Lacrosse

31- Worry and Early

Kendall

I don't even bother reporting to Psychology once the bell rings for fourth period to start. I just wander to the bathroom, still in tears.

I stand in front of the mirror and pull my phone out of my back pocket. Even just the sight of the phone makes me want to chuck it across the room. He gave it to me. It makes me cry a little harder and I wonder to myself if I will dehydrate from crying before I even make it home today. If a stupid gift makes me bawl, what's going to happen when I see the sights of the memories we have created in the school? What's going to happen when I walk past the trophy case where he asked me on our first date? Or my old locker, where we shared our first kiss?

I unlock the phone and check the time. It's eleven o'clock and my parents got home at nine. I dial up the familiar phone number of my mom's cell phone and bring my phone to my ear, listening to it ring repeatedly and willing her to pick it up soon, before I start crying again and won't be able to be understood.

She finally answers. "Kendall!"

"Can you pick me up?" I ask, my voice coming out soft and weak.

"What's wrong honey?" she asks, the concern for me seeping through the phone line.

"Just please pick me up. I can't stay here. I'll explain when we get home but just come right now."

"I'm on my way."

I hang up the phone and look at myself in the mirror. The light coat of brown mascara I put on this morning is now staining my cheeks. My blue eyes are puffy and red from tears. I grab a paper towel from the holder on the wall and wet a corner, wiping the mascara off gently.

A toilet flushes from behind me and I suddenly feel self conscious. I look like crap and I feel like it too. I didn't know anyone else was in here.

Jessica, the senior captain from my team, comes out of the stall nearest the door and stands at the sink next to me, washing her hands silently. She purposefully avoids making eye contact with me and I don't think anyone will ever comprehend how thankful I am for that. If anyone was to look at me right now, I think I'd start bawling and never be able to stop.

"Are you okay?" Jessica asks, pulling a paper towel out of the metal holder and drying her hands off, still not looking at me.

"Not really," I reply.

"I heard about what happened. Well, not what really happened happened but what went down in the hallway," she explains.

"I think everyone has."

"I'm really sorry," Jessica says sadly. "I mean that." I don't think I've ever heard Jessica sad. She's the girl who never frowns. She's always the girl that everyone goes to when they need to smile. When we need a pep talk during a game, she's always the one there to raise our spirits. She's the only person who I've ever seen get in trouble at practice for laughing too much and being too nice. The fact that she has sadness in her voice frightens me.

"Well aren't we all," I sigh.

"Your mom's coming?" I simply nod my head in reply. "I'll tell Amanda you're still sick from Saturday. She's probably already heard but it'll keep you from getting in trouble for missing practice."

"Thanks."

Jessica wraps her arms around me awkwardly. We have never been that close and I've always kind of gotten a feeling that she has something against me, even though everyone I've talked to about it have said that she loves everyone. The random act of kindness warms my heart and as we leave the restroom and head out separate ways to our fourth hour classes, which I am now very late to, I begin to believe that maybe everything will be alright again soon.

*****

As I walk into my Psychology class, everyone stops what they're doing to stare at me. Most of them, if not all, are staring because they know what happened in the hallway. Any of them that don't know are just trying to figure out why I'm so late.

"Kendall, you are nearly fifteen minutes late! What have you been doing?" Mrs. Carter scolds, but I must look worse than I thought because her tone and expression softens when she looks at me. "Oh dear, is everything alright?"

I nod my head, knowing that if I answer I'll break down once more. All I need to do is last until my mom comes. It should only be a few more minutes.

I sit in my desk near the window that overlooks the lacrosse field and stare out of it, letting Mrs. Carter's words about sociopaths versus psychopaths drift in one ear and out the other.

Finally a staticky voice rings out from the speaker on the wall. "Excuse me? Kendall Freed for early dismissal."

"She's on her way," Mrs. Carter calls. I slip my bag over the shoulder and walk out of the classroom, Mrs. Carter telling me to feel better as I walk past her.

*****

"How was your trip?" I ask my mom as we get into the front seats of her car.

She looks at me funny, knowing that I already know the answer. It was a business trip, and their business is baking. They own a small bakery downtown and are always traveling to try to find people who want to franchise the place around the country. She still replies good to be polite.

"What happened sweetie?" she finally questions, using a tone that makes me know that she has been wanting to ask me for a while.

Those three simple words bring everything back, and I realize that it was never truly gone. I can try to bury it as much as I want, I can try to hold back the tears, I can try to mask the pain, but it will always be there.

I explain what has happened this past week, leaving out the parts about the stalking, vandalism, and rape. I tell her about how I was scared to be at the house alone, instead of telling her the real reason I say that I watched a horror movie, so I was staying at Josh's house. I tell her about what Mrs. Hyland was saying about me and our family, my mom's knuckles turning white as she clenches the steering wheel tighter. Then I tell her about the way Josh kissed me, instead of saying it reminded me of my attack I say that it made me feel used, and then I tell her about what I saw at the bleachers.

"I'm so sorry Kendall," my mom whispers and I can see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes through the rear view mirror. Most people wouldn't think that this statement cuts it as comforting enough, but for me it is. Just having my mom back home to say anything to me is enough, and what else is there exactly to say?

"It's just," I choke out the words between sobs as I go, "I thought he really loved me."
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Hey guys!
Thanks for 20k reads! Sorry for the short chapters recently.
Xoxo,
Sydney