by Ali Dean
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell them, holding my chin high.
They attempt to wash their face of emotion, but I can tell the sight of me on crutches breaks their hearts a little.
“Coach, this is my fault. I ran more than you wanted me to. A lot more,” I add, when he doesn’t appear angry. He still shows no reaction; I have a feeling he already suspected as much. “But now I’m going to do everything I can to recover as quickly as possible, and I hope you’ll be with me on it.” I need him now, more than ever. I need him to believe in me.
“After you gave permission, I spent some time on the phone with Dr. Kennedy,” he tells me. “Getting back out there this season is a long shot, Pepper, but I’m willing to work with you and the doctor to get you there, if you are willing to do what it takes.” He hasn’t said he believes I can do it, but he’s never been one to encourage unrealistic hopes. It is a long shot. There’s no doubt about it.
“I’ll do everything it takes.”
“No exercise until Saturday?”
I nod my agreement.
“We’ll talk tomorrow with Dr. Kennedy about what happens after that. I don’t expect you to show up to practice this week just to watch. Go home and get some rest.”
It’s pointless to be here today because it’s a recovery day from yesterday’s workout. Everyone will be dividing into small groups to go on easy runs, and I’ll be left sitting here on my own. But I wait for my teammates anyway. I owe them an explanation. Miracles might happen, but I promise them nothing about me returning this season. It’s weird making an announcement that’s only about me, but my team deserves to know the truth about my injury. They shouldn’t have to find out from school rumors.
The guys’ team is there too, and I’m all too aware that Ryan’s brother, Kevin, will likely report this news to his dad. UC doesn’t make its first round of scholarship offers until the end of November, and I still have time to prove that this injury hasn’t obliterated my chances of a successful collegiate running career.
I’m not expecting to hear anything from the head coach of the UC running team, but when I don’t get any worried calls from Ryan that day, or the next day, or any day for the next week, I start to worry that I majorly hurt his feelings. It’d be nice to talk to him about what’s going on. Yeah, it’s annoying he’d be able to say he told me so and all that, but I’m sure he’d be helpful with weighing in on my new cross training routine.
I make a commitment to show up at the beginning of practice every day, even if it’s painful. I’m still the captain, and I still need to be a leader on the team. Once I’m allowed to start pool running again I’ll just stay for announcements and stretches.
Saturday is another meet, and watching from the sidelines on crutches is not something I’m looking forward to. As we often do before a meet, we head to Lou’s after practice on Friday for a pasta dinner. Loading up on carbohydrates is really only necessary in preparation for an endurance event that lasts more than an hour or two, and our races are about twenty minutes. But carbo-loading before a race is tradition, whether we need the extra boost on race day or not. Lou’s is a pizza joint owned by Kayla Chambers’s family, but it also has inexpensive pasta dishes. I haven’t been to Lou’s since our run-in with Kayla at the party, but it’s not like she’s ever there anyway.
We squeeze seven of us into a booth that is probably more suitable for four people. It’s just me, Zoe, Jenny, Rollie, Omar, and two juniors on the boys’ team. It’s nice to hang with my teammates, who are more interested in talking about running than Brockton gossip. Despite the regret that I won’t be racing with them tomorrow, I’m enjoying myself.
Jenny will be the number one runner on the team in my absence. She’s a firecracker and her positive energy is contagious. She’s picked Madonna on the jukebox and is belting out the lyrics with gusto from her seat between me and Zoe. The whole table is entertained, and probably the surrounding tables as well. I notice Rollie watching her with a smile I’ve never seen on him before. Is Roland Fowler smitten with Jenny Mendoza? If so, I fully support that.
The door jingles as another group enters Lou’s. The place is packed with students, families, and people just getting off work. I notice Omar and Rollie glance at the doorway, then at each other, and then at me. I frown at their reactions before turning around to see Wesley Jamison standing there with two guys who appear to be in their late twenties. All three of them are wearing jeans, work boots, and dirty tee shirts. It’s not Wes’s typical attire.
When he sees me, he grins, and makes his way to our table. “Hey Pep!” he greets me, and then my friends, though he doesn’t know all of their names. They all know who he is, of course.
He introduces us to the two guys hovering beside him, who show little interest in socializing with high schoolers. Apparently they are his new co-workers at Brockton Construction Company. Well done, Jace.
“So, what are you guys up to tonight?” Wes asks the table.
“Just watching a movie at Rollie’s house,” I respond for the group. “Meet tomorrow.” I don’t have to tell him I won’t be racing. The crutches leaning against the side of our booth tell him all he needs to know.
The next thing I know, Wes has invited us all over to his house, where he has a home theater, and plans have been made to show up there in an hour. I’m still contemplating the strangeness of the situation when we settle into the comfortable chairs with popcorn and water bottles (yup, hydrating is the top priority).
Wes and I have the back row chairs. “So you invited all my friends over to your house. What’s up with that?” I can’t help it. I’m suspicious.
Wes grins sheepishly at me through the darkness. “I haven’t hung out with you in a while and I heard about what Gage shithead said. I’m not going to fuel that fire by hanging out with you alone again.” Jace is in Utah for a football game tonight, so the three of us couldn’t hang out. But inviting all my friends over is a bit much. As long as we didn’t show up where all the Sig Beta guys hang out, I seriously doubt spending time with Wes would start more rumors. Though I suppose that’s not something I want to deal with either.
“Plus, I kind of like your friend Zoe,” Wes murmurs.
I glare at him. That’s the real reason.
“What?” He holds up his hands innocently in response to my death glare. “You asked me to chaperone her at some party and I did that without making a move. I’m being cool running it by you before just going for it, aren’t I?”
“So if I told you to lay off you would?” I ask.
“Yeah, obviously. She’s just a cute girl who seems cool, Pep. But she’s your best girlfriend. I’m not gonna mess with all that.”
“That’s the problem though, Wes. She’s just a cute girl. You’ll just want to hook up once, and then it will be all weird and awkward.”
“It might be more than once,” Wes says in all seriousness. “And besides, I hang out with girls I’ve slept with all the time. I’m excellent at not being weird and awkward about it.”
Zoe can hold her own, and she knows as well as anyone that Wes doesn’t do girlfriends. I should probably just stay out of it. “Do what you want,” I tell him, “just don’t put me in an awkward position.”
By the end of the night, Rollie and Jenny have disappeared together (after Wes caught them cuddling and whispered what I presume was directions to a nearby room) and Wes and Zoe weren’t far behind them. It’s just Omar and the two juniors I’m not especially close with.
Wes’s house is gigantic and it’s almost always empty. Except for him. His parents are rarely home. They have a second home in LA, which has become more like their first home as far as I can tell. Wes is lonely, there’s no doubt about it.
By the time the movie ends, the couples haven’t returned. The four of us hang out chatting about the movie, the race tomorrow, and finally, that we should probably head home and get some sleep. I don’t need it for the race, but I’m trying to get nine hours every night. Dr.
Kennedy said the more rest, including sleep, the better.
This is my first night of the week not sleeping over in Jace’s dorm room. I haven’t wanted to be alone with my thoughts, and honestly, I sleep better with him beside me, which is saying something given the size of his dorm room bed. It’s starting to dawn on me though just how weird it is that we sleep together but aren’t sleeping together like that.
When we first got together, Jace was intent on taking things slow, and eventually I learned that was okay. But now it’s been nearly a year and it’s like neither of us wants to bring it up again. We’ve done everything but sex, and it’s sort of become this line that we mutually decided we wouldn’t cross for some reason. But we never really decided. It just became habit to not go there. With Jace’s history before me, I don’t know how he’s done it. Me, I’ve almost gotten used to it. Like this is just the way it is. But everyone assumes we’re having sex – even Zoe stopped prodding me about it. She thinks it happened and I just decided to keep it private.
My bed feels lonely without a warm body beside me. Correct that. A warm human body beside me. Dave is snoring happily, pressed up against the back of my legs, occasionally growling in his sleep. I miss Jace, and that simple thought makes me wonder why we’ve held back this part of ourselves. We’ve given everything else. What are we afraid of?
Chapter 15
I knew that cheering for my teammates while I was sidelined would be tough, but I didn’t think it’d be this tough. As I watch on my crutches, three girls in the lead pass by, battling to be the first to the finish. Jenny isn’t far behind with a pack, which quickly spreads out as the finish line comes into view and some kick it up a notch while leaving others in the dust. Zoe is holding her own, finishing within the top twenty of at least a hundred runners. She attempted to rehash the night with Wes on our drive here this morning, but I shut her up. If it was another guy it wouldn’t be weird, but I know Wes too well for that.
The pain in my shins has dissipated over the past few days, but the pain in my chest and stomach is fully revived in this moment. It’s twisting and sharp, and makes it hard to breathe, but not in the way I want. I want to feel a burn in my chest from sprinting to the finish.
I’d rather go home and sulk by myself but I swing myself with my crutches to the finish line to talk to my teammates. And now I have to hang here alone while the girls warm down and the boys race. How many more of these races will I have to endure on the sidelines? It’s excruciating. I’d rather endure the shin pain if I could get away with it and keep running. But I know that’s impossible.
“Pepper, how are you?” The concerned voice of Mark Harding startles me. He’s standing in front of me, but I was clearly in my own world and didn’t notice his approach.
“Mr. Harding, hi. I’m okay,” I say, wondering what he thinks about seeing me on crutches. Does he know what happened? It seems like everyone else does.
“We are really looking forward to your official visit next weekend,” he tells me with a smile.
How in the world did I manage to forget about that?
“Me too!” I respond eagerly.
“Well, I better cheer on Kevin. You take care of yourself, all right?”
“Of course.”
When he walks away, I notice Ryan standing by the sidelines with his mom. He didn’t even come over to say hi. But it doesn’t bother me. Not when the head coach just told me he’s looking forward to my recruiting trip. I got the feeling he was trying to tell me more with that statement. That maybe it’s okay I’m injured. UC is still interested. And with that, my mood isn’t so sour.
My spirit continues to lift when I finally get in my swimsuit and pool run for the thirty minutes pre-approved by Coach Tom and Doctor Kennedy. My shins are still a little tender when I put any weight on them, but pool running helps loosen them up.
Zoe texted me about a party tonight while I was in the pool, but as usual, I’m not in the mood. Tonight I want to keep resting, get to bed early, and maybe get my homework done. Jace returns from Utah tomorrow, and I want to have my day free for him. I’m not sure how to tell him I’m ready – more than ready – to finally be together in the one way we haven’t yet.
As I leave the locker room and glance up from texting Zoe back, I see a group of athletic guys standing by the water fountains. And one blonde head catches my attention. Wes. I quickly scan the rest of the group, and I recognize one of the others as the guy at the concert with Clayton the other night.
Instinct tells me to walk on by (or swing by, since I’m still on crutches), but it’s too late. I’ve been spotted. Someone says something to Wes, who turns around to find me. Instead of the easy smile he usually greets me with, his expression is tight. He is not happy to see me.
“Hey, Pepper,” he says. “Pool workout?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m cross training for now.”
“You got a ride home?” he asks.
“Gran should be here,” I tell him, though she’ll probably be another few minutes. She ran to the grocery store while I was swimming.
“Okay, cool, see you later then.” And with that, he turns around.
Typically Wes would offer to walk me out, say hi to Gran, and generally just be friendlier. But if Jace’s suspicions are right about Wes’s activities, it’s probably for the best he’s keeping me at a distance. I want nothing to do with it.
Gran’s car isn’t in the parking lot, so I settle myself onto a bench and start checking email on my phone. When I sense a looming presence in front of me a moment later, I glance up. Gage Fitzgerald.
He’s not dressed to work out and isn’t carrying a bag or anything, and I vaguely wonder why he’s at the gym. But my main thought is why he’s stopped in front of me, eyeing me with interest.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“No company this time?”
“No,” I respond tightly.
“Take it easy, Pepper Jones, I’m only joking.” He flashes a grin. “And tell your boyfriend to chill out too. You know I was only messing around the other night, and I was drunk.”
I stay quiet. Is he trying to apologize? If so, it’s a lame apology. I’m not even sure which night he’s talking about. He acted like an asshole on two occasions.
“Wilder shouldn’t take himself so seriously. He’s only a freshman. Get him to come out sometimes. He’s always welcome. You too,” he adds with a wink.
When I still don’t respond, and just raise my eyebrows at him, Gage shrugs and walks to the entrance of the gym. The guy really doesn’t get it. I don’t control Jace, and even if I did have some influence over how he spent his time, there’s no reason I’d encourage him to go to a Sig Beta party, especially not after Gage insulted me in front of a crowd. Twice. The dude must be delusional.
Ten minutes later, and still no Gran. She must have started reading cards in the stationery aisle at the store. She does that sometimes and ends up losing track of time. I’ve caught her there giggling to herself at the card jokes.
People come and go without noticing me; I’m about to call Zoe to see if she can come get me, when Wes walks by with Gage at his side. Wes nods and flashes that tense smile he gave me earlier, but he doesn’t stop to chat. I watch him get into the passenger side of Gage’s SUV, and I know I’m witnessing something I’m not supposed to. Before I can contemplate what it all means, Gran has pulled up in front of me and is calling out the window, apologizing for being late. Something about a man named Harold who needed a ride back to the nursing home.
“He’s quite the looker for a guy in his eighties,” she’s telling me as she pulls out of the parking lot. I glance at the back of the SUV as we pass. Something is going down. It doesn’t involve me, but in some ways, it feels like it does. Wes might not be my brother, best friend, or boyfriend. He doesn’t have a label for who he is to me, but he matters. Gran, Zoe, Wes, Jace – they are my family. But I’m not sure how I can help him.
When Jace was going down a bad
path last year, Wes told me that just being there for Jace made a difference. I was his rock. Still am, I guess. But that’s not how I am for Wes, and I don’t know if Wes has anyone in his life whose presence alone can bring him back. Because he’s drifting away. Somehow, underneath his friendliness at the diner, his invitation to my friends last night, his typical ladies-man habits, I get a strange feeling we’re losing him. Even though he stayed in Brockton, he feels farther away than ever.
Gran and I have a quiet dinner at home and she invites me to join her and Lulu to see a movie, but I opt for a phone call with Jace instead. I miss him. They won the game against Utah, and their record is off to a better start than it has been in years. The news stations are saying that’s thanks to Jace, and I’m tremendously proud of him. His own success helps ease the pain of my failures.
A moment after hanging up with Jace, there’s a knock at our front door. It’s usually unlocked when one of us is home but sometimes on weekends we lock it at night. We share the building with college kids and their visitors frequently go to the wrong apartment on the weekends. I’m anticipating an encounter with a confused college student when I open the door, but instead it’s Wes.
He’s still wearing the workout clothes he was in earlier. I gesture for him to come inside.
