Page 29 of Penalty Kill
She shakes her head and busies herself with finding the right page in my Medieval History book. She won't meet my gaze, but I'm not surprised. Josie hates confrontation, so I'm not shocked that her next words are a little soft. "No, Van. We have to study."
"Ok," I agree, because she's right. I'm on the verge of failing two of my classes. If I don't make better grades this week, I can kiss the next few weeks of hockey goodbye. "But after?—"
"No," she repeats, still refusing to look at me. "Look, we have less than an hour left, and you have two tests coming up. We need to prioritize your academics."
“You're right," I agree, pulling out my notes. "But after this, if you have time?—"
"I'm sorry," she says. "I have schoolwork of my own to do tonight."
Bullshit, she does. I’d lay money down that Josie has her homework done for the next week. “You really won’t talk about the past? Not even for five minutes?”
She stays silent, but shakes her head, her answer no different than the last ten times I asked.
“Fine, you’re in charge. But I think we should get a few things straight. Neither of us should have our phones out, not for texting anyway. Everything is riding on this season for me and my team, Josie. I can’t fail.”
She looks me in the eye. “I have to have my phone out?—”
I start to interrupt her, but she keeps going.
“My brother Levi has to work some nights. When that happens, the little kids are with a sitter. But if something goes wrong, they call me. They know I’m working and that they can only call in an emergency, but I won’t risk missing them if they need me.”
“Fair enough,” I say, because I’m not a total dick. If she’s got her phone out for family reasons, I can deal with that.
“Thanks,” she says. I think she’s about to say more, but she stays quiet and focuses all her attention on the metal coil of her notebook, twisting the end of it around her finger. Josie’s one of the only people who still uses a notebook, I think. And she’s got all these different colored pens and tapes and stuff. She makes each page look pretty and organized. When I write on paper it just looks like scribbles.
“Don’t do that,” I say, making my voice as gentle as I can.
“What?” she asks, looking up at me.
“You have something to say, don’t you? Something to ask for?” She doesn’t answer, so I keep prodding. “When you get nervous, you play with your notebook. You tear at the edges or play with that wire.”
“You run your hands through your hair,” she says, then covers her mouth like she can’t believe she just called me out.
“I do,” I admit. “I have to pull it back if I have a test or a paper to do in class or else I tangle it all in knots.”
She smiles, then lays her hands flat on the table. “I have some questions for you. You don’t have to answer them, of course, but I think if we could talk about a few things, I could do a better job of helping you.”
I can tell what she’s getting at, and I can’t blame her. She’s got to be wondering if I’m just overwhelmed by work or if there’s something more going on. By now, it’s obvious that I’m not a great student, but the more she knows about my learning disability, the more help she can give me. This isn’t a conversation I want to have, but maybe it’s smart. I don’t have to tell her everything. I just need to tell her enough so she can help me the most.
Josie takes my silence for hesitation. “It's just...I know you worked with Kevin Rodriguez and he’s great. But I'm wondering if maybe you want to find out what exactly the barriers are, if that makes sense. Yes, Kevin's strategies work, but not always in the long term. I know you have a lot going on with hockey and all, but I also know that the Psych department is doing a study right now. I heard about it in one of my classes. If you enroll, you can be screened for different learning needs, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”
I stay quiet because I’m not quite sure where to start. Once again, though, Josie and I aren’t on the same page.
She’s shaking her head and fiddling with her notebook. “That’s fine, you don’t need to tell me anything. I wasn’t trying to pry. I just want to help and?—”
“I know. And you are helping. More than I can say, but…” I look around. The library is packed tonight, even up here onthe third floor. Every professor must be giving a test this week because there’s not an empty chair to be found.
“Could we…” my voice trails off and I twist my hands in my hair. It’s a nervous habit I’ve never kicked. “I know we need to work on this, and we will, I swear. And I know this is breaking all the Van and Josie rules, but?—”
“The Van and Josie Rules?” she asks.
“That’s what I call them in my head. Just like…I don’t know. Since all that shit went down, shit we’re not going to talk about, I know,” I add quickly, “we just sort of split the campus in half, I guess. That’s what it felt like. You had your spaces and I had mine. I partied on Greek Row, and you got the library. I got Jock Block, and you got the better dining hall. Santos is still a little salty about that, by the way. Apparently, Westing has superior French toast sticks? He swears the ones they serve there are better than the ones we get at Fisher. Anyway…I know it breaks all the rules, but we can’t really talk here, and I feel like, if you’re really going to help me, you need to know what you’re in for.”
Josie gives me half a smile. “That sounds ominous…what do you have in mind?”
A noise erupts from the staircase, and a group of people come piling through. They take a look around, see how crowded it is, and toss their backpacks on the floor before sitting down right in the entryway. I hope they’re just going to read quietly, but when one of them starts calling out phrases and the others shout out answers like they’re on a game show, I realize there’s no hope. It’s chaotic here tonight—loud and then quiet and then loud again— and there’s no way we’re having the conversation we need to. Just my luck, I’d blurt out my best-kept secret right as the room got totally silent.
“Follow me?” I ask, rising from my chair and grabbing my bag.
