Page 26 of Stealing for Keeps
Someone bumps into me, knocking me out of my spiraling thoughts.
“Shit. Sorry, Claire,” Matt Doyle catches himself as I turn around, clutching my books to my chest. He points at Eddie with a smirk. “No shoving in the halls.”
Then he shoves him back playfully. It’s the usual chaos between passing periods, but today I feel like an outsider. I catch Vaughn’s gaze. His rowdy teammates are between us, but he only watches me. The slight furrowing of his brow feels invasive, like he sees more than I want him to.
Spinning around, I head for chemistry. I’m still carrying Austin’s drawing and I duck into a corner and pull it out so I can stare at it again.
I wasn’t lying when I told him it’s beautiful. He’s so talented.
I wonder if he has any idea just how badly I wish I were still this person. No, of course not. How could he? I hadn’t even meant to bring it up.
I have been able to mostly avoid talking about skating since my injury. Everyone who knows me well has given me space to deal with it without asking a lot of questions. And I have appreciated that, but I think it gave me a false sense of how well I’m dealing with it. Like if I didn’t say it out loud, I would be able to move on and heal my heart along with my foot.
But this drawing has tears welling in my eyes. I can almost feel myself in the very position he drew me. One leg raised behind me like I’ve just landed a jump. I miss that feeling of flying through the air and the sense of accomplishment after weeks or months of practicing and finally nailing a new skill.
“Claire.” Vaughn appears in front of me. The furrow of his brow is more pronounced.
I blink rapidly, and tears trek down my cheeks. Swiping them quickly away, I stand taller and shuffle the drawing into my chem book.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“Fine.” He’s the last person I want to talk to right now.
“You’re not fine.” He steps closer. “I haven’t seen you cry since you lost the junior grand prix freshman year.”
Those were tears of frustration. Is it twisted to think I’d be willing to lose a million times over if it meant I could compete again?
“It’s nothing. I was just having a moment.” I clear my throat and then inhale through my nose.
“I’d say that’s allowed. You’re going through a lot.”
I don’t like the way he continues to stare at me or the attention we’re starting to garner from others spotting us. I can almost see the spark of excitement in their gazes, like they think they’re seeing us reconcile.
“I need to get to class.”
“Don’t run away, Claire.” His fingers circle around my wrist gently. “Let me be here for you. Tell me what you need.”
“Nowyou want to be here for me?”
Vaughn’s expression shifts from sympathetic to guilty. “I’m sorry about this summer.”
“Not as sorry as I am.” I slip out of his grasp and push past him.
* * *
By the time I get home, I’m exhausted from holding in my emotions. I fling myself down on my bed and curl up on my side, hugging my pillow to my chest. Austin’s drawing is tucked away in my backpack, but I can see it vividly if I concentrate hard enough.
Maybe I should have let Vaughn be there for me, but I’m still so mad that his affection seems conditional. When it’s convenient for him, he wants to be there for me. But what about all the rest of the time? When I needed him most, he wasn’t there. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to move on from that.
I’m in slightly better spirits when Lacey comes over after cheer practice.
“What is happening in here?” she asks, looking around at the mess I’ve made. All my clothes are out of the closet and lying on the bed.
“Cleaning and organizing.” I pull out a pair of tennis shoes that are several years old; one shoe is missing the laces. Mom has been on me to do it for months, but I’ve finally reached peak boredom. “I got inspired by some closet organization videos.”
“Okay.” She drops her bag on the floor with a small laugh, then makes a spot for herself on the edge of my bed. “How was your day? I hate our schedules this year. Besides lunch, I barely see you.”
“Fine,” I say. The word is basically my default response at this point, but then I remember that this is Lacey. The one person I don’t have to pretend for. “Actually, it sucked.”
