Page 88 of Tricky Girls

‘All good?’

‘All’s fucking shit,’ she snaps. But I’ve seen that look before; I’ve worn it. She’s not angry at me, not even angry at the injury, she’sscared.Scared her hockey career’s in jeopardy, all thathard work for nothing. Probably even more so knowing she got kicked off the team last year for whatever reason.

It’s the same feeling I had once I sobered up after my fall from the boat. I’d sobbed the whole day try-outs had taken place, oscillating between devastated and bitter with envy at those who made the team.

I don’t think Nic has anything to worry about. Yeah, she’s struggling but she’s still able to lumber her way towards home.

We enter the forest, the going here even more precarious. ‘Long walk back.’

‘Fuck off then. You don’t need to wait.’

I watch her struggle, reaching out for trees whenever there’s an exposed root, and can’t help my scoff. She’s never going to make it back without help. I look over my shoulder, thinking about the quad bikes. That could have been a good idea.

She runs a frustrated hand through her hair, forgetting she’s wearing a headband. She looks so different with her hair off her face like that, instead of it falling over her forehead in spikes, obscuring her features.

She seems way more vulnerable. I spot her wince and almost,almost,feel sorry for her.

By the time we’re halfway there, we’re both badly shivering.

‘Is that hurting any less?’

‘No.’

‘Alright. Lean on me. I’ll help.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Nic.Don’t be an asshole. You’re in pain!’

She releases a huff, looking me right in the eyes. ‘Like you’d give a fuck about that.’

‘Dude, I know how shitty leg injuries can be. Been there, done that. Come on, just let me bear some of your weight.’

‘That’s rich,’ she mutters. But she’s moving closer, sizing me up from the corner of her eye.

She’s as tall as Ryan, and just as slim. She’s warm and smells like deodorant. I hope I do too, suddenly feeling inexplicably self-conscious as she struggles to place her arm somewhere inoffensive.

‘This isn’t going to work if you don’t touch me. Just lean on me. I’m stronger than I look.’

She does so reluctantly, forearm resting on my shoulder. It’s awkward with her added weight and our two cumbersome hockey sticks. I don’t think there’s any situation we can be in where it doesn’t feel strained.

‘See? Didn’t kill you.’

‘Just walk.’

At some point she moves her arm so her fingers are gripping my shoulder. It shoots tingles down my spine every time she flexes them. This close I’m hyperaware of her, like she’s a cobra wrapped around me ready to strike.

I try to take my mind off it, thinking about the hours ahead.

‘Do you know if the others are out tonight?’

‘How should I know?’

‘Um, because they’re your best friends and they only go out on Wednesdays because we do?’

‘Then why don’t you know?’

‘My god, do you have to answer everything like some surly teenager?’

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