Mark My Words

67 | Sanity, Or Lack Thereof

When soccer season ended at Kaiserslautern, Joanna couldn't have been more grateful. It was the first time in a long while she was glad to be off of the field—for good.

She hoped she wouldn't have to spend another year there, but the Lieutenant didn't seem to be moving any time soon. Her position was starting to sound steady—a word Joanna never associated with the Lieutenant. The only thing steady about the Lieutenant was Sir Harold. Joanna was convinced that the flight overseas was what killed Sir Harold the orange tomcat, but the Lieutenant wouldn't hear it.

If I have to spend another year in this shit hole I might actually maim myself, Joanna thought to herself as she packed up her duffle. She was pointedly avoiding the fact that Arden was coming around the corner, which meant—

Someone grabbed her by the back of her sweatshirt. Joanna grunted as her back was thrown against the lockers, the combination lock wedged against the small of her back. She turned her chin up, eyes narrowing at the sight of Georgina glaring down at her. Joanna might act tall, but Georgina was far taller.

Georgina flattened her forearm across Joanna's collarbone, pushing hard.

"If you ask nicely, we can forego me carrying you over the threshold," Georgina said.

"I'm not a sack of potatoes," Joanna said.

"Could've fooled me," Georgina said.

"You should come with us," Arden said. Joanna kept her eyes locked on Georgina, but that goddamn smile was enough for her to waver. She blinked fast and spared a split second glance at Arden.

Her heart beat heavily in her chest, reminding her why her eyes were burning all that month. Her skin crawled where Georgina pushed against her sweatshirt. When Joanna remained quiet, Arden looked up at Georgina and sighed, hands on her hips.

"All right then," Arden said at last. "We may not have practice, but you still work for my Auntie. You'll never be able to afford that tattoo without her, you know."

It was half-finished. Joanna had one, maybe two sessions to go until the tattoo was done, but that still left her other leg exposed.

"Fuck tattoos. They're for addicts, right? Should've figured," Joanna said, and she knew she crossed a line just by the tick in Arden's jaw. She would have smiled if Georgina didn't have her by the throat.

She knew what Arden wanted to say, and how it would sound coming out of her mouth. "You know I use medicinally," like she was a suburban mom justifying a facelift.

"Careful," Arden seethed with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"You'll have to drag me over the threshold," Joanna hissed back, and before Arden could so much as spit in her direction, Joanna ducked out of Georgina's hold and ran for it.

She could feel her heart pounding, compounded by the fact that she knew this wasn't real, and that in real time, she was trying to wake the hell up. She could feel it thumping to the sound of Georgina's feet on her heels, only for Joanna to come skidding to a halt at the sight of Arden's Sisters on the other end of the hall, down the long corridor stretching away from the locker room.

Joanna's sneakers caught traction. She touched a hand to the tiles as she pivoted, narrowly dodging Georgina's hand reaching for her sweatshirt. Joanna bolted between the cafeteria pillars, fully aware that as she jumped over tables, that she was in Bradshaw. She was wearing her uniform. Her sneakers—they weren't sneakers at all, they weren't meant for running on tiles, not one bit.