Page 50 of Strange Love

“Corey thinks he’s in trouble. They have a game today, and he’s not there. The coach is furious, and Corey’s worried something happened to him. Can you please call him or even go over to his house?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she scoffs. “This has to be some kind of joke.”

“Sash, I’m so sorry for asking, but I’m with my family getting ready to leave for the game, and Corey is concerned.”

“Fine, I’ll go to his house,” she sighs reluctantly. “I’m sure he’s passed out under a pile of random women, but if I can manage to peel them off, I’ll tell him to go to his game.”

“Thank you, Sash. You are the best friend anyone could ask for.”

“You better remember this when I need a favor in return,” she playfully threatens before ending the call.

We stop on the way to the arena to pick up my sister, who had spent the night at her friend’s house. When we pull up, I can already see Sascha and Taz getting out of their car. Taz looks worse for wear, with dark circles under his eyes and a tired slump to his shoulders. I turn to my parents and urge them to head inside. “I’ll join you in a moment. There’s someone I want to say hello to.”

“Of course, Sweetheart,” my mom responds understandingly. “We’ll see you inside.”

Taz and Sascha make their way toward me, and I can’t help but notice that something is off with Taz. His gait is unsteady, and his usually confident demeanor is darkly muted. As soon as they are within earshot, Sascha speaks up.

“Well, I found him. And he’s alive.”

Relief floods through me, quickly followed by concern as I take in Taz’s appearance. Bruises mar his face, and his clothes are stained with dirt and blood.

“He doesn’t look too good,” I comment, unable to hide my worry.

“Thanks, Ivy. I appreciate that,” Taz retorts sarcastically.

Ignoring his tone, I turn to Sascha, “What happened?”

Sascha sighs heavily. “I’m not entirely sure. But he’s refusing to go to the doctor.”

Without hesitation, I step forward. “Can you take him to the locker room and have the trainers check him out?”

“That’s the plan,” she replies. “If you get Corey’s attention, signal him that Taz is fine, and we’ll deal with everything after, okay?”

“Of course,” I tell her. I go inside, my heart beating too fast, worrying about Taz’s injuries and excitement to watch Corey play. I see Corey, tall and confident, gliding across the ice, his dark hair peeking out from under his helmet. Even if I didn’t see his jersey number “34,” I’d know him by how he skates alone.

He stops as he reaches me, sending a spray of ice to the side, and I get up to meet him at the glass between us. He gives me a cocky half-smile and places his gloved hand against the glass. In return, I place mine against it, a silent communication of the emotion between us. Soon enough, I remember my task and give him a thumbs-up sign while mouthing the words, “He’s okay.”

Corey gives me a grateful smile, sweat dripping down his face as he follows his team off the ice. The crowd’s roar echoes through the arena, heightening the energy in the air. I bounce in my seat, rubbing my hands over the denim of my jeans, unable to contain my excitement. My dad chuckles at my jittery behavior and suggests I go get us some snacks to pass the time before the game starts.

Grabbing Nat’s hand, we approach the concessions area, filled with the aroma of freshly popped popcorn and sizzling hot dogs. But as my luck would have it, Stacy and a few of the Vipers are also loitering around, their smirks and sneers aimed in my direction.

“Oh, Ivy,” Stacy purrs mockingly. “Is this your little sister?”

My jaw tightens, but I force a polite smile and instinctively step in front of Nat.

“Yes,” is all I offer before returning to focus on getting our drinks. I try to ignore their presence, but Amber makes it impossible when she directly addresses Natalie.

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing?” Her voice drips with saccharine sweetness, making me cringe in disgust. She peers down at my sister, and I can practically feel her condescending gaze burning into my sister’s eyes. “At least you were never a missing kid on a milk carton,” she sneers. “There’s still hope for you to turn out normal.”

A fiery rage shoots through my body, starting from my toes and reaching the top of my head. Every muscle tenses as I clench my fists in fury. How dare she speak to my sister like that. I’m tired of being pushed around by these mean girls. In a moment of wild impulse, I consider throwing my hot chocolate in her face, but rationality takes over when I remember it’s piping hot. Natalie, however, doesn’t exhibit that same restraint as she hurls her ice-cold soda toward Amber’s face and chest with a satisfying splat. The sticky, sweet liquid drips down Amber’s stunned expression as she stands frozen in shock.

“What’s your damage?! You grody little brat!” she yells at Natalie, her face red with anger as she takes in the now-discolored Benetton sweater. The once bright and vibrant colors have been stained by the caramel-colored soda meant to be my mom’s refreshment.

Nat shrugs nonchalantly as if this kind of accident is a regular occurrence for her.

“I may be ‘normal,’ but I’m also incredibly clumsy,” she says with a sheepish grin.

With a final icy glare, Amber and her clique storm off in a huff. I shoot Natalie a mischievous wink and whisper, “Come on, Clumsy, let’s fetch another round for Mom and head to our seats.”