running, working out, eating right.” I pause, going deeper. “I’m identifying negative thoughts, accepting them, and challenging them. I’m a fighter.”
Another reporter noses in. “Will you be able to defeat that Minnesota-Duluth team in the tournament?”
I level my gaze at the camera. “Winners are born to be brought down and their day is coming. Go Lions.”
Cheers go up as the pep band kicks in again.
Flashes go off in my face and cameras swing back and forth, getting the full range of the packed room.
Coach rises to wrap everything up, and I move away and take a seat at the table.
“What else can you tell us about the Predators, Zack? Will you be at summer training camp?”
“Will you be placed on the sick roster?”
“Do you think you’ll have another episode?”
I don’t know the answers to their questions, but I know one thing is true.
Everyone knows what I’m dealing with, and there are no more secrets.
They know I’m not perfect. I have flaws—deep ones.
I may not ever play in the NHL, but at least there’s beauty in this, a kind of peace in admitting the truth.
39
Sugar
I stare at the door of the Kappa house. I don’t know why the hell I’m at this stupid party. Again.
But I do. Part of me wonders if he’ll show. Maybe he’s already here.
Let him go, I remind myself yet again.
I let out a slow exhalation. Just breathe.
I look down at my taupe ankle boots with fringe and the royal blue spaghetti-strap dress Julia suggested I wear. It’s soft and silky, and I’m freezing, but I don’t think I’ll be here long anyway. I think about my dorm room, already itching to get back to it. These days I rarely leave except for class and BB’s, and my friends are right—I’m a sad sack of shit.
I push the door open and the blare of Sir Mix-a-Lot hits me in the face. Nice.
The basement is semi-dark and decorated with tons of black and gold streamers hanging from the ceiling. A poster hangs on the wall: Take It All The Way, Lions. There’s even a banner with pictures of the players in their uniforms plastered next to the DJ booth.
My friends, who’ve obviously been waiting by the door, dash over. Taylor and Poppy are decked out in black and gold since we won our game in the tournament last night. Taylor’s wearing a glittery shirt with a lion on the front and Poppy matches him in a gold cardigan and black pants. Only Julia is the holdout in a clingy green dress and black stilettos. A familiar, tall guy in jeans and a grey sweater stands behind her, and she presents him gently as if she’s afraid I’ll rip his face off.
“Hi,” I say as the not-date-but-just-a guy-I-agreed-to meet-up-with gives me a grin, the same one he’s been giving me in class for the past few weeks. He is handsome, with dark hair, broad shoulders, and a muscular build. I guess it comes from being the wide receiver for the football team. Julia swears she’s never hooked up with him, but she did meet him the same night I met Z at the Kappa party. Turns out, they have two classes together, and a tentative friendship has ensued.
Dallas looks at me appreciatively. “Hey. You look beautiful. I’m glad you made it. Some of these guys were doubtful.” He throws a glance at Poppy, who snorts.
“I’m only scared of pixie girls who think I’m flirting with their boyfriends.” I laugh.
“There must be a story there,” Dallas says, and I nod as our friends eye us with interest and sip on their drinks.
I can practically hear Taylor cooing, wanting me to be into this guy.
And I get it.
They’re worried about me. They want me to be happy.
I nod, giving them a thumbs-up.
Let them believe it.
But…
Dallas isn’t going to fix me. I need out of Sparrow Lake and away from HU. I need distance from Z.
Dallas is charming, though, and I laugh at all the right times, even though my eyes keep sweeping the room.
A few drinks later—yes, I have the punch—and Dallas and Taylor are talking about the next championship hockey game that’s coming up, and my chest tightens. It’s enough that his face is everywhere, even in the news. I think back to the press conference a few days ago, and I feel a sense of relief about him going public.