Page 25 of Tell Me Softly
There was no audience, but the guys on the team were warming up, and at least one of them kept glancing over at us. Victor Viani. When I looked up, he said, “Yeah, babe, that’s how you do it!” I ignored him and turned to the other girls. After what he’d said to me at the game, I didn’t ever want to speak to him again. I didn’t even want to be there, yelling and screaming and shaking my pompoms in front of any of those guys. Ever since Danny and I had broken up, they’d treated me differently: either they were disappointed and resentful, or they were happy to finally make nasty remarks about me without Danny telling them to keep it to themselves.
Since when did being a girl mean that guys could shout disgusting things at you whenever they felt like it? I mean, a compliment is one thing, but just assuming you could shoutbabeat me across the gym, after that nonsense about how I was agrown-upthe other day…who did he think he was? And I didn’t care what he thought of my routine. I was an athlete just like him, not some dog waiting for a pat on the head and a treat.
“Everyone in the middle of the gym, now!” That was Thiago, shouting from one of the doorways. When I turned, I saw him with two men and a woman in white coats with folders in their hands. “Cheerleaders too!” he added, looking straight at me.
All of us looked back and forth at each other as we approached the center of the gym.
“It seems like a lot of you have forgotten, but today’s the blood drive. These people are here from the Red Cross. I want everyone to make the school proud. Giving blood can save lives, so let’s show how much Carsville High cares.”
I looked around nervously, and Thiago looked up from his clipboard.
“Hamilton?” he asked wearily, as though bored before I’d even asked a question.
“Shouldn’t we have been informed of this?” I asked. All those white coats made me nervous.
“A notice was sent out to all the parents. I’m sorry your mommy didn’t read it to you,” he said contemptuously.
It might seem stupid, but the whole thing just weirded me out. I was an orderly person: my test dates, birthdays and holidays, even my periods I kept track of on my calendar. I suddenly had this vision of them sticking a needle into my arm and me fainting, getting laughed at, being ashamed. I hated doctors; I had ever since I got a lung infection when I was five years old. I felt my knees get weak.
“Hey, are you OK?” Ellie asked. From the worried expression on her face as we lined up to go to the bloodmobile, I figured I must look terrified.
I imagined them there in that van filling up sacks of blood, sticking labels on them, poking needles into people’s arms, and my stomach turned; my ears started ringing.
“I think I just need some fresh air.” I walked past the lineand around the corner of the gym. The fresh air hitting my lungs helped me recover my nerves.
“Hey, Kami,” I heard someone say. “Are you all right?”
It was Taylor.
“Yeah, nothing to worry about.” I walked over to the bleachers and sat down, closing my eyes for a moment.
“You’re white as a sheet,” he said, his voice sounding like he was speaking from a thousand miles away.
“I just need a few minutes,” I said, lying down and feeling the cool metal of the bleachers on my cheek.
“Should I get the school nurse?” he asked. My eyes flew open.
“No!” I shouted, grabbing his arm to keep him from moving.
“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he said, crouching down. He pushed my hair out of my face and added, “I can’t believe you’re still afraid of needles.”
His fingers touching me made a pleasant warmth spread through my stomach. He was so kind, so good, and his attention made my anxiety abate. But then another voice, the exact opposite, interrupted us, shouting, “What the fuck are y’all doing?”
Taylor sighed and stood.
“She doesn’t feel good,” he said to his brother. “I don’t think she should give blood today.”
I struggled to sit up so I wouldn’t look weak in front of the person who seemed to want to insult me at every turn.
“This isn’t an option,” Thiago said, staring me down, almost as if he were X-raying me with his eyes. “I promised the coach and the principal I could get everyone on the team who was seventeen or older to donate. This is a big deal for them, and I’m not going to let her mess it up. Taylor, go ahead and get back in line. I’ll take care of her.”
Neither of us could believe his attitude.
“Getting a needle stuck in me is better than seeing your face,”I said, and stood up, feeling immediately faint. I stumbled, but Thiago’s strong arms caught me and held me up, squeezing me into his ripped chest. I smelled that scent I knew from years ago, but it had matured, the way they say old wine does. I wondered,Is that what testosterone smells like?
“Try and sit,” he said, placing me back on the bleachers. Seeming more worried than before, he said to his brother, who looked angry, “I’ll stay here with her.” I guess Taylor didn’t trust him because he took two steps toward us, and his brother reprimanded him: “I told you to go. If you don’t donate, I’ll make sure you spend Friday’s game on the bench.”
To reassure him, I said, “I’m fine, really.” I even tried to stand up again, but Thiago’s hand on my shoulder forced me down.
