2 #2
He said, "People here aren't that bad. Most of them."
"Most of them." Spencer's mouth twitched. "Except for Sears."
"Except for Sears."
They sat in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was something else, something Zavier couldn't quite name. He felt like they were both waiting for something. He didn't know what.
Layton walked into the dining hall. He was with his usual group of followers: Skyler Bradley, Terry King, Drew Matthews. He was laughing at something Drew had said, his head thrown back, his smile wide and easy and fake. He spotted Zavier and Spencer sitting together and his expression shifted.
"Look at that," Layton said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "The freak and the enforcer, bonding over being weird."
Zavier's jaw tightened. Spencer kept eating.
Layton walked past their table. He didn't stop. He didn't look at them again. But his words hung in the air like smoke.
Spencer said, "He's not going to stop, is he?"
Zavier said, "No."
"Why?" Spencer's voice was quiet and curious. "What did I ever do to him?"
"Nothing." Zavier stared at his tray. "That's the problem. You didn't do anything. You just showed up and you were better than him and he couldn't handle it."
Spencer was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "And what about you? What's your problem with him?"
Zavier thought about it. He thought about all the years of competition, all the fights, all the moments when Layton had tried to prove he was better. He thought about the way Layton had always made him feel like an outsider, like someone who didn't belong.
He said, "He's scared. Of you. Of me. Of everything."
Spencer nodded slowly. "And what are you scared of?"
Zavier didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He was scared of too many things. He was scared of wanting things he couldn't have. He was scared of being seen for who he really was. He was scared of the way he couldn't stop looking at Spencer's bruised face and broken lip and wanting to make it better.
He said, "I'm not scared of anything."
Spencer looked at him. His eyes were dark and knowing. "Liar."
Zavier stood up. "I have to go. Practice starts in an hour."
He walked out of the dining hall and didn't look back.
Practice was brutal. Coach Miller pushed them hard, running drill after drill until everyone was exhausted. Zavier played like a machine, hitting hard and skating fast and doing everything he could to forget the conversation at lunch.
He couldn't forget it. He kept seeing Spencer's face, hearing Spencer's voice, feeling the weight of Spencer's eyes on him.
Layton was being even more aggressive than usual.
He was targeting Spencer every chance he got, checking him into the boards, slashing at his stick, talking trash every time they were near each other.
Spencer took it all without reacting. He just kept skating and scoring and doing exactly what he had been doing before.
Coach blew his whistle and called the team together. "That's enough for today. Good work, everyone. Hit the showers."
Zavier skated off the ice. He was the first one in the locker room. He sat at his locker and stared at the wall and tried to breathe.
The others filed in one by one. The room filled with noise and laughter and the sounds of equipment being dropped and showers turning on. Zavier didn't move. He just sat there, waiting for the one person he couldn't stop thinking about.
Spencer walked in last. He was limping slightly. There was a fresh bruise on his jaw where Layton had caught him with an elbow. He sat down at his locker and started pulling off his gear.
Zavier said, "You need to see the trainer."
Spencer didn't look at him. "I'm fine."
"You're limping. Your jaw is bruised. You're not fine."
Spencer finally looked at him. His eyes were hard. "I've had worse."
"I don't care about worse. I care about right now." Zavier's voice was sharp. "Go see the trainer. That's an order."
Spencer's mouth twitched. "You're not the captain."
"I don't have to be the captain to know you're hurt." Zavier stood up. "Go. Now."
Spencer stared at him for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. He stood up and walked toward the training room.
Zavier watched him go. He felt the tightness in his chest ease just slightly.
Drew appeared at his side. "You okay, man? You look like you've been through a war."
Zavier said, "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You've been off all day. Ever since the new kid got here." Drew lowered his voice. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Zavier said, "No."
"Liar." Drew grinned. "But that's okay. I don't need to know your secrets. Just be careful, okay? That's all I'm asking."
Zavier nodded. He walked to the showers and stood under the hot water and tried to wash away the day.
He couldn't. The day was stuck in his head, replaying on a loop. Spencer's blank eyes. Spencer's split lip. Spencer's quiet voice saying liar.
Zavier had been lying. He had been lying for years. He had been lying to his family and his teammates and himself. He had been pretending to be someone he wasn't, someone who didn't feel things he wasn't supposed to feel.
He was tired of pretending. He was tired of hiding. He was tired of being afraid.
But he couldn't stop being afraid. He didn't know how.
He got dressed and walked back to the locker room. Most of the team was gone. The room was quiet and empty and smelled like sweat and soap.
Spencer was still there. He was sitting at his locker, ice pack pressed to his jaw. His shirt was off. His torso was covered in scars. Long white lines crisscrossed his back and shoulders, old wounds that had healed badly.
Zavier stopped walking. He couldn't help it. He stared.
Spencer looked up. His eyes met Zavier's. He didn't try to hide the scars. He didn't reach for his shirt. He just sat there and let Zavier see everything.
Zavier said, "What happened to you?"
Spencer said, "Life."
Zavier walked over to him. He sat down on the bench next to Spencer. He was close enough to touch. He didn't touch.
"Someone hurt you," Zavier said. "A lot of people."
Spencer nodded. His face was blank. "My father. My old teammates. Everyone who found out what I am."
Zavier's chest tightened. "What are you?"
Spencer looked at him. His eyes were dark and sad. "You know what I am. You're the same thing."
Zavier didn't deny it. He couldn't. He had been lying for too long, and he was so tired.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm the same thing."
They sat in silence. The locker room was quiet. The ice was cold. Zavier felt something shift inside him, something he had been holding back for years.
He said, "I've never told anyone. Not a single person."
Spencer said, "Me neither. Not since my sister found out by accident."
"Lacey?"
Spencer's face softened. "She's the only one who still talks to me. Everyone else... they pretend I don't exist."
Zavier understood that too. He understood the loneliness, the fear, the constant need to hide. He had been living with it for so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to be free.
He said, "I don't pretend you don't exist."
Spencer looked at him. His eyes were searching. "Why?"
Zavier didn't have an answer. He didn't know why. He just knew that Spencer was different, that Spencer made him feel things he had been trying to ignore, that Spencer was the first person in years to make him want to stop hiding.
He said, "I don't know."
Spencer nodded slowly. "That's okay. I don't know either."
They stayed in the locker room until the janitor came to clean. Then they walked out together, into the cold night air, and stood in the parking lot.
Spencer said, "Thanks. For today. For lunch. For everything."
Zavier said, "You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do." Spencer's voice was quiet. "No one's ever done that for me before. Stood up for me. Made sure I was okay."
Zavier looked at him. Spencer's face was bruised and swollen and beautiful. He wanted to reach out and touch it. He wanted to make it better.
Instead, he said, "Get some rest. You have practice tomorrow."
Spencer nodded. He walked to his beat-up Honda and got in and drove away.
Zavier stood alone in the parking lot and watched him go. The tightness in his chest was still there. It was getting worse.
He drove back to his apartment and lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. He thought about Spencer's scars and Spencer's voice and the way Spencer had looked at him like he was seeing someone for the first time.
He thought about all the secrets he had been carrying and how heavy they were. He thought about how good it had felt to tell the truth, even if only a little. He thought about Spencer's dark eyes and quiet voice and the way he had said liar.
Zavier had been a liar for so long that he had forgotten how to tell the truth. But Spencer made him want to try. Spencer made him want to be someone different.