Evelyn’s silent, searching the field. “He’s there.” She points toward a crowd of players. “What in the hell’s going on?”
As the players retreat to their sides, Hudson’s not the only one missing as Camden’s offense takes the field. “Nolan’s not starting, either,” I say.
“Or Palmer,” Mila adds.
“This has to be about last week’s game,” Evelyn says.
“This is bullshit,” I say. “Absolute bullshit.” I peer around, waiting for others to feel the same level of outrage, but everyone stares at the field, blissfully unaware of the power trip happening right now.
I search the bench for Nolan and find him sandwiched between Hudson and Palmer on the bench. I can’t see his expression to determine what he’s feeling, but I know it’s a similar brand of outrage and betrayal that’s thrumming through my veins.
“Hudson’s dad is calling me,” Evelyn says, looking at her phone like it’s a live grenade. “Hey, Roger,” she answers. She nods. “I don’t know. He felt fine this morning. I think it has to be a coaching decision because Nolan and Palmer aren’t starting either.” She nods again. “I don’t know. I doubt it. If one of them was refusing to play, I don’t think Grey or Corey would be willing to still play.” She nods again. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything.” She hangs up. “I hope Peters knows the size of the hornet’s nest he just poked.” Evelyn shakes her head as she zips her phone into a pocket. “Because Roger is ready to flip tables.”
I’ve never felt quite so helpless, knowing how much is riding on this single game.
Katie texts me halfway through the first half to find out what’s going on and if Nolan’s all right. My reply is similar to Evelyn’s was to Hudson’s dad, that we aren’t sure but suspect it was their coach’s decision.
It’s difficult to watch not only because I’m distracted and still angry that Nolan’s not playing but because Camden’s losing for the first time by a twenty-point margin that has the crowd muted.
“I don’t know if I want them to lose or not,” Mila says. “On one hand, I want them to lose because ass face Peters deserves it, but on the other hand, they’d lose their place in the tournament.”
Evelyn winces.
Shame hovers over me, selfishly wanting the loss not only because of Peters but because it might give me another year with Nolan. I feel terrible for even thinking it, knowing I should want what’s best for him—and I do. I want him to achieve every dream and wish—I just wish they all included me.
“He has to let them play the second half,” Mila says as halftime ends. “He can’t bench three of his starting players, not when they’re down by thirty points.”
“Can you imagine what kind of mindset they’re going to be in if he lets them play?” Evelyn asks. “He’s going to force them into an impossible task and they’re all going to blame themselves for the loss.”
But that fear doesn’t come to fruition as they remain on the bench for the entire second half. Camden loses fifty-eight to twenty-four.
I feel numb as I stand and follow Evelyn and Mila to the parking lot.
“Should we ask them to go out to a bar? Or maybe to our apartment? What do y’all think is going to help ease tonight’s loss?” Mila asks.
I shake my head. I don’t have an answer. “I’m going to head home. I’ll text you when I hear from Nolan and let you know if he’s up for doing anything.”
Evelyn nods as she wraps her arms around me. “We’ll talk to you soon.”
I miss Katie and Hannah as I cross the lot to find my car. Nolan’s loss feels like my own as I get into the driver’s seat, determined to find a way to heal what I’m sure is going to be a large fracture in his trust and mood.
I don’t even bother changing when I get home, going to the kitchen where I make a tray of brownies and the same ham and cheese sliders I’d made for our brunch that Nolan loved. I know food isn’t the answer, but I’m desperate to offer any comfort possible.
I turn on the TV while the brownies bake, watching the interviews which don’t include Nolan tonight. Still, I watch and wait, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
When the channel turns to the news, I flip off the TV and decide to make chocolate chip cookies because even as someone who isn’t a huge fan of sweets, I know chocolate chip cookies make everything a little better.
I check my phone before taking out the brownies and proceed to check it with every sheet of cookies I slide into the oven.
My phone finally vibrates just after eleven.
Nolan: I’m going out with some guys on the team. I’ll probably be home late.
Me: I’m really sorry about tonight’s game.
Me: Are you all right?
When the final batch of cookies comes out of the oven, it’s past midnight and I haven’t heard back from Nolan.