Five

Mason

Jean-Paul Renaudin Memorial Hockey Arena

Saturday, March 31

6:00 p.m.

I hadn’t expected to get a call from Lauren this afternoon. I half expected us to never speak again. Not that I blamed her for that. At least not entirely. Now everything is a mess. Kady hates me. Lauren hates me. God, even I hate me.

It’s quiet here at the rink. The stands are empty. Everything echoes—from the scrape of my skate blades to the tap of my stick against the ice. I pull back my arm and take a slapshot to one of the pucks I’ve dumped out of a bucket. I send the puck flying into the open net. At first, I hadn’t been worried when Lauren called, asking if I’d talked to Kady yet. I figured she was probably sleeping in on a Saturday, or maybe she’d gone off for a little while to work out her own shit. I was hoping that was it. I didn’t know what I was going to do if she couldn’t forgive me.

My mind flashes back to that day last week in the cafeteria. I should have stepped in when Kady and Lauren got into that fight. I’d never seen them go at it like that before, and definitely never in public. Girl fights are supposed to be hot, but this one didn’t do anything for me. It was horrible and made even worse because I was the cause of it all. Me and that stupid kiss.

I take another shot, but it ricochets off the pipe.

Lauren should never have put that note in my locker. I should never have agreed to go to the fort with her. Lauren should have kept quiet and said nothing to Kady, just like we agreed. I should have pulled them apart before Lauren hit the cafeteria floor. Shoulda, shoulda, shoulda.

My dad always tells me not to should on myself. It’s supposed to be a joke, but it’s not very funny.

By the time I got to the rink this afternoon, Kady still hadn’t returned any of my texts. And by then I’d sent plenty. Each one more pathetic than the last. I even used the crying face emoji. Maybe that’s why she’s not responding.

The beginner figure skaters are showing up for lessons. Twenty or so little girls in mittens and colorful sweaters. They remind me of my little sisters, which reminds me that I need to get home. I collect all my pucks and drop them in the bucket. Then I head for the locker room. The first thing I do there is check my phone. Still nothing. And now I’m starting to freak out a bit. Kady’s never been quiet this long.