Page 80 of Falling

“I’m going to the rink,” I say when I turn around to them, clearing my throat.

Scarlett inches toward me.

“Wren, it’s past nine o’clock. I don’t think the one on campus is open,” she says.

I brush past her and go into my bedroom. They follow behind me.

“And not to mention you’ve been there all day. Take a break,” Kennedy suggests as I pack my duffel bag with my leotard and essentials.

“I’ll find one that’s open, or I’ll go to the gym,” I bite out before walking out of my room and into the kitchen. They follow behind me again as I grab a couple bottles of water, and I shove them into my bag, avoiding their eyes.

“Wren,” Scarlett says, carefully, shifting from one foot to the other. “I don’t think this is a good idea. You need to take a breather. You just threw your stomach up. You were like this before regionals.”

“Yeah, and look where that fucking got me. I didn’t take it seriously enough. I put being with Augustus over skating, and I didn’t practice enough. I could have prevented that. If I fuck this one up, it's over. I’m done!”

They both take a step back. Kennedy’s eyes soften as she looks at me. Scarlett looks irritated and a little disappointed. She’s had to put up with this side of me for the longest, and I’m sure she’s sick of it. She’s seen me after losing a comp as a kid, she’s seen me after winning and still needing to do better. Constantly trying to do my absolute best. To be absolutely flawless.

“Look.” I sigh, my voice quieter. “I’m sorry for shouting, but I’m in a really difficult situation right now, and I need to clear my head.”

“If this is about Miles—” Scarlett starts.

“It’s not.”

“Then talk to us. That’s what we’re here for,” Kennedy whispers, her voice weighty with emotion. “You don't run away when things get hard. We don't do that.”

I want to grab them both into a hug. I want to tell them everything. I want to tell them how it feels like I'm constantly being held down by a giant, cutting off my blood circulation. How I'm constantly hearing the words,You're not good enoughover and over. I want to tell them that I hate the person I’m becoming and that I feel like I can’t breathe if I think about it too much.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I can't,” I stammer as I slip out of the door.

25

MILES

AM I OBSESSED?

I thinkI’ve fucked up.

I don’t know what I’ve done, but I have a very strong feeling Wren is ignoring me. I haven’t seen her since the day of the game, and even though we’ve both been busy with classes, I’ve hardly gotten a text from her. We’ve worked out together twice since then, but it’s mostly in silence since I have a routine I stick to now, and she does her own thing.

Even when I make my hilarious gym jokes, she just ignores them.

“Why did the cheese go to the gym?” I said once while I caught my breath, standing over her while she did sit-ups.

“Why?” she asked with a bored expression, not a single waver in her voice even after doing fifty sit-ups.

“Because he wanted tocheddarcouple pounds,” I replied. She just blinked up at me, not even a crack of a smile on her face. I remember when these kinds of jokes would earn me a toothy grin and a kick in the stomach. Now she doesn’t even care. Or even pretend to care. She stood up and looked at me.

“Can you spot me on the bench press?” she asked. She barely looked at me for the rest of the day.

I’m beginning to think that kissing her was a bad idea. In the moment, we both wanted it. She was really fucking enthusiastic about it when she was moaning my name with my fingers inside her, but maybe it was just a moment of weakness. Maybe I’m in way over my head, and what we did really meant nothing to her. She keeps telling me she’s busy, but I don’t know how much of that I believe anymore.

I just want her to talk to me. To let me in. I feel like I’ve been floating around her, stuck in this weird cycle of never being fully taken in and it hurts so much more knowing what itislike when she lets me in.

Since speaking with Clara, I’ve felt lighter. I still haven't spoken to my mom yet, but I’m getting there. With having regular classes and attending some practices, I don’t feel as alone anymore. When I get home after college, I don’t feel this weight on my chest like I used to a few months ago. Everything is starting to feel more manageable, and the thought of getting back on the ice doesn’t sound so bad.

I got a phone call yesterday from Coach, asking me to meet him this morning.

He knows about the fight. He has to. Someone must have told him, and this could be the start of the end. I could lose my scholarship, and I’d have to move back home, start community college, and get my old job back.

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