N: lol
N: how bad
Me: scale of 1-10?
Me: 6
Me: they have a table for me at team dinner
Me: it's a card table
Me: it says SIN BIN on it
N: NO
N: oh my god the lantern?? by the kitchen door??
Me: you KNOW about it
N: it's for guys who miss curfew!!! it's for 1 dinner!!!
N: gunnar sat there freshman year for puking in the bus
Me: well I'm a lifer now
Me: marcy likes me though
Me: she gave me 2 bread baskets
N: marcy is a legend
N: marcy is the only reason I survived freshman year
A video comes through. It's thirty seconds long and badly lit. Nico's in what looks like a kitchen, in sweatpants and a Duluth Physio T-shirt, standing on a foam pad on one leg with his arms out like a kid on a balance beam. He's wobbling. He's grinning. Off to the side, somebody is counting out loud.
"—fourteen, fifteen, sixteen—"
"Don't count at me, Priya, it's distracting—"
"—you said to count! Seventeen—"
At twenty-two seconds he puts his foot down, and somebody off-camera cheers, and the phone jerks around and for a second it's just a girl's face too close to the lens, dark hair up in a clip, laughing.
"Hi, Theo! He was so mad you weren't answering!"
"Priya, give it—"
The video ends.
I watch it three times. Then I type.
Me: 22 seconds?? you were at 15 last week
Me: look at you
N: physio says I might be able to skate in jan
N: like public skate. like a 9 year old at a birthday party