Page 24 of Ignition

I snatched my racket and walked away.

The last thing I saw was his eyes widening a fraction on me.

Keeping my footsteps measured—when all I wanted to do was bolt or sink to my knees—was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.

The boos and sneers of the crowd, which might have bothered me once, didn’t even register as my feet hammered the ground.

Too loud. Too heavy.

All sounds were off-pitch, scraping dully against my eardrums, over and over.

I bit down on my bottom lip, hard enough I tasted copper, the sharp slice of pain holding back the barrage of tears.

The locker room slammed shut behind me, and I wanted to tear my clothes to shreds. I wanted to scream.

I sank heavily onto the bench instead and threw my racket at the floor. It clattered and splintered against the locker, the sound of wood hitting metal warped and unnaturally loud in the silence.

“Shh, it’s okay,” a soothing voice called out. Pri. I hadn’t even felt her follow me inside.

Heaving sobs wracked my frame I buried my face in trembling hands. Angry tears spilled down my cheeks, drawing cool rivulets over burning flesh. She only rubbed slow lines along my spine as I gasped for air and wished I was dead.

The clean smell of the locker room vanished. In a pained heartbeat, I wasn’t there anymore, but in another PE class, back in middle school—hands clamped over my ears as jeers rang, over and over, mocking me, calling me similar names as leers snagged on my newly developed chest.

“What happened?”

Her thin, careful voice dredged me from the depths.

The words stumbled, lodging in my throat on the way out and forming a jagged, painful knot. My ribs cracked from strain as I sobbed and ugly-cried on her shoulder, unable to say it out loud.

The clock tower chimed like a gunshot.

Panic clawed at my insides, breaking through the tears.

The thought of people spilling in, seeing me like this—

No.

No no no!

I didn’t know where I found the strength to wash my face, to don a mask of composure, to will my syrupy legs to move.

I dimly registered Pri promising me something I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t remember when she’d parted ways with me—or when I’d reached my room.

Only when I sank onto the plush carpet in the bathroom and hugged my knees to my chest did a shuddering sob finally cleave my body in two.

The sound echoed and screamed off the tiled walls.

Chapter eight

Josh

My shirt clung to my back, gaze glued to her like a moth to a flame. Her face was flushed, chest heaving, eyes ablaze in a way that definitely shouldn’t send such tingles down my spine.

One second, rackets whizzed in the air, slicing through the excited murmurs of the crowd. The next, I’d missed the return by half an inch. I turned, panting, resigned to weathering her insufferable gloating. Instead, her victorious grin looked a touch forced. The taunting remark I’d expected never came. I blinked, the racket groaned under her grip, and she strode away.

No snarky replies.

No triumphant smile.