Page 14 of The Fake
She fixes me with a gaze that’s all worry and concern.
“Really. I’m done, I already told Frank, but I gotta pay him back for the weed and Xanax that Wes flushed. Plus, I still need to figure out a way to make sure my brother has what he needs to get through the next year.”
She chews on her bottom lip like she’s forcing herself to hold back.
“What?”
“Is Heath playing hockey really that important that you’d risk your own future?”
“It’s not just about hockey; it’s making sure he has the same opportunities I did.”
“I could lend you some cash. I don’t have a lot, but—”
“No way. I’m not dragging you into my mess. I got myself into this, I’ll figure a way out.”
“I could talk to Brady at The Hideout. Maybe you could pick up some shifts.”
“Thanks, but between practice and school, I don’t know how many hours I could put in. It’d take me forever to make the money working a day or two a week, and that’s assuming Coach would even sign off on it, which I highly doubt.”
Which is exactly what led me to Frank in the first place.
* * *
Later that night, I wake with a start, drenched in sweat. My chest heaves as I gulp air like I’ve been underwater for too long. Scanning the room, I take in the damage. Mattress is half off the box spring, bedding is on the floor, as well as the pillows.
The stillness of the house tells me it’s the middle of the night even before I check the time. I contemplate trying to fall back asleep, I’m tired as hell, but I grab my phone and a fresh shirt and head downstairs to work out.
More nights than not, this is where I end up—in the living room at two a.m. lifting weights. Gabby told me once she works out for the endorphins and that feeling she gets when she’s done like she could take on the world. I work out to chase away the ghosts. Maybe ghosts hate endorphins or maybe they like them and steal all mine because I don’t feel anything like world domination when I’m done.
7
Chloe
School startsand I’ve never been so glad to have an excuse to get out of my room and focus on something besides myself and my teammates, who are still treating me like I’m all that’s wrong in the world. Although, the outright insults have stopped. They’ve been replaced by intense stares that I’m positive have everything to do with Nathan Payne.
They haven’t asked, but I can see the questions every time they look at me. Turns out he’s kind of a big deal. According to Emily and Sydney, and my stellar eavesdropping skills, the entire basketball team are like gods around here. If they all look like Nathan, I can understand why.
The Valley campus is smaller than my previous college in California and easier to navigate, but I still find myself walking into both my Monday morning classes just as the professors started. The campus map I studied for an hour is harder to remember while trying to avoid the stares of my fellow students. I know it’s probably paranoid to assume they all know and hate me, but the thought crosses my mind every time someone holds my gaze for a second too long or dismisses me without returning a smile.
I head to University Hall after my morning classes to grab lunch. I find a table in the corner to sit. Earbuds in, I FaceTime my best friend Camila.
“You are alive,” she answers the phone, her black hair and olive complexion filling the screen and making me miss home with such ferocity my chest aches. “How’s Arizona?”
“Awful. Save me.”
She rolls her eyes. “So dramatic.” Camila looks me over carefully. I can feel her scrutiny even through the screen. “Did you just get done with practice?”
“No. Our team workouts are in the afternoon. I just got done with my morning classes.”
“You wore that to class?”
I glance down at my plain white t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts. “Yeah. What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. It’s just so… casual for you.”
“I’m trying to blend in.”
“Blend in where? At a monster truck rally? Honey, it’s the first day of classes you always go all out.”
