I'd found ways to make eye contact with Mia over the weekend, but at school the next day I kept missing her. When the final bell rang, I was trying not to think about the withdrawal that would hit me like a semi if I couldn't find her.
Hauling back, I kicked the soccer ball as hard as I could. It flew a good ten feet over the goal and bounced up the grassy hill beyond. Jeff's soccer practices had fallen to the bottom of my agenda, especially after what had happened with Finn. Practice sounded like a pain I didn't have the energy to deal with right now.
Still, kicking the ball had always been the best way for me to work out my stress. So here I was, missing shots on the barely upright, unguarded goal at the empty park a few blocks from my house—pathetic. Was there a stronger word than frustrated? Because I was way beyond that at the moment.
I sat for a minute on the cold, dead grass as the sky above me began to darken. Whose dreams would I watch tonight? Clearly not Finn, and oh please, God, not my mom. I'd had a little too much of her cocktail of real estate and worry in the past months. But a random stranger was too much risk. I'd proven that many times.
Pulling a handful of yellowing grass, I chucked it into the air, but it only floated for a moment before returning to the ground. Nowhere near the violent effect I'd been going for. Look at me—just sad. Even my explosions of anger were pathetic.
I heard a soft thud and looked up just in time to duck a soccer ball hurtling toward my face—my soccer ball.
"Oh, oops." At the sound of Mia's voice, my heart pounded so loud in my head that it crowded out all thought.
"Oops," I repeated.
"I thought you were supposed to be good." She dropped her own ball from under her arm and dribbled it back and forth toward me. Watching her feet snapped me out of my fog. My muscles flexed instinctively in response and I got to my feet.
"I am good." I walked closer, mimicking her movements.
With a swift, unexpected move, she swept her left leg wide and kicked the ball just out of my reach and into the goal behind me. She stared me in the eye and frowned. "Maybe if you ever went to practice . . . "
I pivoted and ran to get both balls. Tossing hers back, I stood behind mine. Direct eye contact from her sent my blood pumping. I needed a moment to catch my breath.
"Has Jeff been complaining?" I closed my eyes and relaxed into my body, feeling my muscles ache to take over. When she answered I opened my eyes to watch her.
"Not to me, but I overheard him talking in Coach Mahoney's office today. He wasn't exactly quiet." She kicked her ball off to the side with the toe of one shoe and motioned for me to bring mine closer.
"I see." I picked up my ball and tucked it under my right arm as I walked over.
"So, what is it exactly? Too good to practice with your team, so you do it on your own?" Her brow furrowed, but a smile curved the corner of her mouth.
"Yeah. I try not to mingle with the common people." I dropped the ball to the ground in front of me but didn't touch it—not yet. I needed this moment to last.
"Makes sense." Mia nodded, then her eyes turned cold. "I heard you punched Finn, though. Your best friend? Not so cool . . . even for a celebrity like you."
I felt the muscles in my jaw clench and sparks of anger flared inside me. Instead of answering, I moved my attention to the ball, trying to work through the emotions before I said anything I'd regret.
YOU ARE READING
Insomnia
Mystery / Thriller"It's been four years since I slept, and I suspect it is killing me." Instead of sleeping, Parker Chipp spends each night trapped in the dream of the last person he's made eye contact with. Every night he is crushed by other people's fear and pain...
