Page 74 of Most Valuable Player
“Mm…no. This is what I deserve.”
The knife twists deeper into my abdomen. “What?” I croak.
“For the way I’ve been using you. Especially after everything you did for me last night,” he says, shrugging. “I should feel uncomfortable, and rain is good for that.”
I can’t even fathom how fucked up this is, how he feels he should punish himself because I met the lowest bar of decency by taking care of him. “Fine,” I growl, and I snap the umbrella shut, then toss it onto the lawn. The rain hits me like a sack of bricks, so heavy and with such force it makes my knees twitch with strain. “Then we’ll be uncomfortable together.”
Mason’s weary smile dissolves when he sees my hair matted against my sopping face. “Don’t be annoying,” he mutters as I fold my arms against the chill laying siege to my body.
“Tell me about Liam.”
Mason glances around the street, as if scouting for eavesdroppers, then lowers his eyes to the driveway, fumbling with his aquamarine pendant. “It’s a long story. But I could show you?”
I blink through the water attempting to flood my eyes. “Show me? Like pictures?”
“My journal,” he whispers.
Oh. Mason wants to share his story without having to speak in depth. Maybe his journal documents whatever happened between him and this “ex-fiancé” guy, Liam. The mere word sends a shudder of revulsion down my spine. Was Mason actually engaged to someone witha real wedding ring? Or is he exaggerating—like a swap of “promise rings” or whatever? I’ve never seen Mason around anyone other than the varsity team. Maybe he’s from a different high school?
“I have to get it from my drawer,” Mason whispers. He doesn’t want to go inside.
“I’ll get it,” I tell him. “But promise you’ll come to the car.”
He hesitates, then nods.
It doesn’t take me long to find what he’s referring to. First, I awkwardly apologize to his father, who’s sitting in the living room. He stares vacantly at me when I pop through the door. I make a mental note to ask Mason what his father’s job is later, and why he’s able to sit at home on a Monday watching TV. “Mason?” he asks flatly.
“He’s fine,” I respond.
He goes back to the news. I kick off my shoes to prevent trekking too much water through the house as I jog into Mason’s room. In the bedside table, there’s a ratty, worn journal plastered with peeling stickers—sharks, planets, polka dots, cars. I tuck it beneath my jacket, then return to the driveway. Mason is huddled in my passenger seat, leaned against the window.
I plop into the driver’s seat. When he sees me draw the journal out, his cheeks redden. “It’s embarrassing,” he says quietly. “I started it when I was thirteen. But it’ll give you an idea of what happened without me having to explain everything. I…” He swallows audibly, looking away. “I don’t know that I could.”
I feel tremors of trepidation deep in my body, like I’m about to unearth something that’ll give me nightmares. But he trusts me enough to share this, so I’m willing to accept whatever consequences come of reading this.
Mason is starting to look around fretfully again, so I bring usdown the road until we’re nestled into a spot that faces Lake Evergreen, the gray surface agitated by the onslaught of rain.
I flip open the cover and begin.
Journal #11—last entry, some day, I don’t care anymore
Dad says I’ll heal.
Not sure that’s true. Feels like I’m shattered into ten thousand pieces. How do you put something like that back together without missing bits?
I’m being dramatic. No wonder he stopped loving me.
Or maybe he didn’t. He said he always will even when I threw his ring in his face. Not sure I believe him. I need space. It’s strange to admit because he’s been beside me since the beginning.
I know I should try to get myself out there. Find a club to join. Do something. I’ve wasted every year of public school staying away from my classmates, and what do I have to show for it? I’m pathetic. Fucking useless. Will anyone even care to get to know me during senior year?
Apparently they’re looking for a water boy for the football team. I hear the guys are nice. Though everyone says you should keep an eye out for their quarterback. I don’t remember his name, but I’ll stay out of his way if I get the position.
Nothing else to say anymore. Brain isn’t working.
Bye forever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
