Page 29 of Scrimmage

“Well, I’m not everyone. I mean, he even asked if you were my boyfriend." I give an exasperated laugh.

Cole looks straight ahead. “What did you say?”

“No, of course,” I balk. He deflates momentarily.

“Ashland, if I may.” Cole puts his hand to my chest, stopping me. “I know you hate everyone all of the time, but Alexi is cool. We were just invited to afootballparty, and you’re trying to turn it down. If not for yourself, do it for me. He’s obviously going to bother you in class either way. Might as well take advantage of it.”

“You’re acting like this shit requires a list." I roll my eyes, tossing the empty coffee cup in a trash can.

Cole chases behind me, trying to catch up. “Because it does. People don’t just get into those parties. Penny will kill you if she finds out we were invited and didn’t go.”

“You sure know how to sweet talk a woman,” I sigh.

“I should have started with that,” he chuckles.

“Fine, but only to get you in. I’m emptying the bar and leaving.”

Penny is waiting for us on the top floor of the library in one of the sound-proof study rooms. I throw my bag onto the tabletop and my sketchbook slides out. She takes a look at it then glances at me with worry in her eyes.

“So you’ll never guess what just happened,” Cole says with excitement.

“Hm,” Penny contemplates her answer. “Ashland released a rabid raccoon in the Student Union?”

“Rude to call me a raccoon,” I tease, grateful Cole intervened.

His eyes are bright with excitement. “She got us invited to a football party tomorrow. Turns out the stalker in her class is Alexi Daemon.”

“I don’t know who that is, but those parties are fucking legendary,” she squeals. “I want that gold top ASAP.”

“Go for it,” I sigh. “I’m going to dress like it’s a funeral. Because it is. For my social status.”

“You don’t have a social status,” Penny snickers.

Cole bites his tongue. Smart man. “Alright. I’ve got work. Don’t wait up. I’ll be doing a double shift to make up for tomorrow.”

Penny waits a total of thirty seconds after he has left the room to start therapy. “Ashland, I’m worried about you.”

“You’re ten years too late.” I take a sharpie from my bag and start drawing on my skin.

“Don’t get me wrong.” She sets her stuff down and pushes it away, telling me she’s serious. “I’ve made my fair share of bad decisions, but…it’s getting concerning, Ash. You’re waking up somewhere new at least twice a week, and that’s unlike you. Worst case scenario, you usually come stumbling through the door and sleeping in the foyer. Now you’re getting blackout. You never have a phone so it’s not like I can ever figure out where you are. I’m always worried I’ll get a phone call that…It’s gotten worse since we got back from summer vacation. Now you’re drawing with charcoal again? What is happening with you?”

I grind my teeth and stare at my hands. Telling Penny that I don’t know what the hell I want to do with my life is just going to make her try to help me figure it out. Not only that, but I don’t want to tell her about seeing shit and having nightmares.

“I’m just stressed, Dr. Penny.”

“Bullshit!” She smacks her hand on the table. “I fucking love your art. I think it’s a much better outlet than binge drinking. I miss when you did it, but I’m not an idiot. We lean on each other when shit is hard. That’s like rule three hundred and sixteen of being a Cunt of the Century. You aren’t asking me for help. You’re supposed to ask me for help.”

I can’t tell her I don’t need help, because she’ll see right through it. So, I need to find something to satisfy her. That’s the problem with meeting someone at your lowest and watching each other heal. They know what it looks like when you start to spiral.

“I can’t have another repeat of Freshman year,” she says gently.

“I’m not…I’m not doing that. I told you. I’m stressed. Jeremy called me.”

She sits back in her seat. I can see the possibilities running through her mind. She’s already packing and planning new identities.

“Not like that,” I panic. “He just said that Memphis was denied parole is all.”

It’s not a lie. My older brother, Memphis, has been in prison for seven years. Even though I haven’t seen him in eight, it doesn’t make it any easier. The letter from him tucked away in my favorite book is still unopened and has been since I got it before we left for the summer. Penny would lose it if she knew I had it. I’m not sure why I even keep it. Maybe I just hope I can make him eat it some day before I kill him with my bare hands. Add that to the list of thoughts Penny doesn’t need to hear.

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