Page 115 of Daydream

“You didn’t think to check that’s okay? I have plans with my friend. She’s coming over so I can help her with a group project for a class we have together. Her group is really unhelpful and she doesn’t want to fail and—”

“And you can do all those things while we’re here, Halle. We will stay out of your way,” Mom says, interrupting me.

I know that she isn’t wrong, but it still rubs me the wrong way that she didn’t think to ask. She assumed I’d be okay with it, butI guess she wouldn’t think otherwise when I’m always okay with everything. I know it’s my argument with Will that’s making me irritable, but I know she’d never assume Grayson could house them for a couple more days. She’d always check first. “Sure.”

There’s a weird tension in the air, but I don’t know how to break it. Will’s mom steps up, clearing her throat. She holds up Henry’s sketchbook, something I definitely would have hidden away if I hadn’t been ambushed. “Did you take up drawing, Halle? They’re very good.”

“They are, but it’s not mine. It’s a friend’s sketchbook. They must have left it here by mistake.”

“Let me see,” Mom says, switching her wineglass to her other hand to reach across and take it. A piece of paper falls out of the side and onto the floor. If I wasn’t so anxious I’d laugh at the prospect of having to explain the lore of Quack Efron and his suit to the room. “They’re all of you.”

“They’re not all of me,” I say, pulling my knees up to my chest and clinging to theHon my necklace, hoping she doesn’t notice it exactly matches theHHenry signs his work with. “A lot of them are of Joy, and flowers.”

Will’s dad clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I think we should probably head to our hotel and leave you three to catch up.”

It’s impressive, the speed at which they manage to leave; if only they were taking my parents with them. Mom is still flicking carefully through each page and I have no idea what’s going through her head. Eventually, she puts the sketchbook on the coffee table beside her and looks to my stepdad. “I think we should head to bed, too, Paul.”

Mom stops in front of me on her way out of the room, bending to kiss the top of my head. “Night, honey.”

Paul is close behind her, and he ruffles the spot my mom just kissed like he’s done ever since he inherited me as his kid. “Love you, Hallebear.”

Hearing them leave the room, Joy wakes up from her nap. I wish she could talk, because she’d tell them how much better Henry is than Will.

Chapter Thirty-FiveHENRY

IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE ALLthe people telling me today isn’t a big deal, when every single person who knows me and Halle has checked in.

Last night after Halle went home, as a team, we decided what our perfect routine would look like. My history would suggest it was a pointless activity, but throughout today I’ve done every single thing we said we were going to. And so did the rest of the guys. Weirdly, it’s proven my own point that I feel better with a routine. Maybe this is the start of me being able to stick to it.

I haven’t skipped one stretch, one ounce of protein, or zoned out of one motivational talk. In a way, it’s reminded me how much I loved just being a player on the team, without this constant nagging in my head that I need to be doing something more, being better, being the leader. Today we’re on the same page: we all want to see Will cry at the end of the night.

Everyone is as invested in this as me, except Halle. Every silly superstition my friends have has been stuck to. Even as far as JJ wearing his lucky pants up in San Jose, Nate only listening to rock music, Joe always putting his right shoe on first and getting his grandma to do her special prayer she used to do on game days.

It sounds extreme—paranoid, definitely—but everyone knows how much Halle means to me. Will is arrogant on the ice, and I know from Halle he’s had his ass kissed his whole life. There’s nothing I can say to him that’ll hurt him more than beating him this weekend.

I’m the last off the ice when our warmup is done. I’ve been getting my head in the zone all day. I feel good, the team feels good—all that’s left for me to do is survive Faulkner’s motivational speech.

I’m about to pass no-man’s-land—a small stretch created by a planning error that connects our hallway to the visitors’ hallway—when I hear my name being called. I know immediately I should ignore Will, but when I hear him call me a fucking coward I can’t help but stop. The guys in front of me making their way into the locker room do the same, turning around to see what’s happening.

“Looking slow out there,” he says, in the most pathetic attempt to goad me. I’m in the best shape I’ve been in. It’s the most effort I’ve put in.

Pulling off my helmet and tucking it under my arm, I ruffle my hair to unflatten it and scoff. “Thanks for the feedback. Show me where I asked.”

I don’t understand what Will is hoping to achieve. Everyone who has ever played here knows this area is out of bounds. We don’t mess with each other off the ice. It dates back to when the Titans were known for pranks and people would use this spot to get into the other locker room. There isn’t anything he can say to shake me.

I think he can tell he isn’t going to psych me out because he starts smiling. “How’re you liking my leftovers?”

“If you don’t think you can beat me out there just say that.” I turn to head back to the locker room with my teammates, who are still standing by, but he just doesn’t know when to stop.

“Have you seen all Halle’s scars yet? She has a few. Always saving Maisie from falling over and hurting herself instead. Or the birthmark on the inside of her thigh? I liked discovering that one.”

“Fuck off, Ellington,” I call over my shoulder.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he yells. I turn to face him again, taking a few steps toward him. I’m bigger than he is, and the difference is, I don’t need to fight him. I don’t want to fight him. Halle laughing her way through saying,Fighting is for fools, and you’re not a fool, plays in my head like a song. She hates fighting and she’d hate me fighting. And I have her, and he doesn’t. “See? We can talk like adults. We should be best friends actually; we have a lot in common. I should be thanking you for keeping my side of the bed warm.”

“I already have a best friend, thanks. Her name is Halle. That isn’t something you can say anymore though, is it?”

I know I’ve hit a nerve. Bulldozed the nerve, in fact. “Do you like the things I taught her? I don’t feel like you’re very grateful for me making her less of a frigid bitch.”

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