"Need some help?" I asked Shane, extending my hand down to him.
He hoisted himself up, unsteady on his feet.
"He got you good didn't he?" I asked, chuckling.
Shane just groaned in response. "You don't understand the amount of pain I'm still in."
"Need a ride home?"
"That would be helpful."
"Well I'm headed to Tyler's place for Showcase practice, so you headed there too?"
Shane nodded and gingerly sat down, wincing as he did.
"Guess we call you pretty boy for a reason," I said, chuckling. "You definitely can't take a good knee to the balls."
"I'd like to meet someone who can," he moaned, placing his cheek on the window. "I am so miserable right now."
I chuckled. "Well next time you'll check your phone."
"I'll take Tyler's verbal abuse any day over this."
I shook my head. "You knew it was coming."
"But not like this."
"There's no amount of mental preparation that will get you ready for that."
"Ain't that the truth?"
"You been icing it?"
"Hell yeah, twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off. Like you would for a sprain or something, right?"
I chuckled. "Yeah, that's what people do for sprains."
"Well it's not numbing much."
"Nah, but it's probably reducing swelling."
"You think they're swollen?"
I face-palmed myself. "You're lucky you're pretty, you know that?"
"Well I never considered the thought of them being swollen," Shane muttered.
"Obviously," I answered, shaking my head. "But for the record, yes, they're definitely swollen."
We rode to Tyler's place with the radio blasting, and Shane with his face pressed against the window, a look of severe pain on his face.
Shane's car was sitting in Tyler's driveway as I pulled in.
"And your car is here because?" I asked, as I shut mine off.
"I obviously didn't drive it home so how would I know?" He gingerly got out of the car and went inside Tyler's house without knocking.
I followed him inside and into the living room. Tyler was watching baseball. He looked up and waved as we walked in.
"Still sore?" Tyler asked Shane, a smile on his face.
"Shut up," Shane muttered, lowering himself into a chair.
"I really am sorry dude, I didn't mean to get you that hard. But you really pissed me off."
"I really pissed you off?"
"So your sister," I said, interrupting their odd conversation. "She's where exactly?"
"She's upstairs I guess," he said, flipping upside down on the couch.
"Thanks." I grabbed a coke out of his refrigerator, laughing at the fully stocked pink lemonade. Shane is such the pretty boy.
YOU ARE READING
Monroe Academy for the ArtsTeen Fiction
Completed. Thousands of students apply, and only 75 get in per year. This prestigious academy is seemingly perfect on the outside, it's every student's dream. But the students struggle to keep up the facade. Each student holds a secret, something de...