58

Piper

Fix You Up

I sat on the bleachers during practice with a coffee and a Romans hoodie, smiling for Kassie's sketches as Houston cold was starting to melt into Houston spring. She frowned, smudging the art a little, busy in the sketchwork.

"Okay, give me a scary face," she said, tapping her chin.

"Like this?" I bared my teeth. Based on the grin, I hadn't done nearly enough. I crossed my eyes. "What about this?"

"Wow. That's perfect."

"Frightening. Right?"

"Mm-hmm," Kassie murmured before the snickers overtook her. She finished up the last of the pencil drawings and flashed them to me. "It's great practice. My eyebrows are getting expressive—and trust me—that's a good thing." Her eyes flickered over to the field and her smile faltered. "Oh, damn. I hate when they do those."

The football players were lining up to go at each other for practice. When they crashed together, it sounded like a bunch of buffalo smashing into each other. I instantly found Adam in the crowd, one of the few without a helmet on the sidelines, watching over the other players. His reddish-brown hair caught the red from the sun while he barked instructions.

"Do you know what Adam's old coach told him?" I asked Kassie out of the corner of my mouth, still watching Adam. " If you don't bleed, you don't lead . How messed up is that? And to high school students?"

As far as I was concerned, his coach was a lost cause. Adam was better off without him.

Kassie was strangely quiet next to me and when I glanced over, she stared at me, her pencil frozen over her sketchbook.

"Um…" she hesitated. "He…told you about that?"

"About his high school coach? Yeah."

"What…?" Kassie pulled up a new page in her sketchbook. If I didn't know better, I would've thought she was avoiding my gaze. "What did he say about him?"

To anybody else, I wouldn't have mentioned it, but Adam said both Ryan and Kassie knew.

I dropped my voice, keeping it out of reach of the other girls on the bleachers. "He told me about the accident. I couldn't believe it." That familiar taste of dread hit the back of my throat. I couldn't picture the lanky, fun-loving boy from the party in that much pain. My heart squeezed in my chest. "It's so horrible."

"What…else did he tell you?" Kassie asked carefully.

"What else? What else is there?"

A horrible crack echoed across the field and stopped my train of thought. I glanced back at the players. Three of them went at each other, but they miscalculated their projection and spiraled out towards the tables. I watched, stunned, as one of the guys fell back, toppling into Adam, and hit the table, hard .

"Oh my god." I shot up from the bleachers. " Adam! "

The football players swarmed over him in a second and I couldn't get a good look. Ice gripped my heart. I stumbled off the bleachers, almost taking a dive myself then sprinted to the door that led to the stairs. The same stairs we lounged over while we waited for the guys to file out of the locker rooms. My sneakers squealed against the linoleum.

All I could think about was Adam, sixteen years old, lying on the field, his leg a mess.

The air tore out of me as I willed myself faster. He was fine. He had to be.

He has to be, he has to be, he has to be .

I crashed into the locker room and ran up towards the tunnel, but the circle of football players was gone. Where did they take him? The hospital?

"Oh my god," I stammered out, heart racing.

Adam wasn't on the field. I searched the locker rooms, my heart crashing in my chest. The training center was too big for this. Where is he?!

King walked by, a net bag of footballs over his shoulder.

I practically jumped him when I got close enough and grabbed his arm. "Where'd they take him?"

He frowned down at me. "Who? What?"

"Adam! Where did they take him?!"

"Infirmary?"

That just gave me more time to panic. I sprinted all the way there as if I knew where I was going. I had to double back and ask someone for directions. But if anyone had clocked me, I would've won Olympic gold.

My heart hammered in my throat, my hands were clammy. I could feel tears prickling at the ends of my eyes, threatening to spill over, and I hadn't even seen him yet.

He wasn't even in the infirmary. But Cleo was.

"He's in the blue room, but he asked for you."

Asked for me? Like final rites?!

If anything, that made me panic more. My stomach dropped and I broke into a jog to the blue room.

I slammed open the door and my heart dropped when I spotted him. There he was, sitting on the couch with his jersey on. A faint line of blood trickled down his forehead. A lone butterfly bandage was sloppily placed an inch away from it. That was just decoration .

Adam glanced up and grinned. "Hey, ice princess—"

I sprinted across the floor and gave him the biggest bear hug I could. It might've been nothing to him, but I needed to know he was safe. I needed to know he was okay.

"Woah." Adam chuckled into my hair. "I like this. Is this a new part of practice?"

"I—I saw you got hurt—" My words jumbled together and I could barely push them out, my tongue was tied in knots. Him crashing into that table… Slamming back his head… I pulled back away from him. "I saw—saw you fall—"

"Hey, hey, hey." Adam shook his head and reached for my hands. His were warm. "I'm fine. Look at me, I'm made out of brick."

I couldn't say anything. I was breathing too fast, I couldn't calm down.

He could take care of himself now. He wasn't a high school student. And he spent years rebuilding his strength. That was a straight fact, backed by reputable sources like his physiotherapists and trainers and coaches, but that did nothing to change how I couldn't breathe when I thought of him hitting the table.

All I wanted was to hold him. I needed to make sure he was okay.

His face softened, and he pulled me to the couch, still holding my hands. His thumb stroked my wrist. "I'm fine."

"That was scary," I admitted. "I'm sorry. I don't—I'm sorry—"

He shrugged. "Wasn't scary. Just some freshmen being assholes. It happens."

"But—but—you have—"

"What?"

I gestured toward the blood on his face and the sad excuse for a butterfly bandage. Anger bit into my words. "Who did that? "

"I did." He laughed, leaning back against the couch, still facing me. Still holding my hand. "I hate the infirmary. Fast as I could, I walked out of there, but they gave me some extras."

He pointed to the table next to him, with the assortment of medical supplies that they no doubt just threw at him from their experience with how stubborn he could be. I was about to admonish him for that. My parents always taught me to trust in doctors. I mean, they were doctors. But part of me wondered if it wasn't the trusting doctors that got to Adam and more the infirmary itself.

What kind of memories does that bring up?

I shook my head. "You asked for me?"

"Yeah. Check this out."

Adam pulled out his phone and started typing something while I grabbed everything on the table, bringing it back to the couch. He held up his screen, lines of letters and codes.

"What is that?" I asked, trying to make sense of it.

"It's my grades." He grinned. "Spanish is still fucking me over, but it's above a C now."

I stared at it. "What?"

"Look, it's not anything you'd stick on a fridge, but this is pretty good for my record." Adam shrugged.

"No, it's—" I blinked, struggling with what to say. Because that was a complete surprise. "That's so good, Adam. I can't believe you…you brought them up. You brought them up? Wow."

"Pretty good, right? Math is a kick in the balls, but office hours are helping."

"You…go to office hours?"

"Yeah. When you have your coding workshops, what else am I supposed to do?"

I opened my mouth to reply but closed it just as quickly. What else could he do? What else could the Marrs Manwhore do in the forty-five minutes I took for a coding workshop? Anything. Everything. But I just shook my head and peeled open one of the antiseptic wipes.

He frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing you up," I replied. "That's pretty incredible about your grades, Adam. Now, let's get the blood cleaned off."