Running at practice feels like freedom.
We do drills. Then Coach splits the team in half and we scrimmage, like boys on the playground. Field slick with dew. Mud on our shins. Troy pops the ball, high, clearing it from one side to the next, and I speed to reach it.
Sprint.
Remembering what it is to want something, even if that wanting is to let go, trust my feet, and not think. It isn’t a choice. It’s instinct. And it only happens if I give in to it, if I commit. It’s the point when I accept that bones could break and shins could splint, and I don’t care, because that little bit of freedom is all mine and I’m going to take it.
Hesitate and it’s over. One second and the other team gets the ball. Two seconds and your kneecaps tear off. Three, forget three, it’s only guilt and regret.
Don’t think. Don’t breathe. Charge.
I trap the ball and dribble up the line. The ease slides over me, like a numbness, and everything else ceases to exist. I square up the shot and take it.
Like it’s all I’ve got.
’Cause if I believe there’s more—
I’ll miss.
* * *
After practice I find Vanessa sitting on the hood of my car. She’s got a basket of O’Dell’s fries sitting in her lap and a Coke straw pinched between her lips. It’s freezing out. But she doesn’t seem to care with her tight shirt showing off just how cold it is. I think she likes the fact that it makes me stare.
“What do you want?” I say, snagging a fry.
“You’re an asshole,” she says, and I shrug. I walk past her and open the door to throw my bag in the back. She twists to look at me, her black hair slipping off her shoulders. “What the fuck was that at the lake? You ignore me, then take a swim? What’s your deal?”
“I’m moody,” I say, throwing her a half smile. She rolls her eyes and groans, the straw sliding from her mouth.
“A moody asshole,” she says, finding the straw again with her tongue, which looks sexy and stupid at the same time.
“Are you gonna get in the car or not?” I nod to the passenger seat, and she glares at me. I wait and she rolls herself off the hood and climbs in, which I knew she’d do.
That’s exactly why I like her.
It’s why this works.
I take Vanessa to the lookout, where she climbs on top of me and I forget everything else. I forget about soccer, and school, and Josie, and Marion. I remember why I like my life the way it is.
Disposable like this.
Good like this.