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“You sound like an idiot!” Spencer said, and there was nervous laughter from other teammates.
“First the flowers and now a love note?” Flash said. “Just fess up already, Henners!”
“We were kids, asshole. Look at the handwriting!” I reached for the paper, but Flash resisted, which resulted in it being torn in half. “You dick!”
“What the hell are you getting so bent out of shape about?” Flash said, finally surrendering the note. “We’re just messing with you.”
“What’s going on back here?” Coach’s voice boomed.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I replied through clenched teeth. That was all I needed—for Coach to find out what all the teasing was about.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I threw my teammates a pointed look, then sat back down beside Spencer.
“Good,” Coach said as the bus grew silent. “Now let’s get our heads ready to compete.”
I sat stiffly, holding the two pieces of the note in my hand, trying to wrap my brain around what just happened.
“Why do you have that with you?” Spencer whispered.
“Because I…” I slumped against the seat. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
He frowned. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”
He knew; I could see it in his eyes. He knew this was about more than the note. It was about what the note represented.
“Maybe you should just tell them—about the cancer.”
“But why should I have to? The note was personal, and they violated that.”
“They were just being immature assholes.” He frowned. “I know that’s no excuse.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sighed. They obviously didn’t understand why all this was affecting me. I was likely freaking them out because I was being overemotional. “What if that’d happened to you, about something you were trying to keep private?”
“I dunno. Maybe laugh and play it off even though it stings?”
“I probably would if it wasn’t for my dad.”
His eyebrows scrunched together. “How would he know about it?”
“He finds out everything. He and Coach are tight.”
“Fuck, okay. I get it now.” He patted my shoulder.
“Thanks.” I leaned my head back against the seat. “Glad my parents won’t be at the game.”
“I hear you.”
There was a low buzz around the bus the rest of the way to the stadium, and I just knew they were talking about me and asking each other questions. But I didn’t have it in me to address it with them. I could explain that Lark and I had cancer as kids, but I was feeling angry and stubborn about it.Fuck them.
The remainder of the bus ride was miserable, and the guys didn’t even try to smooth the way. To be fair, neither did I.
I performed badly in the game, my throws were off, and I didn’t feel the team chemistry the way I normally would. All I kept thinking of was my father calling and reaming me out. I didn’t feel safe from anyone. We really didn’t have each other’s backs, did we?
After we lost the game, the bus ride home was sullen and silent.
“Henners, in my office,now,” Coach said when we got back to Roosevelt.
