Tightrope

8

THEN

BECCA

Will had a huge bruise on his cheek near his temple, spreading toward his ear and eyebrow.

We had been playing hockey for a while now, and I hadn't mentioned it to him, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop looking at it.

I couldn't stop thinking that the bruise hadn't been there yesterday.

Will and I had known each other for three years now.

We had gone to the same school and hung out almost every day for the past three years, and he always had some sort of bruise or injury. I had asked him about it years ago, when we first met, and he had told me that he fell a lot. And knowing him, I believed he was clumsy.

But this bruise looked bad. It looked like it hurt.

"Becca! You can't just let me win!" Will complained, and I looked around to find five pucks behind me. Apparently, he had been shooting, and I had been too busy thinking to even try to stop them.

"Sorry, Will. Try again." I said, sliding the pucks back to him.

I really wanted to ask him about it, but my mom had told me that it wasn't nice to ask people about things like that.

Will fired the pucks at me again, and I stopped one out of five. He celebrated, skating backward and smiling, and normally I would have joined him, but I couldn't seem to move.

It was common for Will to have bruises and injuries. Why was I fixating on this one in particular? Why couldn't I just let it go like all the other times?

"Becca? What's wrong?" Will asked, skating towards me with a worried look on his face.

"Will, can I ask you something?" I decided that if he gave me permission, I would ask.

"Sure," he shrugged.

"What happened to your cheek?"

I could see the blush creeping onto his skin. "I fell."

"How did you fall?" I asked, not believing that he literally fell on his face.

"I don't know, I just tripped and fell."

I eyed him suspiciously. He wasn't telling me something, and I knew it.

"What are you keeping from me?" I asked.

"What? Nothing." He said and skated away.

"Come on Will, you know you can tell me." I insisted. "How did you get such a bad bruise?"

Will's expression turned somber, but he didn't say anything. He simply skated away and sat down on a previously snow-covered bench.

I followed him.

"Will?" I asked again.

"Becca, if I tell you, you can't tell anyone," Will warned me.

"Not even your mom. Do you promise not to tell anyone ever?" Will asked, eyeing me seriously. He meant it.

My heart sped up. "I promise."

Will's leg bounced up and down as he bit his lip as if he was trying to find the words to explain what he was about to tell me.

"Do you remember how one time your mom told you that you heard my dad scream because he yelled at the T.V.?" He started.

I nodded.

"He doesn't really yell at the T.V. He yells at me. A lot." Will confessed, and I frowned in confusion.

"Why?" I asked.