The Hazing Incident #3
Instead, they became competitors, and with the rest of the team equally threatened, Abby existed on the outskirts. But this simple hand squeeze, Kate’s shoulder against her own, filled her with fleeting hope that they could be more than rivals.
At the house, Mick barked orders like she would in a game. “Jill—tea, Kate—blankets, I’ll find you some clothes, and, T.K.—just don’t make anything worse.”
Abby fought drowsiness, dipping in and out of the house’s lights and colors while she shivered on the couch.
The girls milled in and out, handling her like a rag doll.
She grumbled when Mick shoved her into the bathroom to take a hot shower.
Jill forced her to take hold of a warm cup of tea, Kate tucked blankets around her, and even T.K.
helped, though Abby imagined the pizza she ordered wasn’t simply out of the goodness of her heart.
“Did you really throw a cigarette at Seaborn?” Mick tipped back and forth in a rocking chair suited for a front porch. None of the furniture in the small house was sensible or cohesive, but its asymmetry was part of its charm.
“Yeah, she’s lucky I didn’t deck her. DeHaven grabbed me from behind, tried to throw a hood over my head.
They chased me around the whole fucking bar and Seaborn tackled me in the kitchen,” Abby said, provoking laughter from her captive audience.
“A waiter tripped over us, spilled burgers and fries everywhere.”
“I would’ve paid to see that.” Mick snorted. “Don’t worry about Seaborn. She’s just jealous that you’re going to be hitting cleanup this season.”
She shrugged. “The manager blacklisted us, which sucks. I like Sunny’s.”
T.K. waved her off. “Give it a week. They’ve shredded like three of my fakes and still let me in.”
“Court was out of line,” Kate said from the spot next to Abby. “Sorry for what she said to you.”
“It’s okay.” Abby didn’t want to relive the low blow. Instead, Kate’s remorse surprised her, just like her hand in the car. Just like her apparent willingness to jump after her, even if now she wouldn’t look at her, picking at the threads of the couch instead.
She didn’t remember falling asleep, but woke to the blue wash of the television a short while later. The rest of the living room was empty. Empty except for Kate. She clicked off the TV and draped another blanket over Abby in the dark. “Thank you.”
Kate hovered, a dim outline in the nearby glow of kitchen appliances. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah,” Abby said, though the telltale signs of sickness were emerging along her raw throat. “Thanks for letting me crash here. And for tipping me off about the swim. I know you don’t like me very much.”
“Little did I know you were going to jump in anyway,” Kate said. The floor creaked as she pivoted to leave, but then she turned back. “That was nice. What you did for the freshmen. You didn’t have to.”
Abby shrugged. “It was nothing.”
As her vision adjusted to the darkness, she noticed the crease in Kate’s chin deepen with a frown.
“I don’t not like you, Abby. You’re just chasing something that I really want too.”
Abby nodded, wishing she had something better to say than “I know.” She considered apologizing, but she wasn’t sure why. Maybe to continue their conversation. Maybe to erase the frown that hadn’t left Kate’s face.
“Well, get some rest,” she said before shuffling out.
“Yeah. Good night, Kate.”
Abby’s eyes fluttered closed, and she sank into the deepest sleep she could remember, safe in the presence of her teammates, and the memory of Kate’s hand on her own.
After months of resenting her arrival at Insley, Kate prayed she’d find Abby.
The morning after initiation, she discovered a neat pile of blankets on the couch and nothing else.
Her stomach hardened. More unbearably, the hollow place in her chest that had opened on the dock grew with regret, with empathy, and a loneliness she didn’t understand.
She searched for Abby during class, swiveling each time someone entered, but she never showed.
On the quad, she glimpsed every person she passed just in case.
She prayed. She prayed that nothing worse happened.
That she’d see Abby, confirm she was okay, and that exposed hole in her heart would close, allowing them to return to rivals.
Before practice, she hurried to the locker room, certain she’d find her. Still nothing. Just the team suiting up in unusual silence. Kate joined the juniors in their corner bank of lockers.
“Have you seen her?”
“No, but the seniors are MIA too,” Jill said.
Kate sighed as she flopped down to the splintered bench and kept an eye on the door, not that Abby had ever shown up before. She hadn’t even claimed a locker.
T.K. popped her gum while she braided Jill’s hair. “You think she snitched to Whit?”
“Didn’t take her as the type,” Mick said. “But shit is tense.”
Coach Whitley cleared her throat behind them. “Hutchins, can you come with me please?”
“I wasn’t there,” T.K. whispered as Kate passed her.
Dana Whitley’s office had once belonged to the last men’s basketball coach before they got a new gymnasium, and it was still furnished as such.
Other than a computer, everything reeked of the seventies, from the squeaking banker’s chair to broken filing cabinets.
Coach Whitley commuted from Portland, so perhaps she considered refurnishing the office impractical.
Plus, the team didn’t have money even for small luxuries, trekking to most away games on buses and bunking five to a room in motels.
“Take a seat.” Coach Whitley stepped behind her desk.
Kate discovered Abby already in a chair with the hood of her sweatshirt raised. Her gaze widened as Kate sat next to her.
“I heard about what happened at the dock yesterday,” Coach Whitley said. Kate swiveled to Abby, whose mouth dropped. “Cruz didn’t dob. You think I don’t know everything that goes on around here?”
Coach Whitley wasn’t an overbearing leader. She rarely yelled, didn’t believe in using running as punishment, and usually let the players work things out among themselves. But right now, with her hands clasped on the creaking desk, Kate felt like a guilty teenager about to get chewed out.
“Kate didn’t have anything to do with what happened. It was Seaborn and DeHaven. She tried to stop it.” Abby sneezed. Her words escaped as though pushing through gravel. “She shouldn’t be in trouble.”
“This isn’t about that, but I can assure you that Seaborn, DeHaven, and the other seniors have been dealt with,” Coach Whitley said. “What happened wasn’t okay. You put your life in danger and that’s not allowed on my watch. Understood?”
Abby nodded. “Yes, Coach.”
Kate’s knee bounced. She still didn’t understand why she’d been called into the office.
“On that note, it’s not lost on me that you’re struggling.
” Coach Whitley rotated her computer monitor around and Abby’s cheeks flushed.
Kate leaned forward to read the transcript of mostly D’s and low C’s.
“I know you’re skipping classes. In fact, you’re barely making the grade in most of these. That doesn’t fly on this team.”
“Am I cut then?”
“Do you want to be?”
She shrugged, and it extended the trough in Kate’s chest, much like Abby casually chuckling at her own death had her clutching her hand as if to keep her.
“Kate’s the best student on our team. Besides attending every one of these classes and meeting with your professors, I want you to study with her.”
Abby coughed. “That’s not necessary.”
“It is if you want to play here,” Coach Whitley said.
“Moving forward, Hutchins is going to be your partner for everything. Warm-ups, weight lifting, road trips, team dinners. You will attend, and she will make sure you are there.” She shifted to Kate.
“If you can’t get her where she needs to go, I’m holding you responsible. ”
“What?” Kate clenched her teeth. She could handle tutoring Abby.
She’d tutored plenty of teammates, though helping her rival stung.
Letting Abby fail her classes and get cut might be in her best interest. But taking responsibility for her entirely struck her as excessive.
Especially since what little she knew about Abby—her smoking, hanging out at bars, always unkempt, barely on time—suggested that she’d have her work cut out for her. “Coach, I’m not okay with this.”
Abby flicked Kate a glare. “Me neither.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” Coach Whitley paused. “Cruz, can you step out for a moment? In fact, get checked out at health services. You’re not practicing today.”
“This is…” Abby stood and peered down at Kate, who waited for her to say something. She searched her eyes for a semblance of hatred or despair, but found none. She couldn’t quite figure out what Abby wanted before she shook her head and tore off.
“Why me?” Kate asked once they were alone.
Coach Whitley sighed. “Well, because frankly, I’ve been disappointed in you,” she said. That was the secret to the woman’s laid-back, nonpunitive leadership style. The D-word slapped ferociously. “You’re the heart of this team. The girls look up to you and you left Cruz in the cold.”
Kate sunk in her chair. “I didn’t.”
“You ignored her, and the rest of the players followed suit.”
“I’m competing with her. I didn’t say or do anything bad to her, but I’m not about to be her best friend when she’s after my position.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Coach Whitley said. “You know that this game is much bigger than where you take the field. More than that, you know Cruz’s history, don’t you?”
Kate nodded as a stone overtook her throat.
“She’s not well. She’s partying too hard and that stunt at the river wasn’t just fun and games.
That came from somewhere dark.” Coach Whitley’s mouth sagged.
“Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think kicking her off the team is the best thing for her.
In fact, I think the team might be the only thing that can save her. ”
A tear budded at the corner of Kate’s eye, and she swiped it away.
An invisible war triggered inside. Helping Abby, keeping her on the team, threatened everything she worked for.
She might as well hand her the coveted shortstop position.
Yet in her heart, she knew helping was the right thing.
More importantly, it was the only way to fill the hollow space gnawing at her heart.
“I know I’m asking a lot, but in the end, I don’t think you’ll regret this.”
“Yes, Coach.”
A few more tears streamed loose. She didn’t know if they rolled for herself or Abby.