“We’ll call your parents and let them know. Would you like to speak with them?”
“Uh.”
“Do you have any clothes you can put on?”
“We can get his stuff from the locker room,” Joey said.
“That’s so sweet of you. Thank you,” she said, then she bundled up the towels and threw them into a hamper by the door as she left. “I’ll be right back, boys.”
“Dude,” Seanie said. “That was like watching a porn flick.
“Ugh.” I closed my eyes and dropped my arms out from the sides of my bed. “I thought I was going to lose”—
“All I can say is, no matter what, I’m cracking my skull open tomorrow,” Seanie said. “And if you want me to, Ryan Dean, I can go get her and tell her she missed a spot.”
“Oh my God. Would you do that for me, Seanie?”
“Dude, you are such a perv for a little guy.”
I laughed.
The door opened again and Coach M came in, carrying my clothes from the locker room on a hanger he held over his shoulder. He had my shoes and book bag in his other hand.
“I brought these for you, Ryan Dean,” he said. “Save you an unnecessary trip.”
“Thank you, Coach.” I sat up, dangling my feet over the side of the bed. Before the door swung shut, I could see that there were a number of guys from the team, showered and changed back into their school clothes, waiting outside. Knowing they had come made me feel really good, but not as good as that warm-towel session did.
“And thanks to you two for looking after your mate,” Coach M said to Joey and Seanie. “Here, let’s see that.”
I tilted my chin back so Coach could have a good look at my stitches.
“Welcome to the Zipper Club, Ryan Dean,” he said. That’s what rugby guys said when they got stitches.
“Flaherty,” Coach M said, “why don’t you go back to the showers and get dressed. I want to speak with Ryan Dean and his captain.”
“Will you be able to make it to dinner?” Seanie asked me.
“I’ll be there.”
Seanie left. I could hear him talking to the guys outside as his metal cleats clacked against the shiny infirmary floor.
I began changing into my clothes. I pulled off my shorts. Right about now, I thought, it would be really cool if that nurse came back.
“You can’t get those sutures wet,” Coach said.
“They told me,” I answered. “Eighteen stitches. But no concussion.”
I knew where this was going. If I’d gotten a concussion, I’d be off the roster for a long time.
“I’ve never seen you hit like that before, Ryan Dean,” Coach said. “That was inspired, to say the least. Is there something going on between you and Tureau you’d like to tell me about?”
I was stuck. I’d have to tell the truth, especially in front of Joey. And Coach M did not tolerate fighting among the team. He’d probably have to kick me off, and I probably deserved it. I changed my socks and began buttoning my dress shirt, avoiding their eyes, trying to think of how I’d say it.
I felt sick. Maybe it showed in my eyes.
I said, “Coach, JP and I . . .”
Joey interrupted. “Were just seeing how hard they could go. And Ryan Dean proved why he belongs in the first fifteen, Coach.”
“Oh. I thought I picked up on something else going on there.”
“Ryan Dean and JP are best friends, Coach.”
Now, that was going a little too far, I thought. I looked at Joey and then at Coach. I pulled my pants on and began knotting my necktie.
Coach M turned to Joey. “Who can play left wing on Thursday?”
“I can,” I interrupted before Joey could answer.
“I can’t let you play like that, Ryan Dean. What would I tell your parents if you hurt yourself again?”
“You’d tell them what they already know. It’s part of the game. Please, Coach. I don’t have a concussion. I’ll prewrap it and tape it up. Guys do it all the time. It’s no big deal. I really want to play, sir.”
I wasn’t going to do the fake-tears thing. I could bring real ones up at the thought of being benched for our first game.
“I want Ryan Dean in my line, sir. He’s our best wing. You know that,” Joey said.
“I’ll have to think about it,” Coach said. Then he went to the door, cracked it open, and called out, “JP?”
JP came in, walking slowly, looking down. I could tell he felt bad, but I didn’t care about his feelings, anyway. Why would I? He didn’t care enough about mine. He held his hand out, and we shook. Coach wouldn’t have made him do that if he didn’t already know we’d been fighting.
“I’m sorry, Ryan Dean.”
“You already said that on the field, JP,” I said. I slipped my feet into my school shoes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Coach.”
I grabbed my cleats and the rest of my bloody practice clothes, threw my pack over my shoulder, and quietly walked out without turning back once.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I WAS ALMOST BACK TO O-Hall when I heard someone running up toward me from behind. I didn’t care who it was. Because once again, now that I was alone in the quiet beside the lake, all the anger and frustration over Annie and JP, and my possibly sitting out of the game, came swirling back through my aching head.
It felt like JP was trying to ruin my life in every way possible.
“What’s your fucking problem, Ryan Dean?”
I should have known it was JP behind me.
I thought about just going on into Opportunity Hall. He wouldn’t follow me there, not after getting in trouble for it the first week of school. But I stopped and turned to face him.
He was out of breath, panting fog in the cold as he caught up to where I stood.
“You know what this is about, JP,” I said. And then I really did cuss. “Fuck off.”
I turned around, thinking how stupid those words actually sounded coming from my mouth. It almost made me want to laugh, hearing myself say something like that, which is kind of hard for me to understand, because I don’t have a problem writing words like that.
I started walking toward the door again.
“You want to have it out right now?” JP said. “No one’s around. You want to fight again?”
I just kept walking and ignored him.
“Fuck you, Ryan Dean.”
I opened the door.
I went inside.
