“Nope. That’s pretty cool, though.”
“Yeah. And the cornea is the only body part that doesn’t get oxygen from blood. It just sucks it in, right from the air.”
He was sitting crossed-legged on a spare chair in the music room, flicking through the biology textbook he balanced in his lap. That day, his excuse to hang with me in the music room was an upcoming test. I’d thought the book was a prop, but, to my surprise, he actually sat down and started reading it when I picked up my bass. I wasn’t sure if it was because he really wanted to ace the test, or if he just found it really boring to listen to the same bass line repeated over and over again. I wouldn’t blame him if it was the latter, but then I had to wonder—why did he always come to visit me here at lunch when I spent three-quarters of it ignoring him to practice music?
“And blood flows through your veins so fast, it only takes twenty seconds for a blood cell to do a whole lap,” he went on. “That’s funny. I always pictured blood as cruising along at, like, a walking pace.”
“It spurts out pretty fast if you cut yourself badly,” I said.
“Yeah, but not, like, a-hundred-miles-an-hour fast,” he said. “Think about how small a blood cell is compared to your whole body. And it only takes twenty seconds. That would be like us doing ten laps of a football field in twenty seconds.”
“I guess. But it’s all relative, right?”
He blinked into the distance. “I don’t even know anymore. My brain hurts.”
I riffled through the folder of sheet music I’d been compiling for Absolution’s upcoming gig and selected a song I wasn’t having much trouble with, but that was a little more impressive sounding than the last couple I’d practiced. So maybe I wanted to show off a little with Will in the room. Was that such a crime? It had to be a misdemeanor at most. “So, are you actually studying?” I asked.
“Yes. Sort of. This textbook has little bubbles in the corner of the pages with fun facts about the human body. I’ve been making my way through those.”
“Let’s hope they’re examinable,” I said. I banged the sheet music against the stand to knock the papers into place, before lining them up to start rehearsing.
“Hey, Ollie?” Will said just as I picked up my bass. “I’ve been thinking.”
Well, the bass went right back down at that. “Hmm?” He took so long to answer, I was gearing up to prod him into speaking when he finally spat it out. “I was angry at you for a while because I thought you should understand that I had to act in certain ways because I’m not out. So, when you didn’t take my side, I thought it meant you didn’t have my back.”
To say I was surprised to hear that was an understatement. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Will could have seen it that way.
“But,” he went on, “I thought about how I’d feel if you acted like you didn’t know me, or danced with someone else or whatever. And then I got it.”
“Got what?”
I mean, I knew what, from the tone of his voice, but I wanted to hear him say it.
“That I was being a fucking asshole to you.”
We sat in silence. I didn’t want to say it was okay, because I didn’t know if it was totally okay. Not yet. But it was nice to hear him acknowledge that. And also, I had a bit of thinking to do. I’d been upset because I wanted him to care about me more. But if he’d interpreted my behavior as me not caring enough, even if I didn’t agree with what he did, still, maybe that was a little more forgivable. At least, it was better than him just totally disregarding my feelings.
Will broke the silence in a small voice. “Do you wanna come over after school sometime? As friends,” he added quickly.
I couldn’t stop the surprise from flashing across my face. After that reaction from his dad the last time, I’d assumed visits were blacklisted now. Anything that seemed to make people suspicious had to be off-limits with Will. I’d been working hard on accepting that, and not getting too close or assuming it’d change, and here he was pulling the rug out from under me. Why did he always manage to catch me off guard, no matter what I expected from him? “What about your parents?”
“We can keep the door open.”
I hesitated. “It seems like your dad might suspect something, though.”
“I know. But I miss hanging out with you, and I’d like to see you more.”
I thought about it. “How about you come over to mine sometime? I’m only five minutes away from school.”
Will gave me a huge smile that warmed my stomach. “Okay.”
I made as if to start playing, but he spoke again. He was lucky he was cute, or I’d have to kick him out for distracting me when I had a deadline. “Hey, also, uh, are you busy Friday? We’re playing the regionals round.”
Right, because that’s how I wanted to spend a Friday night—watching guys throw balls at each other’s heads and congratulating each other on their excellence and athletic prowess when they managed to throw the ball in just the right way. Thrilling. “I can’t, sorry. I have this gig with Absolution on Friday.”
His face fell so suddenly I kind of felt guilty. I hadn’t realized he actually cared about having me there. But I wasn’t lying—I did have a gig. And it wasn’t exactly optional attendance. Anyone who didn’t think bass was important hadn’t tried listening to a punk song without it. Picture a chocolate sundae without any sauce, or a movie without any extras in the background. It’d work, technically, but the overall experience would lack a certain oomph.
“Oh. That’s fine. I hope it goes well.”
“I’d like it if you could come to the show, though. Maybe after the game?”
He could’ve thrown a tantrum about me missing the basketball game. Told me he was too busy with his own life to come to something that was important to me, just like I was too busy to go to his. But, like he always did, Will nodded immediately and said, “Of course.”
Then he went back to studying.
“How come you’re not in the library?” I asked suddenly.
“What?”
“It’d be easier to study in there, wouldn’t it? Quieter?”
He hesitated. “Is this you hinting you want me to go?”
“No, I swear. I’m honestly just curious.”
“Oh. I don’t know, I just like spending time with you.”
“But why do we always do what I want to do? You could ask me to go to the library with you, you know.”
Will gave me a funny, questioning smile. “I don’t mind?”
But that was the thing. He didn’t mind. He never minded.
Over the summer, Will had eagerly sat with me while I introduced him to all the bands I liked, without giving the bands he listened to the time of day. He’d taken up Music Appreciation, a subject he was never going to naturally excel in, because he wanted to see me without the judging eyes of his friends. When I’d escaped from the cafeteria to practice, Will followed me there, happy to sit by while I did my thing, even though there were probably a dozen ways he’d rather be spending his lunch.
And for the first time, it occurred to me that I’d asked for plenty of things from Will this year. Some things he’d given, some things he wasn’t ready to.
Then I heard Aunt Linda’s voice somewhere in the back of my mind. You only have control over your own actions. But what have you done to meet him halfway?
Nothing.
I’d never even gone to one of his basketball games.
And he’d never guilted me about it. Not even once.
Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t gone out of my way to do something just for him that didn’t benefit me in any way. I’d been so focused on what I wanted from Will that I’d never really stopped to think about what he might want from me.
What did that say about me?
Juliette had set up a vision board.
I reminded myself to introduce her to my mom sometime, while she stood in front of the board in jeans and socks. Niamh, Lara, and I sat in a row on her bed, a well-behaved,
captive audience. The girls were about to get ready to head to the basketball game. And I was, to be honest, not sure what I was doing. I’d already dressed and prepared for the gig, but sound check didn’t kick off until later that night. I’d been planning to hang out with the girls until they left for the game, at which point I might grab some dinner and go hang at home alone for an hour or so.
But, before that, it was vision board time.
“So, here’s a little kid with a clarinet,” Juliette explained, indicating one of the printouts she’d pinned to a poster board. “That represents my plan to get an after-school job teaching clarinet. I could use the money next year, and it should strengthen my application, and make sure I’m forced to keep practicing.”
The three of us nodded agreeably.
“The picture of the A-plus paper represents the fact that I am going to nail my subjects next year. I want the strongest GPA I can swing if I’m going to get into the Conservatory.”
More nodding.
“And, of course, we have the Conservatory itself over here. I’m gonna spend all year studying, and practicing, and perfecting myself before the next round of auditions. I’m not gonna be going to any frat parties. I will be committed.”
“No frat parties?” Lara asked skeptically.
“Okay, some frat parties. But mostly, next year’s version of Juliette is a girl on a mission. I am good enough to get in—”
“Yes,” I said firmly.
“And I am not going to let myself be locked out of where I wanna be, and where I deserve to be. I don’t have connections, and I don’t have parents who can make donations to the school right before application day, but I do have talent. I am going to be so perfect, they won’t have any excuse to turn me down next year.”
“Yes, Juliette!” Niamh said.
“Just because I didn’t get in on my first shot does not mean I have to give up my dream. It only means I have to work that much harder than some people to get there.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s you,” I said, and Juliette skipped forward to bowl me onto her bed in a bear hug.
“Can I borrow your eyeshadow?” Niamh asked Juliette, getting to her feet and wandering over to the desk. “We’ll need to go soon.”
“Why do you want eyeshadow for a basketball game?” Lara asked.
“It’s a big game for Darnell. He’s been walking on air all week.”
“Wait, so you two have been talking again?” Juliette asked. She bent in front of the desk to pull out a few palettes, crusty with dried makeup powder, and handed them to Niamh along with an eyeshadow brush.
“Yeah, we have. I think he needed some time to process the New York thing, but he called me a little while back and apologized.”
Huh. So he had listened. That, or the guys had shamed him into it after I left the table that day. Either way, I was basically Jerry Springer now.
“Anyway,” Niamh went on. “It’s a big deal for him, all right? This is the first time they’ve ever gotten into the regionals round.”
Something pricked at me. Something that felt an awful lot like guilt. “I didn’t realize it was such a big thing,” I said.
“Huge,” said Niamh as she held a compact mirror up to work a purply-taupe color onto her lids.
I looked down at my hands. So that’s why Will had seemed so gutted when I’d turned him down. Now that I thought about it, the way he’d asked me to go along was way too casual. The kind of casual that only comes out when the speaker wants to sound like something that’s really important to them doesn’t matter at all.
It turned out I could be pretty oblivious when it came to the person I apparently loved.
How many times had I said to Will that I just wanted him to do something because he cared about me, not because I asked him to?
So why hadn’t I done this for him because I cared about him?
I should be there tonight.
“You know, sound check doesn’t start until a bit later,” I said. “I wouldn’t be able to stay for the whole game or anything, but maybe I could come for the first quarter or two.”
Juliette squealed and abandoned zipping up her knee-high boots. “Yes, Ollie-oop! Come with us, it’ll be so much fun.”
Even if it wasn’t fun, which I seriously doubted it would be, Will wanted me there.
And it wasn’t always about me.
Admittedly, the vibe at the game was pretty exciting, even for someone who didn’t care about sports. Most people in the crowd either wore or held something with their school colors, and banners and streamers waved around wherever you looked. On our side of the stadium, the Collinswood High cheerleading team was putting on a much more impressive—if less adorable—show than I’d been treated to on Thanksgiving, complete with flips, lifts, and twirling.
On the court, both teams were already out doing warm-ups, the squeaking of their sneakers on the waxed floor echoing throughout the stadium. I spotted Will right away among the sea of black and white, the number four splashed in bold white lettering on the black of his jersey. His wavy dark hair was already plastered to his red forehead with sweat, and the rest of his light brown skin seemed to glow under the bright lights. He was completely focused on his teammates as they did some sort of group drill that involved dribbling and passing six balls around the team at once. There was some sort of pattern, I’m sure, but to me it just looked like balls flying everywhere, and I kept expecting someone to take a ball to the head. But no one did. They were coordinated and calm.
Especially Will. But that was probably my bias showing.
The game itself started not long after we got there. It was hard for me to follow the rules of who was supposed to go where, and what kind of moves were allowed, but at least I had the gist of things. And the gist was, this was probably going to be a close game. Fifteen minutes in, and so far the pattern had been home score, away score, home score, away score. The boys from Frankston High—the team in green and white—played well, but so did we. Some of the sheer bodily feats, the dodging, sprinting, blocking, and leaping, were kind of blowing my mind. It was one thing to watch it on TV, but it was another to see it happen in person. Here, you could really tell just how high someone soared off the ground, and hear the thud of colliding shoulders if two guys got in each other’s way.
And Will. He was amazing. Totally focused on the game at all times, he threw himself into things, not a single cheeky smile in sight. If any of the Frankston guys were unlucky enough to come up against Will defending him, it was almost guaranteed they’d lose the shot. He didn’t jump to intercept balls so much as fly.
In fact, by halftime I was almost sorry I’d have to leave soon. Watching him out there gave me a rush of pride that I hadn’t quite expected. But if I was going to make it to sound check, I couldn’t hang around for more than another fifteen minutes or so.
It was during halftime, though, that Will spotted me in the stands for the first time. He’d tipped back his head to take a swig from his water bottle, right after leaving some sort of strategy talk led by the coach and Matt, when his eyes locked onto mine. His blue plastic bottle went right back down to his side, and his lips spread into a slow smile. I tucked my hands between my knees and rocked to the side a bit, to say, “Yes, you got me here, happy?”
From the looks of things, he sure was.
I hung around for the beginning of the second half, and then turned to Juliette. “I’m gonna have to head off—” I started, when her back snapped straight and she let out a gasp, pressing her hand over her mouth.
I whipped around to see Matt rolling along the floor near the farthest hoop. When he stopped rolling, his body was totally motionless.
“Oh my God,” Lara said, half-standing in her seat.
The coach, the referee, and a teacher ran onto the court to crouch by Matt’s side. Will sprinted over at the same time, trying to look through their shoulders to check on his friend, with Darnell coming up behind him. Someone in the crowd screamed over a wave of
urgent murmuring.
Then, thankfully, Matt kicked out a little, and the adults rolled him over. The crowd clapped and whistled with relief, including the sea of green and white on the Frankston side of the stands. Matt was conscious again, but dazed, and they slowly lifted him under his arms to a sitting position. They seemed to do a quick examination to see if anything was hurt, then painstakingly helped him to his feet and walked him off to the sidelines. The coach sent one of the guys on the bench on the court in his place. Lara jumped to her feet and hurried down the steps to meet Matt.
“What happens now?” I asked the remaining girls. “Do we finish the game?”
On the court, Will hooked his hands behind his neck and watched after his friend, looking distressed. The coach went over to him and said something, and Will nodded, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “All right, guys, huddle up!” Will shouted, and the rest of the team fell into a semicircle.
“Yup,” Juliette said. “Will’s vice-captain. We can play on. Matt seems okay, at least.”
“They should’ve put him on a stretcher or something,” Niamh said, shaking her head at the referee and the teacher, who were still chatting with Matt on the bench while Lara hovered nearby him, frowning. “He could have a concussion.”
I agreed with Niamh, but he did seem all right, at least— he laughed at something, even with his hand pressed on the back of his head, and scooted over to make room for Lara to sit with him.
The referee blew the whistle, and the team moved into their places on the court, Will shouting out short instructions to everyone.
Will had to act as captain for the rest of the game. I couldn’t leave him now. No way. And, really, did it matter if I missed setup and warm-up? It wasn’t ideal, but hopefully Izzy and the guys would understand if I explained there’d been an emergency here. I’d still be able to make it for the gig itself, easily. I shot Izzy a quick text, then settled back into my seat.
The rest of the game was just as close as the first half. The crowd got more and more invested as the end drew closer, screaming and whooping and booing, and even standing up to cheer at one point when Darnell managed to land a shot from almost halfway down the freaking court. And every time the whistle blew for a break or time-out, Will glanced up at me, to check if I was still there. I was so glad I was.
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