Two years ago Tori moved in. Now everyone is moving out.
Things that have just seemed to settle are stirring again and in senior year - it matters.
Conflict, frustration and confusion is being brought up in a mess that started two years ago in...
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Mason
Somehow, I'm staring at the sky. I swear a second beforehand I was sprinting down the field, ball in hand, metres from a touchdown. And now I'm covered in mud, head buzzing from impact and a throbbing in my left leg that is getting sharper by the second.
There are no clouds in the pale sky in Atlanta this afternoon. Practice had only just begun, but I wasn't doing anything.
My leg is starting to burn.
"Dude, are you okay?" Someone asks, I think it's Owen, trying to keep from laughing. Before I can answer however, something rings across the humid atmosphere. A whistle.
Suddenly, the coach is hovering over me, looking unimpressed. Automatically, I try to scramble back to standing, trying to ignore the whiplash. I must have tripped somewhere, but it all happened so quickly I don't even understand what –
"Christ!" I grunt just as I attempt to put some weight into my injured ankle. No. Not injured. Can't be injured. I can't afford to be injured.
"Aspen, Douglas, escort Donovan to the medical wing." The man snaps, still glowering down at me as if I'd tripped on purpose. Asshole.
I have to grit my teeth to stem the flow of insults on the tip of my tongue. Losing my temper would not be a good idea, especially not straight to the face of my goddamn scholarship.
"C'mon, Mason." I vaguely hear Alex grunt as someone helps me to stand. It's embarrassing. I'm abruptly aware of the entire team watching the scene unfold, eyes like hawks, all excited. They all want my position. Now I've made it that much easier for them.
"What happened?" I seethe through my teeth, feeling heat rise to my face, to my leg. Something thinks that it can melt away my problems.
"Callum Lee barged you," Lucas Douglas adds from my side, sounding a little surprised himself. It wasn't out of the ordinary to barge into someone on the field, but I have a feeling Callum wasn't all that worried about the scoreboard.
Bastard.
"Take me back." I spit, hobbling on one leg, every jump sending even more pain through my calf.
"Why?"
"I want to kill him. He looks killable." I clench my jaw, imaging beating a dent into his smug face. He thinks because he's in social sciences and has a father thriving over in Hong Kong, he can get anything he wants. If he could get everything he wants, why is he at Georgia State?
Because he's an idiot, that's why.
He only got in because his mother is a lecturer here. His dad is probably playing the tycoon card, too, throwing money at the college. The kid wants it, he gets it.
And now he's decided he wants my position on the football team.
"You've torn a ligament." The older woman says, authority ringing in her voice, as she prods my swollen ankle a little. It feels like I've torn it off.
"Not broken?" I ask, exhaling in relief. It's not broken, that means I can still play. I still have my scholarship. Callum Lee hasn't thrown me in the trash... yet.
"Definitely not broken," She nods, but her face hardens at my expression. "It still needs a lot of rest, though."
"A lot?" My mouth feels like sandpaper. Maybe I spoke too soon.
She nods again, "You'll need crutches for at least a week, and after that you might be able to walk on it."
Walk? I needed to sprint on it. "Walk?" I echo.
"Nothing too strenuous for quite a while. A month? Maybe more."
"A month? I need to train tomorrow." I scoff humourlessly, and she stares blankly at me, as if I have no brain. I guess to her, I don't. I'm no medical student; I'm a footballer that uses his legs twice as much as his brain.
"Son, you can't play like this. We can schedule some physio therapy sessions, but we can't guarantee any healing until we see progress." And before I can reply, she adds curtly, "We'll give you a medical certificate to give to your coach. There's nothing you can do about this, unfortunately."
The wrinkles by her eyes are taut over her skin with impatience. I'm just another rude kid to her. Which is in part true, but I don't think she understands.
If I'm not playing, they're going to have to fill for me. That means they'll trial the entire team, which means Callum Lee will surely volunteer like the courteous dick he is. And who knows what could happen over a month? Two?
I could as easily get kicked out of college as I could murder Callum Lee with my bare hands.
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Very short chapter, but... yeah. *shrugs* I don't really have an excuse.
