I’ve texted my brother six times with no answer. I hung out with June and Lucas after school so I had them drop me off and told Hayden I didn’t need a ride. I didn’t hear back then, and the five texts after have all gone unread. Normally, I’d lie for him about being late to practice, but I think I’ve made enough concessions in the last twelve hours to hold me over on favors for a little while. He can come up with his own excuse for this one. Besides, it’s not like he or I would ever get benched. Coach sits us and he might as well spot the other team twenty points.
I toss my phone into my temporary locker and fling the door shut, jogging out the door to begin warm-ups with the team. Our shoes squeak a little more than normal on the junior high floors, and we set a playful rhythm as we jog our laps around the gym. I’m comfortable in the pattern, laughing with Chaz, who actually isn’t being a dick for once, when something quickly throws our rubber sole musical off beat.
“Hey!” My brother’s fast pace is accompanied by screeching steps that spin me around as I run. I take a few steps backward before my own sweatshirt is thrown at my face, followed by my brother’s fist.
“You left something at Abby’s house, you fucking snake!”
I’m still a bit wobbly from the first punch, struggling to get my feet under my weight as they scurry. Hayden seizes the moment, shoving me backward completely, and I fall on my ass. Hard!
“What the fuck, Hayden!” I run the back of my hand across my nose, getting a streak of blood on my skin. The bright red fuels my own rage. So much for high roads and forgiveness.
I scramble to my feet as my brother charges me with his shoulders lowered, like a bull seeing red. I brace myself for impact, catching him around his midsection and lifting him in the air before throwing him to the ground. Our bodies tangle, a fury of awkward punches and flails. He smacks my ribs and sides so hard I get the wind knocked out of me, but I’m undeterred. I’m finally able to get my knees on his arms, pinning him to the floor as I straddle his body. I’ll only be able to hold him like this for a second, three tops.
“Hayden, what is going on?” I hold his wrists to the ground and lean all of my weight on him as I look into his raging eyes.
“You tell me, brother. You tell me!” He thrusts me off and grabs the sweatshirt from the floor, once again throwing it at my face.
I know what it is. I know why he’s pissed, but this reaction—in front of everyone—feels a bit excessive. It’s not like anything happened. Not that I didn’t try.
Maybe his reaction is more on target than I give him credit for.
“Abby get cold or something and you just need to warm her up? Or you leave that over there when you were sneaking around behind my back?”
Chaz snickers in a low breath, loving this drama between me and my brother. We should both forget about our issues and take out Chaz right now.
“Hayden, I’m not sneaking anything. And if you don’t know your girlfriend well enough that you have these kinds of trust issues, then maybe you need to step off and deal with that.” I toss my sweatshirt into a corner then tug down my jersey before testing the blood on my nose again. My cheek is puffy, and I’m sure there’s a bruise forming under my eye.
“We about done here?” Coach Newsome steps into the space between Hayden and me. My brother and I are maybe eight inches taller than the man, and we each outweigh him by forty pounds. His physical authority isn’t intimidating, but he has this disappointing tinge to his expression that tends to dominate whenever he needs to use it. He’s using it now, his mouth a flat line and his eyes drooping with disgust. He tucks his clipboard under his arm to clap. I’ve seen this move before too. He does this to referees when they blow calls. Hell, he’s gotten thrown out of games for mocking them like this. Pretty sure Hayden and I don’t have the authority to throw him out of anything.