Growing Pains

Chapter 45 - Something's wrong all the time

E D W A R D

My father dropped me off at school Saturday morning, reminded me to message my mother once I got to the ski resort, and then again before I went to bed, and after I got out of it the next day, so she wouldn't worry. Then he drove off.

We had a game upstate this Saturday, and Coach Sargent had convinced Mr. Colton to let us stay at a ski resort nearby, which had been easy to do, since we were on a winning strike, and Mr. Colton was more than happy to keep us on it, especially if he didn't have to pay for it, although I suspected even if he had, he would still find some money on the school budget to cover the costs for this weekend.

I zipped up my jacket and pulled my bag further up my shoulder.

Someone said, "You're early."

I turned around. Allora King was getting out of her car on the other side of the parking lot, a steaming paper coffee cup in her hand, and the school colors on. After our movie night, I had gone home thinking about everything I had said and done, whether or not I had said it and done it right, or if I shouldn't have said it or done it at all. I hadn't come up with any answers for these questions, of course, and I often wondered if all this overthinking was even worth it, only to figure out that it wasn't, and do it anyway, almost every day after coming home from school or anywhere else really. I couldn't stop myself.

I smiled, and said, "So are you."

She put the coffee on the roof of her car and reached for her bag in the passenger's seat before closing the door. I watched her do all this from where I stood in the cold, bags under my eyes, the hood of my sweatshirt over my head. It was six a.m. I had woken up at half past four to make sure I had packed everything. I didn't care. I could barely sleep thinking about the weekend. I doubted that was the case for Allora. There were no bags under her eyes, no puffy face, no yawning every other minute.

She walked over to me, braids tied behind her back, and said, "I wanted to get some caffeine on the way. Do you wanna try it? I got something different this time."

I smiled again, and said, "Sure."

She handed me her coffee and watched me take a sip, a grin on her face. I had no idea why she was grinning, just that she looked good doing it. The coffee reminded me of my grandmother's pumpkin pie. It was very good. When I told her that, her grin turned into laughter. She also looked good doing that.

"It's a pumpkin spiced latte," she said, very slowly. "How do you feel?"

I was very confused, "Like I'm at Thanksgiving?"

"Sure," she said. "But is your masculinity withering away?"

I handed her back the coffee, but kept my confusion, "Should it be?"

Her grin disappeared, "Forget it. I guess it doesn't work with you. The other day, Coach saw me drink one of these, and gave me so much shit for it. Something about the capitalization of fall, and how these multimillionaire companies profited off of something we could get for free from nature, which is all good, until he said, no real man would ever drink anything with syrup in it."

"His masculinity has to be really fragile to be threatened by syrup," I managed, following her towards the buses where both her Coach and mine were already loading it up with equipment.

She shook her head and took a sip of her coffee before saying, "Watch this."

We were approaching the buses. Coach Sargent threw a bag inside and then turned to me to smile and say good morning. Allora's Coach, who I didn't know the name of, crossed his arms over his beer-belly and frowned at her.