Page 132 of Scrimmage

“Ashland made me the perfect playlist.” I grin, connecting to the Bluetooth.

The flute song comes through the speakers, and Penny starts laughing so hard that she cries. “An Ashland masterpiece.”

She grabs her tools and begins working. I watch as she chisels and smooths, takes a different direction, then changes it completely. Penny is fucking graceful, and she’s definitely talented. I don’t bother her, and she doesn’t say anything to me. We just listen to the shitty playlist. Once it hits one in the morning, I help her clean up. She’s covered in dust, almost looking like a moving statue.

We chit chat on our way to their house. Penny is pretty fucking funny, and she’s intelligent like Ashland. She asks questions about me and listens intently, driving herself to remember the answers. I’ve never been alone with her before. She’s a Cunt, but it’s in a different way than Ashland is. They’re so different, yet so alike. It makes me miss Ashland that much more.

When we get across the street from the little tan house, she puts her arm out, stopping me. “That’s far enough. Thank you for walking me home. It was nice of you.”

“Of course. If you ever need anything you can call me.” I shrug. “No obligations. No Ashland.”

She tilts her head. “Anything?”

“I guess I can’t take it back now, can I?”

“Nope. Goodnight, Koda.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, jogs across the street, then turns around and comes back. “Hey.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Sup?”

“I never told you thank you.”

“You just did.”

“Not that.” She thumbs her backpack awkwardly. “For being with Ashland. During the storm.”

“Oh,” I say in surprise. “Yeah. Don’t mention it.”

Penny squeezes my arm. “Night, Koda.”

She runs away, up their front steps. All of the lights in the house are on, and when she swings the door open there are shouts and screams.

“What are you fucking doing?” Penny screeches, rushing inside. “That’s my fucking dress!”

It slams behind her. There are shadows against the curtain in Ashland’s bedroom. I wish I could see inside. Is she in there alone, locked away from the chaos that I could hear inside? Is her door wide open? Is she a part of it? She’s a part of it. There would be no way that she isn’t.

I made a mistake, and I can own up to it. I’ve already lost all control of myself. Penny has a point though. Multiple points. We’re toxic. I don’t think Ash would agree to talk to me anymore. Sex, maybe, but nothing more. I don’t think I can deal with that. Those moments are the ones I liked the most. When she played the stupid song in the car, or when we watched Barbie. Seeing her at the tattoo shop with Prince. When she called the stars rocks. Even when she piled the car full of laundry with Penny and they laughed so hard they almost lost consciousness.

I need to use this weird pain and focus on the Championship, then I can go home for a minute, clear my head, and figure out how to dull it. There’s plenty of conversation happening about me going pro instead of playing my senior year. Maybe I should.

Winter

Chapter Eighteen

Koda

It’s been a month since we stopped seeing each other. A few weeks since I punched Cole in the face and went to jail. I ended up not even having to tell my dad at Christmas, which was good. I try not to think of Ashland. I do. I did text her on Christmas though. I told her I hoped she was having a good holiday with Penny. She responded ‘This number is out of service and the subscriber you’re trying to reach is unavailable’. So I guess it was good.

My mom knows something is wrong with me.

“What happened with the girl you were seeing?”

“I wasn’t seeing a girl,” I mumble, not looking up from my phone.

She sits down next to me. My mom is small, like Ash, and she’s strong, too. I see the similarities. I always said I wanted someone like my mom, and I guess I didn’t know what that really meant.

“I remember when you were just a little boy,” my mother muses. “I always hoped that you would be able to heal from your trauma and let someone in.”

“It’s not that. I’m in college, mom. People don’t exactly date.”

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