70. Sydney
seventy
sydney
Six Weeks Later
SJU and FSU rematch.
Oliver’s first game back.
Am I worried?
I’d be fucking lying if I said no. I watched him wrap his ribs in the locker room—before my father came in and promptly kicked me out—and hovered outside. Even when Penn insisted that he was fine. That a doctor cleared him, that he’s fine … Excuses.
I’m allowed to worry.
Most of my classes allowed me to make up assignments I missed while out. In the extreme, this meant I’ve been buried under the rubble of papers, presentations, and assignments since I went back to school.
We haven’t talked about Bear or his brother. It’s like he ceased to exist once we left that warehouse. I consider, from time to time, talking about it with the therapist I started seeing. I’ve told her in more vague terms about my trauma, but so far, our focus has been my mother.
Oliver drove me home and stayed with me, and, well, I think Penn and Carter took care of Bear and his brother in a way I don’t want to think about. Whether they buried him or dissolved him in a barrel of acid or cut him up into little pieces and dropped him in the lake…
I’m better off not knowing.
Which brings me to my mother.
Yesterday, the police concluded their investigation of her death. The coroner determined it was accidental, that she must’ve gotten high and wandered into the woods, gotten lost, and died from the elements.
We’re also not considering how close she was to FSU… how close she was to coming back to me. She knew I was here. Even though she left Emerald Cove, she was found here . So close and so far away.
She was cremated, and my dad has her ashes at his house. We’re going to hold some memorial over winter break, although I’m not sure anyone except immediate family will show up. And by that I mean me, Dad. Perri, and maybe the guys.
We didn’t have anyone else.
“There you are!” Maddy drops into the seat next to me. “How long have you been sitting here?”
I shake my head. With her are Brandon and Dylan. Things haven’t been the same between Brandon and me since my spiral and how he handled it. Maddy later admitted that she came and banged on my door, but it was locked and I never answered. It’s unclear whether Brandon knew that, though, when he sent the nasty texts.
They sit on Maddy’s other side.
Beyond them, Andi is on her way to a seat in the adjacent section. Her gaze meets mine for a moment, and she seems more visibly spooked than I’ve ever seen her. She turns and hurries away without a word.
The guys are already on the ice, warming up, and my attention switches between Oliver and Penn on one side to Carter on the other.
Today, I wear neutral colors. A cream sweater and jeans, my black jacket over it. I’m purposefully not picking sides.
How could I?
“We’ve barely seen you,” Dylan says. “Even in class, you’re in and out.”
I lean forward to see her past Maddy. “I’ve been trying to catch up on everything. It’s been an avalanche of work.”
Brandon doesn’t say anything, and his silence is noted.
See? Awkward. Even after he apologized, it wasn’t the same. It’s not the same.
Maddy and I go get popcorn. By the time we return, the players have left the ice and the arena is darkening for the opening ceremonies. We stand through them, although it’s a struggle not to wince when the kids they brought in to sing hit a sour note.
Then it’s time for the first puck drop.
I watch through my fingers as one of the FSU players faces off against Carter. Carter wins it, shooting the puck between his legs toward one of his wingers. From there, it’s a mess of back-and-forth action. As with this rivalry, nothing is ever easy. But the refs seem to have put their whistles away—well, never taken them out to begin with—because stupid, easily spotted calls are missed. A blatant slash, cross-checking in front of the crease.
The game goes from zero to a hundred as soon as SJU scores on Penn.
I leap to my feet, my heart in my throat. Penn knocks the puck out and reaches for the water bottle in the top of his net. Instead of drinking, he blasts himself in the face with the stream.
0-1
I’m not rooting for either team , I try to remind myself. But it’s hard when I want to cheer and hide at every play. Not picking a team is worse than watching your favorite team perform badly.
Penn blocks the next six shots on goal, and finally a whistle is blown.
Tripping. An SJU d-man is tossed in the penalty box, and they set up to restart.
Oliver and Carter take the face-off, and Oliver flicks it back to his winger immediately. I go back to watching the game through my fingers.
Quick as a whip, Oliver gets the puck back—and scores.
The horn blows, the red lights behind the goal flash.
1-1
“How are you keeping calm?” Maddy asks, shaking my arm.
“It’s not calm, it’s dread!” I shout over the crowd.
She laughs.
The rest of the game progresses with minimal fighting, although the number of missed penalties is becoming absurd. Each team gets one power play—the first when Oliver scored, and then an SJU one for holding, where Carter comes so close to getting the puck past Penn.
As the seconds tick down on the third period, and the game is tied at four, it finally happens: a fight breaks out. One of the SJU forwards, on a breakaway, loses his edge and tumbles straight into Penn. The two go sailing into the net.
Immediately, though, another FSU d-man yanks the forward out. A little rough, sure. But then everyone is there, piling on and shoving each other.
The refs whistles blow, and they dive into the center of it. Pulling guys apart?—
Oliver and Carter suddenly wade in. Not to fight, though. They do a better job of breaking it up and getting their guys to separate than the refs.
“Masters and Ruiz breaking up a fight instead of egging it on?” Brandon mutters. “That’s a new one.”
“Shut it, Moore,” Dylan snaps.
I hide my smile. Truly, though, the guys have been getting along better. I’ve noticed that through my busyness, through my late nights at the library or spread out in the student center. There have been moments of not working—few and far between as they come. When Carter sneaks into my apartment, or Penn through my window, or sometimes both. When Oliver steals moments between class to kiss me breathless.
Truthfully, I’m ready for this semester to be over. I have one more final next week, on Monday, and then I can just… I don’t know, relax? Perri and I are going to pick up a Christmas tree after it. She said it’ll be an excuse to celebrate the start of winter break, maybe get me a new coat or boots…
Above all, I’m just trying not to think about the holidays without my mom. We never did anything major, but the few traditions we did have involved cutting down a tree—usually sneaking in through the back of the farm and stealing one of the smaller, undeveloped trees.
The refs finally restart the game, and I drag my thoughts away from the past.
With the score still tied, the final horn blows. Because they’re in the same conference, it’ll go into a five-minute overtime. The teams get organized and prepare to restart, and my anxiety creeps higher. Carter and Oliver are both on the ice. Penn looks ready in his crease.
“I can’t watch.” I jump up and slip past them, darting up the row before the game can restart.
In the hallway, I lean against a wall and close my eyes.
“Sydney?”
Of course… I can’t have a moment of peace.
Scarlett is in front of me, just out of reach. Her brows are furrowed, a look of disdain painted on her features. I’m not sure how I ever… liked her. Got along with her.
My gaze moves past her, to her entourage. There are the familiar players. The girls she keeps close-but-not-too-close. I only don’t recognize one. If I had to guess, Scarlett picked those clothes for her, much like she did for me. Same style and everything. Short dress, the hem of which she tries to subtly pull down her pale thigh, hair and makeup done almost over the top.
Almost .
A pang of disappointment rings through me. Not that I’m so easily replaced—there was never a question about my individuality within her friend group—but that she actually went and did it. She found someone who seems a lot like me, who probably didn’t have a ton of friends, who will dress however she wants just to keep a friend.
“Leaving before the end of the game?” I ask.
“We’re going to get the party ready,” Scarlett says. “Are you hiding out here because you don’t want to see FSU lose?”
I lift one shoulder.
“There’s a rumor going around that you and Carter…” She looks me up and down. “There’s no merit to that, right?”
“You don’t think he’d date me?”
She coughs. Even that is delicate, behind her balled fist. Her tongue flicks out, wetting her cherry-red lips. “I don’t think he’d have looked twice at you if not for me. And you broke up on such ugly terms…”
Did we?
“Ah, well. We’ll see him tonight.” She smiles. Nasty, cruel smile. “But not you. Because you’re not welcome at any St. James parties.”
“Don’t worry, Lettie. I wouldn’t go even if you paid me.” I push off the wall and pass her.
I don’t bother telling her that there’s a great chance Carter will end up at my apartment tonight. And even if he didn’t, I know he won’t be with someone else. My newfound confidence straightens my spine and lets her nettling slip away.
I pause and eye my replacement. “Enjoy the ride, new girl. You’ll probably end up in my shoes soon enough.”
The roar of the crowd almost blocks my last word, and I smile to myself. I don’t know who won, but it sounds like someone finally scored.
And I am ready to go home.