The Shameless Little Lies #2

32 stupid misogynistic society

Not even the two-and-a-half-hour drive to San Diego, where we're playing this evening, was enough to bring me out of my stupor. Not even Timothy driving all the way here from Los Angeles on his own to support me is enough to make me excited for the game. He's actually the only person that has come to support me, I don't have anyone else in the crowd cheering me – us, the team – on, unlike the rest of the guys. And what's worse is that I have no fucking idea why I'm hit with feeling so much self-pity for myself all of a sudden.

"Aspen."

"Hm?" I answer automatically, snapping my head in the direction of the voice. I must have been paused in the same position, staring at the ground beneath me, even though I finished tightening the laces on my skates minutes ago.

For some reason, I'm expecting to be Coach. Or Bishop. But it's Raymond instead. "What's going on with you?"

I stand up. "What? Nothing." I don't get why he's even asking me in the first place. I mean yeah, we're friendly and he has given me that one ride to Collin's place when I was staying there (which I still don't know how he knew about) but that was weeks ago and he hasn't spoken to me since. Not particularly anyway.

"Oh, come on," he nudges my skate with his. "You're totally spaced out, dude."

I roll my eyes at him and "dude-ing" me. Or basically anyone, really. "I'm fine. Just haven't slept well. I'm a light sleeper."

I'm hoping he'll get the hint and back off my case. I told him the truth anyway. Well, part of it. I'm tired because I've been spending more and more time playing video games with Timothy after school, basically only coming back to Bishop's place to sleep, and I'm spaced out because of what Cassidy told me two days ago. It's stupid. But I can't shake it. I don't know what hurts more. Her betrayal or Collin's. Mom is a strong candidate up there, too. Sarah and Bishop as well. Fuck. Here comes the goddamn spiral of self-pity again.

Raymond doesn't get the hint though. He laughs, "You don't have to tell me shit. I have insomnia." But luckily, he steps away and the conversation stops there.

He goes on to putting the rest of his gear in place and I do the same. I notice Bishop staring at me out of my periphery but he quickly looks away. Which, only serves to bring down my mood a notch lower because what the hell is up with him? Again?

A fucking déjà vu. Back to square one. I wonder how many more times he's going to pull this borderline childish shit. Talking, talking not, talking again, then talking not and on and on and on and on and on. . .

"Alright, folks." I hear Coach MK say and finally tune my focus on him. "We're on in ten minutes. So last chance to quickly do a bathroom run and then I want you all down by the bleachers all set and ready to crush those motherfuckers. Alright?"

We do our usual group hype-up, hugging and patting it out in one big circle with Coach and then he's off and some of the guys as well. Bishop is actually one of the first ones to disappear.

Raymond and Lucas bicker for a while but then open one of the windows, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and each smoking one. They don't try to pull me or anyone else remaining into their conversation so I just sit there. Until the door opens and a familiar voice draws me in.

"Woah, you guys," Timothy snickers, "should I go tell someone there's underage smoking in here minutes before the game starts?"

"Shut up," Raymond flips him off but his voice isn't stern. I don't think Timothy really gives a shit. He only shakes his head and plops down on the bench beside me.

It's just then that I notice he has a hot-dog in each hand. "I would totally say one is for you but that would be a lie. I didn't buy you one because I didn't want you to get sick during the game, you know. But I'll buy you one after? If you want?"