adam
My wrist is broken.
I can't play hockey for at least ten to twelve weeks.
And I don't know what the fuck to do with myself.
You'd think that I'm being overdramatic, but I'm really not. This sport is my entire life, and having to sit out for at least three months while I watch my friends get better is torture. Not only that, but I could fall behind and get my scholarship taken away, which is even worse.
I'm trying to think positively though, because that's the absolute worst-case scenario. I doubt it'll come down to that, especially because Minnesota's head coach told me not to worry and to just rest up. Even so, I still can't help but worry. A huge barrier has just been placed in my way and I don't know how I'm supposed to get around it, or if I even can.
I feel a wave of anxiety start to rise, and I know I'll start freaking out if I keep thinking about this. So, before I even know what I'm doing, I have my phone held up to my ear as I listen to the ringing while I'm hoping to all that is holy that Dean answers.
"Banksie?" his voice comes through the line just as I was about to hang up. "Everything okay? You never call me."
"Wanna come over and smoke?" I ask, ignoring the subconscious part of my brain that's telling me to quit while I still technically can. "I'm anxious and I need to relax. I know this may seem weird but I didn't know who else to call and I feel like we can use it to bond or something."
He chuckles as I stumble over the end, because Dean knows I'm not one for semantics. But I hear some rustling in the background, so I know he's most likely getting out of his bed and getting ready to grab his stuff. "What time? And do you want mine or yours?"
"Whenever you can get here." I answer without hesitation. "Also, bring yours. It's way stronger than mine and I'm going to need it to distract myself."
"Sounds good." he replies. "I'm gonna bring Fulton too, because you can use the company. Don't even bother trying to argue, because you know I'm right. See you in fifteen."
The call ends, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Or shame, but I don't really care enough to decide. And now that I'm thinking about things, Dean's right. I do need the company, and what better way to spend a Saturday night alone than in my backyard with my favorite people?
I pull up the Ducks group chat and invite them over, asking them to get here as soon as they can. I know it looks pretty desperate, but like Dean said before, I could really use some friends around. The last week of sulking in my room has only gotten me so far, and it's time to stop feeling bad for myself.
Am I avoiding my emotions by doing something I shouldn't be? Well... yes, but I could be doing things that are way worse. I shouldn't be excusing it, because I know it's bad, but I think it's better if I just ride out the phase while it lasts instead of trying to quit altogether. Withdrawals are the last thing I need on top of everything else.
Out of habit, I look out my window to see if Alex's car is in Ella's driveway. To my shock, it isn't, which is weird considering that he's always at her house. I try not to get my hopes up, because her car isn't in the driveway either. Again, against my better judgement, I look down the street to see if I can spot it at Alex's house. And again, to my surprise, it's not there.
I don't even know why I'm bothering to figure it out. It's not like she's in my life anymore, nor do I want her to be in it, so the fact that I'm so rattled over this is making me annoyed. And honestly, even more eager to smoke.
I guess I daydreamed longer than I thought, because next thing I know, Dean's car is pulling up in front of my house. I throw on the closest sweatshirt I can find, which is now the only thing covering my upper body, because I haven't been bothered to put on a shirt in days. I can guarantee I'm going to be freezing my ass off after a few minutes outside, but again, I can't really be bothered.
That's been the constant feeling since I've broken my wrist. I can't really be bothered to do anything, no matter what it is. I have no opinion on anything, nor do I care to. Everything is just... there. I feel like I'm just going through the motions of my life and nothing is actually happening. It's strange, but interesting nonetheless.
I make a pit stop in my kitchen to grab a lighter from the junk drawer, then make my way outside to where Dean and Fulton have already made themselves comfortable on the couch. As I approach, Fulton smirks and throws a nod in my direction. "Well well well, look what the cat finally dragged in."
"Pipe down, asshole." I respond, flipping him the finger as I sit down next to him. "It's not like I didn't break my wrist or anything. It's hard to do things when I've got only one arm."
"Relax Banksie, jeez." Dean says through a laugh, blowing a puff of smoke out as he does. "Just take a hit and fucking breathe. It's not that deep."
I take the joint from him and place it to my lips, breathing in slowly as I let the smoke fill my lungs. "Hard to say when your entire life isn't devoted to hockey." I answer as I breathe out. "This sport has been the only thing that's kept me going, through everything. Now I've fucked up both of my wrists, and that doesn't look good to scouts, you know."
I take another hit and start coughing almost immediately, which sends both Dean and Fulton into a laughing fit. I flip them the finger again, then lift my head to the noise of my back gate opening. The rest of the Ducks come piling in and noisily make their way over, finding an open seat wherever they can.
I immediately notice how Connie's entire face wrinkles into disgust as she sits down, but she doesn't say anything about it. I'm sure she probably will at some point, but I'm starting to become high enough to the point where I don't really care.
The joint gets passed around the circle a few times, and everyone is starting to let the effects of the weed take over. Mostly everyone is relaxed, but Averman, Goldberg, and Russ are more giggly than I can usually handle. I've had to ignore Averman's comments quite a few times, but it's fine because he distracts himself quickly with the sound of his own laughter.
The only person who isn't smoking is Connie, but I knew that was going to be the case as soon as I saw her make a face at what's been going on. She can't hide her disgust, and it becomes more evident every time Julie takes a hit, because she's more shocked at Julie smoking than Guy. In Julie's defense, she's only taken a few hits, but I think that Connie's disapproving glances have played a part in that.
I'm fried at this point, and I'm nodding in and out of sleep when I hear a big bang that snaps me back to consciousness. I quickly realize it's my back gate again, and I squint my eyes to try and make out the figure who's rushing over. As soon as my focus, I realize who it is.
It's Ella.
Her face is stained with tears, and her bloodshot eyes make me sick to my stomach. As mad as I may have been at her recently, I hate seeing her cry. I always will.
She stops dead in her tracks when she realizes what she just walked into, and awkwardly crosses her arms into her chest. "I'm sorry." she mutters, sniffling quietly. "I'm just going to go."
She turns around and starts walking back towards the gate, which suddenly kicks my ass into gear and I'm jumping up to follow her. I reach her and gently place my hand on her back, leading her around the corner so that no one can see. Again, I won't let her embarrass herself, no matter how mad I may be at her.
"El, talk to me." I say, turning her to face me and lifting her chin up so that she's looking at me. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"Adam, I-, I can't." she sobs. She throws herself into me and squeezes me tight, and I try my best not to wince as I wrap my free arm around her and hold her close, trying to understand what the hell is going on. "I didn't know where else to go, and I'm so sorry for what's happened to us, but I need you."
"Shh, it's fine." I answer, rubbing her back softly as my head spins with endless possibilities and questions. What the hell is going on? Who hurt her? Do I have to kill someone? Do I need to break my other wrist? "Just tell me what happened, okay? I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."
"Alex." she mumbles, her face still buried in my chest. "It's Alex."
"Okay... what about Alex?" I ask, trying to stay calm. If I'm going to be of any help, I can't let my emotions get the best of me. "You've gotta tell me what about him Ella. I need answers."
"He cheated on me Adam."
And suddenly, all I see is red.
**a/n**
this writing lowkey sucks but it's okay because you get to have this cliffhanger. i have no further comment at this time. see you guys soon hehehe byeeeeeeee