by Doe, Anna B.
“Fuck!”
Everything around me stops, and so do I. My heart is beating frantically against my ribcage, breath stuck in my throat. We all exchange worried looks, wide, anxious eyes greeting me behind every visor as the seconds tick by in dead silence. We wait for something, Derek really, to snap out of it and get on his feet, but it doesn’t happen.
It feels like forever, although I’m sure it’s no longer than a few seconds before coaches start yelling. That gets me moving. Struggling through still bodies that surround me, I rush toward Derek.
But I’m not the only one. Because Hill is also there, gloves and stick on the floor, his hands wrapped around the guy’s neck, holding him off the ice. Andrew shoves the guy into the Plexiglass so hard it rattles from the impact, his fist connecting with the guy’s face over and over, blood spilling on the crystal surface.
Coach and Doc get on the ice just as I see Derek start to stir. I breathe in relief seeing him slowly get up. Coach and Doc go to him, helping him sit straight. My eyes dart between my two teammates, and in the last second, I change my direction.
Andrew’s still fighting with the guy, and if he doesn’t stop soon, he’ll do some serious damage, both to the guy and to our team.
As soon as I’m at arm’s length from him, I wrap my hands around his torso and pull back.
“Quit this shit now, Hill,” I grit through my clenched teeth. The guy’s resisting like an angry bull.
“Let me go, Sanders.”
“No way.” I pull, this time harder, disentangling Hill’s hands from the guy. He slides down the glass and onto the ice. One of his eyes is completely shut, a purple bruise already forming. “Derek needs us, and if you continue with this shit, you’ll only get thrown out of the game. How are we supposed to win then?”
In that moment, a referee decides to stop next to our little group, disapproving eyes not missing a thing.
“Care to explain what the hell happened here?”
Sighing, I throw my head back and if I didn’t have my helmet on, I’d probably pull out my hair.
Well fuck. Can this get any worse?
* * *
BROOK
“The game was brutal,” Jeanette sighs, leaning down in her seat.
After Derek’s hit, Lia insisted on going down to the locker room, and for some reason, they actually let her in. She stayed with him, but Jeanette wanted to go back to the game, even if it was only to see the final seconds, which is basically the only thing we got to see.
Andrew was thrown in the sin bin for the remainder of the period, leaving Max and the rest of the Wolves to finish the game. Thankfully, they did manage to score and win.
“At least they won.” I shrug, looking around, my stomach queasy.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but this feeling’s been bothering me since we got to the arena, and no matter how hard I tried to shake it off, I couldn’t, but of course, I don’t find anything.
You’re at a hockey game, Brook. Get a grip.
As soon as the game was over, people started to leave, so we decided to wait a bit until we didn’t have to break through the crowd. The Zamboni was already on the ice, glossing over the surface.
“This game,” Jeanette agrees. “But Derek will be out for a while, so in the long run, it’s not actually a win.”
Not knowing what to say, I simply nod. I’ve never been a sports fanatic, and to be honest, I wouldn’t even go to all these games if Lia didn’t invite me.
I open my mouth, but before I can ask any questions, the familiar tingles at the base of my neck arise. Slowly, I let my eyes scan the half-empty rink, looking for something, somebody.
I knew the feeling. It’s the same one I get when Max is following me home, yet different. I had it during the game—the sensation that somebody is watching me—but because of the number of people in the arena, I couldn’t exactly pinpoint the person looking at me. Now, with fewer people filling the space, chances are better that I’ll find whoever’s been giving me the creeps.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Jeanette frown at me. “Is everything okay?”
My whole body shivers, but I manage to offer her a nod. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You just made a weird face, that’s all.”
This time I turn around and actually give her a dull look, but it disappears when I see a man staring at me over her shoulder.
He’s tall, but that’s not why he stands out. It’s the three-piece suit he’s wearing. Who the hell wears a suit to a high school hockey game?
Our eyes meet. He’s too far from me to see his features clearly, but they have to be light. Blue or green maybe? His lips fall open as we stare at each other across the distance. Shivers run through my whole body, his gaze making me uncomfortable for some reason, but at the same time I can’t will myself to break the contact.
He’s probably around Josephine’s age, if not older, but that’s where all similarities stop. His dark hair peppered with grays is neatly cut, strong jaw clean shaven. A few wrinkles are around his eyes and mouth, but otherwise he looks quite good for his age.
“Who’s the guy?” Jeanette’s voice breaks me from whatever spell I was under.
I’ve never seen the man, but based on how he dresses… “I think it’s Andrew’s dad.”
Jeanette turns around completely to get a better look, but the guy’s already turned his back on us and is going outside with the rest of the crowd. Something I should do if I plan to make my shift on time.
“He was staring in our direction during the game,” Jeanette says, facing me.
This gets my attention. “He was?”
“I saw him looking here a few times.” She stops, looking at me carefully. “You know him?”
“You’re joking, right?” I laugh humorlessly.
There is no way Mr. Hill would let me clean his bathroom, much less anything else. The Hills own half the town, and if the rumors are true, Andrew’s dad is Greyford’s future mayor.
Why the hell would he be staring at a little white trash girl from the wrong side of tracks?
No way, no how.
Chapter Thirteen
MAX
“Hey, man.” I clasp Derek on the shoulder before sitting down on the couch opposite him. “How are you holding up?”
I wanted to check on him as soon as I arrived, but the guys dragged me to the game room to try some new game, and after they coaxed me into playing a game of beer pong, said it’d be better to let Derek deal with Andrew while he was in one of his moods. I tried pointing out that Derek had just gotten a concussion and didn’t need to deal with more shit, but they simply waved me off and dragged me the rest of the way.
“Hurts like a bitch.” Derek grimaces. “I think the meds are slowly starting to wear off.”
Looking at him, I notice a sheer layer of sweat on his forehead and the paleness of his skin. Apart from that, there aren’t many indications that anything happened, but I could bet his body got pretty banged up.
Sometimes when you play hockey you don’t even notice how beaten up you are until you take off all the padding and actually look at your body for a moment. Derek was in full equipment when he fell. The pads took part of the beating, but I could only imagine what he looked like underneath it all. Even the tamest of games result in an odd bruise here or there. A fall like his...
“Probably,” I agree with a grimace of my own. “How bad?”
“Now?” He rubs his hand over his face. “Probably an eight out of ten.”
Damn. I hold in the wince. That had to be some nasty bruising he got.
“I asked Lia to get me some water so I can take more meds before I even attempt to get my ass off this couch and go home.”
“You should have gone there in the first place.”
He shrugs. “Not like I can sleep anyway. Besides, at least this way I get to stay with Lia for a little while longer.”
His words are like a punch to the gut, and before I can even try t
o collect my thoughts, there she is, like just a mention of her name summoned her in the flesh. She comes like a whirlwind, all rosy cheeks and messy hair.
She doesn’t even see me, worried, dark eyes glued to one guy.
Her guy.
It stings, knowing there is somebody in her life that comes first. Somebody that will always come first. My throat closes, and suddenly it’s too warm. Suffocating.
“I managed to find this one in the pantry,” she huffs, giving him the bottle. “You’d think there’d be more than one water bottle hidden in this huge ass house, but it seems like the only thing Hills drink is beer and booze.”
I tug at the collar of my shirt, uncomfortably watching them interact. Lia slides in the seat next to Derek, careful not to cause him any discomfort. One of her hands is casually laid on his thigh, while the other goes through a small bag hanging off her shoulder until she finds a small bottle with painkillers.
Clearing my throat, I offer weakly, “At least it’s good booze.”
Lia turns around, a smile playing on her lips. “Max! I didn’t see you there. When did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago.” I tilt my chin in Derek’s direction. “I came to check in on King. I would have done it earlier, but the guys stopped me as soon as I got here. Which reminds me…”
I look around, my eyes scanning through the room looking for short, black hair, but not finding it. Granted, it’s dark, and the room is filled with people, but still… “Where is Jeanette? She said she’d go and look for you.”
Giving up on searching, I return my full attention to Lia and Derek in time to see them exchange a worried look.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, getting on my feet.
My heart is beating rapidly as my eyes scan the dark room for my sister, concern setting in my bones.
Where the hell is she?
Jeanette didn’t like to go to parties like these, but she did because I asked her to. No matter how much she didn’t enjoy it, if I asked, she’d do it. For me.
“You promised you’d make an effort.”
The words I told her earlier tonight come back to haunt me, and I feel like a giant dick. When will I learn? The need to punch something is strong, and I have to clench my hands into fists to hold in the rage.
You’re making the same mistake you already made. Over and over again.
My breathing is labored, and the short, heavy pants feel so loud it’s hard to think.
“Max…” Soft hand wraps around my wrist, bringing me back to here and now. “Max, are you okay?”
Blinking my eyes a few times, I see Lia’s worried face close to mine. If I wasn’t so worried about Jeanette, I’d take a moment to enjoy having her so close, but not today.
“I have to find Jeanette,” I rasp.
Looking a few seconds longer at Lia, I move my gaze over her shoulder, meeting Derek’s eyes, trying to convey how important this is for me. “Where did you last see her?”
They exchange another look before Lia finally sighs, letting go of my hand. “I think she went to the bathroom.”
I nod, the big knot of worry that’s sitting heavily on my chest loosening just a little. “I’m going to check on her,” I say, and without another glance back start moving through the crowd, the same words chanting in my mind over and over again.
This isn’t freshman year. She’s all right. She has to be alright.
* * *
“Anette!” I call out, as soon as I see her dark head peeking out of the room.
Relief washes over me instantly.
She’s okay.
I’ve been looking for her for the last fifteen minutes, starting from the ground floor and working my way up, checking all the rooms along the way. I might have barged in on some things I wished I hadn’t, but until I knew where my sister was, I didn’t care what or who I interrupted.
“Max,” she whispers, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ve been looking for you!”
“Funny, ‘cause I’ve been looking for you.” I try to play it cool, like she didn’t just take ten years off my life by vanishing like that and bringing back memories. “Lia told me you disappeared somewhere.”
“Well, I had to use the bathroom, and since the downstairs one was crowded as hell, I went upstairs.” Anette shrugs. “I think I’m ready to go home.”
I playfully roll my eyes at her. I didn’t want her to know how worried I was. That would only make her worry about me, and that’s the last thing I needed.
“You were ready to go home since before we got here.” I fluff her hair. “I’ll grab my stuff.”
Only when I turn my back to her do I allow myself to exhale slowly, my heartbeat finally returning to its normal rhythm. But when I don’t hear her steps following behind, I look over my shoulder.
“Anette? Are you okay?”
Even in the dim light of the hallway, I can see her face is pale, gray eyes swallowed by her irises.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”
I nod in understanding but keep observing her for a while longer. Looking for signs. Any kind of sign I might have missed the first time around, but I come up empty-handed.
She looks fine, but she looked fine before, when she was anything but.
Am I missing it again?
I swallow hard; the relief that I felt only seconds ago is now gone.
Are we so damaged that I can’t see her pain?
* * *
That night I couldn’t sleep for shit. My brain was playing games with me. Every time I’d close my eyes I’d see Jeanette’s face. Memories of what happened mixing with all the possible scenarios of what is happening now. What I could be missing because the fact is, Jeanette and I, we aren’t the same kids we were before.
As twins, we shared a bond stronger than most siblings, but that bond was shaken so badly it’s barely holding on by a thread. And no matter what I do, it doesn’t seem like enough to repair the damage that was caused.
When the first rays of sun started to peek through my window, I gave up on sleeping altogether and get up.
It’s Saturday morning, and although I could have probably indulged in an additional couple of hours of sleep, I didn’t have it in me. After the wake-up call I got from the coach about my grades, I sat down and rearranged my schedule, including weekends. A tight, organized schedule is key in the upcoming months if I don’t want to fuck anything up.
Groaning, I got up and went about my business. Bathroom, protein shake, gym. That’s how I spent the first couple of hours every morning.
As soon as I got to the basement, I cranked up the music and hopped on the treadmill.
Exercising always helped me clear my mind and direct all the energy running through my body at something productive, which showed.
Five miles later, I was a sweaty mess. My heartbeat was elevated, breathing labored. The pressure in my chest I was feeling the night before was gone along with the restless dreams that have been haunting me.
Taking off my shirt, I dry my face before throwing it away and starting with weights. Arms, core and finally, legs. I was a sucker for routine, especially when it came to my workout. In here, I didn’t lift as much as I did at school simply because there wasn’t anybody to look out for my ass when my muscles turned to jelly, but the gym was functional and helped me keep up with my workouts without the hassle of going to an actual gym.
When I was finally done, my body so tired I could barely move to wipe the sweat rolling down my face, I went to take a quick shower. Clean and finally feeling like a human being, I decided to have breakfast before starting on my homework.
Unplugging my phone from the charger on my way to the kitchen, I unlock it and absentmindedly look at my notifications. People congratulating the Wolves on the win, a bunch of drunk-ass messages from the guys, tags in stupid videos, photos from the party last night… All regular shit that doesn’t interest me. Scratching the nape of my neck, I’m just about to call it quits when a specific story catche
s my attention.
There is nothing particularly special about it, a couple making out. Just another photo from another high school party. If I had any interest to keep scrolling I’d find a dozen or more of them, but I don’t. Still, there is something about it...
The quality of the photo is for shit, dark and kind of blurry, but the bright blue name written on the white jersey is unmistakable.
Hill.
Now that I look back, I don’t remember seeing him. I knew he was there; it was his house after all. But apart from guys mentioning he’s in one of his moods, something that was clear in the edgy way he was playing yesterday, I don’t remember actually seeing him last night.
My eyes narrow into tight slits as I observe the picture carefully. His back takes most of the photo, but parts of the girl he’s kissing are visible. His hands cradle her face, fingers digging into her hair and holding her close.
Unmistakably short, dark hair.
“Son of a bitch.” With my jaw set in a tight line, my hand grips the phone so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t crack in my hand.
I’m going to kill the bastard.
He’s a dead man.
Furious, I run back up the stairs, and the only thing I can see is red.
She better have a damn good explanation for this. Of all the people, she had to mess with Andrew-fucking-Hill?
Not giving a shit about the time of day or anything else, I burst into Jeanette’s room. The door swings open with force, crashing into the wall, the sound so loud it jolts her awake.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I bark before I’m even fully inside.
“What is wrong with you?” she whines in protest, throwing herself back to the mattress and pulling the blanket over her head.
“What is wrong with me?” I yell, trying to pull the blanket away, but her grip is strong. “What is wrong with you? Andrew? Really?”
Jeanette peeks over the edge of the blanket. Gray eyes narrow in irritation as she stares at me. Fuming. If I weren’t so pissed at her, I would probably hide, because waking Jeanette up is never a pretty thing. I’d probably have more luck with waking a bear from hibernation.