Page 105 of Sweat

In a panic, I race from Coach’s office in favor of my locker, gathering my shit as quick as I can. As soon as I’m out of earshot of the team, headed toward my car, I call Rowan’s number for the first time since yesterday.

This time, it doesn’t even ring. Straight to voicemail.

I call again. Straight to voicemail.

I text him.

Me

Please lmk your ok. Coach is pissed you missed practice. I need an excuse to give him so he won’t bench you on Sat.

Me

Just lmk where you are. I won’t bother you, just need to know

Me

I love you

All my messages are turning green, which makes me think Rowan’s phone died. Or he blocked me. No, I wouldn’t have gotten his voicemail had he blocked me. Right? I have a class in an hour, but that’s the last of my priorities. If I had Matt’s number, or Xia’s, I’d call one of them and see if Rowan is at home, but I don’t. I drive to the house instead.

By now, I’ve got the route memorized, and when I get there, I see the black Legacy parked at the curb. Unsure if this isa good or bad sign, I park behind it and go to the driveway gate before remembering it’s padlocked. Reluctantly, I switch directions and walk around to the front door.

The door peels open quickly after I hit the ringer, revealing a skinny little girl in a stained school uniform. Her eyes pop, and her cheeks flush, bare feet shuffling her halfway past the door like she’s trying to hide.

“Hey, Olive.” I wave awkwardly. “Is, uhh, your mom or dad home?”

In a flash, she runs off through the house, leaving the front door half ajar. I think to follow her, but decide that’s creepy as hell, so I stay standing out here. A minute later, I spot Matt coming across the foyer.

“Tommy?” he asks, pulling the door open the rest of the way.

“Hi. Sorry to just drop in. Rowan missed practice today, so I came by to see if he’s okay. I tried texting and calling, but I think his phone’s dead.”

“Wait.” Matt lifts his palm toward me. “Rowan missed practice?” After I nod, Matt sticks his head out of the door to study the street, probably looking for Rowan’s car, but it’s exactly where he usually parks it.

The perturbed look on Matt’s face has me anxious. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Saturday morning, I think?” Matt waves me inside the house, shuts the door, and leads the way through the kitchen and out the backdoor. “We knocked for breakfast yesterday morning, but he didn’t answer. Figured he went for a run or to meet you somewhere.”

My heart rate climbs and climbs as I follow Matt through the musty garage and wait behind him while he knocks on Rowan’s shut door. By the time it’s clear no one is going toanswer, my heart is beating so loud in my ears I barely hear Matt telling me to stand back.

Stand back?

Stand back for what?

In case the room explodes when Matt opens Rowan’s door? Or, in case he opens the door and finds Rowan swinging from the ceiling fan?

“What the hell?” Matt mutters as soon as the door is open.

Screw standing back. Rowan is mine. I shove past Matt and shimmy into the room to find what Matt is so confounded by. The bed is empty and unmade, Rowan’s backpack is on the swivel chair, his gym bag stuffed under the desk, and the plastic storage bins normally stashed under his bedframe now clutter the floor space.

“Help me?” I say to Matt, and we both carry the bins out the door one by one until there’s enough space for me to climb down to the floor beside Rowan’s bed and peer underneath.

My heart stops as it drops into my gut. Wedged between the floor and the metal slats of his bedframe, Rowan’s body lies limp on his front, his head turned toward the wall.

“Row?” I flatten myself to the carpet and reach for Rowan’s lifeless hand. I hold my breath as I lift two fingers under his down-turned wrist, waiting to feel a pulse.

Just as my eyes fill with tears, Rowan’s hand twitches, fingers curling. My heart spasms as I shift to hold his hand. The fact he’s alive at all has all the feeling returning to my body. His head turns, and I can just make out the whites of his eyes through the shadows.

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