Breaking the Ice

eight

Panic shot up my chest. "Shit, I don't have a costume."

Just as I was speaking, Jason walked in, his backpack slung over his shoulder, and it promptly hit the floor as I finished my thought. He gave me an exasperated stare. "You're joking."

"I wish I was." I pinched my brow. "I've been too busy this week with practice, and Miss Assfuck has my phone, so I can't even ask around."

"Fucking Bortz," Simon muttered, not looking up. "I hate her."

Jase tip-toed over the clutter on the floor, plopping down right next to me on the couch. He bit his lip contemplatively, his gaze flicking over to me. "I think I have some stuff at home I can grab for you before practice tonight, but I might have to adjust it for you, since you're a little smaller than me."

"Wait, you can sew?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. Jason shrugged, glancing to the side.

"Just a little. But I'll find you something and fit you before practice." I was about to ask more questions when a thump startled me.

"Fuck," Simon said from the floor, slamming his hands on the open textbook in front of him. "I just spent the past half hour solving this, and I got it wrong because I had my calculator set to degrees. Suck my—!"

"Watch your mouth," Coach Choi scolded, walking in with a plastic bag of take-out and Thomas at his heels. "I brought a good luck, party-sized pad thai. Who wants some?"

"Me!" Hector called from the other door, the one that led into the locker rooms. He looked at Simon on the floor and grimaced. "Crap, isn't the test on Monday?"

Thomas snorted, dropping a stack of plastic cutlery on the desk before sitting in the swivel chair. "That's what you nerds get for taking calc three."

Simon gave him a droll stare. "Says the guy taking algebra two in senior year. Shut the fuck up—"

"Language!" Coach yelled from where he was bent over, serving the food into foam bowls. Simon chucked a highlighter at his dad, nailing him in the back of the head and making Coach jerk his gaze back to scowl at his son, but there was no real heat behind it.

"You riding with me tonight for the game?" Thomas asked me, dropping his things on the floor.

I nodded. "Yeah, if that's alright." Tom rolled his chair over to clap me on the shoulder and then the back of the head when I shoved him back, making me scowl. "Dick."

He grinned. "Ah, ah. Don't be mean to your ride."

When Coach said nothing, Simon glared at me before returning to his work.

Soon, everyone was sitting around with a bowl of pad thai, talking animatedly. Coach had pulled out a deck of cards which Thomas was cutting, dealing them to himself, Jase, Coach, and I. Hector and Simon were huddled together on the floor in front of the calculus textbook, trying to solve one particularly awful equation.

"Buraco okay?" Tom asked, already separating the cards into the appropriate stacks for the Brazilian game before we could even answer. I scooped another mouthful of food into my mouth, receiving my cards, and we started to play.

"So," Jase said with a grin, bumping my shoulder as he threw out a card, making Thomas hiss out a curse, "how's Iza doing?"

I looked up at him, pressing my cards to my chest. "She's okay. I think she's going to Argentina later this year... why?"

His smile was teasing, and I took a bite of my food to keep my hands busy. "A little birdie told me that you were staring at her the other day, a little more than a friend would."