Page 126 of Dirty Roulette
“Noah pulled an all-nighter to write it, and we’ve been practicing it all day.” Omen steps over, his arms crossing as he leans against the cold brick wall. He sinks down, sitting next to me. “And you know what... Now that I think about it Noah, I think this Brody bitch forced Charlie to break up with you. If he’s trying to make them break up, who’s to say he didn’t do it to you.”
“Yeah.” Vince huffs, rubbing a hand over the crease of his neck. “Shit felt off with her that night.”
I rake a hand through my hair, that minor look in Charlie’s eyes that night screamed at me to help her, but we just got into a fight instead. The guilt makes every muscle in my body constrict like a charley horse.
“I dunno what the hell is wrong with me, thinking I could just hack the Jumbotron and broadcast his dirty laundry on live television.” My soul rattles the iron bars it’s trapped behind, begging to be let free.
“No, it’s not stupid.” Noah chuckles and shakes my shoulder. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could hack it, princess.”
I swallow the remnants of tears. “I dunno.”
“We got one shot at showing every damn person out there what he did to Charlie, and you. I’m with you.Weare with you.” He points to his band members behind him. “Fuck Brody. My screams are going to throw him out of this stadium! Now get up, and let’s finish this.” Noah stands up, holding out his hand.
Chapter forty-nine
Ryder
Itrudge into the locker room at halftime hurling my helmet at the lockers. Crunching metal echoes off the wall. “Fuck!” I cry out and slump to the bench with one hand raking through my hair. Body odor fills the thick air. Teammates scatter around, chugging water, and others get taped up.
“What the hell is happening out there?” Jared points his helmet at me. Sweat drenches every strand of hair on top of his head. “Brody has every opportunity to pass you the ball and he doesn’t. Then when you are surrounded, he throws it at you, and you can't catch the damn ball! It’s like he’s doing it on purpose just to get you benched in the next quarter!” I chew the inside of my cheek. I shouldn’t even be on the field. “And then you could have intercepted that play! You’ve never been this off before!”
My head spins thinking that cleats on the turf, and catching a damn ball was all that I ever wanted. People cheering when I’m on the Jumbotron in the endzone has been my life. It’s the only thing I haveever known. My dad bought me my first set of cleats when I was barely in kindergarten. I’d play football all year round up until I graduated high school.
I stare at the floor, black mold cakes around the cold tiles, and it offers no comfort. Jared’s lecturing fades, his voice and the sound of cleats clacking turn into white noise. Jared is animated, his hands flailing, fire in his eyes as he’s only thinking about the field and the awful scoreboard.
My head is nowhere near the game. All I can think about is Payton’s face. The ache in her opal eyes tearing me limb from limb knowing our video was posted. She was told he was gonna force me to leave her.
I’d give anything to rewind time like those old video cassettes. Take those picture frames and reorder them. Something yanks me out of my body, my brain fading into blackness like a movie theater. Moments with Payton run through my head on replay.
I’m back in elementary, top dog of the fifth-grade boys. She’s a second-grader playing tag with my sister on the playground. She had a gap between her two front teeth, one tooth was bigger than the other. I said something mean. Charlie and her were a blubbery mess, and a teacher wagged a finger at me out in the hallway about being kind.
My memories morph, twisting into something else. My sneakers stomped on the sidewalk holding one handlebar teaching Payton how to ride a bike without training wheels. I let her go, and she’s flying down the road, the bike wobbling side to side as she pedals.
I’m in middle school, feeling weird in my own skin. Hair on my legs. Voice cracking. I don’t like it. Charlie and Payton would storm into my bedroom in the middle of the night, pulling off my covers. They’d convince me to go swimming, and we’d cannonball into the pool when Mom and Dad weren’t home. Which was always. It was just us livinglife, unsupervised. I miss making macaroni in the kitchen, standing in the puddle of pool water dripping from my swim trunks.
It floods back. Being a junior in high school. Payton sitting on the barstool in the kitchen wearing a pair of sweatpants too big for her. She’s sobbing, wiping boogers on her hand telling me about Kyle and the rumor rampaging across the school like a vicious wildfire. I’m tossing my old football jersey at her, and it plopped on top of her head. I pick her up the next day, making sure every damn soul sees me kissing her on top of her forehead.
Senior year hits, and my prom date decided to dip and found someone else to take her. I had an extra ticket, and the corsage I bought. Charlie dolled up Payton, curling her hair and throwing a black glitter bomb dress on her. Somewhere in the thousands of pictures I’ve posted online, there is one with us dancing under the dim lights and me kissing her on the forehead.
I’ll love her ‘til my coffin drops.
I snap out of it, my soul sucks back into my body like a vacuum. No matter what I do, or what memory I savor from the past. I’m stuck here on this cold metal bench in a locker room reeking of bleach and feet. This stupid game of Roulette has reigned for the last four years of my life. Each time I try to break the chain another link is attached to it. I’ll never dig myself out of the debt I owe. Brody will keep playing it.
Jared still spits at me. “Ryder!” He hollers and I meet his eyes, and he can see right through me like a glass house. “We are going to lose the game if you don’t get your shit together!”
“I don’t care anymore...”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m done playing Roulette, and if it means I never touch a damn ball again. I don’t care, he’s not taking Payton from me.”
“Seriously, that’s where your head is at?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Coach Storm's voice cuts through the noise, huddling up everyone. I stand. My legs are like lead as I join the circle. I try to focus, to find the spark that once ignited my bloodstream, but it’s buried beneath layers of regret and years of Roulette dragging me down the wrong road.
“Y'all are letting them win! Your emotions are dominating the field!” He’s trying to pump us up by making a turnaround. “You all look like you’ve already lost!”
I know. The other team is eating it all up too. Brody quirks up his eyebrows, biting his bottom lip, and shaking his head at me.
