Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
People are suffering.
Silently.
And it’s terrifying.
Somehow, I shut off my mind, and I eat dinner with everyone. They laugh and joke, and I sit there on pins and needles. If my dad even mentions my shortcomings, I’ll fall apart, but he doesn’t. He sits there too, and I can tell his mind is running faster than his legendary slap shot. I know he is worried about me, which makes me feel even worse. When he reaches out, squeezing my shoulder, I go taut.
And it kills me inside.
How do I fix me?
four
Callie
Bellevue is known throughout the NCAA for its team houses. Our teams are strong because of the bond we are forced to form by being together. We are required to work out our issues, whether it be petty boy drama or someone drank someone else’s almond milk—it makes us communicate. I think it’s smart to do it this way. We love like family. And let me say, I grew up an only child, and after a year with these chicks, I know why God did it that way.
These chicks are loud. For no fucking reason.
Not that it matters; I’m happy here. Really happy. I love my team, I love the campus, and I love my classes. I miss my family, but I’m doing big things. I also love that we have a house just like the other teams on campus. Our house was built and ready my first year, thanks to Sofia Justice. She’s an alumnus who did all four years here and holds so many records for being the best of the best. Her scores carried this team to the championship. We haven’t won it yet, but it’s coming. With Sofia being from here, it showed how amazing our program is. And now other schools see we’re a talented group of strong women.
It’s gonna be an awesome season, and I am stoked for all the possibilities. My goal is to be an all-arounder, which means I’ll compete in all four events. I also want to score a perfect ten on beam this year. I got one on bars and floor last year, and while I want one on vault, I can’t break a 9.9. It’s frustrating because I think it’s my wonky toe. I broke it, and that sucker doesn’t flex. I tried to tape it once, but then my score went down because I felt off.
We tease my toe. “It’s a tenth short” is what we say.
I lean on the banister of my outdoor porch, grinning as the guys’ hockey team runs through the quad. I love my room because of this porch. It’s on the ground floor, and I like to sit out here to drink my coffee as I ogle boys. Not that I would ever admit to the ogling, but I’m known for my coffee. I drink an ungodly amount for a teenager. I blame my sister, though. It’s how we stayed up late nights, making bread and cutting meats. If we’d had guys like the Bellevue Bullies’ hockey team to ogle, though, I doubt we’d have needed the coffee to keep us up at night.
I’m pretty sure when Nico dropped me off at college, he pointed right to the guys’ house and demanded I stay away. He even gave me a map of all the boys teams’ houses and told me they were off-limits. Protective isn’t even the word I’d use to describe his antics. It’s so bad that when new guys would come in to play for the IceCats, Nico wouldn’t give any of them a place to stay because, of course, they’d take my virtue. I joked that by then, my virtue was long gone. He didn’t take that well, so we don’t talk about it at all.
When he asks what I do in my spare time? I drink coffee, do gymnastics, and study, like a good little girl. I sure as hell don’t ogle boys. Eh, who am I kidding? I am a good girl. I don’t go to parties much, and I don’t really do anything but what I already said. I do tutor a lot, for the money, and I volunteer at the autism center here on campus. It’s a great program for college students to get volunteer hours by working in the autism field. I work there more than I should, but I love it. I love the kids, and they love me.
I lean into the banister, watching the boys’ shorts ride up their toned, strong thighs as their abs flex and relax with each stride of their run. Cheese and rice, these boys are gorgeous, and thankfully, they love running by our house. Cameron White, my roommate, leans beside me, clucking her tongue. “We may have to make a hockey game this year, Cal.”
I laugh. “We may, my friend. We may.”