My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy

ryl

er with a bandage taped over each kn

hing about today had been

sn't leaning against the wall like

king the hallway like he expected Celeste to

t have to w

kn

o step beside me, his long s

ve the stren

pment room behind the ri

cutting off the n

vibrating hum of the ice chiller through th

e time. "The jo

mach pl

ue? What y

er version of m

of shrinking mysel

gotten me nothing but a sister who read my pri

he word scraping

e were kids. I never meant for a

look, the curl of disgust, or wor

eyes searched mine the way

epeated. He spoke the words

I forced myself to keep talking, even as he

ldn't re

by the vending m

fro

stop," he continued, his voice dropping

ungs in a rush. "Y

mething cracked in his tone. A raw note I'd n

ch, and a girl who wasn't afraid

y pockets. "I broke my ankle a few mont

t hap

to open, but I told him about the stairs, the slick patch of

anything but a game I

sitting still cost

The confession felt like it had been sitting under h

l version. No

't have t

said. Then,

at eight, and the day he turned twelve when his father decid

he word abuse. H

mother know?

ne. "She knows better than anyone. S

ight of what he'd just handed me. I sat there, close enough that

analysis," he said,

. Not what's i

what else was written in those page

real spark of life I'd seen in his eyes all day. "

did

Su

houlder, my fingers

my bag was gone. Stolen with my laptop, my c

n sharpened. "I'll r

't have t

't sound like a dismissal. They sounded like a vo

and walked out, the heavy meta

e surrounding me, trying to understand how a day that began with my life