23 - Michael #2
I felt a surge of genuine anger. He was weaponizing his mother’s trust, the very thing she’d told me she was terrified of breaking. "Gabe, this is insane. You're asking me to be an accomplice to a lie that’s going to blow up in your face eventually."
He didn't flinch. Instead, he looked past my shoulder toward the end of the hall. "Hey, is that a vending machine? I came straight from school and I’m starving."
I blinked, thrown by the sudden pivot. "Are you serious right now? We’re talking about your future, and you’re thinking about snacks?"
"I can't think on an empty stomach," he muttered, already walking toward the glowing glass box of processed salt and sugar.
I followed him, fuming, but pulled out my wallet and tapped my card against the sensor. "Fine. What do you want?"
"Barbecue chips. D-4," he said.
I punched in the code. The metal coil turned with an agonizingly slow whir-click, and the bag tumbled to the bottom. Gabe snatched it, ripped it open, and shoved a handful into his mouth.
"Listen to me," I said, leaning against the machine as he crunched. "What you’re doing is stupid. It’s not just about the drinking, it’s about the habit of thinking you can cheat the system."
Gabe swallowed. "All kids my age do this, Michael. It’s not a big deal. I’m not failing classes. I’m not getting arrested. I’m just... living." He pointed a salty finger at the glass. "And a Snickers. B-7."
I groaned, punched in B-7, and watched the candy bar fall. "You’re missing the point. It’s not about everyone else. It’s about the fact that you are getting caught. You’re leaving a trail, Gabe."
"I told you, I'm not caught if you don't talk," he said, unwrapping the chocolate with a crinkle that seemed deafening in the quiet hall. He took a massive bite, muffled words coming out through a cloud of caramel. "Mom believes me. The principal is fifty-fifty. You’re the only variable."
"I am not a variable, I'm a person who actually cares about what happens to you.
" I was so frustrated with him I could’ve screamed.
"If your mom finds out I knew and didn't tell her, she won't just fire me as your mentor. She’ll never speak to me again. You’re putting me in a real tight spot here. Can’t you see that? "
Gabe leaned in, his eyes darting to the last row of the machine. "Can I get a Coke? My throat is dry from all the chips."
I stared at him for five long seconds, wondering if I could just leave him there in the hallway. I swiped the card again, and the heavy bottle hit the tray. I handed it to him, my jaw tight.
"I won't tell her," I said, the words feeling like ash in my mouth. "On one condition. You promise me, right now, that the sneaking out stops. No more parties, no more lies that don’t make any sense, no more midnight runs. You stay in that room until she gets home. Period."
Gabe unscrewed the cap, the hiss of carbonation punctuating the deal. He took a long, slow draw of the soda, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked at me with a terrifyingly sharp grin.
"How about I promise to not get caught again?"
He didn't wait for my reaction. He tucked the chips under his arm, gave me a two-finger salute, and started walking toward the exit. "See you at the game. Great practice, by the way. Your backhand is looking a little slow, though."
I stood by the vending machine, the drone of the cooling unit the only sound in the hallway. I felt like I’d just lost a game I didn't even know I was playing. He was blase, he was arrogant, he was a kid… And he had me exactly where he wanted me.
I didn't go to the locker room. I didn't go to the bus. I headed straight for the facility’s gym.
I hit the treadmill and cranked the incline, then moved to the rack and started stacking plates on the bar.
I needed the burn. I needed the physical strain to drown out the voice in my head telling me that I was making the biggest mistake of my life.
Every rep was a question: Who am I protecting?
The kid’s dream, or my own chance with his mother?
The iron of the squat rack was cold and slick with my own sweat, but I didn't stop.
I added another forty-five to each side, the plates clanking with a heavy, final sound that echoed through the deserted facility gym.
Everyone else had long since boarded the bus back to the hotel or headed out for dinner, leaving me alone with the hum of the air conditioning and the suffocating weight of the secret Gabe had just handed me.
I stepped under the bar, the steel digging into my traps.
I dropped into a deep squat, my muscles screaming, my lungs burning for air that felt too thin to breathe.
One more. Focus on the drive. Focus on the game.
But the game felt a thousand miles away.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kayla’s face—not the laughing version from the Jeep, but the one she’d wear when she realized I’d chosen a fifteen-year-old’s lie over her trust.
I racked the bar with a violent shove, my chest heaving as I doubled over, hands on my knees.
Water dripped from my chin onto the rubber mats.
I needed to be the leader. I needed to be the okay guy.
But as I stared at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, all I saw was a man who had just traded his integrity for a bag of barbecue chips and a teenager's approval. A fraud.
The heavy pressurized door at the end of the gym hissed open, the sound cutting through the silence like a gunshot.
I straightened up, wiping my face with a towel, expecting to see a late-night janitor or maybe Landon coming back for a forgotten foam roller.
Instead, the door slammed against the interior wall with a violent bang.
Kayla was standing in the frame. Her hair was windblown, her chest was heaving, and her eyes were a storm of cold, jagged lightning.
She didn’t move toward the equipment; she just stood there, clutching her phone so tight her knuckles were ghostly white, her face twisted into a mask of fury more terrifying than anything I’d ever faced on the ice.