Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
Kian
I messed up. I messed up bad.
Yesterday’s tutoring session has been replaying in my head like a bad dream.
Earlier today, I was at the hardware store with Dylan, picking out a desk and a random plant for his sudden decorating mood.
I thought it would help take my mind off Scarlett for one second, but it just made things worse.
The wooden desk we picked out reminded me of her eyes, the watery ones she watched me with when she found out I read her letter.
I feel like a complete jackass, and I would have accepted that title easily if I thought it would make her feel better, but it didn’t. I can’t get over the damn look she gave me. Pure disappointment.
I’m pacing my room, wearing down my Freudian Slip slippers, and for the first time I don’t put a record on my turntable. There’s nothing that could help this situation right now, not even music.
So in the empty void of my dark room, I pull out my phone and text the group chat.
···
Bunny Patrol
Kian: 911. This is an emergency!!! House meeting.
There are a slew of messages that follow, but I don’t read them. A few minutes later the front door opens, I hear the garage rumbling to a close, and then a few more footsteps. I head downstairs to find all the guys gathered in the living room.
In freshman year, we decided that this would be our emergency meeting room. We’ve only used the emergency call a few times since then: once when the house got broken into, and the other after a few bad parties Dylan and I had a hand in orchestrating.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” That’s Aiden. Now, he’s wide-eyed, looking like he just woke up. He’s in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt that don’t look like they’re his size. I realize then that it’s Summer’s I rode the Dalton Ferris Wheel carnival shirt.
“Seb almost dropped the weight when he was spotting me,” Cole says. “What happened? Did you clog the drain with your excessive hair products again?”
“Did you let a raccoon into the house? I couldn’t sleep for a whole month after that!” Sebastian exclaims.
Dylan watches me carefully, narrowing his eyes like he’s trying to understand why we’re here if I’m in one piece. He’s even got an ice pack strapped to his leg and a smattering of faded bruises covering his thighs. “Is it Tabitha?”
That name sends a collective shiver through the room. I glare at Dylan, who only snickers to himself.
“I hurt someone,” I finally say.
They exchange glances before moving to sit on the couch beside me. The cushions sink, and I drop my head into my hands.
“Like, fatally?” Cole asks, scratching his head.
Sebastian makes a face. “I’m not good with blood, you guys. I’ll dig a hole, but I’ll need a nose plug.”
“You’re not digging anything,” Aiden cuts in. “Unless…is that what your 911 is about? I’ll have to call Summer. She’ll kill me if she’s not a part of this.”
That’s when my phone starts to ring and I see a video call from Eli. I smile, answering it. He’s in his car, looking as worried as ever.
“I know I’m not there, but I can help,” he says quickly.
“It’s nothing illegal,” I say.
Dylan relaxes in his spot on the couch, grabbing a throw pillow before he curls into fetal position. Figure skating seems to really be taking a toll on him. Not that he’d ever admit it.
“I hurt someone’s feelings.”
“Whose?”
“My tutor.”
Cole seems interested now. “The hot redhead?”
“Her hair is scarlet.”
“She’s got this substitute teacher vibe about her. She passed by me in the quad the other day, and I didn’t move for like five minutes. She smells like fruit.”
Orange, I think to myself. I move to stand at the center of the room so I can have all their attention. “I did something that made her feel like I invaded her privacy, and I need to get on her good side again.”
Eli catches our attention on the phone. “Say you’re sorry. Get her flowers.”
I tilt my head. “But I don’t know what kind of flowers she likes.”
“Find out,” they all yell in unison.
“Jeez, okay. But I said I’m sorry. That didn’t work. I need to go bigger.”
“I think you need to meet her where she’s at. You don’t always need a big declaration, Kian. It just seems like she wants honesty,” Aiden says.
“Why don’t you write her something,” Dylan mumbles from his half-asleep state on the couch. But I already wrote her a letter. I even gave it to the librarian in hopes she would have to take it. But when I went back to check if she’d responded, there was nothing.
“I did,” I tell them. “She wrote ‘return to sender’ on my letter and gave it back to the librarian. She hasn’t been at her usual spot since.”
“Yikes,” one of the guys mutters. Then our alarms go off at the same time, signaling us for practice. With absolutely zero clarity on my predicament, I head upstairs to get changed for the rink.
We’re dressed and out of the house in minutes, and the moment I get on the ice, I’m unfocused.
I don’t hit a single play we went over, and Kilner is oddly nice about it.
I wonder why he’s changed his usual approach of barking orders until we start playing how we should.
It worked in the past, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t have today.
“Ishida, what the hell is going on?” he shouts loudly enough it echoes through the slush of pucks and the low buzzing of the temperature gauge.
I drop my shoulders, skating over to him. “I hurt someone.”
Kilner deadpans, “Do I need a shovel?”
“No!” I let out an exasperated breath. “Why does everyone think that?”
“Because you can barely hurt an insect, but if it’s causing you this much devastation, it’s gotta be big. Tell me what’s going on so you can stop derailing practice.”
I lean against the boards. “I hurt someone’s feelings. I invaded her privacy.”
“Did you apologize?” he asks, actually being serious about this.
“A dozen times. I even wrote her a letter but she won’t accept it.”
“Try again,” Coach says simply. “You want to be the kind of guy who gives up after one shitty game?”
“Game?”
“You know what I mean. You have to show people they’re worth the trouble. So try again.”
“Isn’t that overkill?”
“When have you ever done something that isn’t overkill, Ishida? Now, get back to the drill or I will be using my shovel.”
I skate back to center ice, mulling over Coach’s words.
You have to show people they’re worth the trouble.
Scarlett is worth the trouble. A hundred times over.