Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I say. “We’ll go to practice and see the movie later, if it’ll help you feel better.”
She doesn’t need to know why I want to go.
It’s weird, being here on a Sunday. The lot is almost empty when we pull in. Hayes’s car is here—its sight launches my heart into my throat. Where’s he been all weekend? Maybe staying with Franky? I don’t know if that’s a good thing or if it annoys me. Why do I want him around when he only ever torments me?
A few other people are hanging around in the bleachers when we get there, girlfriends of guys on the team. They definitely sit up and take notice when Salem and I walk in, but they’re all friendly, asking her how she’s feeling after being out sick. None of them mention the concert. They seem satisfied to go along with the idea that she had the flu but is feeling better now.
All I want to do is find Hayes. He’s not with the other team members standing around the pool. A few of them are in the water, swimming slow laps, while others stretch around the perimeter.
I look over all of them, wondering if I’m missing something. Where is he? I catch Franky looking up at us and give him a wave. He lifts his hand, but his expression doesn’t change from blank stoniness. Did something happen earlier? Another fight? He looks pretty pissed off, and it would explain why Hayes isn’t around.
Theo doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong. He’s sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water, joking with some of the other guys.
He looks up and finds us. “Hey, there she is. You better not be contagious anymore. I don’t feel like shitting my brains out.”
“It wasn’t that kind of flu, you disgusting ass.” I see the relief on Salem’s face and hear it in her voice. Theo’s a really good friend, maybe the best kind of friend. He’s ready and willing to say exactly the right thing. In this case, he’s accepting Salem’s excuse for being absent like it’s a fact. Who’s going to disagree with him?
Apparently, nobody around the pool. They all laugh with us, and things roll along. Salem makes comments on the various swimmers and how they look in their speedos, and I’m happy to nod in agreement with her opinions.
My mind is far away, on Hayes. Why isn’t he here? His car’s outside. If it wouldn’t look obvious, I’d go to Theo and ask about him. What would my excuse be? I’m worried about the brother I love so much, even though he’s not my brother and I’m more obsessed with him than anything else? Yeah, I’m sure that would go well. He’s too perceptive. I don’t want him reading into it.
“Why aren’t they, I don’t know, swimming?” I ask. I know it makes me sound hopelessly dumb, but it’s a pretty good question. We’ve been here ten minutes and nothing’s happening but a bunch of time being killed.
Salem looks around with a frown. “I don’t know. Usually the coach has them swimming themselves to death by now.”
So I’m not wrong. This is strange.
“Franky looks pissed,” I say. “I wonder if they had another fight.”
Salem shrugs it off. “Boys are weird. I’m sure they’ll be best friends again tomorrow.”
I wish I believed it was that simple.
“I have to pee.” I’m risking her saying she’ll come with me, but she turns to one of the other girls and goes back to her conversation. I’m even gladder now that she’s blending right back into things, since it means I’ll get to do a little sneaking around with her.
There’s a pair of restrooms across the hall from the coach’s office. I’ve seen them before. If they’re inside, I might overhear whatever’s going on. I hope it’s not something that’ll result in Mr. Ambrose coming down here. It’s hard enough living with Hayes when he has swimming and friends to take up his time. What happens if he’s grounded and there’s nobody but me to take his frustrations out on?
“So long as you’re ready to do what it takes to be a true team player around here.” Coach Greg’s voice floats my way, clearer the closer I get to the office. The door is closed, but the wall facing the hallway is mostly glass, so it doesn’t muffle the sound all the way.
“Like I said, I’ll do whatever needs to be done.” Hayes’s voice is clipped, and I recognize the begrudging tone. I only heard it back on Friday night, so it’s sort of clear in my memory.
“I appreciate that. I’m sure the rest of the team appreciates you giving this your all.”
“You don’t have to keep trying to sell me. I get it. I have to do what I’m told or else my life is over.”