24. Twenty-Four #2
Repeatedly, I positioned myself near the end, waiting until the kids on my team got close.
There were a few campers amongst them that were part of my Sports Elite crew and whom I knew were more than capable of dodging Cole.
Those muscles of his made him slow. Once, twice, three times, I assisted, tossing the frisbee to whomever got themselves into the right position first.
Even though, at the far end of the field, his team was scoring, too, I could see the frustration building in Cole’s posture each time we scored.
It only made my adrenaline spike. Enough that the next time the frisbee passed my way, I couldn’t resist taking my shot.
Cole was right there, toeing the line of the endzone, guarding me.
Good thing he wasn’t a defenseman, because even with only three available steps, all it took was one good shoulder nudge for me to pivot around him and score.
It really was a nudge, but the second the point was counted, Cole lost it, turning on me shouting, “It’s no contact!”
“Ugh, that was barely contact. You telling me a little shoulder action is all it takes to beat the great Cole Michaels?” I jeered.
“I’ll show you what it takes,” He bore down on me, and if Abbi hadn’t come sailing into the fray right then, he probably would have throttled me. She burst between us and in harsh whisper, reprimanded us both, “This is the kids’ game, you assholes. Cut this shit out.”
Then louder, so the staff and children surrounding us could hear, she commanded, “Xavier, how ‘bout you and Hassan swap positions. We need the help on defense,” all while she practically dragged me backwards away from Cole.
I spent the rest of the game there. And though Hassan was pretty good, eventually, I was forced to admit that Cole and his team really were better. They were a couple of points up on us already, when they scored again, and I groaned.
At which point, Abbi shoved me, “Maybe they wouldn’t keep scoring if you paid less attention to what Michaels was doing and more attention to defense.”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t you whatever me, Xavier Rothberg. Not when your girlfriend is waiting for you in my cabin so you can finally get some alone time.”
“Toni?!” I perked up.
“Who else?”
“She’s in your cabin?”
Abbi sighed like I was the idiot for not immediately understanding, “Yes, she told us everything.”
At my raised eyebrows, she nodded, “Yes, everything, although now that I know, I wish I could scrub most of it from my brain, because how that girl is walking, talking, and functioning is a goddamned miracle, but anyway…”
If Toni really had told her everything, then I could sympathize with Abbi’s wish to erase that knowledge.
My girl’s past was downright nightmare fuel.
More than once this year, I had woken from a horrifying dream where she called my name over and over and I couldn’t get to her.
Sometimes it was Franklin Barrett barring my way, other times it was my own father, berating me for being too weak, too soft, too pathetic to save her while the Barrett men ran their disgusting hands over my girl as she screamed and screamed. Like I said, nightmare fuel.
Returning to Abbi’s explanation, I could only be grateful that her friends had found a way to get Toni and I the time together we both desperately needed. Just like Bella had done earlier, Abbi recognized the desperation on my face.
“Don’t worry, home girl is down bad for you, too,” she joked, “So why don’t you go eat that dinner Stephanie brought you. Trust me, you’re going to need your energy to keep up with your girl,”
She shooed me away, only giggling when I subtly flipped her off.
However, the fact that my stomach growled as I walked towards the small shed where all the sports supplies and my dinner were currently locked up.
Every program area had one of these little sheds, except the swim docks, not exactly a lot of equipment required there.
While, for Lands programs, we had a ton.
In my two summers as program head, I’d rearranged this space, so it wasn’t just a fucking dump.
My predecessor hadn’t been quite so organized.
Now, though, there were neat shelves holding flags, cones, mesh jerseys, and other loose equipment, while clearly labeled wooden crates lined the walls and contained soccer balls, volleyballs, tennis balls, the lot.
As directed, Stephanie had left the wrapped-up plate on the first shelf for me. I grabbed it and used one of the crates as a makeshift chair. Before I could unwrap my food, the door creaked open again, and there she was. Stephanie. This girl could not take a hint.
“What?” I barked.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” She attempted what I suppose she thought was a slinky walk. It was more akin to a baby deer struggling to use their limbs if you asked me.
I deadpanned rather than respond to her asinine question, quickly returning my attention to my plate.
My lack of response only prompted her to move closer.
The cracks in the wooden walls let in just enough light to see clearly, but perhaps only for me, as she stubbed her toe on the crate of climbing ropes only to stumble and crash to her knees.
“Owww,” she moaned, looking up at me hopefully.
I closed my eyes and hauled in a breath. She sought my sympathy, clearly, but a brief, “You okay?” Was all I offered, not bothering to move from my seat.
She crawled towards me, “Xavier,” I detested the way she dragged out my name, “How come I never see you with anyone?”
I glared down at her, “Because I don’t like anyone.”
“Not even me?” She asked, reaching out and pawing at my knee.
I pressed my lips to a thin line, put my plate to the side, and one finger at a time, peeled her unwelcomed hand off me.
“No.”
She batted her eyelashes, undeterred by my rejection, “But I could show you such a good time. I really like you.”
She tried to reach for me again. This time I batted her hand away before she could make contact. It already felt like I needed a shower to get her off me.
“I don’t know how to be any clearer, Stephanie. I’m. Not. Interested.” I snapped sharply.
She winced, “Okay, well that’s… uh, too bad. I’ll, um, let you get back to eating, then.”
She backed up a little. I watched her, prepared to shove her out of the building if she tried to touch me again. She didn’t, and once the door closed behind her I was finally able to eat in peace.
The food was cold, but roast chicken and mashed potatoes were still delicious when your guts were grinding with hunger.
It wasn’t until I was almost finished with the heap of fluffy potatoes–having wolfed down the chicken first–that I started to feel a bit drowsy.
Exhaustion from the day or maybe a minor case of sunstroke setting in.
After all, the Activities Field was completely exposed to the elements, whether rain or shine, and today had been nothing but pure, blistering sun.
I pushed the plate from my lap, only for it to clatter loudly to the floor.
The last remnants of potatoes splattering everywhere.
I remembered thinking I would clean it up later, after I saw my wild girl, and maybe had a nap.
The room around me spun a little as I hauled myself up, using one of the shelves for leverage.
But the second I let go, my vision tunneled completely, the darkness around me disorienting, and before I could take a single step towards the door, my legs gave out.
Just like the leftovers of my dinner, I crashed to the floor.
My cheek smacking hard against the wood, was the final straw, and my eyes shuttered once, twice, and closed.
The last thing I remembered was the slam of the shed door, the briefest flash of fading daylight and a pair too-wide, too-white eyes in the otherwise complete darkness.