Page 17 of Unregrettable

I narrow my eyes.

Adrian.

I flash that kid a look of pure hatred, but I’m in the middle of a group of half-dressed boys and the coach I so desperately want to impress. There’s a sharp pain in the back of my nose. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I can’t show weakness.

Fumbling, I say, “I-I was going to t-try out.”

Whoosh.

And there goes any hope of not showing weakness.

Pointing to the door, Marku yells, “You were supposed to wait outside until I gave you the green light.”

“B-But Dinu said it was time—”

Marku shoots the blond boy a glare of complete distrust.

“Dinu.”

The word drips with venom.

“Yes, Dinu—”

“You mean yourcrush?”

My face goes from beet red to sheet white as it drains of blood. The boys whistle along with suggestiveooh’s andaah’s, followed by a smattering of disgusting kissing noises.How could he?I told him that in confidence.

“Goddamn it, why can’t you ever do what you’re supposed to do? I didn’t want you trying out, but you had to push. So damn stubborn. But look at yourself now.” He looks me up and down with a look full of disgust.

Waving his arm around the locker room, he forges on, “Look what kind of mess you put yourself in with your impulsiveness. Fucking hell, why can’t you ever just sit still like the other girls and do as you’re told?”

Wow. Just, wow. It’s a slap to the face, a stake to the heart. I stumble back with pain, clutching my chest where my heart shatters in a million brittle shards. Not sure what part of that tirade hurts the most, but his last phrase breaks something deep inside me. How dare he repeat the same words my mother uses? How dare he weaponize the things I’ve told him in confidence?

Coach scrunches his nose and squints his eyes. “That’s a girl?”

The boys explode into a bout of deafening laughter, punctuated with hoots and howls. Adrian dramatically bowls over in glee. The dirty rat.

I grasp my ball to my chest as I absorb the blast of pain roaring through my body. Then I stretch out my arm and hurl the ball at Marku. It flies past his head and bangs hard against one of the red lockers.

“Hey!” says Coach, but Marku makes a slashing gesture with his hand and the man has the good sense to shut up because it’s a showdown between me and my former best friend. My former crush. My former everything.

Pointing at me, Marku trembles with rage. “Leave.”

Tears bead at the corners of my eyes. As much as I hate him, I don’t want my hard work to go to waste. What about my dream? I still care about soccer, I still want to succeed.

I stiffen my posture. “I want to try out.”

He waves his arm around maniacally. “Look around you, Crina. That shit’s over with. No one on this team will be comfortable around you now.”

Boys had quickly finished pulling up shorts or grabbed towels to cover themselves. There’s a combination of embarrassment, irritation, and anger on their faces.

“B-But—”

“No buts,” replies Marku in a tone dripping with contempt. “You can never be part of this team. There’s nothing left for you here. The only thing you can do is to just go.”

I swipe at a tear with my trembling hand. A thought shoots through my head. A terrible thought. A thought so horrible that I blurt it out, even among this pack of half-dressed, angry males as witnesses. “Were you pretending to help me?”

My heart lurches with anticipated dread. I should hate him for what he’s said to me in front of these idiots, but I’ve known Marku my entire life. I was there, holding his hand front and center at Cristian’s burial. If he’s been lying to me this whole time… I-I won’t even know what to feel. What to do.

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