Page 140 of Facing Off
Meanwhile, I’m making intense slashing movements across my neck in the background that my sisters ignore completely.
Sonya angles her head at them, frowning softly. “He talks about me all the time?”
I laugh loudly. Nervously. And barrel the conversation forward past her question by spilling a glass of lemonade. I’m shaky as I grab paper towels, becausefuck.
She’s here.She’s really here.
I’ve imagined Sonya meeting my family so many times, but I didn’t think it would ever happen.
I thought maybe they would run into each other at one of my games—or in passing outside the locker room, even though over the years when Sonya has shown up to see the Wings, it’s not been when my sisters, my nibling, or my mother are there.
Timing hasn’t worked out, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about them meeting before.
I have. So fucking frequently. Why? I don’t know. I can’t shake the feeling that this matters. I love my family, and I want Sonya to be loved by them. And I want my family to meet Sonya so she might love them, too. And I want Sonya to look at me and lo?—
My sister throws a dinner roll at me. It bounces off my arm. I gasp in horror. “We have our first game tomorrow. You could’ve injured me, Aurora.”
She cackles. “Please, you’re going to crush it, I bet.”
Alice looks at Sonya. “The Wings might have lost last year, but my brother always pulls it together. They’ll win this season, for sure.”
“Yeah, it’s Adrian,” says Alexa. “So duh.”
I smile because I should be happy, hearing how much they believe in me, but I’m also twisting my watch around my wrist needlessly. They don’t know how much pressure I’m under, about what’s going on with the GM.
It’s not their fault, it’s mine. Especially after Jessepassed away, I stopped opening up about what I’m facing, too scared it centered my needs above theirs. Now they consider me infallible, but I’m not.
My knee bounces as food gets passed around. I wish I could tell them I’m not sleeping properly, that’s how worried I am about the Wings. I just don’t know how.
Underneath the table, Sonya puts her hand in mine, anchoring me. When I glance at her, she nods. This intense, silent encouragement.
My pulse quickens. With her by my side, I was able to go to Jesse’s memorial. That lifted something old and heavy off my shoulders. Hearing the wordsit’s not your faultandbelievingthem is shifting the ground underneath my feet. I want to deconstruct old thought patterns.
Can I keep going? Can I do this, too?
Sonya squeezes my fingers, and I exhale. Something unlocks in my chest. More courage.
“Actually—” My heart leaps. “So…this year. The GM said if I don’t prove to him that some players deserve to be here, he’ll, um, trade them.”
Silence.
No one speaks, until Aimee drops her fork. “That’s messed up!“
Her voice becomes a chorus, joined by the others. They hate the GM and how unfair his expectations are, and don’t agree with the pressure being put on my shoulders, how it can’t be my fault if anybody gets taken off the team.
“I’m trying to figure it out,” I find myself saying, automatically trying to ease their outrage.
With her hand against my thigh, Sonya gives it a light flick. She arches an eyebrow. “Or…it’s okay not to be okay. To be tired of being responsible for others. To sometimes hate it. That doesn’t make you a bad person.” She shrugs. “Iknow this is funny coming from me, but don’t look for a solution that is all on you to solve.”
Her saying those words? It changes the dialogue.
Suddenly, my family is asking different questions.
“How can we help?”
“What can we do?”
“What do you need?”
