Page 46 of Undressed In The Crease

“I’m not crying.” She sniffs. “Just please don’t look at me.”

She hides her face and wipes her eyes.

“I don’t know what I said. I really just came over to eat with you.” I reach out and rub her shoulder. It’s awkward. I’m awkward. I never felt like I had to comfort a girl other than one of my sisters. Even then I’m the last person they come to. I don’t know what to do.

Why am I even here?

I know why.

It’s because this awesome girl I found is upset over something, and for the life of me, I can’t get her out of my head.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” I ask again.

“They just won’t give me a chance. I don’t fucking get it. Marie is a sophomore! A sophomore! They have her covering your fucking game on Saturday for Dustin. They didn’t even ask anyone else. I swear he’s sleeping with her, and that’s the only reason. Her one article that she submitted wasn’t even that good!”

There aren't a lot of people in the dining hall. It’s still early for any sort of dinner rush, but Lenny is causing a scene. Her voice gets louder and she throws her phone down to the middle of the table.

She’s babbling. Her words are strewn together like one long sentence and I have no idea what she’s saying anymore.

Something she says clicks.

“Wait.” I stop her. “Are you talking about Dustin Vieux? He writes the stupidest shit about me.”

I hate that guy. In every article he writes for the school paper, he portrays me as a playboy who’s just lucky. I stopped reading the paper a long time ago.

“Yeah. I know.” She scoffs. “It’s like he has something personal against you. Half the shit he says about your game isn’t even true. The whole thing last year about your stick not getting there in time was bullshit. It was obviously because of the way you twisted your knee down.”

She gasps and covers her mouth, taking a break from her babble.

“Shit. I didn’t mean–. I don’t know why I said that. It wasn’t all your fault. I mean it was a bad goal to give up, but no one can really know what’s going on unless you’re the one out on the ice. Not from the stands anyway. I can’t imagine the type of pressure you must feel. Or must’ve felt at that moment.”

She keeps babbling, but I sit there frozen.

I’m stunned. She’s talking about the goal I let through last year that ended our season and eliminated us from the Frozen Four. She’s talking about my knee. No one knows about my hurt knee. Not anyone here.

“Sorry. I didn’t–. It’s not my place. I’m just really upset because they won’t give me a chance to write anything good. I submitted an amazing article last year. It was better than Dustin’s! But because he was a junior and I was a sophomore they said ‘Maybe next year Lenny.’ Now Dustin is the editor and won’t let me do anything besides ice dancing. I can’t even cover figure skating! They pass that along. Last year I got to cover a story about gyro meat.” She nudges my arm, taking a pause. “That's the reason why I get chicken.”

She smirks trying to get a reaction out of me.

I had no idea Lenny is in journalism. I had no idea she fucking knew anything about my knee.

Did she see me limp?

That night last year after some of the pain meds wore off. After we fucked for hours throughout the night I was in so much pain. I tried my best to hide it.

Is that how she knew about my knee?

“How’d you know about my knee?” I ask, quietly.

Her face pales and her nervous babbling stops.

She doesn’t say anything.

“Did someone say something to you?” I ask again, searching her face for the truth.

I never told my coach or trainer about my knee surgery. My doctor cleared me to play, but I’d have to go through extra therapy and extra precautions if they knew. They might even cut my playing time down. Drexton Hall doesn’t take any chances.

It could completely ruin my chances of a draft pick.

---