Chapter Twenty-Three
Ryder
So they didn’t show up. So what? I’m not a little kid who cries when Mommy and Daddy don’t come to his dance competition.
But it hurts .
Everyone’s parents or family members were there. Even Naya’s. Her mom is so busy she barely has time to watch her dance. But she came. She supported her. She took time out of her schedule to be there for her kid.
Today is Monday and I spent the entire day yesterday trying not to mope about my parents. I kept myself busy with homework and the rec room. I kind of isolated myself from others because I didn’t want to deal with anyone.
I don’t have any other family besides my parents. Maybe the reason I’m feeling so down is because without them, I’m completely alone in the world.
I mean, sure, I have Blake and his family. They’ve been awesome to me, but it’s not the same. As close as I am to them, they’ll never be my parents .
Speaking of the Simmons, I hate that I was so cold to Carly on the bus ride home.
Truth is, I have no idea what came over me.
It was like an anvil was crushing me and I could hardly breathe.
I wanted to sit with her. I wanted to jump at the chance of having her share my seat, but I couldn’t.
Like some force was preventing me from doing so.
Maybe I just felt like crap. Everyone was celebrating that we qualified and was cheering with their families. And I just stood there, alone, watching everyone. It was ridiculous how my eyes scraped the stands several times as I searched for my parents.
Eventually, I had to accept that they didn’t come.
I tell myself to forget all that as I get ready for school, but it’s hard. And it’ll only get harder when we participate in more competitions and the team’s families are there for them.
Why can’t I just let it go? I have friends—I can choose a new family. But I don’t think it’ll ever be the same.
I go through the motions of the first day of a new school week.
I smile at the girls who wave at me as I pass them in the hallway, I slap hands with Felix and the guys from the football and basketball teams. I try to get back to my usual self.
The guy who doesn’t take life seriously and just wants to have a good time.
It’s after lunch when I nearly collide with Carly, who’s walking to her class.
She freezes in place, hugging her books to her chest. I feel really rotten for the way I treated her and I need to make things right.
Just as I’m about to open my mouth, she gives me a small smile and a wave before heading down the hallway to her classroom.
She’s obviously hurt. I want to follow her and try to explain…
but I don’t want her to know just how messed up my life is.
And I’m not sure why. Maybe because I don’t like the idea of her seeing me as weak.
Not that she’d make fun of me—Carly would never do that.
But I guess it’s my pride. I don’t want her to feel sorry for me.
I’ll just explain that I was having a bad day and leave it at that.
I move my legs to take me to her classroom when a voice says, “Do you plan on attending my class, Mr. Bennett?”
Darn it. I didn’t realize I’m standing right outside my math classroom. “Yes, Mr. Henderson. I just have to talk to someone about something…”
“That will count as a tardy and you’ll likely receive detention.” He tilts his head toward the classroom, instructing me to get my butt inside.
I sigh before forcing a smile. “Sure, Teach.”
Throughout the lesson, the only thing I can think about is the hurt look on Carly’s face.
Not accepting her offer to sit with her on the bus was such a jerk thing to do.
I’m trying to be her friend. Now she’s keeping her distance.
To give me space? Does she see on my face that I’m clearly not over the issues that are bothering me?
She’s not the only one. I’ve noticed some girls giving me strange looks.
Like I’m not acting like myself. I thought I was faking being all right, but clearly I was wrong.
Why am I letting my parents ruin my happiness?
I don’t see Carly for the rest of the school day. It’s only when I join the dance team for practice that I spot her sitting on the side of the gym with Addie and Naya. They seem very into their conversation and I don’t want to bother them. Hopefully, I’ll have a chance to apologize to Carly later.
A few minutes later, Coach enters the room and we start working on a new routine for the next competition.
Carly stands at the front of the room, displaying the moves she worked on last night.
Considering we barely qualified at the competition, she’s taking it to a whole new direction.
The routine is pretty impressive, and I like it a lot. It seems the others feel the same.
The entire team claps and hollers when she’s done.
With her cheeks slightly red, she gives a quick bow.
Then she teaches us the moves. They’re much more complicated than last time, but I know we’ll get them down.
We have to if we want to do better than last time.
Coach and Carly inform us that we’ll need to worry about technique, too, but for now we should focus on the routine.
Everyone seems to be getting the hang of it, but I can’t get my legs to work properly. When we’re supposed to go left, I go right, crashing into some of the girls. When we’re supposed to spin, I lose my balance and nearly topple to the floor.
Darn it.
Being here reminds me of the competition, which reminds me of my parents abandoning me. My heart, body, and soul are too broken to concentrate. I’m just not into this right now.
“Ryder?” Coach walks over to me, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Everything all right?”
I rub my forehead. “Just a little tired, I guess.”
“Do you need a minute? Grab some water and rejoin us in five minutes.”
I want to tell her I’m okay, but maybe a break will do me good. I grab a water bottle from my bag, leave the gym, and take a stroll outside. I want to clear my head, but it appears like my parents want to take a permanent residence there.
I’m not even angry. I should be mad at them for being terrible parents. But it takes up too much emotional energy to be mad. It’s easier to just let the anvil crush me further.
When five minutes are up, I return to the gym and resume practice.
But I once again can’t seem to get the moves down and when I spin, I knock into a girl and send her crashing to the floor.
I go still when I realize it’s Carly. Of course I wouldn’t want to hurt any girl, but the fact that it’s Carly makes me feel like crap.
My hand itches to hold itself out to help her up, but I can’t move. It only lasts for a second or two, before I manage to get it to move.
“Sorry! Are you okay?”
She glances at my outstretched hand before getting to her feet. “I’m fine.” Turning away from me, she instructs everyone to start from the top.
I back away from her, swallowing the lump in my throat. What’s wrong with me?
“Ryder.” Coach is at my side again. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
I want to nod to her, but my head won’t move.
She studies me before telling the others to take a break and asking me to step aside. After everyone leaves the gym—Carly keeping her gaze on me for a bit—we drop down on the last row of bleachers. I keep my gaze on the floor.
“If you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you, that’s okay,” she says. “But I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know what it’s like to be your age. The stress you’re under. You’re young, but you need to make so many decisions that will impact your future. It’s so overwhelming, you can feel trapped.”
I nod slowly. I wish my problems were just that, but I’d rather not broadcast them to the world.
“And of course you’re dealing with personal issues as well,” she goes on. “All that could feel like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders.”
I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say.
“I find having different outlets can help with the stress. Many kids take on a hobby, such as music or dancing. Considering that in your case dancing is also a stress, using it as an outlet is counterproductive. I think you need a hobby that will make you happy and help relieve some of that stress. Do you have anything in mind?”
“I mean, I love football, but ever since my injury, it’s not the same. Even watching games stings.”
“Naturally it does. You miss it. That was a large part of you and now it’s gone.”
I bend forward. “Yeah.”
“Have you ever thought about joining my art class? Art is a great way to relieve stress and it can be very enjoyable as well.”
I twist my mouth. “Art? I don’t know how to draw.”
“You don’t need to be talented to attend my class.
My class is a safe space to express yourself however you want to.
No one judges or criticizes. It can be a place for you to express yourself and relieve some of the pressure you’re under.
” She smiles. “My students have told me that when they’re in my classroom, they travel to faraway worlds and it relaxes them.
Their stress nearly always dissipates. Art has a way of calming the soul.
Do you think it’s something you’d be interested in? ”
I think about how much has changed since I lost football.
It was such a huge part of my identity that sometimes I don’t even know who I am.
Like what I’m supposed to do. Sure, dance has taken up a large part of my time, but like Coach said, it’s very stressful.
I feel like I don’t want to disappoint her, Carly, or the team by performing so badly.
But with art, it’ll just be me and my drawings.
No one else. I can’t disappoint anyone. And if it distracts me from my parents, then that’s a big bonus.
“Sure, that sounds great. Something I might need right now. Thanks for offering and I’m sorry I ruined dance practice.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about that. The art class is tomorrow and we meet once a week on Tuesdays. Of course you don’t have to stick with it if you don’t want to. I’m just giving you the option.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there.”
With a warm smile, she pats my arm and walks away.
We resume practice and I do slightly better, but it’s still terrible. No one seems to be annoyed with me. Carly watches me with concern, but as soon as our eyes meet, she glances away.
Once we’re done, I try to catch her to apologize, but she disappears out the door with her friends. Maybe it’s best I give her some space, same way she’s giving me space. She’s got a routine to focus on. I’m sure the last thing she needs is me upsetting her further.
Hopefully I’ll have a chance to talk to her tomorrow. And if not, then the day after. And the day after that. There’s no way I’m leaving things as they are.