Chapter Five #2
It was stupid to show up here today. I should have cut my losses and called the whole thing off. But that would mean admitting Everest is better than me, and I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m the only person who stands up to him. Old habits die hard, I guess.
“This is getting kinda sad, Meg,” Everest saunters past me, slowing just enough to mutter under his breath. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s call it quits now, and maybe I can find you a role filling water bottles or scrubbing shoes?”
I snap upright, my spine rigid and my pulse screaming through my ears.
Absolutely, unequivocally no way in hell.
Before I can spit a reply, he’s moved on, uncaring for my response.
Pure unadulterated fury ripples in my arms and my grip tightens around my stick.
Visions of ramming it through his teeth plague me, anything to wipe that smug smirk off his face and remind everyone on this damn campus who built this team from nothing but raw talent and blind belief.
But instead, I turn away and try to convince myself it’s the talent that matters. The hollow thud of the net sounds and I twist my neck so sharply, pain shoots south. Everest is retrieving the ball from his net, throwing and catching it as Claire announces a fourth goal.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! We weren’t even in a play!” I call at her. She avoids my gaze. Clenching my jaw, I decide I’ll catch her later when she’s not under Everest’s scrutiny. One asshole at a time.
The final round is called. Just one more run before Everest has bragging rights over me for the rest of the year.
One last chance to claw back some respect in the eyes of my old team members.
Everest chucks the ball to Claire, guiding her to the center of the pitch.
Her cheeks are blazing red, her chest heaving with quickened breaths.
I know Everest has some moderate appeal beneath his layers of egotistical jackass, but Jesus Christ. Pull yourself together woman.
I ignore the wink he tries to throw my way, and brace myself for the next play.
If I can get another few goals and close the gap just a little bit, I might not feel so pathetic tomorrow.
Although, that’s debatable. Claire tries to steady her hand, tossing the ball high between us.
It hangs in the air, the entire audience stalling on bated breath as if time has frozen, then drops.
We both lunge. This time I’m faster, my stick catching it with a satisfying thwack.
I pivot hard, blowing past Everest before he can even blink.
A small rush of hope flares in my chest as I head for the goal, wind slicing at my face, muscles howling but alive.
This is what I was made for. I just need one more shot to prove to myself that I’m not completely useless anymore.
But the metaphorical playing field isn’t level, and it hasn’t been since I stepped onto it.
Everest recovers too fast, suddenly coming up beside me.
His foot juts out in front of mine, sending me stumbling sideways.
My balance slips, but I regain momentum and jerk the top of my stick backwards towards his dick.
It hits his inner thigh, close enough for the life to flash before his eyes and Everest falls back.
Left with an opening, I steam forward on light feet, the rush of adrenaline carrying me towards my goal.
I rear back and shoot just as the whistle blows.
I turn towards Claire before the ball has found its mark to see her shaking a red card at me.
“Aggression on the pitch. Player is disqualified,” she says. My mouth drops open.
“Are you shitting me right now, Claire?! I’ll show you aggression!” Tossing my stick aside, I’m tearing my gloves off and storming towards Claire with my fists already clenched when Everest jogs over to put himself in the way.
“Now, now Faker. No one likes a sore loser,” he grins, his arms raised in mock pity.
“That whole rage thing was super cute though. You can bring it to my dorm room anytime,” he calls, just loud enough to carry.
The crowd roars with laughter. Some of it sounds sympathetic, most of it doesn’t.
I stand frozen, my spine so rigid it might snap.
My throat tightens, and for a second, I’m not sure if I’m going to scream or cry.
I do neither. Instead, I just stand there, bathed in humiliation and shame.
I can’t bring myself to move or leave, can’t begin to understand how I got to this point.
Beside me, Claire announces Captain Everest as the champion and he does another victory lap, soaking up attention like a frat boy with a God complex.
Maybe that’s exactly what he is, and maybe I let him win.
Not on purpose, but by playing by the rules.
By thinking I could prove something by showing up and playing fair.
He didn’t beat me with talent. He beat me with control.
Strangely, the sinking ache of failure doesn’t settle.
Instead, I exhale, knowing I’m leaving Everest and lacrosse behind me.
It’s not crushing, it’s…freeing. I don’t have to come this way anymore, don’t have to see him again.
I was stupid to think I could step back into the past. I need to find a new hobby, a new lifeline.
Just as I decide to leave the field, the sharp blare of the fire alarm rips through the air.
Everyone freezes. Confused glances are passed around, murmurs about a drill circulating until smoke starts pouring out of the side building.
More specifically, the doorway I entered from, where the female locker room is. Where my phone is.
The crowd starts moving, running for the exit and trampling over each other. Screams pierce the air as people shove and panic, pushing and elbowing their way out of the bleachers and towards the stadium lobby. I stand rooted to the spot, watching the plumes of smoke thicken.
I feel my brain short-circuit, instinct overriding logic.
Without my phone, I have no contact with Thiago.
No way to call him when I get back to my room and cry about my shitty day, no way to hear him console me.
I haven’t known him for long, but he’s been the one constant I’ve had throughout my recovery.
He’s the only person who sees the whole picture, who sees me.
I can’t lose that connection.
Without thinking, I’m sprinting across the field, weaving through the panicked flood of bodies.
A few people shout and grab for me, but I twist away, my lungs burning as I run faster than I knew I could.
I hit the hallway and shove the locker room door open, coughing as a wave of smoke barrels into me.
I rip my jersey up and press it over my mouth and nose, squinting into the haze.
The alarm is blaring overhead, the room flashing red. The sting in my eyes is fierce so I power onward blind, one hand outstretched to feel my way back to the lockers. Once there, it’s a guessing game and a fumble for my padlock.
“Meg!” An arm wraps around my waist, yanking me backward.
Terror surges through me, a very similar situation taking me back to my kidnapping, minus the smoke.
I strike back with my elbow, kicking and thrashing in a bid to break free of the hold.
The arm only tightens, dragging me aside until I’m turned and thrown against the lockers. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
Green eyes fill my vision. I blink against the smoke, vaguely making out the sharp cut of Everest’s jaw.
He’s covering his mouth and nose with his hand, glaring at me as if I caused the fire myself.
I frown and shove at his chest, making a break to escape.
Everest grabs my shoulder and pins his knee against my thigh.
“We have to get out of here.” He calls through his hand. I shake my head.
“I need my phone!” I yell back through my jersey. “Let go of me!”
Everest stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, which maybe I have, and shouts something I can’t quite hear over the alarms. With some more shoving and a heavy dose of stubbornness, I manage to twist out of his grip and sprint deeper into the room, my vision tunneling and heart hammering.
Despite the jersey, smoke tears through my nose and throat, ripping through my lungs. I crouch low, trying to duck beneath the smoke whilst reaching up to find my padlock. It has to be here somewhere.
“Meg!” I hear my name being screamed. “Leave your phone. It’s not worth it!
” And that’s where he’s wrong. It’s not just a phone.
It’s the only friend in the world I have waiting on the other end, thinking I’ve ghosted him.
Some things are worth risking everything, and in my heart, I know Thiago is one of them.