Fake It 'Til You Break It(83)

I hunker down and work as quickly and silently as possible, and before I know it, I’m sweating.

“Dang, Demi.” My friend Ava laughs. “You got this entire half by yourself.”

I laugh, wiping my hand across my brow. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot on my mind. I want to stay busy... and for this day to end.”

She hesitates before asking, “Wanna talk about it?”

There it is.

My arms fall, the garbage bag in my hand spilling over the edge, and instant tears roll down my cheeks.

Because no, I don’t want to talk about it.

I want to sit and not talk.

With Nico.

“Demi?”

A heaviness in my chest has my heart pounding harder.

“Yeah.” My voice comes out scratchy, so I try to clear my throat, but when I swallow it stings.

I lose my breath.

I pull my gloves off, tossing them into the bag and look at Ava. “Do we have more water?” I rasp.

Ava’s forehead tightens and she nods, jogging off.

I twist with her, following behind with slower steps. Sweat beads across my neck and I lift my hair, fanning myself.

My eyesight grows fuzzy, so I stop walking, blinking a few times.

My teacher walks up right as I start to stumble, and he gently lowers with me as I fall to the ground.

Ava uncaps the water bottle, handing it to me, and I take a few small sips, fighting for a deep breath.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Mr. Course asks.

“About as much as any of us.”

He nods. “You eat?”

I pause to think and then shake my head.

“Okay, let’s stand you up, and get you to the nurse. I’ll run to class and grab you something from our stash.”

Mr. Course calls for campus security on his walkie talkie and a few minutes later, the little golf cart is speeding across the field.

They help me onto the back and off we go.

Trent is in the hall when we cruise by and he rushes toward us.

“Dem? What happened?”

“Nothing,” I say, looking away from him, happy security keeps going.

Against my protest, the nurse calls my mother, and shocker, she’s home, and even more surprising, shows up at the school only minutes later.

“Demi?” she asks expectantly.

“I’m fine. No sleep and no food apparently does this to you.”

Her eyes thin and she steps closer, opening her mouth to bitch, I’m sure, but then the nurse walks in again.

My mother turns to her. “We’re stepping outside.”

“Of course, Ms. Davenport.” She smiles at me. “Feel better, Demi.”

My mother speaks the second we’re planted in her car, away from prying ears, but still in the school parking lot. “I didn’t know you had an event last night.”

“You don’t know much, Mother. You’re never home.” I look out the window.

She ignores my response. “How did you expect to get through your classes after staying up all night?”

I tense, realizing where this is going. I look at her.

When she hesitates, I roll my eyes and lay my palm open between us.

She drops the pill, already in her hand, in mine, nodding to a fresh, unopened bottle of water that happens to be sitting in her cupholder.

After a bit of a stare off she guesses, “Is this about that boy? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened. Everything is fine.” I take a deep breath, reach for the door handle, and push it open.

“What are you doing?”

I swallow, looking back to her. “I ate in the office, I’m feeling better, so I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Demi.” She frowns. “The pill.”

I turn to her, setting the pill on her dash and level her with a hard glare. “Hand me another one of these and I’ll finish the year living with Dad.”

I slam the door shut and head back inside.

I don’t go to class.





“Thought that last one was perfect,” Trent says as we step inside the locker room after practice.

He’s right, he threw a bomber, a hell of a pass.

I slowed my game and let the fuckin’ thing drop.

I shouldn’t have come back for practice today.

Opening my locker, I ignore him, set my helmet inside, and start unclipping my shoulder pads, bending to shimmy them off.

Hands grip the edge of my gear, and I jerk away, tugging them over my head completely.

I glare, moving to work on the belt of my practice pants.

“This how it’s gonna be, man?” Trent throws his locker open, dropping his helmet inside. “Not gonna talk to me, don’t want my help, purposely drop passes?”

When I don’t respond, he dares, “Maybe I’ll have to throw to Hammons more—”

When my head snaps his way, he closes his mouth, looking away as he unclips his own shit.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbles a moment later.

I grab my bag, leaving my pants open, shirt off, and cleats on. I slam my locker closed before getting in his face.

“You shouldn’t have fucked Demi either,” I hiss, shoving his ass into the metal as I pass him.

The second I step into the fresh air, my shoulders fall and I head for my truck.