AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You probably don’t need this, but it’s all we brought. You good, Scott?” he asks, studying me curiously. And a little warily. No sign of his usual goofiness.
I crack the can open, making a face at the taste as I gulp down a sip. “I’m great.”
“You sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I challenge.
“You’ve just been…different, since you’ve been back. First you don’t want to hang out, then you’re downing shots like water last night. You grinded all over Tim when he first got there, then ignored him the rest of the night. He actually likes you, you know? He’s not just after sex.”
“Well, sex is all I do.”
Kyle sighs. “Your knee is fine, right? You’ll kick ass this season.”
He, like everyone else, assumes nothing could bother me unless it’s related to soccer.
I sip more beer. “I know I will.”
There’s no mistaking the assuredness in my voice, and Kyle looks even more confused. “Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I repeat, heavily emphasizing the last word.
Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll start to believe it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The start of preseason is a relief, providing the exact distraction I’ve been craving since returning to Lancaster. I’ve occupied myself the past week by continuing the insanity of my Scholenberg schedule.
The rest of my teammates spend the first week of preseason complaining. Coach Taylor is intense—you don’t win a championship otherwise—but she’s not on par with Coach Weber. She eases us into the level of fitness we’ll need once the season officially starts.
So, I spend the first week of preseason adding extra workouts to stay busy.
“You’re joking,” Anne comments when I come down the stairs on Friday, our fifth day of preseason training, in a fresh workout outfit. She’s icing her shin on the couch, and Emma is sprawled out on the rug doing an accurate impression of a dead body.
Emma raises her head when Anne speaks, her eyebrows flying up when she registers what I’m wearing. “Are you fucking kidding me, Saylor?”
I shrug. “Not my fault you slacked all summer.”
“That’s what summer is for,” Emma retorts before lying back down.
Cressida walks out of the kitchen holding some sort of green concoction in a glass. She studies me as she sips through a straw. “You know we have the scrimmage against Lincoln tomorrow, right?”
“That’s tomorrow? I thought it was next year.”
She rolls her eyes at my sarcasm. “You’re not a machine. You can’t keep this up, Saylor.”
I don’t answer, just head out the door.
I feel nauseous.
“Saylor? Are you okay?” Emma’s voice sounds to my right.
I don’t bother looking up from my knees, just press my palms a little more firmly against my eye sockets in an attempt to block the world out temporarily.
“I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
More whispers to the right. I hear Cressida.
“Can we get you anything? Call anyone?” Anne must be close by as well, because her voice, although low, sounds clear. Her second question is more tentative than the first. I’m guessing it’s because, aside from the three of them, they would have no idea who to call.
