Page 125 of Dirty Roulette
This is it. It’s game time. The stadium swims with a sea of cheering people. Shadows spread as the sun sinks like the pit of my stomach.
Charlie’s voice is far away, and I’m scared I’ll forget the sound of it, but she reminds me that the ache in my heart will never go away.
“Do you want to know why I don’t get attached to guys? Because of how you feel right now. It doesn’t go away.”
If loving Ryder means my chest will always hurt, and my head is always spinning, and my worst fear is him walking away from me, then I’ll accept it. I won’t run away because the rawness of what spirals in my chest is real. I’ll forgive him, no matter how many times he hurts me, I’ll invite him in and show him my biggest weakness. Loving him will ruin me, and I’m okay with that.
Ryder’s been with me since the first grade. He was the boy beating me in races on the field during recess. He was always the bully, throwing me into their pool every summer. The jerk tipping over myfloaty. The boy strong enough to keep me balanced on his shoulders as I played chicken against Charlie.
I miss laying in the grass in their backyard, staring at the stars at midnight with them both lying adjacent to me as we’d talk nonstop for hours. The crickets chirping, the fireflies buzzing by us. All three of us would stare up into space waiting for the heavens to open up.
I regret a lot. I should have shouted it at Charlie that night in her car and told her about Roulette. I’d deal with the grief raining over us. If only I admitted to the truth then maybe my feelings wouldn’t be lacerating my chest wide open. Maybe she would still be here.
“Go get him!” Ryder pecks me one more time on the forehead.
“For Charlie...” I bite my bottom lip holding back the pain in my eyes. I promised I’d reign in my emotions with him. I promised to stop being a blubbery mess, but I see the tears in his eyes.
“For Charlie, baby.”
I break out in a clammy sweat, and in the corner of my eyes I see Brittni storming down the green grass to Ryder.
Not again.
Not this bitch.
I’m fed up with her flawlessness, her crisp, clean uniform, and every atom she’s molded out of. She’s about to lunge at me and I can see it with the devilish look in her eyes.
Within seconds her nails dig into my hair, twisting and throwing me around like a rag doll. My tiny fists smack her across the face, shoving her in the chest. “Get off me!” I scream. Pain shoots up my scalp as she curls her fingers into my hair.
She kicks at my shins with her pearly white sneakers, and if she wants to fight like a bitch, two can play at that. I manage to throw a fist right into her cheek, her grip on my hair not letting up as I pound into her face.
Strong arms grab me by the waist, pulling me away. “No! Stop!” Ryder growls, and Brittni manages to let go with a handful of clumped up hair in her palms. I swivel around, punching his shoulder pads, thinking it was someone else.
“Go!” Ryder points to the double doors, and I spot security enclosing at both ends of the field. The crowd booms louder as the opposing team enters the field. “What are you waiting for,go!” His voice is mute, and everything turns to white noise as he grabs his helmet and jogs off, backing up in a sprint. “Go!”
Brittni wipes away tears, her hair disheveled, and a red mark blooms on her cheek where I punched her. The team huddles around her, stroking her shoulders, and being gentle to the fakest person I’ve ever met. Autumn throws a finger down her throat and pretends to gag herself, and wiggles her fingers as she says. “Bye-bye, slut!”
Naomi stands in the background with both hands over her mouth. Her brows furrow and she mouths the words, “I’m sorry.”
I run, sprinting down the white lines of the field and to the double doors that lead to the corridor right before the locker room. They burst open, my heaves echo in the long hallway, and the crowd’s cheers are a surround sound all around me. Dancers, the marching band, mascots are crowding everywhere. My back meets the cold brick wall and I melt into a puddle on the floor.
Noah stands in the middle of the hallway in the midst of everyone, wearing a black guitar case like a backpack. His eyes lift from his phone screen.
“Whoa, are you okay?” he asks and clicks off his phone, slipping it into his front pocket. He walks over in his holey, black skinny jeans and baggy shirt. His tattoos mesh into colorful blobs as tears blur my vision. His band members stand behind him with the same furrowed brows and concerned expressions.
“What the hell? What happened?” His Converse squeak against the tile floor as he kneels down, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Brody... he...” I blubber out, my entire body shaking.
“What?” Noah asks.
“He posted that video and is going to get Ryder kicked from the team. He wanted Ryder to leave me, but he picked me over his future career of ever being in the NFL. It’s literally his dream! It’s the only thing he knows! And Brittni, I’ve never hated anyone so much in my entire life and she attacked me out there on the field!”
Noah tilts his head to the side. “This ass hole doesn’t know when to stop.” I stare at the wall behind him, and at the missing black-and-white picture of Charlie taped to the wall. “And screw that Barbie bitch!”
“We wrote a song just for that prick!” Omen spits out.
“You wrote a song?” I chuckle back my tears, wishing Charlie would throw open the double doors with her nostrils flaring, huffing and puffing. She’d squeeze my shoulder, tell me to knock off the tantrum, and buckle up. But without her, I can’t borrow her charm of being indifferent when it comes to fighting battles.
