memory. To my tenth birthday when a girl from my neighborhood secretly took pictures of me hugging the band’s drummer, Raif, after I opened my present. He was in the middle of a custody battle, and when those pictures showed up in the Enquirer looking provocative, his ex-wife used to them to imply he was a danger to children. It took six months to get his rights back. The girl made $5000 on that picture.
“Maybe you can’t see the way people admire you here, but I can see it. You have some really great friends.” And in my world those weren’t easy to come by.
“Not my dad. It’s just never enough for him.” His voice trailed off.
My dad always referred to Ricky’s crying spells as “drunk honesty.” And right now, Blake was swimming in that kind of raw honesty.
“I love her.” He mumbled, sounding half asleep. “Cody won’t take her too.”
“Take who?” He had to be talking about Lindsay. But why would Cody want Lindsay? I squeezed a pillow to my chest. Why couldn’t anyone just tell me what was going on? “Blake?”
But only steady breathing answered.
My screen flashed back to the menu like the call never happened. And I wished it hadn’t. A million questions buzzed in my head, and every one of them had to do with Cody.
CODY
T he smell of rubber and sweat greeted me the moment I walked into The Storm on Monday morning. This place had been my home for almost two years and yet marching to the gallows would be less terrifying. Two weeks had passed since Matt threw me out, and part of me wondered if he’d calmed down yet. Or if my absence made him regret ever taking a chance on me.
I spotted him watching two guys grappling inside the farthest ring. Hand on his chin, his eyes were locked on the match, no doubt analyzing their moves and strengths. Matt was always calculating strategy and gauging improvement. It’s why he was the best. Why every time I wrestled him, I left a stronger fighter.
He ignored me when I invaded the space to his right. I deserved the silence, but it still stung. I assessed the guys in the ring: their height, their weight, their focus. The larger one was black as midnight and towered over his quick-footed opponent. But he was struggling and soon was stuck using sheer strength to stay off the rubber.
“He dropped his left shoulder too soon,” I said. Only a raised eyebrow from Matt, but finally, an acknowledgement. “His foot placement was also sloppy. He used way more energy than necessary just to balance.”
When the corner of Matt’s mouth lifted, pride swelled in my chest like air filling a balloon. “Very good. How’s your sunburn?”
I raked a hand through my hair and gripped the back of my neck, wishing I could erase my stupidity. “It’s all healed.”
“Should be after two weeks.” His words were edged in disappointment and judgment. Both of which I’d earned.
My pulse raced in my wrist, my fingers moving in and out of a fist to settle the slight tremble. “I wanna come back and train.”
Matt slid his arms across his chest, a motion that had his forearm flexing. His face was a mask of indifference. Watching. Analyzing. Just like with the guys in the ring. “I thought you said you were just coasting the rest of the year.”
I did say that. And he had every right to kick me out.
“I’m sorry,” I said, but he didn’t respond. I planted my feet. I didn’t care if I had to stand there all day. I wouldn’t let one careless morning overshadow how hard I’d worked. “Sorry for my attitude and for my mouth. I had no right to speak to you so disrespectfully. I let the pressure get to me.”
We stared at each other for what seemed like a century. Matt held his body like a stone carving. “And who are you training for?”
“Me. Just me. I want to prove my worth as captain and win.” Win state and my freedom.
He stepped forward. “The coach didn’t choose you for captain because you won a bunch of trophies last year. He chose you because
“Maybe you can’t see the way people admire you here, but I can see it. You have some really great friends.” And in my world those weren’t easy to come by.
“Not my dad. It’s just never enough for him.” His voice trailed off.
My dad always referred to Ricky’s crying spells as “drunk honesty.” And right now, Blake was swimming in that kind of raw honesty.
“I love her.” He mumbled, sounding half asleep. “Cody won’t take her too.”
“Take who?” He had to be talking about Lindsay. But why would Cody want Lindsay? I squeezed a pillow to my chest. Why couldn’t anyone just tell me what was going on? “Blake?”
But only steady breathing answered.
My screen flashed back to the menu like the call never happened. And I wished it hadn’t. A million questions buzzed in my head, and every one of them had to do with Cody.
CODY
T he smell of rubber and sweat greeted me the moment I walked into The Storm on Monday morning. This place had been my home for almost two years and yet marching to the gallows would be less terrifying. Two weeks had passed since Matt threw me out, and part of me wondered if he’d calmed down yet. Or if my absence made him regret ever taking a chance on me.
I spotted him watching two guys grappling inside the farthest ring. Hand on his chin, his eyes were locked on the match, no doubt analyzing their moves and strengths. Matt was always calculating strategy and gauging improvement. It’s why he was the best. Why every time I wrestled him, I left a stronger fighter.
He ignored me when I invaded the space to his right. I deserved the silence, but it still stung. I assessed the guys in the ring: their height, their weight, their focus. The larger one was black as midnight and towered over his quick-footed opponent. But he was struggling and soon was stuck using sheer strength to stay off the rubber.
“He dropped his left shoulder too soon,” I said. Only a raised eyebrow from Matt, but finally, an acknowledgement. “His foot placement was also sloppy. He used way more energy than necessary just to balance.”
When the corner of Matt’s mouth lifted, pride swelled in my chest like air filling a balloon. “Very good. How’s your sunburn?”
I raked a hand through my hair and gripped the back of my neck, wishing I could erase my stupidity. “It’s all healed.”
“Should be after two weeks.” His words were edged in disappointment and judgment. Both of which I’d earned.
My pulse raced in my wrist, my fingers moving in and out of a fist to settle the slight tremble. “I wanna come back and train.”
Matt slid his arms across his chest, a motion that had his forearm flexing. His face was a mask of indifference. Watching. Analyzing. Just like with the guys in the ring. “I thought you said you were just coasting the rest of the year.”
I did say that. And he had every right to kick me out.
“I’m sorry,” I said, but he didn’t respond. I planted my feet. I didn’t care if I had to stand there all day. I wouldn’t let one careless morning overshadow how hard I’d worked. “Sorry for my attitude and for my mouth. I had no right to speak to you so disrespectfully. I let the pressure get to me.”
We stared at each other for what seemed like a century. Matt held his body like a stone carving. “And who are you training for?”
“Me. Just me. I want to prove my worth as captain and win.” Win state and my freedom.
He stepped forward. “The coach didn’t choose you for captain because you won a bunch of trophies last year. He chose you because
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