Nathan Northwood is simply living the perfect life every teenage boy dreams of. He is rich, handsome, captain and star player of the basketball team, could have any girl he wants and is basically the king of EverGreen High. However, Nathan wears a c...
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NATHAN
One week later, it was Monday and I had been so close to skipping the group session after the last period. The thought of me being the only one left who hadn't shared his story, terrified me. Mostly because I really didn't know what to say or how to say it. I didn't know how to express what I was going through. How could I put it into words when I didn't even exactly know what I was going through myself?
Owen shared his today. He talked about being bullied for being puny ever since he was a kid. He talked about how he started working out to gain some muscles so most of the jocks at school would stop shoving him against lockers. He also briefly talked about how it was like to be with Heaven when she had an eating disorder, which was constantly destroying her, and how he felt so helpless. In the end, he added that forgiving and befriending Maya and Bree was one of the best things he had done because they both meant a lot to him now.
It was weird to see him without Heaven by his side. They were always together. Even before they started dating. At least he had Bree, Maya, and Cayden now. He didn't need to know how loneliness felt.
"Dude, what happened to your knee?"
I looked up from my phone and my eyes met Connor's green ones. We had just finished practice and he was standing in front of me, completely naked like the other boys in our locker room. Fully clothed, I felt the discomfort of being surrounded by my naked teammates seep through and bubble out my anxiety.
I didn't understand why I felt so uncomfortable in my skin while all the guys carelessly walked around naked in the room.
What did I lack? Why couldn't I pull it off?
"It's a knee injury, man. Got it after practice two days ago."
Lie
Not from basketball, but from too much weightlifting. He didn't need to know that though. Nobody did.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he eyed the knee brace around my injured knee. "Can you still play?"
I shoved my towel and running shoes in my duffel bag. "Yeah. I talked to the coach. It's nothing serious. I'll be fine."
"Why are you always so late to Monday evening practices? Is it those group sessions? Why do you even go to those group sessions? You're not depressed or some shit, right? Like suicidal and stuff like that Bloom kid?"
More heads turned in my direction. Their broad, solid chests made me inwardly shrink in discomfort.
"No, man. Just stressed. That's all. It's no big deal. I'm fine," I muttered, immense impatience sneaking up on me and leaving me irritated in result.
