Page 14 of The Secret Of Us

I hope so. I didn’t like the way he acted just now. It felt like all the sadness I saw in him yesterday multiplied by ten as soon as he walked in the room.

I stand up, and we all leave to go to our next class. On the walk, I take my phone out, my hands shaking as I send a text that I’ll probably come to regret.

Izzy

Hi mum and dad. You might have got a letter from school recently. I hope you’ll consider it.

* * *

I spendthe rest of the day going through the motions. I’m bored in every class, taking notes robotically as teachers speak and barely listening to them. I’ve managed to attain a perfect balance of studying just enough to get good grades and pass exams without exerting too much effort. Yesterday I had pretty much all the answers for the quiz, but when Noah offered his up to me, it was easier just to take them.

I know I’m smart enough that with a bit more effort, I could do even better, but I hate the whole thing so much that I can’t force myself to do it. I’ll maintain my grades and do well enough on exams at the end of the year because I don’t want to let Isaac and Violet down. But this day has just confirmed that higher education is not for me.

Noah was in two of my classes today, just like yesterday, but he was the last one to enter and the first one to leave for both of them. I tried speaking to him in chemistry, where he’s also taken the seat next to mine, but I didn’t get any response. It stings a little that he’s pretending I don’t exist, but I also understand that he must be having a hard time with everyone talking about him. I just wish he’d realise I’m not like them.

Once school ends, I return to my room and change into my hockey kit, picking up my water bottle, mouth guard and stick, too. It’s our first session of the year, and I’m worried my lack of practice over the summer will show. Miss. Khan told us all to keep up with some basic exercises while we were gone, but I didn’t have the motivation to do a single one.

I’ve dedicated so much time over the past few years to hockey, but I no longer have the same love for it. I know I’m good at it. I know I’m capable of playing at the top of my game, but the drive isn’t there. However, I know my friends are already waiting for me by the field, so I leave my room and head toward it.

Amelia and Chloe stand at the top of the stairs that lead down to the playing fields. They’re trading their sticks back and forth and talking about something I can’t quite hear until I’m right next to them.

“See, it matches my mouth guard now,” Chloe says, displaying her pastel pink guard and the wrap on her stick.

“Oh, that’s cute,” Amelia says, nodding her head in approval.

We make our way down the stairs, setting our water bottles down on the side of the field before we warm up with some stretches. We all make loud noises as if this isn’t something we’ve been doing for the past few years. The first practice back is always a little more difficult though, and it’s going to be even worse considering how much I don’t want to play.

When the rest of the team arrives, Miss Khan starts us off with some basic drills so we can get back into the swing of things. Half of us dribble the ball in between small cones while the other half makes some passing plays with each other.

Once we’ve warmed up enough, she splits us into two teams, and we play against each other. The entire time, I feel like I’m floating outside of my body, watching everything happen from a distance.

These feelings started creeping in last year, but I figured it was just regular exhaustion setting in as we neared summer break. But now, there’s no denying that my lack of energy and enthusiasm comes from the simple fact that I don’t want to play anymore.

I avoid the ball as much as I can, running on the outskirts of the field and making myself as unavailable as possible. It works for a while, but then Miss. Khan calls me out on it, telling me to get more involved in the second half of the match. I make one good pass to Amelia, which Miss. Khan compliments, and then work my way back to the outside again until she blows the final whistle. The other girls are all breathing heavily as they try to recover, so I imitate them, hoping none of them notice my lack of active participation.

I get to the side of the field first, so I grab our water bottles as Amelia and Chloe approach me. I hand theirs to them and down about half of my own. Who knew pretending to play hockey would be so tiring?

“Izzy, I’ll let you off today, but I want a better effort next week,” Miss Khan chides as she walks past us.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this charade up, but I need to until I can have a conversation with Isaac about it.

We gather our things to leave, dragging our feet as we approach the stairs. Whoever decided to put playing fields at the bottom of a tall set of stairs has never played a sport. My legs are already on the verge of cramping up, my calf muscles tight from running around, so the idea of trudging up the stairs to get to my room sounds terrible.

Instead, I drop to the floor and pretend my shoelaces need tying. Chloe and Amelia both join me on the ground, a telepathic agreement between us all to wait down here a bit before we attempt the hike up the stairs.

“Isabelle!”

I’m going to kill him. I scan the benches overlooking the field, and it doesn’t take me long to spot Ryan with his hands cupped around his mouth in preparation to yell again. I push to my feet, my hands curled into fists at my side before I unclench them and grab my things.

“I’ll fight him if you want me to,” Amelia says, and it helps to cool my frustration. She’s the softest out of all of us. I once saw her talking to a fly in hopes it would leave out of an open window because she didn’t want to shoo it and risk hurting it.

“It’s fine,” I tell her, letting out a huff of air. “He’ll get bored soon.”

We start walking up the steps, and when we reach the top, Ryan is standing there, his arms folded across his chest, and he blocks our way. His head is tilted arrogantly to one side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he rolls his jaw.

“How much longer are you going to keep ignoring me?”

I don’t reply, ducking under the stair railing instead to avoid any contact with him, and Amelia and Chloe copy me. Ryan’s hand grabs onto my armagain, and I’m getting tired of him thinking he can treat me like this.

---