Page 15 of The Player Penalty
“It’s always with me, if that’s what you mean.” Julian’s piercing gaze lingers until I’m forced to look away. My milkshake is empty, so that isn’t even an excuse. “I need to work twice as hard to complete basic tasks that others take for granted. People like you.”
That statement struck a wound. Julian glances away with a slight nod. “Then make me a promise.” My eyes narrow with suspicion, and he notices. “Tell me what’s going on or when you’re struggling. Give me a chance to understand. Can you do that?”
“It won’t help you.”
“It will make me a better friend.” I almost miss the quick smile he flashes. “That helps us both.”
“I’ll try.”
“Fair enough. You’re done with classes today, right?”
“Nothing until tomorrow.”
“Good. You can keep me company. Let’s go.”
Julian puts an arm over my shoulder to pull me in for a side hug. It’s a casual touch. Friendly.
He wants to be a better friend.
It seems I might want to do the same for him.
6-Julian
Homestead-Miami Speedway
“One more game, and then we quit.”
Lily’s indulgent sigh comes in over the headset. The sound tickles my skin. “I’m supposed to work on a paper.”
“Only nerds do school work on Saturday nights.”
“One more game,” she says.
There’s a smidge less excitement in her voice this time. We’re communicating through a headset, and I can still feel her pulling away. I shouldn’t have said that. Lily takes her schooling seriously, which I admire, but it’s easy to forget how much effort it takes her to finish.
Florida is supposed to be year-round sunshine, and that’s a bunch of bullshit. It’s been gray skies all day, which ruined my morning beach trip. At least Lily can keep me company, even if it’s virtual.
“You’re going to kick my ass again, aren’t you?”
“No mercy.”
Three races later, and my ass is kicked. Lily is good, but I’m also not trying hard. Her expression the first few times we played: deep satisfaction, shining eyes, and shy smile all told anobvious story. There’s no way I’m taking even the hint of a win from her, even if it’s over something small, like a round of Mario Kart.
“You never answered my questions,” I blurt out once the console is off.
It’s dark out, which means the parties have started. There’s no reason to spend more time in my trailer, and she has schoolwork to do.
“What question? Remind me because it appears I didn’t pay you any attention.”
This girl is learning how to get her digs in. I chuckle. “What should I do tomorrow? Help my teammates or go for my win.”
“You wouldn’t ask me if you didn’t already have an answer. Recognition feels good, while invisibility hurts. That is, unless you want to be invisible, and I’m not sure that’s what you want.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask.
“This stupid paper is calling my name. Don’t stay out very late, Julian. Goodnight.” She disconnects before I can respond.
I throw the headset on the console table and turn off the TV. This late in the season, and in Miami, means the parties will be in full swing. It’s better than my empty trailer, too.
