Team Player 2: A Sports Anthology

by Paige, Rochelle

  Why? he sends back.

  You know why. You’re one of them. You’re THE SHARK.

  So? Didn’t I help you with your tire?

  Don’t you get it, Knox? I don’t trust any of you.

  He lets out an exhalation, scribbling his response to me. I got into a tussle with Liam. Over you. That’s why I have a black eye.

  Shock ripples through me and I look up blankly at the movie, watching as Dorothy walks down the yellow brick road. Stupid Dorothy. I wouldn’t be so gullible on my way to see the Wizard. Dorothy was obviously too needy, and that’s not me. I think about my mom again and all the bad choices she made. I made one too, last year at the party, but I won’t again.

  I’m sorry that happened. I hope he looks worse than you. AND WHY OVER ME?

  Do I need a reason?

  Yes. I need to know WHY.

  He reads it and shoves a hand through his dark hair, tugging on the ends. Well, well, well, he may put on that granite face, but someone’s a little frustrated.

  I wait, almost expectantly, for him to write a reply, but he doesn’t.

  In fact, he pointedly ignores me for the rest of class, and when the bell rings, he jumps up and darts away. I watch his broad shoulders maneuver through the crowd, jostling to get out of the classroom. A few guys call out his name and he waves at them. Then I see Tawny, pretty with her long brown hair, the same girl he was with at the party last year. She latches onto his arm, aligning herself with him. He pauses, looks down at her with a frown, and then looks back at me.

  I arch my brow, a smirk on my face.

  Now that’s the kind of girl who jumps at the chance to come to your house, my eyes say.

  I give him a thumbs-up, and he stares at me for a long time, or maybe it isn’t a long time, but it feels as if time slows down as our eyes cling.

  He studies me, taking in my hair, the curves of my face, landing on my mouth.

  Then he looks back at Tawny, tosses an arm around her shoulders, and waltzes out the door with her next to him.

  Good.

  Because I don’t want him…at all. That is just crazy. INSANE. Those stupid butterflies can just crash and burn.

  A few hours later, my loneliness grows as I leave the lunchroom and head to my next class. Piper and Wyatt have a later lunch than me, so I ate by myself at a table in the back, just like yesterday. Knox and Dane were at the football table surrounded by girls, Tawny included. Chance sat with Brooklyn nearby, and Liam and Jolena were noticeably missing, which was odd.

  I’m walking down the hall when my phone vibrates with a text, and I pull it out of my blazer pocket.

  Hey. I’ve been thinking about you. How’s your day?

  It’s my “admirer”.

  I stop in the hall and lean against the wall, clutching the phone in my hand.

  Tell me something, secret admirer, I notice you didn’t show up to help me with my tire. Or did you?

  Students rush past me, but I’m oblivious as I wait for his response.

  I’m real.

  Very vague answer.

  Then what’s the attraction for you? We don’t even know each other. The only football player I thought I knew was Chance, and look how he turned out.

  Is this Chance? I add. If it is, you can go fuck yourself sideways. And I hope you pull a groin muscle and break your penis.

  Haha. That sounds painful. Not Chance.

  Then who?

  I watch the dots on my phone, my heart beating faster than it should, itching to know who this guy is.

  I read something for my Contemporary Poetry class and it made me think of you.

  Oh, he’s dodging the question.

  Yeah?

  It’s a poem by some guy.

  Okay, I’m curious. Wanna send it to me?

  I expect him to send me a name and title, but instead a longer text comes in, the lines written carefully.

  I yearn for her,

  To ease the monsters in my head.

  My hard heart wants the glass heart in her.

  Obviously, I am out of my mind.

  A freaking LOVE poem? It’s good though, short and to the point. I reread it, and part of me, that tiny flame inside of me that wants to believe that maybe someone does care, softens.

  Nice, SA. I happen to like poetry.

  SA?

  Secret Admirer, duh.

  “Snitch,” someone mutters as they walk past me and keep moving. I don’t even try to see who it was. I sigh and look back down at my phone, that resolve hardening once again. I need to forget SA and his stupid poem. Besides, it’s my free period and I want to check out the new auditorium upstairs. As long as I pop by to see the librarian who’s in charge of my period and tell her I have some teachers to check in with, she’ll give me a pass to roam a little.

  I have to go, I type out.

  What class?

  Screw that. I don’t trust him. I stuff my phone back inside my blazer and book it to the library.

  Chapter Nine

  Ava

  After getting my pass, I head to the stairwell for the fourth floor. It’s quiet on the steps, most students already where they’re supposed to be after lunch. The majority of seniors get a free period now, to either check in with coaches and teachers or hang out in the study hall room. I prefer being alone.

  My footsteps are soft as I take the second flight. I’m adjusting my backpack when I hear the first floor door open and someone comes into the quiet stairwell. A guy’s voice is speaking, and I pause at the familiar cadence I hear, a slow, confident drawl.

  Another voice, a girl’s, hits my ears, soft and cajoling.

  Don’t do it, Ava. Don’t you dare.

  But I can’t stop myself from going still and straining to hear their conversation.

  I’m frustrated when they lower their voices. They don’t seem to be actually moving up the stairs, so I take a few steps back and lean over the iron railing.

  Liam and Jolena. His bulky body is leaned down to her small frame as he jabs his finger in her face. She takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. Gone is the haughty girl who greeted me the first day of class; instead her face is pale and drawn.

  I can’t hear them, so I settle back on my heels and maneuver down one more flight, hunkering more the closer I get to them.

  “Stay out of this, Jolena, or I swear to God I will cut you off and never speak to you again. He hit me—over that bitch. And don’t you take his side because you fucked him once. Yeah, you think I don’t think about that every time I see him?”

  She mumbles something.

  Liam tilts her chin up. “He thinks he runs this place, but I’m the star around here, and we never would have won the games we did if it wasn’t for my defense,” he growls. His back is to me, so I can’t see his expression, but I imagine it’s dark and angry. I wish I could see his face, see his black eye.

  I still can’t hear her reply.

  His voice comes again, crystal clear. “I didn’t touch her! I didn’t do a goddamn thing that night!”

  My heart lurches. Who is her? Is it me?

  Every muscle in my body tenses, leaning over more, and a clatter sounds as my phone falls out of my pocket and crashes onto the concrete floor. Shit!

  I duck down and snatch it, and when I peek back over the ledge, he’s bursting out of the door and back into the hall. Jolena just stands there, her shoulders bent as she pulls a compact out of her purse with hands that tremble. She sucks in a deep breath and pats at her auburn hair, clearly upset.

  A kind person would go to her no matter our past.

  A good person would.

  But I’m not that person anymore.

  Even if part of their conversation was about me and it might be the perfect time to question her—

  No, I can’t. It’s just…just sometimes shame wins when I think about the party. I was THERE. I was DRINKING. There’s video of me dancing with guys, laughing and having fun—

  Those images curl inside
me, wrapping sharp talons around my heart and digging in.

  I am not responsible for what happened to me in those woods.

  I’m not. I’m not.

  I keep repeating the words, a mantra I’ve practiced for months, anything to erase that tiny part of me that sometimes feels like I did something wrong.

  Jolena rushes out the door and I stand there, getting my composure back. I need to talk to her. I do. But not today. Not yet.

  With my determination more in place, I focus on taking the last flight up to the new wing, opening the doors to a quiet floor. Still, I’m wary after nearly coming face-to-face with Liam and Jolena.

  I turn the corner and run smack dab into a broad chest covered by a white button-down shirt, one that smells like pine.

  I look up into amused gray eyes, taking in the manbun and thin face. Dane.

  Well, shit.

  Speaking of enemies.

  “Watch where you’re going, sweetheart. You never know who’s up here.”

  I shove him away from me, harder than I meant to, making him stumble. He holds his hands up, that amusement never faltering. “You used to be such a little wallflower,” he murmurs.

  I narrow my gaze at him, fighting the instinct to run away. I haven’t ruled him out yet as THE ONE. “What are you doing up here? Meeting your dealer?”

  He tosses his head back and laughs darkly then gives me a sobering look, running his eyes over my hair and face. “I see why he likes you.”

  “Who?”

  He just smiles.

  “Just stay away from me.” My voice has more shrillness in it than I want.

  His eyes focus in on me harder. “Don’t hurt him, Ava. Don’t fuck with my brother.”

  What?

  Confusion must show on my face, but it’s as if he doesn’t see it. He creeps in closer, his face tight. “You don’t know the shit he’s been through, okay? He acts like it doesn’t bother him, holds it in so tight, but he’s got a heart. He does, and if you even think for a minute you’re gonna so much as keep him up at night—”

  Keep him up at night?

  I shake my head. “What on earth are you talking about? How can I hurt your brother?”

  He clamps his mouth shut as if he hadn’t realized he was even talking. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

  “No, it isn’t nothing! Are you in some delusional world where you think I have power over him?”

  He taps his hand against his leg, those flinty gray eyes on my face. He opens his mouth then shuts it.

  “You’re high. Dude, back off and leave me alone.”

  I whip around to go in the opposite direction, but his voice stops me.

  “Knox went to every single football player’s house after you went to the police. He raked them over the coals, even the seniors who are gone now. He lost fucking friends, man, turned half the team against himself. Did you know that? We lost games because he pointed his fingers hard at every guy who danced with you, including me.”

  “Was it you?” I snarl, fists curling.

  “Fuck you.”

  “WAS IT?” My teeth grind so hard I’m liable to break a molar.

  “I’m…not…like…that.” He bites the words out, yet his face is…anxious. “You aren’t the only one who doesn’t remember much from that night.”

  So it could have been him.

  My fingers curl into fists, and I’m walking away when his voice reaches me. “Ava, wait.”

  I ignore him, keeping my back to him as I hold my arm up and flip him off.

  His next words make me stop. “Ava…Knox hired a private investigator to look into that night. He followed up with him for three months, trying to get to the bottom of what happened, and I don’t even know why he cares except that he…” He trails off and I whip around.

  “What? Why would he care so much?”

  He doesn’t respond, his throat bobbing.

  “Why?” I yell.

  He flinches and scrubs his face. “Our mom was assaulted.”

  I can’t breathe. The air is sucked out of the hallway and I gasp, my hands holding my stomach in shock.

  I study the tight planes of Dane’s face. He looks as if he might throw up.

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Hardly anyone does.” He stares at a point over my shoulder as if he can’t meet my eyes. “She…she was a pianist for the Nashville Symphony. She came out a side door at night to get to her car after a concert and three guys…they…they…” He takes a shuddering breath. “They broke her wrist and dislocated her shoulder. Her ribs were cracked. She was in the hospital for a week recovering from being beaten…” He swallows. “They raped her.”

  Emotion claws at my throat at those images, making me feel sick. I take deep breaths, trying to align this new information in my head and what it means. I don’t know what to say to him. “I’m…sorry.”

  He doesn’t really hear me, I think, or he doesn’t acknowledge it. He continues, the words sounding as if they’re being wrenched from him by force. “I was eleven and Knox was twelve. My dad kept most of it out of the papers, but that fear on her face when it got dark, when she’d double then triple check all the doors in the house…when she’d sit and just look off into space…I saw that. Knox saw that. Once, in the middle of the night, she drove to where it happened and wandered around the streets in her nightgown and bare feet. ” He closes his eyes and sighs heavily. “Fuck this…fuck all of it.”

  Then he’s brushing past me, kicking open the door to the stairwell and disappearing.

  I stand there for a full minute. Just breathing and thinking about their mom.

  Is her attack why she’s dead now? Did she kill herself?

  I’ve tried to not let what happened change me, to not let it rule my body or my mind, but sometimes fear takes hold of me in the dark, sneaks into my head and makes me frustrated and crazy. I used to not look over my shoulder and worry about who’s behind me. I used to laugh more. I used to—shit, I’m just different, and I’m not sure if this anger will ever go away—anger at myself for being naïve, at the unfairness of all of it.

  And Knox…

  Does this explain his interest in me? Does this explain why he hit Liam? I don’t know. He’s so closed off and…

  I step into the dark auditorium, blinking to adjust to the change from the bright lights of the hallway. My eyes sweep over the cavernous space, taking in the plush new seats, the wide stage with deep black curtains on either side. Written above the stage in old-style Greek letters is Camden Prep. It’s beautiful, and I sigh internally as I focus on the stage, lingering on the spotlight equipment poised in the rafters, just waiting to bathe someone in light. I didn’t take chorus this year, wanting to focus on AP classes, but I miss singing.

  I settle down in one of the chairs and lay my head back, staring up at the heavy, gold chandeliers that hang from the ceiling.

  My lids feel heavy, and I’m surprised I’m relaxed, but then I figure it’s this place, the peacefulness. I shift around, setting an alarm on my phone to wake me, then I drift off, dreaming…

  Strong arms carry me, tucking me inside a car. He murmurs something as he buckles my seat belt. Hands cup my face and stare down at me, his gaze searching mine. He straightens my tank top and looks back at me, a questioning look on his face. “Tulip—”

  The sound of a piano playing jolts me awake. Beautiful and flowing, the notes are a familiar tune, Demi Lovato’s “Skyscraper”, a song about a girl people think is made of paper but isn’t. She’s tough with her sharp lines; she’s a skyscraper with broken windows, always standing, and no one can tear her down. She will rise up, she will…

  The player is skilled and intent, catching the low notes with the faster higher ones, executed with precision yet layered with emotion. Someone knows how to play. I ease up and stare toward the stage, at the black baby grand front and center.

  I suck in a breath, feeling rocked. His head is bent low, his fingers moving delicately and swiftly ove
r the white and black keys. He’s dressed in that vented white practice jersey, his football pants on, ready for practice already I guess.

  Without even being aware of what I’m doing, I stand up and walk toward him. He’s playing my song, the one I sang that night.

  I stand right below the stage, watching him. Amazed.

  Who is Knox Grayson really?

  He…he…he…

  Clarity tiptoes in my head, my earlier dream merging with the truth.

  He ends the song and throws his head back, eyes closed as he drinks in those final notes, his lips slightly parted.

  Emotion pricks that hard layer of my heart and climbs inside. I feel…

  “You found me at the party.” My voice is low but enough to pop his eyes open.

  His face pales. “Ava…what are you doing here?”

  “You found me and you put me in your car and called me Tulip. You took me to Piper’s.” Placing my hands on the stage, I heave myself up and sit on the wooden floor, staring at him.

  He buries his hands in his hair. “Ava…”

  “You didn’t take me to the hospital. Maybe if you had, they might have found something in my system besides alcohol. I mean, I can’t be sure, but I can’t help but wonder if something was in it. Someone did give me a drink. Maybe then everyone would believe me.”

  He pushes himself up from the bench, walks over, and sits down next to me. He takes my hands and I let him, his thumb softly grazing mine.

  His eyes hold mine. “I didn’t know someone gave you a drink that you didn’t bring. I didn’t know you’d been assaulted. I fucking didn’t—or I would have done everything so differently, I swear to God. I saw you at the party, and I just thought you’d had too much. I wish that I’d stayed until everyone was gone.”

  “Then why did you come back?”

  He exhales. “Dane and I…we’d had an argument at the party, and after I took Tawny home, I came back to see if he was still there. He wasn’t. I found you. Just you.”

  I cringe at the image that paints.

  “I figured Jolena ran off…fuck, I was so pissed at her. She didn’t even look for you.”

  “Didn’t you see that…” I stop, inhaling. “I didn’t even have underwear on.” I close my eyes, anger clawing into me, threatening to come out in the form of tears, and I can’t let that happen.