Page 106 of Habits

“That’s your body’s way of telling you it feels like crap,” he muses, sipping from his own cup. “Shut up and drink it. When you return, there is a high chance you’ll get tested for substances, and we can’t have you benched because you decided to drown yourself in booze and weed. We’re playing St. Jonah’s, it’s the last game of the regular season, and if we don’t win …”

He doesn’t have to finish. We both know what’s at stake—we win and we go to the championship tournament; we lose and we go home. Easy as that.

Gripping the cup between my hands, I force myself to take a big gulp of the damn tea, the frown constant on my face. I can be a big boy and guzzle it all down like a champ, but I don’t have to pretend I like it.

The things we do for the game.

It would be too presumptuous of me to think the team depends solely on me. Both Derek and Max are way better players who have so much more to lose than I do, but hockey is a team sport, as our coach often likes to say, and in order to win we have to play like one. Since Max joined the Wolves, something just clicked between the three of us and we’ve played better than ever, but even that doesn’t save us from occasional defeat. Hence the need to win the last game so we can progress further in the competition.

“Now.” I shoot Derek a warning stare, but he ignores it. He wiggles in his seat until he’s happy with his position—legs spread just enough, leaning against the few lone pillows in the armchair, his hands resting on the armrest. The most casual of poses and the most dangerous one. “Will you get the stick out of your ass and tell me what has your panties in a twist or will I have to get it out of you by force?”

The side of his lips twitches upward in silent amusement as our eyes lock in a stare off.

Seconds tick by, I know because the silence is so profound you can hear the old clock ticking loudly. The ancient monstrosity belonged to my father’s grandfather and has been passed down from father to son for generations. If it ever gets to my hands, I’ll take a hammer and crush it to pieces.

“Fine,” I finally say, pushing the food away from me. Suddenly I don’t feel hungry at all. Actually, I feel sick. My stomach is rolling around my belly, and I can feel my heartbeat spike up. The palms of my hands are so sweaty I have to rub them against my pants.

Derek leans forward if only slightly, curiosity shining in his crystal blue eyes.

“You want to know what happened?”

The question is rhetorical, but he still answers. “This should be interesting.”

“Jeanette-fucking-Sanders and I started hooking up. We’ve been going on and off since the senior sleepover, until it became …” I swallow down hard and force myself to clear my suddenly dry and raspy throat before I continue. The words are on the tip of my tongue. So clear. So true. So hard to utter out loud. “More. But then she left me. She left me like my mother did all those years ago. Like my dad does constantly. She just … left.”

* * *

Jeanette

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I say as I run into Amelia’s living room and sag onto the couch.

“Yeah, yeah, the queen is never late. Everybody else is simply early.”

“Brook!” Lia scolds her, but Brook barely tilts her head to the side in acknowledgment. She’s too busy with scratching the Beast, better known as Lia’s King Charles spaniel, Lola.

“Next time I’ll make sure to arrive in a chariot so I can have my grand entrance,” I deadpan, taking off my jacket and scarf.

The little beast finally notices me and jumps to her chubby little legs, running like crazy toward me. Her big ears fly through the air as she barks happily. I roll my eyes, ready to push her assault away, only she’s faster, jumping in my lap and attacking my face with her slobbery tongue.

I was actually surprised when her barking didn’t welcome me at the door, but I guess when you’re in puppy heaven nothing else can be expected.

“Geeez, chill.” Brook rolls her eyes at Lia. “I was just messing around. J knows that. Right, J-J?”

Finally pushing off the beast, I give Brook a death stare. “Call me J-J one more time and you might find yourself in need of a plastic surgeon.”

Brooktsks. “So sensitive.”

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” I grab my bag and fetch the books I’ll need. I put them on the coffee table, neatly organized. Brook leans over my shoulder, and we discuss one of the tasks we had to complete for our homework when I feel a curious stare probing at the nape of my neck. “Lia?”

Big brown eyes look between the two us sitting side by side. A little frown appears between her brows. “Why do you always have to bicker like an old married couple? Can’t you two just act like normal friends for once?”

Brook and I exchange a dumbfounded look. “Hell, no!”

Lia stares at us for a few seconds longer, shaking her head before she finally shrugs. “Whatever.”

Then she joins us on the floor, and the three of us work on our Spanish. It’s one of the only classes, except for homeroom, that we have together.

Señorita Rodrigues is one small thing, but she’s feisty. She’s ruling the class with an iron fist, intent on making everybody learn how to speak Spanish, if only the basics. Next week we have an exam on past tenses, of which there are many, and they all have a bunch of confusing irregular verbs and different uses you have to memorize.

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