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I am. My body is conditioned to know what takes place here by now. Adrenaline starts to pump through my system as I analyze Casper. Memorizing how he moves and where his weaknesses might be as he stands with a few other guys from Ridgemont.
Restless rage simmers and spreads, heating my blood and combating the chill in the air. I could probably trace the source of it if I really tried. Instead, I embrace the recklessness. It feels like driving down a deserted road with the windows down andthe accelerator flat on the floor. Moving too fast to worry about consequences.
I know this is stupid and pointless. I know my dad would be disappointed and Sydney would be worried.
Sometimes making bad decisions feels really good.
Focusing on this cuts through the mess in my head, the worries about the future and the uncertainty about what my life should look like. I’m floating, and it’s an anchor to grasp. The only other time I can tune everything out like this is when I’m on a basketball court.
My teachers call me lazy. My friends call me wild. My dad isn’t around to call me anything.
The only thing I want to be called right now is a winner.
I pull the roll of tape out of the pocket of my hoodie and start wrapping my hands. It’s a move I learned online watching boxing videos. As an intimidation tactic, more than anything.
I’ve always had a short temper. But I can control it. Most of the time when I’m pissed, I let it roil inside of me and don’t let it out. When I do, it’s because I choose to.
There are only a handful of times I’ve lost control. Most of them were when peers would pick on Sydney when we were younger. The most recent time was when Finn mentioned dating Cassia. I knew he was talking shit the way he often does, and I still lost my cool.
I rip the end of the tape off with my teeth and then shove the roll back in my pocket. Whip my sweatshirt and the t-shirt I was wearing off in one practiced move, smirking at the catcalls from the girls gathered round.
Casper steps up to the makeshift ring, lines drawn in the dirt. He’s trying to hide the apprehension on his face, but it’s there if you look hard enough.
Declan starts listing off the rules. The only important one is that the first man down loses. So far, it’s never been me. That’swhy Declan is so desperate to keep finding me new opponents. But as I stand here, feeling the cold nip at my bare skin, I know I’m done.
The thrill is gone.
I’m used to this bored feeling. It happens all the time. With girls, with drinking, when I’m at parties. My life feels predictable in the worst way.
Swinging for sport isn’t exciting—the way it was the first few times. And if I get seriously injured and can’t play this season…I’m not sure I could live with myself, knowing I blew my one shot at a future. My dad makes a decent living, but there’s no way he could pay for me and Sydney to go to college without any assistance. Not to mention, I want to play in college. Basketball is the one thing that’s always remained fresh—that’s never lost its luster no matter how many years pass or how many times I step onto the court.
Actually, that’s a lie. There’s one other thing.
I study Casper. He’s listening to Declan, his hands swinging at his sides. Large muscles shift in his chest. I should feel apprehensive. I’m feeling nothing.
I’ve never even met this guy before. A punching bag would summon more emotion. So I do what I always do. I pretend he’s someone I can’t stand. Sometimes that means I’m swinging at myself. Tonight, I’m picturing Harrison Baker before me. Seeing him smile at Cassia and her smile back. Fury courses through me. My fingers twitch, ready to form fists.
For all of high school, I’ve never really considered the possibility that she might date someone. I’ve done my best to tune out Sydney’s babble whenever it concerns her best friend, to ignore the gossip, to not know what’s happening in Cassia’s life.
Maybe there have been lots of guys, and I’ve just been blissfully oblivious.
Maybe it was just shitty timing I had to watch another guy ogle her during the one encounter I couldn’t walk away from.
I was there to meet with her. I couldn’tnotshow when she was doing me a favor.
Although, with anyone else, I probably wouldn’t have had an issue. I’m cold and selfish.
Sydney is like our dad.
I’m like our mom. I’ve never pretended otherwise, never bothered to battle the destructive inclinations.
The annoying bell Declan bought goes off. Casper swings. I duck. When I stand again, I picture Harrison leaning across the library table and kissing Cassia. I land an uppercut on Casper’s jaw. He rears back, then lands a punch on my ribs that hurts like hell, followed by a smack to my jaw that stings.
I imagine them walking down the hall together. Her wearing his football jersey.
Casper grunts from the force of the next blow. Blood flows from his mouth freely, mixing with saliva and spilling out. He spits and it lands somewhere in the grass. The crowd around us cheers.
I don’t hesitate. Don’t bask in the glow of adoration or the thrill of victory. I land another punch before Casper has fully recovered. He goes down, wobbling at first and then his knees hit the grass as he grabs his jaw. Declan blows his whistle. One of Casper’s buddies kneels to check on him.
