Page 13 of Safety Net
“Sorry, but I don’t find consistent betrayal that complex,” Lincoln said.
“Oh my god.” Jack ran his fingers through his hair. “Are you—wait, are you bleeding? Why the hell are you bleeding so much?”
The bandage on Lincoln’s hand had opened. I had done a poor job of securing it. I grabbed a fresh one and stood up to fix the problem.
“He fell…and he should probably get some rest.” I didn’t make eye contact with Jack. I couldn’t. But I did try to make my voice harder. My tone, final. I didn’t want to leave unless Jack did too. Heaven knew Lincoln didn’t need someone standing up for him. And yet, I had the urge to do just that…in the only way I could. But of course, my small voice was like a tiny dog trying to protect its owner from a Rottweiler.
“What were you doing? Don’t you have that mentorship thing tomorrow?” Jack asked.
“Don’t worry about it; it’s fine,” Lincoln said to Jack, and to me, “Thanks, I’ve got it. Sorry about all this.”
And there went my opening. My window of opportunity to pitch the volunteer position had closed the second Jack joined… okay, maybe I shouldn’t blame it all on him. I’d been stuck in limbo long before he showed up.
“It’s literally my job now to worry about it,” Jack said.
When Lincoln’s brow furrowed, Jack added, “The accountability initiative. You don’t remember?”
“There have been so many initiatives over the last few months; it’s been hard to keep track of them.” Lincoln’s sigh reminded me of my own when overwhelm threatened to nudge me off a cliffside.
“Well, for better or worse, I’m your partner.” Jack closed his eyes for a moment, clearly still grappling with this fact. “Which means the least you could do is stop talking to reporters about me. We’re supposed to be building team trust.”
To his credit, Lincoln’s lips pressed together with remorse. “He wasn’t a reporter; he was a journalism student working on a paper. I was trying to help.”
“He works forthepaper, genius.”
While they were busy biting one another’s heads off, curiosity got the best of me. I unlocked my phone and pulled up the school’s newspaper website. The sports headline read:Believe in nothing, fall for everything: Mendell’s hockey boys aren’t so golden.
I skimmed the rest. It was riddled clichés, but overall, was a well-written piece. The author condemned the athletic department while also throwing the players under the bus. Most of the piece delved into how the school invested money in the hockey program instead of distributing the funds to other programs. I felt bad for agreeing with some of the opinions. But I did wish Mendell invested even a sixth of the money theyput into hockey toward the music program. Our department was small, with limited practice space and resources. We shared music stands, an auditorium without AC, and seats that were peeling.
“Did they get you to sign up for that community outreach course?” Jack’s question brought my attention back to them.
“Of course.” Lincoln finished rewrapping his hand. “An uninspired attempt to make us look good.”
“Have you picked your project?” Jack asked.
“Why? Do you plan on copying me?” Lincoln teased.
“Yeah, that’s the whole point. How are we supposed to be accountable to each other if we’re not together?”
The playhouse was a part of the community. And my aunt signed volunteer slips all the time. She could even write them an official letter. Lincoln, needing to do community outreach, made asking for his help that much easier. He wouldn’t have to do something just for me, the lonely girl who left him on-read.
The puzzle pieces were coming together, and all I had to do was open my mouth.
“If…” I started, and they both looked at me, waiting. Before I knew what was happening, I ended it with a rushed, “I have to go.”
“Okay, thank you for helping me back inside and with all this.” Lincoln held up his hand. “Maybe we could?—”
“Of course.” I blinked every other second, holding back hot tears and heavy embarrassment. “See you around.”
I cursed myself as I rushed out of the house, not even waiting to hear a goodbye. My nails dug into my palm as I sucked in air through my mouth. Pathetic. I was absolutely pathetic.
I knew asking was going to be hard, but after that failed attempt, it felt downright impossible. I didn’t have enough time. If I didn’t figure out how to speak to this guy soon, then I’d have to go back to the drawing board.
CHAPTER FIVE
CELESTE
“You ready to try again?” Naomi sat on my bedroom floor, cross-legged. She sorted through a pile of Gameboy cartridges my brothers had given me to pass on to her.
