment gets ignored as Stella’s stricken expression darkens, “That’s different and you know it.”
A shot of hurt goes through me at the realization my roommate has been holding out on me.
Mo immediately softens, “You’re right Stel, I didn’t mean to…” his apology gets drowned out by the sudden cheer erupting from the bleachers around us.
In unison, we all look to the field where Wes is sprinting past silver jerseys along the left sideline. Suddenly, he pivots mid-sprint, neatly catching the ball flying overhead, and in one motion hurls it towards the net. The seconds between the ball escaping the netting of Wes’ stick and its trajectory toward the net seems to go in slow motion. The ball neatly bounces off the goalie’s glove and into the net and the sea of orange exhales a collective breathe. Temporarily forgetting Stella’s secret, I get swept away in the pulsing energy of the crowd as Tiger fans leap to their feet and roar their approval.
“TWELVE! TWELVE! TWELVE!” Starting from the front row and working its way back, the chant echoes from every Tiger supporter in the stands.
I have never been a girl who lusts after jocks but watching Wes rejoice with his teammates, sweat-soaked dark hair peeking out from under his helmet, I’m starting to understand why varsity athletes get all the hype. I mean, on top of the obvious six-packs.
With one shot, one goal,everyoneis part of the team. Wes may have been the one who took the shot, but the win was for every Tiger present.
One player, one team, one school.
I think my daisy chain is finally starting to grow some roots.
Chapter 22
Wes
My favourite thing about sports?
No matter how well you do, how many times you score, the game always goes on. The scoreboard doesn’t give a damn about an impressive goal, as soon as the whistle blows, you’re back to square one with a slight confidence boost.
It’s refreshing in the most exhausting way.
Like most lacrosse games, as soon as the first goal is out of the way, everyone seems to loosen up. Whether you’re the team taking the lead, or the one falling behind, as soon as the first goal is scored the floodgates open and suddenly forwards start taking as many shots as possible.
Why that is? I could not tell you.
The next quarter flies by with extraordinary shots and saves made by both teams. Nico has been on fire this whole game, throwing himself around the crease like an absolute pro, while the Saber goalie stays close behind - other than my goal in the first quarter, he hasn’t let the ball slip past him once.
We hit halftime with Tigers on the board with one point, Sabers zero.
And that’s when Silverwood releases the Hulk.
Hunter curses under his breath as we watch Vector run onto the field, completely fresh from sitting out the first two quarters. Anger issues aside, the guy is a fantastic player. As soon as he stepped onto the field everyone’s job just got that much harder.
“Ready to play, Tigers?” Vector’s nasally voice would be hilarious if it wasn’t for the malicious gleam in his eyes. One of our seniors flinch, no doubt remembering their teammate being carried off the field in a stretcher last year.
