She hesitated like she knew something was very wrong and was deciding whether or not to push. As much as they bickered, they knew how the other worked.
“Fine,” she said finally and patted him on the shoulder before leaving the room. As the door closed gently behind her, he took the pillow off his head and rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
Ben hadn’t cried since he fractured his hand two years before. But it felt like his chest was cracking open. A sob caught in his throat, and Ben rolled over to his side, curling in on himself. He scrubbed at his face, fingers coming away wet, and ignored the buzzing phone on his nightstand. It was probably Ryan with good news about his date. Ben just couldn’t.
BEN WOKE UP with gritty eyes and a heavy lump in his stomach. He groped for his phone to check the time and was shocked by the number of missed texts, all from Ryan. It was after eight o’clock, which was practically sleeping in for him. He struggled to sit up and started to scroll through his texts.
Ryan: hope you’re having funnnnnnn
Ryan: dude i really like her
Ryan: she’s so funny
Ryan: i didn’t spill anything yay!
…
Ryan: rach just called me really upset
Ryan: ben?
Ryan: you up?
Ryan: ben
Ryan: ben
Ryan: ben
Ryan: i’m coming over in the morning
Ryan: omw
Ben got to the last text just as someone tapped on his door.
He looked up and Ryan, who never knocked, took one look at him and quickly shut the door behind him. “Dude, what happened?”
Ben shook his head. He looked down and realized he was still wearing the same clothes from the night before. “He kissed me.” Silence.
Ryan was staring at him. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”
It like a dam broke inside him, and Ben had to let it all out. “Yes. No. God, I don’t know. We were sitting there, watching that movie with the evil exes—”
“Scott Pilgrim?”
“Yeah. And then he kissed me.” Ben hesitated. “And I kissed him back.”
Ryan was still staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “It was good?”
“Yeah.” Ben sighed and slumped back down on the bed. “And then I told him I can’t—That I couldn’t—” The bed dipped, and Ryan stretched out beside him. “Everyone would know.”
When Ryan spoke, his words were careful, quiet. “Yeah, they would.”
“I heard Beth come up the stairs. What if she’d walked in? What would she think?” Ben sniffed, hard, determined not to tear up. “What would Mom and Dad think? My team? You know how those guys can be.”
“I think—” Ryan pressed their shoulders together. “—that they would be okay. They know you, all right?”
Ben swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Why is this so hard?”
“Because it’s important. Important things are hard.”
“You sound like Yoda. What the hell.”
Ryan snorted. “Hard important things are.”
Ben allowed himself a small laugh. Then, he remembered something. “Rachel knows doesn’t she.” It wasn’t a question. “She hates me now.”
Ryan nodded thoughtfully. “She doesn’t hate you, but she’s not happy with you, that’s for sure.” Ryan bumped him with his elbow. “You know you’re going to have to talk to him, right?”
“I don’t want to. He probably hates me too. I’m awful.”
It was Ryan’s turn to sigh. “He doesn’t hate you either, and you’re not awful.”
“I feel really bad. He looked so hurt, and I just let him leave. I’m such a coward.”
Ryan’s hand wrapped around his wrist, and that small gentle touch almost pushed him right over the edge and into ugly crying territory. “You are not a bad person.” Ben opened his mouth to argue, and Ryan kept going. “And you’re not a coward. You wouldn’t let huge guys slam you into the boards if you were. That only makes you an idiot.”
Ben gave a wet-sounding laugh. “Yeah, I know.” He sniffled and was hit in the face with a small wad of tissues that more than likely came from his nightstand. He blew his nose and took a deep breath. “What are you going to tell Rachel?”
“I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to, okay?”
“Tell her I’m sorry?”
Ryan gave his wrist a squeeze and let go. “I can do that, but you’re going to have to see them at school. You do realize that, right?”
Ben groaned and covered his face with both hands. “You think Mom would let me stay home for the next year?”
“Not a chance.” Ryan sat up and poked Ben in the side, making him twitch away. “Now are you going to get up and go for a run or not?”
Ben groaned again, but a run would help. Ryan knew him too well. “Fine. Go downstairs and bug Mom.” He thought of something as Ryan opened the door. “Oh, and Biscuit likes Marcus better than you.”
The over-the-top gasp was totally worth it. And then Ryan was talking to the cat that must have been waiting outside his door, as usual. “Traitor! He could never love you as much as I do.” Silence. “Yes, you’re very cute and soft.” More silence. “Okay, I forgive you. But just this once.”
Ben heard him walking down the steps and got up to get ready. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do the next day.
“YOU LOOK LIKE hell.” Ryan was already shooting Ben worried looks, and they hadn’t even made it to school yet.
“Thanks.” Ben glared at him, but it was ruined when he gave a huge yawn along with it. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He’d picked up his phone a thousand times the previous evening with the intention of apologizing to Marcus, but he’d chickened out every time. He’d ended up spending the time watching the rest of that stupid movie. And then some cooking show that made him think of Marcus and how he’d text him about it when he was bored. And to top it all off, he’d gone through Will and Eddie’s letters again, which made him feel even worse. He put a hand to his chest and pressed the hard outline of the dog tag into his skin. He didn’t know why he was wearing it, exactly. It reminded him of Will’s courage, he supposed. And his love for Eddie and how he sacrificed his life. Ben was a coward and a glutton for punishment. So he wore the tag.
“You going to be okay?” Ben knew Ryan was asking him this on a couple of different levels. Was he going to be okay seeing Marcus at school? That was a hard no. Was he going to be okay wanting something he wouldn’t let himself have? Probably not, but he’d have to get used to that. He slumped down in the seat and banged his head against the window.
“Noooo,” he said, answering both. Ben felt drained, and he still had to survive a day at school and then go to their first real practice before the season started. He was going to die.
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
Ben hunkered further down. Those words never preceded something good. “Oh god, what now?”
“Um.” Ryan shifted in his seat. “Rachel’s going to hunt you down today. Fair warning.”
“I figured.” Ben tried to think of what he’d do if someone had treated Ryan that way. He had a pretty good idea what Ryan would do: the words “scorched earth” came to mind. “She has every reason to hate me.”
“Dude, she doesn’t hate you, I promise. She’s just really, really pissed.”
Ben had a sudden thought. “This whole thing didn’t mess up anything with— I mean, she wouldn’t blame you for me, would she?”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We talked it out and we’re cool.”
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s good.”
They pulled into the parking lot and both looked for a spot. It could get a little crazy, sometimes.
Ben pointed. “There’s one.”
“I see it.” Ryan deftly parked and turned off the car. “Seriously, you going to be okay?”
“Seeing as how I don’t have
a choice, I’ll have to be.”
Ryan gave him a look. “Ready?”
“Fine.” They got of the car, and Ben shouldered his gear bag as they started toward the front door of the school. “I have to go drop this off. See you in second period?”
“Sure, man.” Ryan offered him a fist to bump, and they went their separate ways.
PRACTICE WAS BRUTAL. Ben had managed to make it through the day without running into Marcus or Rachel, but he was exhausted. He was making mistakes all over the place, and people were starting to notice. The whistle finally blew, sharp and piercing.
“Lewis! Get over here!” Coach Jordan did not sound happy. Ben skated over to him and braced himself for a dressing down. Coach motioned to the bench, and Ben went through the door, his mouthguard clenched in his teeth.
“Yeah, Coach?” Ben knew exactly what he was going to say. He was screwing up. They had a game in two weeks, their very first game of the season, and their captain was playing like shit.
“What the hell is going on out there?”
Ben wanted to ask him which time. He’d fallen on his ass during drills, and had sent the puck flying over the glass just before Coach yelled at him.
“Sorry, Coach.” There was no answer that was safe to give. He was failing at everything.
Coach Jordan gave him a long look. “Don’t be sorry. Get it together.” He clapped Ben on the shoulder. “Get back out there.”
“Got it, Coach.” Ben fit his mouthguard in and went back on the ice, ignoring the looks some of the other guys were giving him. He had a job to do; he would have to suck it up and skate through it all.
He managed to make it through the rest of practice without incident. The stinky locker room had never seemed so nice. Ben untied his skates with more force than necessary and resisted the urge to hurl something across the room like a child. He was angry more than anything else. Angry at himself, the situation, the world. Why did everything have to be so stupid?
He ignored the usual dumb conversations going on around him but noticed that all of the guys were staying away from him. Especially when he was broadcasting Do Not Disturb all over the place, so he couldn’t blame them. It was also how he only caught the end of a conversation between Smithy and one of their left-wingers, Jordan Roberts.
“—so I told him to quit being such a little fag about it—”
Ben had no idea what they were talking about, but he suddenly saw red. Later, he couldn’t remember standing and getting up in Smithy’s face. It was like he appeared in front of him, so close their chests bumped together, from one blink to the next.
“No.”
Smithy took a step back from him, shock written all over his face. “What—”
“Do not use that word.” Suddenly his teammates were all staring at him, but he was too far in to back down. “Say it again, and I’ll report it.”
They’d all had a sensitivity meeting during camp, and anyone heard saying any homophobic slurs was supposed to get an automatic bench for the next game. Of course, it had never been enforced, but he had it to fall back on. Smithy narrowed his eyes, and Ben felt a second of panic. If Smithy decided to take offense, he had several inches on Ben and about thirty pounds of muscle. He was a D-man for a reason.
Ben put on his best game face and stared him down. There was complete silence in the locker room, tension building and ready to burst.
Smithy finally backed off and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “Sorry, Cap.”
Ben blinked in surprise but recovered quickly. “Just think before you speak, okay?” He clapped Smithy on the shoulder and returned to his stall. Ignoring the extended silence, he pulled his jersey over his head and concentrated on taking off his pads. When tentative conversations started up again, Ben wondered if he’d shown his hand, if they’d be whispering about him, or if they’d just see him doing his job as the captain.
Ben put on his track pants and hoodie, not bothering with a shower for once, and shoved his feet in his sneakers. He needed to get the hell out of there. Ryan didn’t have work that night, so he’d offered Ben a ride, and Ben hoped he was already out in the parking lot. Gear bag in hand, he left without saying another word to anyone else.
Ryan was waiting out front, and Ben sighed in relief, practically running to his car. He jumped when Ben yanked the door open and put his seat up from where he’d leaned it back while listening to music. Ben dropped into the passenger seat and slammed the door closed.
“Can we go?”
Ryan stared at him for a second. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He blew out a breath but put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot.
“So many things.” Ben didn’t even know where to begin.
Ryan wrinkled his nose. “You stink. You didn’t shower?”
“No. I kind of almost started a fight with Smithy instead.”
“What?” Ryan swerved a little, and Ben felt his heart leap into his throat. “He could eat you for lunch! What for?”
“He said something about calling someone a little fag,” Ben spat the word out, “and I lost my mind. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He gave a hysterical little giggle that didn’t sound like him at all. “Oh my god, why did I do that.”
Ryan didn’t answer right away. Ben looked over at him, and he was staring grimly out the window, lips pressed in a hard line that always meant he was pissed. Great. All Ben needed was for Ryan to be mad at him too, and this perfect day would be complete. He jumped when Ryan started to speak.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. To hear people say shit like that everyday.”
So maybe he wasn’t mad at him after all. Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. I try to ignore it.” He looked out the window, unable to meet Ryan’s eyes. “It just got to me today.”
Ben could see Ryan shake his head out of the corner of his eye. “I’d have punched him. But then he would have wiped the floor with me. What did he do?”
“Said he was sorry.”
“Seriously?” Ryan laughed incredulously. “He just said ‘Sorry for being an asshole’?”
Ben had to smile at the ridiculousness. “He actually said ‘Sorry, Cap.’”
Ryan’s startled cackle made Ben laugh a little, and soon they were both giggling. Ben felt the band that had been around his chest all day start to loosen. Ryan’s next words made it snap back instantly.
“You didn’t see Marcus today?”
“No.” Ben couldn’t bring himself to tell him he’d looked for a flash of bright purple the entire day. “Did Rachel say something?”
Ryan’s silence was telling. “Yeah. She’s still kind of pissed.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s not something you should be saying to me. You don’t ever have to say that about something like this to me. I’ve got your back.”
“I know you do.” Ben glanced at him, and Ryan was biting his lip. He knew that look. Ryan was about to say something he wasn’t sure would be received well.
“Um. You should know. They messed up Marcus’s Econ, and he’s going to be in ours tomorrow.”
Ben’s heart started to pound. “Oh, shit.” His voice was faint, and he wasn’t sure if Ryan had heard him until he spoke again. “After all this time?”
“Yeah. Something about consolidating classes, I don’t know. So, we need a game plan.”
“We?” Ben’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Look”—Ryan smoothly turned the car into their neighborhood, deliberately driving more slowly to give them more time—“I know how you work. If you don’t have a plan, then the likelihood of Rachel punching you in the face goes way, way up.”
“I’d let her.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, coming to a stop just down the street from Ben’s house. “But I don’t want that to happen, and I’m fairly certain Marcus doesn’t want that to happen, so we need a plan.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Ben sighed heavily and turned in his seat to give Ryan his full attention.
“First of all, you have to quit being so down on yourself.” Ryan punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Yeah, it was a shitty thing to do, but you have to move on and fix it, you know?”
“You really are embracing this whole Yoda thing, aren’t you.”
“Shut up and listen to Yoda.” Ryan poked a finger at him. “Second, you need to talk to Marcus.” He grew more serious. “He knew you weren’t out, right?” Ben nodded. “And he seems like a pretty good guy?” Ben nodded again. “Then he’s not going to be a giant dick about this. Trust me.”
“He probably hates me.” Ben flinched when Ryan poked at him again.
“Stop saying that.” Ryan went to poke him again, and Ben swatted his hand away.
“Cut it out!”
“I mean, you’re probably not his favorite person right now, but he doesn’t hate you.”
“Thanks. You’re very helpful.”
Ryan made a wounded face. “I am the most helpful.” He put the car back in gear and pulled up into Ben’s driveway. “Now get your stink out of my car and try to get some sleep tonight.”
“Fine.” Ben grabbed his gear bag and backpack out of the backseat. He closed the door but stood there for so long Ryan rolled down the window. “Are you sure?” Ben asked quietly.
“Sure what?”
“That he doesn’t hate me.”
“Yeah, dude. I’m sure.” Ryan offered him a fist, and Ben bumped it. “See you tomorrow?”
“If I have to.”
Chapter Nine
“COURTYARD. NOW.”
Ben clutched his lunch tray closer to his chest as if it could protect him from Rachel’s glare.
“What?” His voice went up an octave, and he winced.
“You. Me. Courtyard.” She took a step forward, and he involuntarily took a step back. He’d faced less terrifying D-men, all taller than his shoulder. His fear must have shown on his face, because she unfolded her arms and sighed. “C’mon, Ben. We’re talking this out.”
She turned on her heel and headed toward the doors to the courtyard. Ben looked down at his chicken tenders, his appetite suddenly gone. He dumped the tray, picked his backpack up off the table, and headed in the same direction like he was facing his own execution. Honestly, he didn’t know what to expect from Rachel, so he was going to have to trust Ryan’s judgment.
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