I wake up before my alarm.
That happens a lot lately. There was a time when I could sleep like a rock. I would go to bed and be knocked out in a second, then sleep through the whole night and still be able to nap between classes.
When I slept, I slept. But when I was awake, I was energized and ready and alive. I could carry a conversation and take control of a locker room full of teenage hockey players high on adrenaline, or smile at people I never met and make them like me.
Now, I never feel fully awake. When I am up, I am tired. The rink feels familiar enough that I forget that; I have a mission and well-known tasks and I can focus my body on something it could never truly unlearn. But every time I am off the ice, I am half-ready to go to bed.
Except, when I'm in bed, I never immediately fall asleep. Sometimes it feels like I just lie down, dormant and exhausted, all night until the alarm rings. I know I fall asleep eventually, sometimes I can even remember pieces and little shards of dreams, but I can never hold sleep for any longer than I can hold the rare spikes of energy during my day.
I sit up in bed at the first shrill beep of my alarm, turning it off. I grab my phone, rejecting the birthday notification without looking at it, with the mechanical readiness of someone who has mentally prepared for this same move all throughout the past week.
I can hear shuffling in the room across from mine as I get dressed.
Years ago, Elliott slept in this room with me. Back when the other bedroom was occupied. But when I moved back home, after spending a year with Owen's parents, Elliott had taken my parents' room so I could have this one to myself. The twin bed he slept in is still here, pushed up against the opposite wall, with a small naked desk in between, like Owen and Olivia's room just next door.
Except their desk is larger, equipped with drawers filled to the brim with notes and books and binders. Mine used to have Elliott's computer, which was really dad's computer, and I never actually used it. I still haven't used it since I moved back in. Before, I just did all my homework on the bed, if I had any. Now, I probably do it at Owen's or Dean's.
I wait to hear Elliott's footsteps in the direction of the kitchen before I leave to go into the bathroom, to brush my teeth. Then I wait to hear him go back into his bedroom before I leave to grab my backpack from the bedroom. I don't move fast enough though, and we meet as we both leave our rooms.
"Hey."
"Hey," I murmur back.
Elliott scratches his beard, staring at me. "Thought you slept at Owen's tonight," he says.
"Nope."
He nods slowly, and I'm not sure what he's nodding to. "Did you have dinner yesterday?"
"Found a yogurt in the fridge." And before he can say anything, "I wasn't that hungry."
He nods again, looking like he's thinking. "You should probably eat better," he eventually says. "Especially during hockey season."
It's my turn to nod. "I'll eat at Owen's tonight."
I want to walk away after saying that, but his lips part before I do. I hover around, waiting for him to say what he wants to say, but it takes him too long. I'm about to walk away again, when he finally speaks.
"I was actually planning on coming home for dinner tonight," he muses, sounding like something in between a request for permission and an invitation.
I can't decide which one it sounds like the most, so I just say, "Okay."
Then I leave.
Owen's standing by his doorstep when I leave, backpack and hockey bag flung over the same shoulder and a textbook in his hands. We meet on the sidewalk.
"Hold this," he says, shoving the textbook in my hands. "Quiz me."
A quick glance down is all I need. "I don't get any of this," I tell him.
"You don't have to get it. You just have to quiz me," Owen says, in a weirdly mild tone. Almost conversational.
I look down, choosing a random paragraph and looking for words in bold, so I can ask him to define them. He spews definitions as we walk down our street, and along the next. Dean meets us eventually, halfway to the school. Owen takes the textbook from me then, handing it over to Connor as we meet him and James at the school gates.
The three of them walk ahead and Dean slows his step to match mine. He smiles at me, as we walk into school shoulder to shoulder, and I can't give him anything more than an acknowledging look.
"You okay?" He asks softly.
The question slides a tiny pebble into my throat, and I want to hit myself for it. I should have known he would remember what day this is.
"Fine." I shrug.
"Wanna come over tonight?" Dean asks. So casually. "My mom said we could order pizza." He grins.
Pizza is kind of a big deal.
"Sounds good," Owen chimes in ahead of us. Along the way, Connor and James disappeared to go to their lockers before class. Normally, Owen would have left us as soon as we passed the school gates as well. Especially since I know he has a test right on first period. Even though it's just the first week back from winter break.
"Thought we weren't supposed to have junk food during hockey season," I murmur.
Owen just shrugs. And I can see right through him.
In fact, I can see right through both of them. But I still say yes to Dean's pizza invitation. His grin widens as he tells me his dad will drive us all back to his place after practice.
I sit through my classes with that plan in my head. I think back on Elliott, when he said he wanted to have dinner at home tonight. I could also see through that. Although I don't really understand it. Whenever days like today come by, that's when my brother and I see less of each other. I'm pretty sure we actively stay away from one another.
We definitely don't eat dinner at home together.
I spend the whole morning putting all my energy into not thinking about that. Which means I can't recall a single word from any of my teachers. At some point, it feels like I blinked and suddenly I was in the cafeteria, sitting at lunch with the rest of the team.
Dean is quiet across from me, playing with his food before eating it. A piece of tomato rolls off his tray and lands near James's arm, but he just smiles harmlessly. Because James is pretty much the embodiment of 'harmless'. I can hear Connor and Owen discussing their first period test, but the louder conversation to my left overlaps it.
"Did he really bang a dude?"
"Maybe a dude banged him."
Snickers.
"Who the fuck cares who Liam Astor banged?" Trey Coleman, sitting right to my left, speaks slightly louder than the other two.
Millard, the stocky flaxen-haired defenseman who takes Trigonometry with me, smiles tauntingly. "Didn't you have dinner at his place last night, Coleman?"
Trey looks at him unfazed. "Our families have dinner together a lot. Our parents do business together."
Next to him, the freckled winger who first asked whether Liam Astor had fucked a dude, grins wildly. "Maybe Coleman doesn't want us to talk about who's banging Astor because he wants to bang Astor."
Trey actually snorts with laughter. "Maybe I just don't give a fuck about the guy's sex life because I'm plenty satisfied with my own," he shoots back. "The fact you're so interested is a little sus, though. Anything you wanna tell us, Ingham?"
That seems to trigger a general wave of laughter in anyone who was close enough to hear. Even Owen and Connor snort.
I can't bring myself to join in.
Any other day, I would have given my best to play the part. But today I get the feeling any attempt to laugh might result in vomiting instead. Like any exertion in my stomach at all could have but one outcome. Which is also why I can't finish my lunch. I just leave my half-eaten sandwich on Dean's tray as I stand up.
Both Dean and Owen notice me leave, but neither makes a move to stop or follow me. I can see Connor and James shoot them inquiring looks as I walk away, but I don't stick around long enough to hear their reply.
As I cross the cafeteria, I make a point not to look in the direction where I know Liam usually sits. I don't want to know if he's looking at me, or if he's even there.
The air outside the school is cool and crisp, the way it should be in January in Idaho. It's a stark contrast from the stuffy hot air inside the school building, but I need it. I could feel the heat inside starting to stuff my chest with cotton and lead and sand.
"Hey."
I actually jump at the sound of her voice. Olivia smiles apologetically, raising her hands like she's trying to show me she comes unarmed.
"Hey," I reply dryly.
She drops her bag on the floor between her feet. "Heard you're all staying at Dean's tonight," she muses.
"I guess."
"Sounds fun."
I nod stiffly.
She shuffles over toward me, dragging her bag between her legs, to bump my arm with her shoulder. "Text me if you get bored of them," she says, almost like a question, with a playful twitch to her lips that doesn't cancel the knowing glint in her dark-brown eyes.
I nod again.
I can see right through Olie as well. Just like Dean and Owen.
Maybe it's because of the relationship we built over the last year, the kind I never had with either of my friends, but right now I feel compelled to say thank you. The only problem is that little pebble that has been lodged in my throat all morning, which seems to have grown to the size of golf ball. I swallow around it trying to get the words out. It doesn't work. I can produce no sound.
I think she knows, though. She has to know, because she smiles knowingly and touches my arm and then she leaves her hand there. I can't actually physically feel her touch through the thick sleeve of my jacket, but I definitely feel something.
Then the school doors open abruptly and we both turn our heads to look.
Liam halts on his way out, with Mackenzie Pruitt by his side, hanging off his arm. They are both hanging off each other's arms, actually, and they are grinning openly, like we just caught them mid-laughter. I see that laughter die in Liam's eyes as he sees me.
I realize Olie's hand is still on my arm, even after the jump from the scare they gave us. I can see Liam's eyes zero in on it too.
I have the weirdest, most uncomfortable reaction. My eyes narrow accusatorily and I glare at where his arm links with Mackenzie's. Liam straightens up, arms going soft at his sides, letting go of his friend in the process.
I do nothing to shake Olie's hand, though.
Mackenzie walks past us without a care, turning around to face Liam as she keeps walking backwards toward the parking lot. "Yo, Moneybags. Let's go?"
Liam breaks the eye contact to smile at her, just before following her to her car.
***
Okay. I am honestly REALLY curious to know what you hought of this one. Could you pick up the little hints I tried (with a debatable amount of success) to drop, or did the whole chapter feel unnecessarily enigmatic?
There was also some secondary and background character action. Did you enjoy it? Any minds changing regarding these characters?
Thank you for reading! If you liked it, why not leave a vote or a comment ;)