Nets and Lies(20)
“That’s probably best. I’ll go bring you some breakfast before I leave for work.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She kissed the top of my head before heading on to wake my younger brother, Luke.
When Mom came back an hour later, she brought me breakfast and some Advil. As she started to leave, she turned back to me with a smile. “Now try to get some rest today. And don’t you worry a thing about basketball. I just got off the phone with Coach T, and he told me to tell you not to come in to practice.”
The Advil lodged in my throat. I gulped down the water before I looked at Mom. “Y-You talked to him?” I couldn’t bring myself to speak his name.
She nodded as she absentmindedly smoothed my rumpled sheets. “I didn’t want you to get in any trouble for missing practice. You know how ridiculous he can be about that.”
“Yeah.” Coach T often joked that the only reason to miss practice was for a death in the family—and that was your own.
Mom smiled. “I think he feels just awful about what happened.”
My chest heaved, and I fought to find my voice. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I think he feels he’s to blame—you know for asking you to go get that silly pump. I assured him it could’ve happened to anyone and not to blame himself.” She glanced up at me. “Melly, you look so pale! If you’re not better this afternoon, you’re going to the emergency room, young lady. No ifs, ands, or buts!”
My mouth had gone dry. “Okay, Mom.”
“That’s my girl.” She came back over and kissed me on the top of my head. “See you tonight.”
I nodded and forced a smile. But as soon as I heard the garage door slam, I sank back into bed. The thin veil holding my emotions in check ripped in two. Pulling the covers over me, I was finally able to cry again. Desperate sobs rolled through me as my emotions raged like a storm, shaking my body so hard the bed creaked and groaned beneath me.
Once I finished crying, my thoughts turned over like a switch, and I seared with white hot anger. I began screaming and thrashing like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. The range of extreme emotions frightened me.
Finally, I was spent. Exhausted and hoarse, I tried catching my breath. It came in short, sniffling hiccups. As I lay there with my arm draped over my eyes, I thought about Coach T. I wondered if he was glad I wasn’t going to be at school or practice, or if he worried that my avoiding him meant my resolve was breaking. But knowing him, he probably wasn’t worried about me telling. After all, he could prey not only on using Will against me, but the shy part of my personality that would loathe the attention that coming forward would bring. He had me trapped in more ways than one.
Even if he knew I wouldn’t tell, I wondered if he was worried about facing me again. Like me, did he worry what he would say when he was around me? Or how he would act? Did he wonder how he could possibly stand next to me and act like everything was all right?
The thought overwhelmed me, causing my breath to quicken into anxiety-ridden pants. But thankfully and mercifully, I fell into a deep sleep.
***
Sleep on Tuesday turned into a self-induced coma. I barely woke up long enough to speak to Mom and curl my nose up in disgust at the offer of food. I slipped in and out of consciousness—in and out of the nightmare that had taken over my life. Light turned to dark and then turned to light again.
Wednesday dawned, and I knew whether I wanted to or not, I had to go to school. It wasn’t just about facing my fears, but it was more about getting Mom off my back. I didn’t want her hovering around me, worrying that the bump on my head was the cause of my problems. As long as she was around me, I was afraid I might blurt out the truth.
As I rolled out of bed, I grabbed my cell phone. I glanced down at it and groaned. I had a million new text messages. I imagined they were from Lauren and other team members, and there were probably some from Will. Just the thought of scrolling through them overwhelmed me, so I just turned my phone off.
I didn’t bother fixing up. After I showered, I pulled my hair into a ponytail. I slipped on a pair of jeans and team hoodie. When I got downstairs, I found the kitchen empty. Luke had early practice this morning, so Mom had left to take him. I grabbed a piece of toast and a water bottle and headed out the door.
As I drove to school, everything seemed the same as it had before—the same traffic, the same early morning radio station’s corny jokes, the same morning parking lot antics at school. The world had kept right on turning despite what had happened to me.
But everything normal changed when I entered school. I heard it the moment I pushed through the double doors into the front lobby. It was a slow whine like an annoying gnat interrupting a picnic. The kind you couldn’t drive away by furiously swatting your hands.
As I started down the blue and white tiled hallway, it became a low rumble—ominous and dark like a storm brewing on the horizon. I glanced at the faces around me, my heart thudding to a stop. The usual goofy grins and wide-eyes of gossipers had been replaced by masks of shock and horror.
My first thoughts were that someone had been killed. The air constricted in my lungs. It was the same somber atmosphere as two years ago when a popular junior died in a car accident. Who could it have been? Suddenly Will’s face flashed before my eyes.
Oh, please, God. Not Will!
But as I passed by each buzzing group, conversation silenced. I bit my lip and shifted my book bag that suddenly felt like lead on my shoulder. It took only a second for me to realize that a death wouldn’t silence conversation. No, that kind of swarming hum was reserved for rumor and accusation. Someone was in trouble. And then I knew.