Chapter 8
Eight
Deja
More than anything at this moment I want to turn on my heel and run.
Straight through the house, out the front door, and into my car.
Forget that I’m Shelby’s ride. Forget that these are my friends.
Just turn away from whatever is about to happen in my name and drive away as fast as I can.
Instead, I fold my arms and cock my head nonchalantly, looking for all the world like I don’t particularly care about what’s happening in front of me.
Shelby shoots me a nervous look. There is a smattering of applause, and I think this is where most people were expecting this impromptu backyard soccer match to wrap up, but the four guys don’t look like they’re ready to quit.
Mello flexes his muscular shoulders and spits on the grass.
Mello and Gio stare at each other intensely, eyes narrowed, and jaws clenched.
I’ve heard that some women are flattered by having men fight over them, but I’m telling you this is not it.
Take away Brandon’s annoying ass and I’d still be unhappy about this.
It’s a fine line between people seeing you as a hot girl that guys want and seeing you as a duplicitous bitch who leads them on.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, wanting to shut out the whole situation.
There’s a collective inhalation and I refocus on the guys.
I missed whatever caused the group to react, but now Mello has the ball and is spinning around, his long arms swinging outwards from his body.
He kicks the ball down the grass and chases after it, no one in position to stop him from scoring.
Just as he closes with the ball, Gio slides in at an angle, clipping Mello at the ankle and entirely missing the ball.
I’m not an expert on the rules of the game, but based on everyone’s reaction that is not an okay thing to do.
Mello’s legs fly out from under him, his body flipping up into the air.
He lands awkwardly on his right side, and Gio turns the ball around going for the other team’s goal.
Only no one is paying any attention to Gio anymore.
Brandon and Von are rushing to check on Mello, whose face is twisted in agony.
I’m down the stairs too, before I can really think about it.
I get there just as a couple of other guys from the soccer team do.
Brandon shoots me a hard look as I crouch next to his friend.
Mello is sitting up, but his ankle does not look right. His breaths are coming fast and sharp.
“What do we do?” Someone asks, above my head.
“Is it bad?” another voice says.
All I can think is that Mello is hurt, and that it’s my fault.
I didn’t tell Gio to do any of this or even give him a solid reason to think that there was something between Mello and me, but if I wasn’t talking to both of them Mello wouldn’t be lying on the ground right now with an injury that’s probably going to keep him from playing the rest of the semester, if not longer.
Just like that I lose it. I’m on my feet and in Gio’s face forgetting for the first time in a long time that everyone is watching me. I jab him in the chest with my forefinger and he jerks backwards, a confused look on his face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell, shoving him hard. “Are you crazy?”
“It was an accident,” Gio says, his fingers half curled. No palms up, nothing soft there—he’s angry.
“I don’t believe you,” I scream, shoving him hard again. He takes a half step back, but not as much as I’d like. I want him on his ass, but he’s too strong and too mad.
“Fuck you!” I grind out and stalk off towards the stairs.
I should stay with Mello and make sure he’s okay, but I’m so angry I’m afraid of what I’ll do.
I can hear the crowd murmuring behind me, and someone calls my name, but I don’t stop till I’m locked in the downstairs half bathroom.
The last person who used the toilet didn’t flush it, and the hand towel is pooled on the floor below the loop where it’s supposed to hang.
I’m breathing fast in and out and the assault of unpleasant odors is immediate.
There’s no bathtub to curl up in, no calming scent of ocean breezes or fresh linen, just a huge mirror above the sink reflecting my dark eyes and pinched lips back at me.
Out of nowhere comes a memory of my mother yelling at my father, “What are the two of you even doing down there?” and my dad replying, “Nothing that gets your hands dirty.”
I shake my head, feeling disoriented. Where had this come from and what did it mean?
The voices were angry and there was fear attached to that memory.
Had my parents fought? From my mother’s description of him, even from the way other folks who knew him had talked about him, my dad had been near perfect.
All my memories of him are pleasant. He taught me to ride a bike and helped me with my homework.
He had a deep rumbly voice and I liked to press my ear to his chest and feel what he was saying.
“Are you in there?” Shelby’s tentative voice drifts under the door. It’s followed by an equally repressed knock. I sigh and crack the door open so she can slip through. The smile she gives me is a little sad, but sympathetic.
“Are you okay?” she asks, resting her hand lightly on my biceps. I nod and fight the urge to pull away. It’s not that I want to reject her affection, I’m just feeling raw.
“Is Mello okay?” She frowns. “Brandon’s friend,” I clarify.
“I don’t know,” she replies. Her nose wrinkles and she glances at the toilet. I shrug and flush it. The smell of strong pee begins to dissipate. “I think they decided to take him to the ER. Brandon and the other Black guy already left.”
“That fast?”
“You’ve been in here for nearly fifteen minutes.”
I frown. That doesn’t sound right. “I must be…” I stop myself from finishing the sentence. Why give voice to the idea that I might be mentally unstable. I rub my eyes tiredly.
“I’m just tired.” I am tired; drained, actually.
“What was all that about?” she asks, eyes rising to meet mine. This is pretty bold for Shelby, but I let her have it.
“What do you mean?”
“Those two guys were…they were like fighting or something. And then you got mad at Gio. Are you dating both of them?”
“Wow!” I say, letting my eyes bug out. I push my way out of the bathroom to see that a lot of people have left, but there are still plenty of bystanders. “You really think I would lead two guys on like that?”
Shelby flushes, her pale complexion doing nothing to hide the rush of blood to her face. It’s not a pretty blush. She’s splotchy and red. “No,” she sputters. “I mean—“
“Whatever, Shel. No way I’m screwing around like that; you know that.
” I turn around to see that Gio is standing down the hallway, right between me and the room where we stashed our coats.
His face is stony. I look right at him when I continue.
“I just think that my friends should be mature enough not to act like children and hurt others when they get up in their feelings. Especially when we’re just friends. ”
Not breaking eye contact until I pass him, I walk straight ahead to grab my coat and leave.